Bumpy Roads - A Mary O'Reilly Paranormal Mystery (Book 11) (The Mary O'Reilly Paranormal Mystery Series)

by Reid, Terri

  “Good answer,” she stammered, and leaned against him as her knees turned to water.

  He continued to kiss her, nibbling on the sensitive areas around her neck, earlobe and collarbone. She moaned softly and he covered her mouth with his lips, taking them both even deeper into the passionate spell he was weaving.

  She felt his arms slip around her and suddenly she was weightless, moving across the room in his arms. She felt the cool smoothness of their sheets underneath her heated back as she sunk into the mattress with Bradley above her. This was perfect. This was what she had been waiting for. This was…

  “Daddy!”

  The scream seemed to erupt from right outside their door.

  “What the hell?” Bradley grumbled, rolling off Mary and walking across the room to the door.

  He cracked the door open a few inches, angling his body so Mary was hidden from view. “What’s wrong, Clarissa?” he asked the child standing right outside his bedroom.

  “I had a bad dream,” she said, a slight smile on her face.

  Bradley stared at his daughter, noting the wide-eyed face, the perfectly brushed hair and the unrumpled pajamas. She had not been asleep at all. She was purposely trying to interrupt any private time he and Mary wanted to enjoy. “Go to bed, Clarissa,” he said pointedly. “Now.”

  Her smile dropped. “But…but I was scared,” she stammered.

  “Go to bed,” he repeated.

  “But there were monsters,” she pleaded, “and they were in my closet.”

  “Mike,” Bradley shouted.

  Mike immediately appeared next to Clarissa. “Hey, what’s up?” he asked, shooting Bradley a grin.

  “Clarissa thinks there are monsters in her room,” he said. “So I was wondering if you would mind keeping her company until she falls asleep.” He glared at Clarissa. “Really asleep.”

  “But I don’t want Mike,” she pleaded. “I want you.”

  “Sorry, Clarissa,” he said. “But right now Mary and I are having private time and we don’t want to be disturbed, at all. Mike will be there to help you and protect you.”

  “But…but…but,” she stammered.

  “Now, Clarissa,” he said impatiently. “Go to bed.”

  Closing the door sharply, he leaned back against it and looked at Mary. She was huddled under the covers, her back against the pillows, waiting for him.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “She just lied to me,” he said, running his hand through his hair. “I thought, you know, that maybe all of this was just a misunderstanding. But she lied, she didn’t have a nightmare. She hadn’t been asleep. She purposely wanted to pull me away from you.”

  Pushing the covers aside, Mary walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “She’s just figuring things out, testing her limits and generally being an eight year old,” Mary said. “The most important thing is that we show her that we are united and she can’t break us apart. And we show her that we love her.”

  Wrapping his arms around her, he bent down and placed a kiss on the top of her head. “You’re right,” he said. “Thanks for being so patient with the situation.”

  She lifted her head and met his eyes. “Hey, she’s my daughter too,” she said adamantly.

  She means it, he thought, as love and gratitude filled his heart. Even after all of this, she still considers Clarissa to be her daughter too.

  He began to bend down and kiss her, but stopped halfway and sniffed.

  “Bradley?” she asked.

  “Shhhhh,” he said and then he sniffed the air again.

  He turned back to look at her, his eyes lowering slightly and a predatory gleam to his smile. “You know, this stuff must grow on you,” he said softly, as he swung her up in his arms. “I suddenly feel quite infused with passion.”

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  The streetlights were shining when Ray finally made it back to the garage. He kept the entrance way open, shining enough light into the space without attracting too much attention.

  He popped the trunk of the car and lifted the girl into his arms. She was a lightweight compared to Nick. Although her body was still lethargic, it was pliable, so she wasn’t dead yet.

  That’s okay, he decided. It will just prove that he drugged her before he killed himself. Sets up the scenario even better.

  Kicking the door closed behind him, he carried the child through the house, trying to decide where it would be best to leave the body. He couldn’t hide it too well, he did want the police to find her once they came looking for Nick. But, he reasoned, Nick was not a stupid man. He wouldn’t have kept his victims in a place where they might have been discovered.

  He paused with the girl in the front staircase. Nick’s body was swinging from the stairwell, the end of the rope looped over one of the top banisters. His eyes now stared sightlessly at Ray, his face purple from lack of blood. It hadn’t been easy to convince Nick to jump, even with the drugs swimming through his system. He finally had to toss him over the railing himself. Ray looked down to see tops of Nick’s shoes just skimming over the wood floor. “Good thing you’re short,” he muttered.

  Moving past the dead man, he carried the girl up the stairs and peered into each of the rooms on the second floor. The first one was a normal bedroom, the second had been turned into an office, but the third room was little more than a closet. Ray stepped out of the room and looked around the hallway. That didn’t make sense. The house went on for quite for several yards more. Why would there be only a closet in that space?

  He laid the child on the carpet in the hall and went back into the third room. The room was shaped in a short rectangle with a window off center on the outside wall. Rather than a curtain, as in the other rooms, this window had privacy shutters on it. A collection of boxes and plastic tubs sat of the floor, against the back wall.

  Ray flicked on the light switch and a corner floor lamp turned on. Odd, he thought, the rest of the rooms had ceiling lights.

  Kicking one of the boxes, he was surprised to discover it was empty. He kicked another, they were all empty. Pushing them out of the way, he examined the wall they were covering. Kneeling down, he looked at the floor. The carpeting was pushed down in front of the wall, like something heavy had rolled over it. He stood, placed his hands on the wall and pushed against it. Something clicked against the pressure and the wall sprung forward. Moving to the edge, he pushed his fingers beneath the small crack and pulled. Like a giant door, the wall pulled away, exposing a hidden room.

  Waiting until his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Ray looked around for another light switch and finally found one on the wall adjacent to the door. When he clicked it on, a burst of laughter escaped his lips. “Well, you little pervert,” he said. “You just helped me create the perfect crime.”

  The walls of the room were covered in pornography. Some ripped from magazines and some, obviously, taken with his own camera. One small section dedicated exclusively to child porn, with subjects as young as toddlers.

  The room also housed a desk with a computer and a four-poster brass bed, complete with handcuffs hanging from each corner. “You are one sick creep,” Ray muttered. “At least I was trying to teach them something.”

  Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the suicide note he had insisted Nick draft and placed it on the desk next to the keyboard. Then he hurried back to the hall, picked up the little girl and brought her back into the room. Laying her on the bed, he rubbed the handcuffs on her wrists and ankles to add some of her DNA to the restraints.

  Stepping back, he looked at the girl’s body sprawled across the bed and the disgusting photos in the background. “Yeah, paints a pretty damning picture,” he said. “Now all I have to do is take care of that Alden kid.”

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Mary groaned when the cell phone went off in the early hours of the morning. Her eyes still closed, she lifted her hand to slap the alarm clock off, but it just didn’t seem to be working. Chuckli
ng, Bradley gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and rolled out of bed. “Mary, it’s my phone,” he said. “Go back to sleep.”

  Mumbling something incoherent, she snuggled back into her pillow and tried to resume her dream.

  “When did they find him?” Bradley’s voice was tense and directed. “And the girl? How is she?”

  Mary rolled over and sat up in bed. She exhaled with relief when she saw Bradley’s slight smile. “Good,” he said. “Is she at Freeport Hospital or did they airlift her to Madison?”

  He nodded again, cradling the phone between his shoulder and his chin, while he pulled clothes out of his drawer. “Yeah, I can be there in twenty minutes,” he said. “Thanks for the good news.”

  He clicked off the phone and turned to Mary. “They just found Nick Sears’s body in a small house near Henderson Avenue,” he said.

  “Nick Sears is dead?” Mary asked, astonished.

  “Hung himself. Left a note confessing to everything,” Bradley replied, hurrying toward the bathroom.

  Mary slid out of bed and followed him. “But Henderson is nowhere near the park,” she said. “That doesn’t make sense.”

  Bradley stepped under the flowing water of the shower. “Yeah, I know,” he said. “But they also found the kidnapped girl in the house with him.”

  “Is she going to be okay?” Mary asked.

  “She’s been given some pretty heavy duty drugs, but they think she’ll be fine,” he said. “They’ve airlifted her up to Madison so she can be seen by specialists.”

  Leaning back against the sink, Mary shook her head. “I just can’t believe we were that far off,” she said. “And I have to admit, it all seems too neatly wrapped up.”

  Stepping out of the shower, Bradley stood next to her and applied shaving cream. “Yeah, I’m right there with you,” he said. “And Doctor Sears didn’t seem like the suicide type. He thought much too much of himself.”

  “Well, if it was Sears, then the children of Freeport can rest easy,” she said. “But I’m not going to say anything to Celia until you call, okay?”

  He stopped shaving for a moment and met her eyes through the shower. “I’m sorry I have to rush away again,” he said. “I really wanted to spend some more time with you this morning.”

  Smiling back at him, she shrugged, “I understand, it’s the job.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m hoping the job will slow down a little so I can enjoy being a married man,” he replied, shaving under his chin.

  “I enjoyed you being a married man last night,” she teased.

  He grinned at her. “I just might have to quit my job and stay home full time,” he said.

  He wiped the remaining shaving cream from his face and turned to her. “So, what’s your plan for today?” he asked.

  “I suppose it depends on Clarissa,” she replied. “If she’s willing, I thought I’d take her shopping for shoes and spring clothes. If not, I might see if Rosie and Stanley would be willing to come by and keep an eye on her so I can do some grocery shopping.”

  “I could always shop,” he said.

  She leaned up and kissed him. “Yes, you could,” she said. “But chips, chili and cookies are not a balanced diet. Now, you finish getting dressed and I’ll get you some breakfast.”

  “Thanks.”

  She grabbed her robe, walked down the hall and peeked in on Clarissa. She was sound asleep. Mary smiled as she looked at her face, so innocent in her sleep. “Don’t be fooled,” Mike whispered, appearing behind her. “She’s only smiling in her sleep because she’s planning your demise.”

  Mary softly closed the door and shook her head. “Don’t be silly,” she said. “She’s just confused.”

  “Yeah, they said that about Lizzy Borden too,” he grumbled.

  She stopped at the top of the stairs. “Come on, Mike,” she said, “You are her guardian angel; you’re supposed to be on her side.”

  “Okay, you’re right,” he said. “But I don’t know what happened to the cute little kid we all liked a few weeks ago.”

  Mary started down the stairs. “You know, you’re right,” she said. “I wonder if Katie or Maggie can tell us if anything happened while she was staying with them.”

  “That makes sense,” Mike agreed. “Maybe someone said something.”

  “I’ll call Rosie and Stanley once I get Bradley on his way,” she decided, “Then we can go over and talk to Katie and Maggie to see if they can shed any light on the situation.”

  Mike seemed to hesitate for a moment. “Mary, there’s something I need to tell you.”

  “Mike, what’s wrong?” Mary asked.

  “There are rules with guardian angels,” he said. “I’m not great with them; I’ll be the first to admit that. But the one big rule is that we can’t interfere when someone is making bad choices on purpose. I can’t interfere with Clarissa’s free agency; I can’t stop her from doing something she already knows in her heart is wrong.”

  “That doesn’t make sense,” Mary argued. “She’s just a little girl.”

  “Mary, she’s eight years old, almost nine,” he said. “And she knows the difference between right and wrong. If angels were allowed to interfere and change the consequences of someone’s choice, it wouldn’t be fair.”

  “Can you tell her?” she asked. “Can you at least warn her before she makes the choice that she’ll be on her own?”

  “Yeah, I can do that,” he agreed. “I don’t know if it’s part of the rules, but, yeah, I’ll be sure she knows.”

  “Well, let’s just pray it never comes to that,” Mary said.

  Chapter Forty

  The crime scene was abuzz with local law enforcement, news reporters and FBI agents. Bradley shook his head as he pulled his cruiser up to the curb. This is a three-ring circus.

  Stepping out of the vehicle, he was immediately assailed by reporters. “Chief Alden, did you suspect Dr. Sears of kidnapping?”

  Actually I only suspected him of being an ass, he thought. “No comment,” he said, pushing through the crowd toward the house.

  “Chief Alden, where do you think the other bodies are buried?”

  “No comment,” he repeated, still moving forward.

  “Chief Alden, do you have the address for the parents of the kidnapped child?”

  Bradley froze and stared at the young reporter who posed the question. “If I find out that you, any of you, have intruded on their privacy while their child hangs between life and death, I will arrest you for interfering with an ongoing criminal case,” he said. “Do you understand me?”

  The young reporter swallowed and nodded. “Good,” he said. “Listen, I know you want information and I am happy to share it with you. But let me take a look at what’s going on inside, then I’ll hold a press conference and give you all the details I can.”

  Not waiting for a response, he hurried to the house and closed the door behind him. He looked around quickly, noting that although the hedges around the windows were high, an enterprising reporter might be able to get a shot of the deceased. “Deutsch and Killoran,” he called to two of his officers. “Would you make sure we have officers stationed around the circumference of the building to make sure no reporters cross the crime scene tape border? We don’t want this interior of this house showing up on the six o’clock news.”

  Walking over to the coroner who was examining the body, Bradley waited as the man jotted down a few final notes and placed a covering over the body laid out on the hallway floor. “So, what do you think?” he asked.

  Bradley liked the new coroner, Chris Malik, a retired country doctor, who shot straight from the hip and didn’t worry about being politically correct. Chris scratched his head for a moment and then looked at Bradley. “Well, he’s dead,” he replied, and then he paused and popped a piece of chewing gum in his mouth. “Seems to me he could’ve found himself at least half a dozen easier ways to end his life.”

  Bradley looked up to the top of the staircase and nodded. “Yeah,
I agree. He nearly didn’t get the rope high enough.”

  “Yeah, would have been an awful mess if he just broke his ankle and then had to fall over to strangle himself. You’d think a doctor would have been smarter about that.”

  Obviously Chris had met the superintendent, Bradley decided.

  Chris leaned back on his heels and rocked back and forth for a moment. “There’s another thing that’s strange,” he said. “I took a look at the suicide note he left.”

  Bradley nodded. “It was read to me over the phone,” he said. “Seemed pretty straightforward. He confessed to raping and killing all of the girls over the past ten years.”

  “Straightforward if you got the equipment,” he replied.

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “I can pretty much guarantee that the fellow who wrote that suicide note is not the fellow laying on the floor in front of us,” he stated positively.

  “How do you know?”

  “Chief Alden, when a coroner comes to the scene of a sexual crime, he has to take samples from various parts of the body,” he explained simply. “Those aren’t the usual parts we pay attention to, parts I’d rather not see, quite frankly. But, we’ve got to swab ’em down for DNA and semen samples.”

  “Oh, okay, I understand what you’re saying,” he said. “You didn’t find any evidence of sexual assault.”

  “No, I’m saying I didn’t find any evidence of anything,” he said.

  “What?”

  “Nick Sears wasn’t just shooting blanks, he wasn’t shooting at all. Didn’t have a gun, if you know what I mean.”

  “He doesn’t have a…”

  “Clean gone,” the doctor said. “Some kind of freak accident I suppose. But judging by the scar tissue it happened when he was a youngster.”

  “So there’s no way…”

  “He raped anyone, not in this world,” the doctor interrupted, “Of course, he could have assaulted them, but that’s not what the suicide note says and you’d think he be pretty clear in his suicide note.”