by Terry Keys
“No, ma’am. I’m fine, thanks.”
Several minutes later, a lanky, bed-headed teenager made his way down the stairs.
“What’s up, Mom?”
“That is Detective Porter. Tell him what you told your dad and I about what you saw the other night.”
The boy stared up at me. I could tell he was nervous.
“You aren’t in any kind of trouble,” I said.
The boy, was all of about fifteen or sixteen. He gnawed on his bottom lip and stared at the ground.
“Peter, you aren’t in trouble. But Tom was our friend, and if you know something. . . .”
I gestured toward the other end of the couch, and he slowly made his way over and sat down.
“Okay . . . so, well, I didn’t see much. And, like, I don’t even know if it will help you. It’s probably stupid anyway.”
“I doubt it will be stupid, Peter. Anything you can tell me may prove important. Many of the cases I solve are a direct result of someone calling in and telling me something they’ve seen.”
He didn’t make eye contact with me. Instead, he fiddle-farted around with his iPhone.
“Okay, well, here goes. I’m a light sleeper. I usually go to sleep around seven thirty or eight, because I know I’ll be up three or four times during the night. Sometimes I wake up and read, and other times I just listen to music before I try again. Last night I was up around two. I looked out my window, because I thought I heard voices outside. I can see right into Mr. and Mrs. Patton’s house if their blinds are open.”
He stopped and started chewing at his fingers. I gestured for him to continue.
“And, well. . . I walked over and saw a guy and a girl and . . .” He paused again.
“And what?” The boy’s mother insisted.
I placed a comforting hand on his knee. “It’s okay. Please tell me what else you saw. None of this is your fault here.”
Still fidgeting with his fingers, he said, “Someone was on their knees, maybe. I don’t know . . . it was pretty dark. I couldn’t really tell what was happening. But it didn’t look like everything was okay, if you know what I mean.”
Instantly, his mother started in on him. I was afraid it might happen, and I was ready.
“No, ma’am, this is not your son’s fault at all. What he’s doing here is brave and helpful.” I patted the young man’s shoulder. “Thank you. I presume it was too dark to give me much of a physical description?”
“Yes, sir. I couldn’t even tell you what race they were or what color hair they had. It all happened really fast, and I was scared I’d be seen. I was only in the window a second. I wanted to watch longer but I didn’t.”
I thanked them both for their time. As I suspected, I knew exactly which pair was behind this. I also knew they wouldn’t stop here.
The hunch I’d had earlier about Julie’s answers to me, the chair indentations in the floor were no longer a hunch at all. Caleb and Marci had been there and from the looks of it tied them up. But if that were true why hadn’t they killed them?
Chapter 7
I knocked on a couple more doors but got nothing. Nothing I could use, anyway. Other than Peter, it looked like they’d done a good job of getting in and out without being detected. Which didn’t surprise me.
I climbed into my truck and headed home. I’d shot DeLuca a text recapping what the boy told me he’d seen. I needed to find out where Caleb and Marci lived or nail down some sort of pattern.
DeLuca texted back saying everyone in blue was hunting them, whoever they were. Everyone was out for blood.
It was always this way when an officer was murdered. This was particularly troubling for me, because at some point everyone would know the murderer, Caleb, was my son.
As I pulled into my driveway, my phone rang.
“Hey, Cap.”
“I know you’re all over this,” Captain Wilcrest said. “Tell me you know something. I know you don’t work for me anymore and—”
“You’re like a father to me. I can honestly say I love you as much as I do my own dad. You know that. I respect everything you represent, both as a cop and a father to your kids and husband to your wife. You don’t ever have to qualify anything to me. I know how bad everyone wants to catch whoever did this. To be honest, I expect a ton more calls just like this one. This hurts real bad.”
“So . . . any hunches? Gut feelings?”
I trusted Wilcrest. I knew if I told him to keep intel close to the vest he would. He always had. So I told him. I told him about the pregnancy and Caleb. And that my hunch was based on his note what happened to Tom, and what the kid told me an hour or so earlier. Actually it was more than a hunch. A lot more.
“Goddamn it, Porter.”
“I know.”
“No, I’m afraid you don’t. You aren’t going to be able to sit on this for any length of time. You need to get down to the station, find the chief, lock him in his office, and spill the proverbial beans, son. We need to get as many eyes as we can looking for these two. If you truly believe he is behind it, his note becomes more than just a threat now.”
“I know. I’m heading down there in an hour or so. We’ll come up with a plan to address the media and, I suppose, my involvement moving forward. I can hand—”
“Don’t say it. We know you can handle it. That’s never been the question with you. The real question is, should you be handling it? You know how I feel about you as a cop and as a man, son. But how much sooner would you have figured Stacy out if you hadn’t been involved?”
His last sentence stung me to the core. The truth cut sharp and deep. I hung up with Wilcrest and went inside. As much as I hated to admit it, I knew he was right. Saying I’d missed a few things with Stacy was a gross understatement because, quite frankly, I’d missed everything. How could I have let her infiltrate my home, pretend to love me and my girls without being detected?
As I walked through the front door, Karen sat nestled into her seat at the dinner table. She was completely dressed in her softball attire. Karen had decided that she wanted to play softball again, and I’d promised to spend an hour or so with her before her tryout later that afternoon. I didn’t always get to keep my promises and that bothered me. Actually it bothered me a lot. I knew how important this was to her, so I wasn’t breaking this one. Not if I could help it.
From the looks of it, her breakfast was almost gone. Karen did that from time to time. I’d already warned her that she should chew each bite fifty times before she swallowed. She had her headphones on, listening to the new Beyoncé album I’d gotten her, I presumed. I’d bought her the “clean” version, but it was still a little more adult than I’d like. She didn’t know it, but I’d purchased a pair of tickets to Beyoncé’s Christmas concert in a few weeks.
I bent down and kissed her on the forehead. “Morning, slugger.”
Karen snatched her headphones off. “I told you Daddy would be here, Mommy,” she whined.
Miranda smiled. “You were right.”
“What, were you doubting me?” I said, grinning ear to ear.
“Well, I know you just got on this new case, and—”
“Hey! You stop that. I wouldn’t miss this for the world!”
“Daddy, I watched some videos on YouTube. Picked up a few hitting tips. But I’m listening to Bey right now.”
“Bey, huh? And good for you on watching the hitting videos. I’m sure it’ll pay off here in a bit. ”
I was the self-proclaimed “DIY King,” and YouTube was my go-to online instructor. I guess I’d rubbed off on Karen.
“I’m going to make that All-Star team this year and make you and Mommy proud.”
Miranda and I looked at each other with a bit of concern. I knew exactly what she was thinking, and she knew what I was thinking too.
“Listen, whether you make the All-Star team or not, Mommy and I will always be extremely proud of you. Do you understand that?” I said giving her a playful shove.
I kissed
Miranda, grabbed Karen’s softball bag and headed for the backyard.
Karen followed and took the bag from me, rifling through it. “I’m going to take it easy on you today, old fella.”
She handed me a glove and slipped one onto her little hand. Looking at her I couldn’t believe seven almost eight years had already flown by.
“Excuse me, young lady? I’m in better shape now than when I was twenty years old!”
Karen rolled her eyes. She was right; old fella about summed it up. Or at least it felt that way. I damn sure wasn’t looking forward to helping my wife plan my fortieth birthday party later this year. I’d recently come across a quote that caught my attention: “Life doesn’t start till after forty.” I didn’t know how much I believed that, but here soon enough I’d know for myself.
We tossed the ball around for about an hour. We worked on her hitting. I was amazed at her ability to place shots almost at will. Typically, kids that young didn’t have the hand-eye coordination to pull off such feats.
I went inside to take a quick shower. I’d texted the chief and urgently asked him to carve out an hour for us to talk when I got into the office. I got a text back saying it was all clear for us to meet at one p.m.
I sat down on my bed and buried my face in my hands.
Miranda came over and sat beside me, her arm draped around my shoulders. “What’s wrong, honey? You afraid Chief is going to want you off this case?”
“Yes. I can almost guarantee he will. As much coverage as this is going to get, he almost has to. Pretty smart on Caleb’s part.”
“Going after people close to you gets you coming and going. Especially if they pull you off the case because it’s personal.”
“I know. I love you. I have to run.”
“I love you too, Superman.”
We stood up and hugged for several minutes.
“You still need to tell me what you want for Christmas,” Miranda said.
“Right now all I want is for this to be behind us.”
“Besides that, silly. You know the girls will want to get you something.”
I shrugged. “New underwear?”
Miranda playfully rubbed her hand across my stomach and let it slide slowly down. “Or new sexy underwear?”
I smiled. “I’ll wear whatever you get me.”
“You’re no fun,” Miranda said, laughing at me.
“I really have to go, but you sure aren’t making this easy,” I said, stepping away from her. I caught a whiff of my favorite perfume which didn’t help either.
As I reached the door, I heard Karen pitter-pattering down the stairs.
“Daddy, you are coming to my tryout today, right? You promised.”
I ran over to her and tossed her into the air. She laughed and begged me to do it again. I put her down and knelt down beside her.
“I’ll be there, slugger.”
I reached out for a fist bump. I hoped I’d be able to keep my promise and prayed that, with the way things were going, I hadn’t bitten off more than I could chew.
As I closed my truck door I could see Miranda heading my way.
There was a look of concern on her face. “What’s wrong?” I asked buzzing my window down.
Instead of answering back to me Miranda came around to the passenger side and climbed in.
I reached over and grabbed her hand. She had a look of concern on her face. I could tell something had triggered some emotions but I was lost as to what it could be.
“I haven’t been completely honest with you about something and I need to tell you, so I – we can move past it.”
“You’re scaring me now,“ I said nervously.
“The days after I got kidnapped and I was confused about who had taken me and why I just knew you would find me – save me. Two days turned into three, four then one week, two – and you never came. I don’t think I ate the first week. I started losing weight. Finally I was so weak I could barely hold my own head up. I started telling myself that you didn’t care about me. I created all of these stories in my head. That you weren’t looking – that maybe you had already moved on. That maybe everything I thought we had was I don’t know never real.”
I felt a tear warm my cheek.
“And then the day I heard your voice – with her and you were only a few feet away from me. I don’t think I’ve ever been lower in my entire life. I was mad at you and sad at the same time. My heart – anyways I need you to know that I don’t blame you. I love you. I love our family and we are going to get through all of this.”
I’d done enough sessions at different times throughout my career to understand that Miranda needed to say those things to me. It was a vital part of her therapy. She had to be honest with me, get it off of her chest.
Miranda needed this moment for her, and I didn’t want to do or say anything to take away from that. So I didn’t.
I leaned across the truck and pulled her close to me. For a long time we stayed like that with neither of us saying another word.
Finally she playfully jabbed me in the ribs. “Don’t you have a meeting to get to?”
“I do, but this is more important. I’ll sit right here as long as you need me to.”
“Thank you. But don’t be silly.”
We kissed for a long breathe and then she pushed me away.
“Get out of here!” She said smiling.
She kissed her hand and gently pressed it against my forehead. Then she climbed out of the truck and headed back inside.
Suddenly I noticed a slight tug on my lower back. Probably from tossing Karen in the air which was growing more and more difficult each year.
I braced myself on the window sill and smiled. Her long blonde hair glistened in the sunlight. And twenty years later those long legs were still amazing.
Chapter 8
I had a good idea what the chief was going to tell me. I didn’t blame him. He didn’t have much choice. God knows, if I were in his shoes I’d probably do the same thing. Knowing that still didn’t make the thought any better. I wanted to be on this case. I wanted to finish what I’d started. I wanted to see it through. As selfish and stubborn as it sounded, even to me, I needed to see it through.
Deep down I was glad to have spoken with Wilcrest. I don’t know how long I would have sat on this intel, even though doing so would have been hazardous to my job. Sometimes, as a detective, you hold info close to the vest. This wasn’t one of those times—or at least it shouldn’t have been.
When I reached the chief’s door, I took a deeper than usual breath and gathered my thoughts one last time before I knocked on it. Standing a shade over six foot three, I wasn’t a small man, and I was nicely muscled for a guy nearing forty. Even so, Chief Hill towered over me. He stood at least six foot six and probably weighed close to two hundred and fifty pounds. He was in his late fifties and had a bone-crushing handshake, capped off by larger-than-life-size hands. Imposing physical specimen, to say the least.
He reached out to shake my hand and then gestured for me to have a seat.
He stared at me intently, studying me, I could tell. “Detective Porter, what brings you by today?”
I rocked back in my chair and cleared my throat. “Well, I have some intel that I need to share with you.”
“Regarding?”
I told him everything.
“Now I understand your urgency in requesting this meeting. I also think you’re already fully aware of how this needs to play out moving forward.”
I nodded.
He rubbed his chin. “Here is what I’m going to propose. I’ll be honest with you; I don’t know how long it’s going to fly, but you’ve earned this shot. You are going to hold a press conference. Get all the local channels. And if memory serves, you have a good friend over at the New York Times and quite the acquaintance at the Houston Chronicle too. HPD will announce the formation of the Major Crimes Division and your leadership role. During this presser, you will also name Detective DeLuca as the lead
investigator on this case. From there, she will need to take the lead—”
I leaned forward and opened my mouth to interrupt. Chief Hill put a finger in the air.
“DeLuca will publicly take the lead. Like I said, you’ve earned the right to stay on this case. You’ve proven to me on more than one occasion that you can still use sound judgement even when you have a personal interest. I can’t have you on the sidelines on this one. One cop has already died. And I’m betting when you get to Jamaica, you’re going to have another dead officer on your hands.”
“Thank you, sir.”
I damn sure hadn’t expected this conversation to go this way. I was more than relieved and now nervous, too, about how many might die before I was able to track Caleb down. I was squarely in the hot seat.
“Don’t thank me—catch them. And do it fast.”
I agreed and got to my feet. I reached out for the door handle and Hill stopped me.
“How are you doing?”
“I’m okay.”
“No, really. Cut the tough guy shit. God knows you’ve been through more than any man should have to handle. And, for the most part, you’ve done it with class and professionalism.”
For the most part? What the hell did he mean by that?
“Really, I’m all right. I have a strong support system at home. And there isn’t a better mentor than Captain Wilcrest. He always knows when to push, when to lay off a little, when to pry.”
“You saying I’m not good at those things? You want to work for Wilcrest again?”
We shared a laugh. Maybe the man was human after all.
“I understand, son. Despite what you may have heard about me, I am approachable. And my door is always open.”
I nodded. This time when I reached for the door, Chief Hill didn’t stop me.
I shut his door behind me and let out a deep sigh of relief. I laughed at myself. I had gotten myself all worked up for nothing.
Now the hard part. I still had to catch those two.
Chapter 9
