Deliver Us From Darkness: A Suspense Thriller (Mitch Tanner Book 3)

by L. T. Ryan

“Maybe Braxton’s gonna find it.”

  Before I could get the words out, there was a crash upstairs and Braxton yelled, “Oh shit.”

  Bridget and I were in a footrace to the stairs. We reached them at the same time. I waited for her and hurried up, keeping time with her pace. Light flooded the hallway from every open door.

  “Braxton?” Bridget called out.

  There was no response.

  She drew her weapon and walked to the first open door. Another empty room. And then another. She called for him again. After a few seconds, he replied.

  We followed his voice and found him in the last room. This one was not empty. There wasn’t a bed or dresser. Rather, it had a sewing machine and a craft table.

  Braxton was standing in front of a closet, facing away from us. There was a mess of paper, ribbons, and other items at his feet.

  “Everything okay?” Bridget asked.

  He looked over his shoulder. “Yeah, my bad. Knocked a shelf over.”

  “Find anything?” I asked.

  “Nothing worth mentioning. This is the only room up here with anything to look through. Rest of the place is empty.” He leaned over and scooped up the stuff on the floor. “What about you two?”

  “Nothing in the garage or basement,” Bridget said. “But Tanner found a few interesting things.”

  Braxton stopped what he was doing and looked over at me. “What’d you find?”

  I explained the contents of the boxes and my presumptions based on them. He agreed and thought it was enough to get a team in here to sweep the house.

  “Good job, Tanner.”

  “Sure, no problem.” I backed out of the room. “Not much for me in here. Gonna go back down and take another look through the kitchen.”

  “Roger that.”

  Bridget remained behind, which was preferable. The fewer distractions I had the better.

  After descending the stairs, I stopped by the front door and parted the blinds. Outside was as deserted as when we arrived. No one seemed to notice or care about the vehicle in the driveway. It certainly didn’t fit in.

  I poked around the cabinets for a bit, checking behind plates and bowls, lower and upper shelves. Nothing. So I made one last pass through the photos on the fridge.

  And it might as well have jumped out and struck me on the face.

  “Son of a bitch,” I muttered, sliding the photo out from under a Yellowstone magnet. The photo of Liliana and Emilia didn’t strike me as odd. Not until I noticed the face in the background.

  27

  Molly watched Marissa leave without her son. The cold tore through the house after the door slammed shut. She pulled her cardigan tight across her chest and shook off the frigid air.

  Robbie was seated at the table, eating his cereal and watching cartoons. She wasn’t sure what the show was. A bunch of animals that could talk and worked human jobs. She focused for a few minutes, trying to pick up on the plot, but gave up and went back to her chores.

  Cal had gone out an hour before to Marissa. Molly figured they were meeting up at some point. Maybe they’d return home together. She’d plan to have enough dinner for all of them. But she hoped the woman and her son would return to their house this evening instead of camping in Molly’s domain.

  If there was one positive—if she could call it that—Marissa hadn’t been assigned any household duties. Yet. Molly knew if that changed, her time in Cal’s house was limited, and she’d be bounced either to someone else’s place, or to one of the dormitory buildings. She shuddered at the thought. Being demoted was not looked on kindly. It would be a green light for others to take advantage of her, knowing she was a few strikes from being kicked out of the compound.

  Would Cal do that to her? Sure, he treated her like shit sometimes. All men did. But he was soft and careful with her, too. Would he remain that way with the new woman around?

  She was so deep in thought, she hadn’t noticed Robbie standing in front of her, holding up his empty cereal bowl.

  “Can we go outside?” he asked.

  “Sure,” she replied. “What would you like to do?”

  “Can we throw the football, like the other kids were doing?”

  She led him to the coat closet and retrieved their jackets. They exited through the garage, where she grabbed a football and soccer ball, just in case he had trouble catching or throwing. She soon found out that wouldn’t be a problem.

  “You’re a natural.” She hauled in his pass and lobbed the ball back to him. “Nice catch.”

  Robbie smiled as he wound up and chucked it back to her. “You’re not so bad, either. Well, for a girl.” He looked away, perhaps blushing a bit. It was hard to tell with his complexion.

  “What does that mean? For a girl?” She feigned outrage.

  He attempted to disarm her with his charming little smile and began backtracking. She cut him short.

  “Just teasing you,” she said. “I had older brothers. Five of them. They used to drag me outside in all kinds of weather and make me play. At first, they’d say, ‘just stand there and don’t let him tackle me.’ But when I got a little bigger than you, I could out throw, out run, and out tackle all of them.”

  “Really?”

  “Well, I could out throw, for sure. And I was fast. Still am, actually. But I think they let me tackle them.” She threw a dime, and the boy snatched it out of the air. “Nice!”

  “Bet you can’t catch me.” He tucked the ball and switched his stance, preparing to take off.

  “Oh, you’re on. What do I get when I win?”

  A mischievous grip spread across his face. “How about—“ and with that, he took off running.

  “You little…” she sprinted to the left, shutting down Robbie’s running lanes, unless he hopped down to the street. A few seconds later, they were squared up. He did his best to juke her out, feigning one way and going the other. It wasn’t enough, though, as Molly had maintained the athleticism of her youth. She had him in her grasp. Robbie let out a grunt. He was fighting hard to escape her. Instead of tackling him to the ground or punching the ball out, she released him. Robbie scored an imaginary touchdown and began gloating.

  “How you like them apples?” He spiked the ball and did a dance.

  Molly shrugged off the smile creeping over her face. “Okay, okay. That was a good one. You’re a slippery little dude. But I bet you can’t stop me.”

  He tossed the ball high in the air, much higher than she thought he could. She had to run up and wait for it to reach her. Robbie’s laughter grew louder. His small steps thudding the ground, indicating he was closer.

  “You little…” She stretched out her arms and caught the ball as though she were holding a basket for it fall into.

  Robbie was a few feet away, waiting for her. He lunged. She stepped to the side and sprinted for the end zone. Only this time, Robbie told her she had run out of bounds. She started toward him, waiting until they were ten feet apart before tossing him the ball. Only she made sure it went over his head. Robbie turned and ran for it. She closed the distance, catching him as he scooped the ball off the ground.

  Hoisting him over her head, Molly said, “Now I gotcha.”

  They fell to the ground, laughing. It was the kind of moment she never had the opportunity to have. She hadn’t been blessed with kids and would likely never have one. Any guy she ended up with would be a shit father. She knew it wouldn’t be fair to the kid. And she couldn’t put all the blame at the foot of an imaginary father. She didn’t have the mental make up to handle raising a kid. She’d end up on the evening news, having done something horrible. Why go down that road? Just for moments like this?

  The lightness she felt was soon replaced with dread at the sound of a horn blaring. She propped herself up on one elbow to get a look. Cal sat behind the wheel of a pickup truck. She tried to read his expression, but the light glinting off the windshield made it difficult to tell if he was upset or not. He laid on the horn again. Her bet was on upset.<
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  “Come on, kid. Let’s go see what he wants.” She hopped up, then pulled Robbie off the ground. He hopped up in one fluid motion.

  “Is my momma in there?”

  “I don’t think so.” She grabbed his hand and led him to the truck. Cal rolled down the window. “What’s going on?”

  “Hop in.”

  “Him or me?”

  “Both of you.”

  The truck had no backseat, so she let Robbie slide in first. Cal didn’t acknowledge him. Molly studied him for a few moments. He didn’t look angry, however a quiet Cal was usually an aggravated Cal. She waited until he pulled away before speaking again.

  “Everything okay?”

  Cal kept his eyes on the road, even though no one ever drove on them. She decided not to ask a second time and settled in for the ride, however long it turned out to be. She guessed it would be awhile as they continued past the final buildings and drove toward the exit.

  Fear worked its way through her veins. Was this it? Was he getting rid of her? Robbie’s thigh against hers offered a little reassurance. Cal wouldn’t harm her or drop her off in the middle of nowhere with the boy present. He wasn’t the nicest man, but he was far from a monster.

  Twenty minutes later, they had reached town. It was a quaint place, with a Main Street and shops, old men on benches, old ladies taking their daily stroll. Old was a theme in the town. There were few young inhabitants, most of them leaving for Denver or some other big city where they could start their lives. Some might return. Most wouldn’t.

  “Robbie,” Cal said. “Come with me.” He pointed at Molly after the boy hopped down. “You wait here.”

  It felt as though she couldn’t squeeze a drop of air into her lungs. She kept her face slack and nodded. But the moment he slammed his door shut, the panic set in, and Molly began searching the area for anything or anyone out of place.

  28

  I kept the photo in my front pocket. Bridget and Braxton knew nothing of it. What would they do if they saw it? The face in the background would mean nothing to them. Why would it? They’d never met the woman. Had no clue who she was. Or did they? How far had Bridget dug into my history? If she had an inkling that the woman in the background was Marissa, she’d see her hunch was correct when she looked in my eyes.

  Marissa.

  All this time searching, investigating, praying—let’s face it, mostly praying since there wasn’t a shred of evidence other than the post card—was paying off in the oddest way.

  What business did my estranged wife have with Liliana and the Lavelle’s?

  I couldn’t help but wonder if any of her effects were at the house. Or perhaps there were more photos in one of those boxes that would implicate Marissa further.

  Could she have been in Vegas? Did I miss her, but she spotted me? Did that somehow result in David Lavelle’s murder?

  I needed to talk to Liliana and Emilia and find out their connection with Marissa. Before leaving, Bridget said she hadn’t heard anything about the women, but she hadn’t spoken with Howerton yet. Since I was alone in Bridget’s house while she rode with Braxton because they couldn’t get me clearance, I decided to take a shot at it.

  The man answered after a couple of rings and sounded like I’d woken him up. “Special Agent Howerton.”

  “Yeah, uh, this is Detective Tanner. We met at the Venetian.”

  “How you doin’, Tanner? Wasn’t expecting to hear from you since you didn’t take my card.”

  “Dinapoli had your number. Anyway, I’ve been better. You?”

  “That’s my standard answer, and, frankly, I’m starting to forget when exactly it was that I was actually better.”

  I chuckled. “That’s a good one. Mind if I steal it?”

  “As a member of the FBI, I have no jurisdiction on the use of terrible jokes, dad jokes, or poorly constructed limericks. So you can steal it, rebrand it, pass it off as your own. Don’t really care.”

  “Right, yeah, I’ll keep it in my back pocket.” I cleared my throat and changed my tone. “I don’t want to keep you any longer than I have to Howerton, so let me get to it.”

  “That’s what I’ve been waiting for.” A baby cried in the background. Howerton muffled the phone and said something inaudible. “Sorry about that. Go ahead detective.”

  “Two parts. One, did your room search turn up anything? Notes, or pictures, or…?”

  “Sterile as an operating room.”

  I figured as much. They were moving fast, traveling light. And they’d committed murder. Ducks were placed in the proverbial rows.

  “Okay, then,” I said. “Two, any leads on the women?”

  “Ghosts, brother.”

  I paused a moment. “Dead?”

  “Gone with the wind. No footage. Nothing.”

  “Still no help on that front, eh?”

  “Hotel security is looking at it. The police have their digital forensics guys looking at it. I flew in the Bureau’s top tech guys to look into it, too. If there’s something nefarious, we’ll find it.”

  “So if you don’t?”

  “Then that was the biggest fricking miracle whoever killed that man ever experienced.”

  “Comforting.”

  “I know, right?” After several seconds of silence, he continued. “Anything else, Detective?”

  I considered bring up Marissa, but that felt like I was getting too excited with pocket kings while the guy next to me was looking at a straight flush. “Not at the moment.”

  “Well, you got my number. Call me if you wanna try again or if you get something that helps.”

  “Same team, right?”

  “You got it, Tanner.”

  After hanging up, I stood in the kitchen, arms folded, lost in my own breathing. I had no leads. Just a photo. Well, a photo and a postcard. The postcard had led me to the picture. Where would the picture take me?

  Back to Liliana’s. My gut told me we missed something today. Something that might even be in plain sight. Would it deliver Robbie into my arms? Probably not. But it’d get me one step closer. And I’d take that.

  I grabbed my jacket and Bridget’s keys on my way out the door. Light traffic shortened the time to reach the house by half. I eased up to the curb a few houses down, cut the engine and lights, and waited while the car ticked and whispered for a few minutes before settling in to sleep.

  Wasn’t long before a red Dodge Durango rolled past me and pulled up into Liliana’s driveway. A lanky man wearing a ball cap hopped out. Hustling toward the door, he reached into his pocket. Keys dangling from his hand reflected in the security light. The man turned his face to avoid the light, or perhaps, a camera. I hadn’t noticed one earlier. But you didn’t always spot them anymore. Regardless, he didn’t appear to be a part of Braxton’s team. So, who was he?

  Between monitoring the truck and the house, I almost forgot to check my rearview and side mirrors. Just because one vehicle pulled up, it didn’t mean there weren’t more coming. Five minutes passed. Time to make my move.

  I exited the car and hiked my coat up as high as I could around my neck, shielding my face from the wind and from view. Lights switched on in Liliana’s house upstairs, in her bedroom. There was something else there. And this guy knew it.

  The Durango idled in the driveway, spitting exhaust into the frigid evening air. Looking through the rear privacy glass, I could see straight through to the garage. No heads bobbing. No people in the way. I had to walk past, so figured I’d peek inside to make sure. The rear door was unlocked. I pulled it open, found the SUV empty. Good enough. I snapped a picture of the license plate, then made my way to the front door. Moments before I reached it, the bedroom light switched off.

  How long did I have before the guy bounded down those steps? I’d sure as hell rather sneak up on him from inside than out here. Too many witnesses.

  I grabbed the doorknob, turned it. Footsteps reverberated on the decking. Slow, deliberate steps. He’d come through any moment now. But
the vibrations faded until I felt nothing. Now was the time. I reviewed the floor plan in my mind, keeping track of where the potential exits were, and then turned the knob and pushed the door open.

  The vents sighed as they spat out their last bits of warm air until the thermostat told them to start up again. A wall clock ticked. I let go of the door. It groaned until it kissed the door jamb, remaining slightly open. I stood there for several seconds, my eyes the only part of me moving.

  Where was he? Had he heard me come in? Hell, had he spotted me on his way to the house?

  After years on the force, the first thing I did before starting forward was reach for my gun. Instincts were a bitch. The whole time, I hadn’t considered I remained unarmed. I grabbed an umbrella from the decorative basket by the front door. Wasn’t much, but it could offer some obscuring while helping to keep distance. Of course, it offered zero protection from a bullet. Five steps later, I put it to use.

  The guy exploded from around the corner. The action was fast. He was a blur. I attempted to swing the umbrella in front of me, but I couldn’t react in time. He was already swinging a bat in my direction. It came up from his right side, like he was swinging for the fences. Only it wasn’t a curveball he was sending into the stands. It was my diaphragm.

  The pain in my lungs masked any damage that might’ve been done to my ribs by the blow. At the angle the bat came up, he surely hit a few of them. If I had tensed up enough to have a chance.

  The impact of the blow sent me back into the door. I didn’t lose my footing; however, I was bowed over, staring at my shoes. A second later, I was on the ground. My back felt as though my spinal cord had been severed.

  All I heard was the man’s ragged breathing. Not sure if it was the bat or his boots that pushed me over on my side. I looked up. All I saw was the back of his body as he pulled the door open and slipped into the darkening evening.

  29

  The frigid air had penetrated the cab of the truck. Molly had retrieved a blanket stashed behind the bench seat and wrapped it around her body. It wasn’t enough to keep her warm, so she hopped out every five to ten minutes and ran in place or did jumping jacks to keep her blood moving. It was during one of these breaks she saw Cal turn a corner and walk toward her. Alone.