by Rebecca Deel
“You think she wasn’t home?”
Ethan shook his head. “No suitcase and her car is gone. I think Pam left in such a hurry she forgot to lock the back door.”
“Were they mad because she wasn’t here?” Rod set his crime scene case on the floor by his feet. “Or because they didn’t get what they wanted from Miller.”
The band gripping Ethan’s chest tightened. The carnage worried him. He hoped the perps were angry because Pam was on the run. Maybe they’d found what they were after while destroying her place. He didn’t think so, though.
What did she have or know that warranted an assassin targeting her? He had to find Pam before The Fox did.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“Don’t worry, Serena.” Kelli slid her sunglasses into place. “Chief Blackhawk will find her.”
Serena shaded her eyes from the bright May sunshine with her hand. “I’m not questioning his ability or skill, Kelli. I’m angry with Pam for not confiding in Ethan when we talked to her Saturday. Her grandfather might still be alive.” Why did Pam have to be so stubborn? Would someone else die before she asked for help?
Ethan walked around the corner of the house and crossed the lawn. “Kelli, get your cruiser and take Serena to her car.”
“Yes, sir.”
Ethan stopped beside Serena. “I’ll be here a while longer.” He cupped her elbow with his hand, urging her away from the crime scene. “There’s nothing you can do right now.” Beside the cruiser, Ethan’s gaze locked on hers. “I’ll call you later.”
“Do you think she’s all right? Can you tell?”
His hand slid from her elbow to grip her fingers. “The evidence indicates she wasn’t injured when she left. That’s all I know at this point.”
Serena turned her hand over and threaded her fingers through his. “This is a lot bigger than a few burglaries and some vandalism, isn’t it? How is Pam connected to all of this?”
“I don’t know yet, but I’ll find out.” He squeezed her fingers. “In the meantime, take extra precautions. Be aware of your surroundings. Keep your phone with you.”
Her mouth grew dry. “You’re worried about me?”
“I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
#
Ethan watched the retreating cruiser until it rolled out of sight, still feeling Serena’s small hand gripping his. He returned to the house and entered the kitchen.
Rod nodded toward the hallway. “I finished Pam’s bedroom if you want to take a closer look.”
In the bedroom, Ethan stood in the center and let his gaze sweep the large room. Her closet door stood open. A few clothes and several shoes cluttered the floor.
He moved closer. Office apparel mixed in the pile. The scattered shoes all appeared to be heels—the kind women usually wore to work or church. No casual shoes or tennis shoes. Must have taken them with her.
Ethan swung away from the closet to the dresser. The drawers stood open, the contents dumped. He knelt and examined the small mound of clothes. All the usual stuff he’d find in his aunt’s dresser drawers. Underwear, socks, pantyhose, shirts, shorts. He figured Pam took most of the contents with her. Pam’s pile was a lot smaller than Ruth’s would have been. His aunt had enough to last two months without repeating anything.
He moved to the hallway. He’d discovered nothing out of the ordinary. What he saw confirmed his hunch that Pam grabbed what she needed, and ran.
Had Pam stumbled into something here in Otter Creek? How did her grandfather fit into all this? He knew now that Miller was protecting Pam, but from whom? Coronado or someone else like The Fox? Why would The Fox be hunting here?
As Rod finished processing each room, Ethan studied and sifted through debris, asked questions about his detective’s findings, and added his own observations. When they repacked the crime scene kit, Ethan said, “I alerted the state police to be on the lookout for Pam or her car.”
“Where can she go, Chief?” Concern etched Rod’s face. “She’s only been in the area a few weeks.”
“True, but she hasn’t worked in several days. I wonder if she scouted a bolt hole.” An idea surfaced. He frowned. Where was her answering machine? The white box had occupied a corner of her end table. “Pam didn’t act like her back hurt when I interviewed her Saturday.”
Rod rubbed his chin. “You know, I don’t remember her having problems with her back a couple of weeks ago when her place was first hit. She was just mad.”
“Did you find Pam’s answering machine?”
“Yeah, it was pretty banged up. I sent it to the lab.” He shrugged. “With luck, they’ll recover the tape intact.”
#
It wasn’t fair. Ethan’s gaze buckled Serena’s knees and the touch of his hand sent her blood pressure into orbit. What would happen if that tall, dark-haired cop ever kissed her? She didn’t know, but she’d like to find out.
Serena shook her head, dispelling her day dreams, and opened her car door. Hot, steamy air rushed from the VW’s interior. She left the door ajar, resigned to a short delay while the driver’s seat cooled to a tolerable temperature. Her car provided dependable transportation most of the time. Its amenities didn’t include air conditioning. She propped her purse on the driver’s seat and dug out her cell phone.
“It’s Serena. We have a problem.”
#
“Missing?” Ruth dropped her teacup on the saucer, hot liquid sloshing over the sides.
Serena winced. Would the delicate china cup leak orange spice tea? “Her house looks like my Sunday school class camped out there for a week.”
Ruth sat back in her kitchen chair. “What’s Ethan saying?”
“Not much.”
“That’s not surprising, dear. He’s pretty closed-mouthed about cases he’s working.” Ruth smiled. “I’ve learned to work around him.”
“You may have to give me pointers. I learned more from listening to the others.” She slid her teacup to the side. “It looks like Pam left Sunday afternoon or evening. Her suitcase and car are gone.” Serena turned her troubled gaze to the older woman. “Ethan says she left under her own power, but he thinks someone’s tracking her.”
“Well, we can’t go to the person most likely to know where she’s hiding. Does she have any other relatives besides Miller?”
“Not that I know of, but I didn’t know about her grandfather.” She carried both teacups to the sink and washed them. “Pam’s parents are dead, and she’s an only child. I don’t understand why she couldn’t trust us. We would’ve helped her.”
“That’s why she didn’t talk, Serena. She protected you the only way she could.”
“We’ve got to find Pam before whoever is chasing her catches up with her. She doesn’t have anyone else.”
“We need to talk to people, see what they know.” Ruth smiled, excitement brightening her eyes.
Serena cupped her chin in her hand. “While you’re chatting with folks, maybe you can find out why my customers are stampeding to drop my services.”
“You’re losing customers?”
“Three in the last two days.”
Ruth stared at her. “How intriguing.”
Serena made a face. “How ironic. Six weeks ago, I had to postpone new customer interviews because the waiting list grew too large. Now, I’m afraid to call people and ask if they’re still interested. At this rate, I’ll be giving away my services free in a couple of weeks.”
“We’ll look into that as well. Do you have Pam’s errand list?”
“On my computer at home. I cook for most of them.” She gave a small smile. “At least for now.”
“Good.” Ruth slid a notepad decorated with three terriers across the table to Serena. “We’ll need a copy of that. First, let’s make a list. We’re going sleuthing tomorrow.”
#
“Run it down.” Ethan stared at the two-story house. Light spilled from every window, the front door open.
“Domestic dispute. People named Becker.
Neighbors called it in. Heard the wife screaming, glass breaking.” Face grim, Sanchez scanned the house and yard. “Got a history. We’ve been out here several times in the last six months.”
“You checked the windows?”
“Yes, sir. Right before you pulled up. Didn’t see any weapons.” The muscles in his cheek twitched. “The guy’s big, Chief. Body builder.”
“Where’s the wife?”
“About fifteen feet from the front door, right corner.”
“Kids?”
“Boy and girl. I didn’t see them.”
He hoped they hid somewhere out of their father’s reach. Ethan inclined his head to the house and crossed the manicured lawn. He motioned for Sanchez to stand to the side, then stopped outside the door and listened. The wife’s sobs and the husband’s rants carried through the night air.
His eyes narrowed. Becker sounded drunk. Ethan pounded on the door. “Otter Creek Police. Open up.”
Mrs. Becker’s crying escalated. The husband weaved into view. “Didn’t call you. What do you want?” Blood spatter marred his white dress shirt. His sleeves were rolled up, highlighting powerful hands and corded arms.
“Step outside, please, Mr. Becker. We’d like to talk to you.”
He scowled. “About what?”
“Your neighbors were concerned about your wife and kids.”
Becker cursed, his face turning red. “Got no business interfering when a man disciplines his family.”
Cold sank into Ethan’s bones at Becker’s words. He had to find those kids. “Step outside and you can tell me what happened.” He slid his hand back to the pepper spray and unsnapped the strap.
“Not finished. Wife’s got to learn her lesson.” His slurred speech did nothing to disguise the anger in his voice.
Ethan eased through the doorway. Mrs. Becker cowered in the corner. Eyes swollen, nose bloody, lips puffy. She cradled her ribs with her arms. “What happened to your wife, Mr. Becker?”
He gave a short bark of laughter. “She fell down the stairs.”
“Is that true, ma’am?”
She shook her head.
“Tell me what happened.”
“He hit me.” Sobs punctuated each word.
Enraged, Becker drew his fist back.
Ethan grabbed his pepper spray. “Becker!” When the body builder swung around, he sprayed the man in the face, shoved him off balance and wrestled him to the floor. “You’re under arrest for assault.” Holding Becker’s arms behind his back, Ethan cuffed the cursing husband using two sets of handcuffs and handed him off to Sanchez. “Take him to the squad car and read him his rights.”
He grabbed his radio. “Dispatch, this is Unit One. Send an ambulance to 225 Tulane Avenue.” He knelt beside the sobbing wife. “Mrs. Becker, where are your children? Did your husband hurt them?”
“He’s a good husband, a good father most of the time. He’s under a lot of pressure from work, you know?”
“A man’s measured in part by how he takes care of his family, ma’am. Where are your kids?”
“Upstairs. I tried to get him away from them. He’s just so big.”
“What are their names?”
“Maya and Benji.” More tears streamed down her face. “Please, help my babies.”
“Are there any guns in the house or a dog?”
She shook her head.
“Chief, I heard the call over the radio. Can I help?”
Ethan swiveled. “Kelli, stay with Mrs. Becker.” He ran up the stairs, two at a time. On the second floor landing, he paused. To his right, the master bedroom. The nightstand lay on its side. A broken lamp glittered in the overhead lighting. Pieces of dresser mirror littered the bureau top.
On the left side, two smaller rooms. The nearest one had a multi-colored ceiling fan in the shape of an airplane propeller, and dump trucks and cars scattered on the floor. In the middle of the floor lay a man’s belt, coiled like a snake. He shouldered the door open further and stood in the room. No sound. No child. Where had he hidden as a kid?
Ethan checked the closet. The bi-fold doors concealed a small space for the boy’s clothes. Everything in place. No clothes out of the basket or toys languishing in the corner where a kid might have tossed it at the toy box in haste and missed.
He checked under the bed. Nothing under there, not even dust bunnies. No comic books, stray socks, shoes, stuffed animals. Ethan’s stomach knotted. Too neat.
Back in the hall, he approached Maya’s closed door. He turned the knob and stepped inside. Stuffed animals lined up on her bed as if she’d used a ruler. Bookshelves straight, volumes aligned by height. No crayons out of place, no dancing shoes. Perfect order. Like the bed of a princess, two bedside steps led to the mattress.
He eyed the closed closet door. Maya had a walk-in closet. He waited in the silence for a noise to guide him.
One minute passed, then another. Finally, a small sniffle, a childish whimper drifted from the closet. Ethan moved closer. “Benji, Maya, my name’s Ethan. I’m with the police.”
A panicked gasp sounded from the other side of the door.
“Your dad’s outside with another officer. Your mom asked me to check on you. I’m going to open the closet door so you can see me.” He hoped the mother had told him the truth about no guns in the house. On another night at a different domestic violence call, he’d opened a closet door to a loaded 12-gauge shotgun. Standing to the side, he opened the door.
A brown-haired girl, maybe 6, huddled beside a boy curled in a fetal position on the floor. Her hand stroked his hair. Maya’s eyes grew bigger, fearful when Ethan stepped into view.
Ethan drew in a slow breath. The kids needed someone they could trust. Leashing the anger brewing in his gut, he crouched at the entrance. “Your mom’s not feeling well. She needs to see a doctor.”
Benji stirred and opened his eyes. “Daddy hurt her, didn’t he?” Tears welled. “It’s my fault.”
Ethan’s heart ached. He’d lost count of how many times he’d heard the same statement from other abused children. “Why do you think it’s your fault?”
“I dropped my truck and spilled all the cars on the floor.” A sob escaped. “I didn’t mean to make Daddy mad.”
Ethan forced his hands to relax, though he wanted to rearrange Becker’s face. “Tell me what happened after the cars fell.”
“Daddy was really mad. He yelled at me.”
“And then?”
The boy flinched. “He pulled off his belt.”
Nausea welled in Ethan’s throat. He drew a breath deep, not wanting to ask the next question. Already knew the answer. “What did he do with the belt, Benji?”
The boy clamped his lips tight and refused to speak.
He turned to the girl. “Did you see what happened, Maya?”
She nodded. “Daddy hit Benji.”
Ethan controlled his expression, but couldn’t do anything about the muscles twitching in his back. His own father had been quick with a belt. “How many times? Once? A lot?”
Her lip quivered. “Lots.”
“Did he hit you, too, honey?”
“Mommy came.”
“And then what happened?”
Benji knuckled away more tears. “He started hitting Mommy. I tried to tell her it was okay, not to make him mad at her, too. But she wouldn’t listen.”
“Where did he hit you, son?”
“My back.”
“Will you let me look?”
Benji sat up and turned, facing the back of the closet, and leaned his head against his upturned knees. Splotches of blood stained his shirt.
Ethan slid forward. “I’m going to lift your shirt, okay?” He grasped the bottom of the boy’s t-shirt and pulled it away from his back. He lifted the material about six inches and froze. Fresh welts interspersed with raw places where a belt buckle had ripped into the boy’s skin. Scars from earlier beatings showed as white stripes in the light. He let the shirt fall back into place.
“We need to get some medicine for your back, son.” Ethan’s voice sounded hoarse to his own ears.
“Mommy will put stuff on it. She always does.”
“Your mom’s going to see a doctor for her own injuries. Why don’t I take you to see the same doctor? Then you can be sure she’s okay, too.”
The children looked at each other. Maya leaned close. “Let’s go, Benji. Maybe Daddy won’t find us.”
The boy nodded. His gaze locked on Ethan’s. “Can we ride in your car?”
“Sure. Can you walk to my cruiser?”
In answer, Benji climbed to his feet and, clasping his sister’s hand, walked down the stairs.
When the trio entered the living room, Kelli rose from the couch and smiled at the brother and sister. “Your mom’s pretty worried about you two. The EMTs just took her to get checked out.”
In the front yard, Becker screamed profanities at Sanchez. His words slurred more now than before Ethan cuffed him. Maya grabbed him around the leg. Benji’s mouth appeared pinched. Pain, fear, both?
Ethan’s face hardened. “Kelli, tell Sanchez to take Becker to the station.” When the cruiser engine cranked, he loosened Maya’s arms and knelt beside her. “May I carry you to the car?”
She threw her arms around his neck. Her bird bones weighed almost nothing. As they walked to his car, he laid a light hand on Benji’s shoulder, the one place he figured wasn’t raw.
A flash blinded him for a moment. He stepped in front of Benji, scowling.
“Chief, can you tell us what happened? Was it another break-in?”
He recognized the male voice from council meetings and earlier attempts to dodge his interview questions. “Get behind the barrier, Harrington.” Ethan motioned to another officer. “Confiscate Harrington’s camera.”
“Hey, wait a minute. You can’t . . .”
“Can it. The kids are minors. You can’t print their picture in the newspaper. But I do have one statement to make. I’ll say it slow so you can get the quote right.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
