The asshole at the door pounded harder. Nathan yanked the other earbud out and dropped his phone on the bench.
“I’m coming,” he growled.
He wiped his face with the towel and tossed it on the bench too. It landed on the phone. Then he opened the door. A woman stood on the other side. She had a narrow face, bushy black hair slicked back in a ponytail, and a badge held out in front of her. Nathan stared at the badge.
Behind her, Travis shifted from one foot to the other like a nervous dog. He was a small skinny dude with a shock of brown hair and hipster glasses. A protein shake held in one hand, he mouthed the words, I’m sorry.
“Detective Linda Garcia. May I come in?”
Startled, Nathan stepped back. The detective entered the room. With a last look, Travis fled down the hallway. Nathan looked around for a T-shirt, saw a gray one on the floor and pulled it on. The cotton clung to his sweaty chest, and he plucked it away.
“You’re Nathan Maddox?” she asked.
“Uh, yeah. That’s right.”
Her sharp gaze bounced around the room, stopped at the unmade bed, the jumble of dirty clothes on the floor. He thought about the small stash of painkillers he had shoved in his sock drawer. Had that fucker Namir gotten busted? It wasn’t much, just a handful of pills to get him through the next few weeks. After the hit he’d taken in the Stanford game, his hip still hurt.
“You know Rebecca Kincaid?”
Becky? Nathan sighed and rolled his eyes. Fuck.
“Yeah, I know her.”
“You’re her boyfriend?”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“What would you say then?”
Sweat rolled down Nathan’s forehead and stung his eyes. He swiped it away with the back of his hand.
“I’d say we know each other.”
“She’s pregnant with your kid, though.”
He shook his head.
“That’s what she says but—”
“Are you saying you never slept with her?”
The detective’s eyes were locked on his. Sharp. Brown. Accusing. She’d just gotten here, and yet he could already tell she’d made up her mind about who he was.
“I’m not saying that but—”
“But?”
“We had a thing. I’m not the only guy she’s been with.”
“Her friends say different.”
“You think she’d tell them if she was sleeping around?”
“She told them about you.”
Nathan tossed his hands in the air. Of course she had. She couldn’t keep her mouth shut about anything.
“What do you want me to say?”
Cops had this way of twisting everything around until it looked the way they wanted it to. He saw other girls. Becky probably saw other guys too. Well, at least until she got knocked up. According to the last text she’d sent, she looked ready to pop.
“How about you tell me the truth?”
“I slept with her, but it was months ago.” Like nine.
“And when was the last time you saw Becky?”
Nathan shrugged. He wasn’t going to give this bitch anything more than what she already had.
“I don’t know, a while ago.”
“I need you to be more specific. Phone calls? Texts?” she prodded.
“She texts me all the time but I—”
“You what?” Garcia cocked her head.
Nathan rubbed the back of his hand across his lips. He’d already said more than he should.
“Why are you asking me about Becky? Is she okay?”
“I don’t know. We can’t find her.”
A rush of breath escaped Nathan like he’d been punched in the gut.
“She’s missing?”
“Apparently. What do you know about that, Mr. Maddox?”
He cupped his hands behind his neck and shifted his stance. “Nothing.”
“Can I see your phone?”
His phone? Nathan turned his head. The towel lay on top of his phone. One earbud dangling out from beneath the white terry cloth edge. He swung back toward her.
“You know, I think I left it in the locker room at the gym yesterday.”
“Really?”
She crossed her arms and looked pointedly at the weight bench.
“Really.”
“We could clear all of this up if you just let me see your phone.”
No fucking way. Giving up your phone was dumb. Just ask the Patriots’ quarterback, Tom Brady. Unless she had a warrant, there was no way he was going to hand it over.
“Look, I don’t care if you’ve got some Brett Farve pictures of your junk on there; that’s your business.”
“I’m telling you, I lost it.”
“So now it’s lost?”
Her eyebrows pulled together over her sharp, brown eyes. She wasn’t an idiot. She knew he was lying.
She waited. A police tactic he recognized. Make the other person so uncomfortable they would start to babble. He wasn’t that dumb. His gaze never wavered as he focused his eyes on a point at the end of her nose, a trick he’d learned from his father.
“Where were you two nights ago?”
“Here.”
“All night? Anyone see you?”
Nathan shrugged.
“After dinner, I was studying in my room.”
“By yourself?”
Nathan looked around. With the bed, the bookcase, the dresser, and the weight set, the room was cramped.
“It’s not like there’s a ton of space for entertaining.”
A tense silence filled the room. They stared at each other. She spoke first.
“All right, Mr. Maddox. We’ll be in touch.”
She strolled to the door, eyeing his belongings like she didn’t want to miss a thing. The door closed behind her.
Nathan wiped the sweat from his face. Becky was missing, and the police had taken no time at all to get here. They were going to dig into everything. Every dirty little secret he had was now going to be exposed.
He was fucked.
Nathan crossed the room to the window and peeked through the blinds. Detective Garcia descended the broad wooden staircase toward the sidewalk. She paused halfway down the walk and glanced up at his window. Nathan swore and quickly stepped back.
He drilled his fist into the wall. “Fuck!”
He dropped onto the weight bench. His head fell into his hands. Blood trickled from his swollen knuckles. He wished he’d never met Becky. She’d been nothing but trouble. First the baby. Now this.
He had to think, to be smart so things didn’t get a whole lot worse.
Nathan looked up to see Travis standing in the doorway, mouth agape. Still holding the protein shake in one hand, he offered it to Nathan. Nathan waved it away. He had bigger problems.
“What was that about?”
“There’s this girl.”
Travis set the protein shake down on Nathan’s bookcase and snorted.
“With you there’s always a girl. I thought maybe you’d gotten into a drunken brawl or something. Come on, spill.”
“She’s pregnant.”
“How pregnant?”
Nathan rubbed his hand across his forehead. “I don’t know. Does it matter? Pretty pregnant, I guess.”
“And you’re the baby daddy?”
“So she says.”
Travis leaned against the wall and crossed his arms.
“Okay. And?”
“Apparently, she’s gone missing.” Nathan stared at the phone. Sooner or later, they would get a warrant and have full access to everything on it. He needed to get rid of it, like throw it in the lake or down a storm drain or something.
“Well fuck me.”
In those three words, Travis pretty much summed up what Nathan was thinking. Pansexual or not, Travis was his brother right now.
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. I need to think.”
Travis cocked his head. “Did th
ey ask you where you were?”
“I said I was here.”
“And were you?”
Nathan shook his head and Travis pursed his lips.
“Well, we could start by telling the cops you were here all night. I could vouch for you.”
“You’d do that?”
“Yeah. I mean, it’s not like you offed the girl, right?”
“Right.”
“Then consider me your alibi. And let me know if you need anything else. We can’t have our star tight end going to jail because he was stupid enough to dickmatize the wrong girl.”
“Dickmatize. What does that even mean?”
“Oh, dude. Urban dictionary,” Travis said, rolling his eyes. “Look it up.”
With Travis gone, Nathan laced up his running shoes. Pulling a fleece over his head, he slid the phone into his pocket. Foregoing his plans for a shower, he decided to go for a run instead.
There had to be a million places along the trail to lose his phone where the police would never find it. Hell, he could pitch it into Lake Washington. And then, somehow, he was going to have to warn Maya.
Chapter 4
Seth trudged up the concrete stairs to the West Precinct. Coming back here stirred up mixed feelings. It was like attending family gatherings at his former in-laws place after his wife’s death. On the surface, everything seemed normal, but in actual fact, everything had changed. Maybe he’d changed. He’d gone from being part of the family to an outsider.
“Crawford, you back?” Detective Ed Sanders asked, catching sight of Seth. The big guy stuck out his hand. Seth shook it.
“Nah, just here to talk to Garcia.”
“She’s in the squad room,” he said. “I’ll walk you back.”
“Thanks, man.”
“You’ll need to check your firearm.”
“I’m not carrying.”
“What?”
Sanders made a face, and Seth shrugged. Elizabeth Holt instituted a no-gun policy at the foundation. Seth hadn’t pushed back. He wasn’t a cop anymore. Carrying a gun didn’t seem right. Buzzed back behind the desk, they passed through the heavy steel doors heading for the squad room. Passing several officers, Seth traded nods.
“So, how are things? Your departure was kind of abrupt. Did you leave, or were you pushed?”
Seth knew this would come up. No matter how private you were, people would inevitably ask questions.
“I left.”
“I heard you closed the Parker abduction case all on your own. Good on you, man. Although I have to say, the place ain’t the same without you.” The detective cast a sidelong glance at Seth. “You miss it?”
There was no point in lying. Any good cop would spot a lie a mile away.
“Sometimes.”
“I hear you’ve got a sweet private sector gig with a company downtown.”
“The pay’s good.”
“Not to mention the hours, and benefits . . .”
Seth nodded vaguely. He spotted Linda Garcia at the center of the crowded squad room, phone pinned between her chin and shoulder while she typed. Her gaze was fixed on the monitor, deep frown lines creased her caramel-colored skin in a look of fierce concentration that was aging her before her time.
“There she is. Working a hell of a case this time. Missing girl. Pregnant. And before Christmas.”
“Pays the bills though, right?” Seth said. Gallows humor: a hallmark of police work.
“Damned right.” The cop clapped Seth on the shoulder. “Good to see you.”
Seth crossed the room, taking in the sights and sounds, as familiar and comforting as his favorite song. He stopped at Garcia’s desk. She looked up. Her frown deepened.
“I’ll call you back,” she said into the phone. Pulling her fingers away from the keyboard, she hung up.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, Crawford, but I’m not happy to see you.”
Seth smiled. He’d always liked Linda’s no-bullshit attitude, and given how many times he’d stepped on her toes when he was trying to find Brooke, he couldn’t blame her.
“I’m guessing this isn’t a social call.” She waved her hand, and he took the chair across from her desk. She picked up a pen and spun it between her fingers. It was an endearing habit he remembered well.
“You’re right. It’s professional courtesy.”
“Aw, shit. You’re working on the Rebecca Kincaid case.” With her free hand, Linda pinched the bridge of her nose and blew out a long breath. His mother used to do the very same thing just before she said, Lord grant me patience. Of course, it was usually in response to something he’d done. He supposed this time was no different.
“The foundation is on this one too. But look, I don’t want to overstep. I’m here as a courtesy to tell you what we’re up to and offer to share information. We both want the same thing—to bring Rebecca and her baby home safely.”
“You know that’s only half the job. I have to find the suspect and build a case. You remember that part, right? Collect evidence? Nail the bastard who did this?”
Seth grinned. “Trust me, I remember.”
“I can’t have you and that computer demon of yours at the Holt Foundation undermining my case by tainting evidence.”
He hated the way she looked at him, like he was a dirty cop. In truth, he struggled with Henry’s unorthodox methods and told himself they were working toward the greater good. Finding Becky was all that mattered.
Linda was going to say more, but he stopped her by raising a hand. Even though Henry’s black arts had him playing out of bounds most of the time, he knew there were ethical lines Linda could not cross. He wouldn’t ask that of her.
“I won’t pass along anything that will compromise you or the investigation. I can point you in the right direction so you can dig in the right place. That’s all. Would you be open to that?”
Linda stopped twirling the pen. She eyed him with a bitter look.
“Do I have a choice? If so, I’d like to work this case alone.”
“I’m not going away,” Seth said. “So we can either work together, or I can go off and do my own thing. The choice is yours.”
Linda dropped the pen on the desk.
“Some choice. Okay. What have you got?”
“My guess is you’re looking at the boyfriend. Thinking some kind of Eli Patterson thing?”
Seth would never forget the case. Laurie Patterson—a pregnant woman in Tacoma who went missing a week before Thanksgiving a few years back. The moment he heard the news report, Seth knew in his gut that the husband was to blame. In cases like this, the motive usually struck pretty close to home. With money worries, the pressure of new responsibilities often erupted into complicated, uncontrollable emotions.
“Sports analysts predict the kid will go high in the NFL draft. That means serious money someday. What if he doesn’t want to spend his newfound wealth on support payments? What if he doesn’t want to be saddled with a kid at the ripe old age of twenty-two?” Linda said.
“Does he seem like the kind of kid who could kill his girlfriend and his unborn baby?”
Linda sighed and gave a who-the-hell-knows, palm-up gesture.
“On the surface, I’d say no, but then I’m constantly surprised by the crazy shit people do when they feel backed into a corner. It’s possible he did it himself, but I’m also exploring the possibility that maybe he had someone else do it.”
“Murder for hire?” Seth shook his head. “The kid doesn’t have much in his bank account. His parents own a hardware store in Kelso. They’re not loaded, and we’ve seen no unusual transactions in their bank accounts.”
Linda rolled her eyes.
“Shit, Crawford. You’ve looked into their bank records already? Was that why you got canned?”
The question stung. In all his time on the force, he’d never once done anything illegal.
“I quit.”
“Whatever. You’re playing with fire, and if it blows up in your face, I don�
��t want to be anywhere near it,” Linda said. “And as for Maddox’s financial situation, while he may not have that kind of cash now, he might at a later date, depending on how the draft goes. That is, if I don’t have him locked up by then.”
“Last I heard, killers don’t take IOU’s,” Seth pointed out. Linda’s withering look bounced off him. “Look, all I’m saying is that murder for hire’s a tricky business. My old Sergeant used to say that three people might be able to keep a secret if the other two are dead. So, what’s Maddox got to say for himself?”
“Says he didn’t do it. Says he was at the frat house all night, of course.”
“Got anyone who can verify his story?”
“We’re checking his alibi with the other kids that live in the frat house, but I’m willing to bet that for thirty bucks and a joint, one of those little bastards would say I spent the night there.”
“You think he’s lying.”
“Maddox refused to hand over his phone, which makes me think he’s hiding something.”
“So you’re getting a warrant?”
“Not easy. With so much personal data on phones these days . . .” She threw up her hands in a futile gesture. “Besides, he says he can’t find his phone. He’s probably dumped it.”
No doubt about it. Recent changes in laws made it harder to collect evidence. For better or worse, these were the kind of legal speed bumps that barely slowed down his new team.
“What if I told you his cell phone pinged a tower in Tukwila near Southcenter Mall a few minutes past nine the night Rebecca went missing? That’s a few miles from where you think she went missing.”
Linda groaned. She was pinching the bridge of her nose again. “You’re killing me, Crawford.”
“I’m not telling you anything you won’t find yourself when you get his phone records. I’m just giving you a head start.”
“Anything else you think I should know?”
“Not yet.”
Seth offered his hand, and Linda shook it. A tiny smile tugged at the corner of her lips like maybe she was glad to see him after all. Quick as a flash, it was gone, and now that Seth had said all he had come here to say, it was time to go.
A few steps shy of the door, he heard someone call his name.
Brad Alvarez, his former Lieutenant, stood in the door of his office. If he was glad to see Seth, it sure didn’t show on his face as he waved Seth over. Seth had no doubt he was in for a blast of shit, showing up like this. He’d naively hoped he’d be in and out of the precinct without running into his former boss.
Dark Harvest (A Holt Foundation Story Book 2) Page 3
