Sherry Lewis - Count on a Cop

by Her Secret Family

  How long had she been gone this time? Long enough to run over the entire conversation with her mother again and the half-dozen angry voice mail messages from her brother she’d erased.

  Abruptly, she became aware of the steady clatter of keyboards and the drone of voices around her as the rest of the special investigations team went about their business. Jolene had plenty of work to do herself. Three reports waited in her in-box, and the notes she’d made after listening to her voice mail at work littered her desk.

  And here she sat, staring off into space. Captain Eisley thought she’d been distracted before. She’d be reassigned to dispatch before the end of the week if she didn’t pull herself together.

  She’d been trying all afternoon to just get through her shift. As long as she could remember, work had been her refuge. The one place guaranteed to take her mind off everything else. Today, she had trouble remembering she was even here.

  Shaking her hand to restore feeling to her numb fingertips, she looked at Ryan and the filthy duffel bag he held in one gloved hand. “What’s that?”

  “Brady and Mike found it outside that warehouse we’ve been watching. Captain Eisley wants us to go through it.”

  “I thought he wanted us to talk to Big Red again.”

  Ryan looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “I just told you, nobody can find him. Didn’t you hear me?”

  He had? “Yeah. Yeah. Sorry. So Eisley wants us to do what with that thing?”

  “Look through it. See if it can give us a lead on where Red has gone.” Just moving the bag released an odor foul enough to trip her gag reflex, but she was almost grateful. If it was disgusting enough, maybe she’d stop thinking about her personal problems.

  She trailed Ryan down the hallway and into one of the examination rooms. He tossed the bag onto a stainless steel table.

  “What is that?” she demanded, covering her mouth and nose with one hand.

  Ryan tossed a box of surgical gloves to her. “Pretty rank, huh? Get your gloves on before you touch anything. Smells like somebody died in there.”

  Jolene stuffed one hand into a tight-fitting latex glove and eyed the bag warily. “Is that thing big enough to hold a body?”

  “That depends on the size of the person.” Ryan looked as if he was enjoying her discomfort. He unzipped the bag and pushed the flaps out of the way so they could both see what was inside.

  Jolene leaned in to take a look. She could handle as much as the next guy on the team. She’d been telling everyone that since the day she walked in the door, and she’d go right on saying it until they believed her. She just wished she didn’t have to prove it today when exhaustion and emotion were working together to keep her on the edge.

  Breathing through his mouth, Ryan poked around in the duffel bag for a minute, sifting through contents that looked as if they’d been doused in some kind of liquid and then rolled in dirt. One after the other, he pulled out two soiled Tshirts, a shoe with a hole in the sole, a pair of pants so dirty she couldn’t imagine anyone wearing them and three dog-eared issues of Playboy.

  Jolene catalogued the items carefully as Ryan looked up from the last item. “Trust Red to have those.” His…fondness…for women was well-known around the station, and female officers took extra precautions when they had to talk to him. “Is there anything else in there? What’s causing the smell?”

  Ryan shook his head and went back to the search. After a few seconds, he barked a laugh and plunged his hand into the bag. He withdrew it a second later holding a dead mouse by the tail. The stench exploded in the air and the control Jolene had been fighting evaporated. Her stomach lurched, and she bolted from the table while the coffee and chips she’d been living on all afternoon rose in her throat.

  She could hear Ryan’s laughter following her as she raced down the hallway, both hands clamped firmly over her mouth. It would take months to live this down, but she couldn’t make herself care.

  She ducked into a stall just in time, and emerged a few minutes later, shaky and embarrassed. After rinsing her mouth, she studied her reflection in the mirror. The lack of sleep showed in the dark circles under her eyes, which were dull and almost opaque. Her face seemed strange to her. Whose nose was that? Whose eyes? From which unknown relative had she inherited her chin, her cheeks, her shape, her hair?

  She was torn apart by questions and terrified of the answers, but couldn’t allow this to paralyze her.

  Smoothing the hair away from her face, she squared her shoulders and pushed out into the hall where she found Ryan leaning against the wall and studying the pattern of the carpet at his feet.

  He actually looked worried. “You okay Jo-Jo?”

  Illogically, his concern irritated her. “I’m fine. Let’s get back to work.”

  He caught her by the arm before she could get more than a couple of steps. “You’re not fine. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing.” She tried to pull her arm away, but he held on.

  “You’ve been moody and distracted all day. Whatever it is, why don’t you just spill it?”

  “I’m not moody,” she snapped. “I’m fine. Just back off, okay?” She regretted pushing him away the second the words left her mouth. Ryan was the one person she might’ve been able to confide in, but she could tell by the look on his face that it was too late.

  With a brittle shrug, he let go of her arm. “Okay. Have it your way. I just came to tell you that there’s somebody here to see you, anyway. Thought you’d want to know.”

  “Who is it?” she demanded, praying that nobody in her family had decided to ambush her at work.

  Ryan shrugged again and started walking toward her.

  “Might be the girl from the other night. Seems to think you’re the only one who can help her.”

  “Debra? What is she doing here?”

  Ryan pulled a toothpick from his pocket and spent a second or two situating it in his mouth. “No idea. I told her to wait for you out by the elevators.” Ryan moved the toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other. “I thought that would be better than letting her wait around Big Red’s duffel bag.”

  Just the thought of that duffel bag made Jolene’s stomach lurch again. “Good idea. Thanks. I’ll go see what she wants.” Grasping eagerly at the distraction, Jolene hurried down the hall.

  Two minutes later, she rounded the corner and spotted Debra sitting on a carpeted bench kicking her feet in front of her and humming softly. She wore jeans and a sweater, and her jacket lay on the bench beside her. Her long, dark hair was pulled back in a braid, accentuating the sharp cheekbones and almond-shaped eyes she’d inherited from her father. “Debra? What are you doing here?”

  The girl’s head popped up and she bounded to her feet. “Is this okay? I mean, coming here like this?”

  “I don’t know. What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know where my dad is, and I can’t get into the apartment. I didn’t know what to do, but then I remembered that card you gave me.”

  Relieved that the problem wasn’t serious, Jolene nodded for her to sit again and sank onto the bench beside her. “Have you tried calling your dad?”

  “I don’t have a cell phone, and I didn’t have any money for a pay phone.”

  “Well, then, how did you get here?”

  “My friend’s mom gave me a ride. She took me home from diving practice, and then she brought me here.”

  Was she telling the truth? She certainly seemed to be, but she’d fooled Jolene once already and Jolene wasn’t as good at sensing a lie as she’d once believed.

  “Didn’t your friend’s mom have a cell phone?”

  “Not with my dad’s number in it.”

  “Was this the friend who gave the party you went to?”

  Debra shook her head quickly. “No, that was somebody else.”

  “Couldn’t you have stayed at their house until your dad got home?”

  “I wanted to, but she said they had to go somewhere.” The pupils of her eye
s began to move rapidly and Jolene suspected that wasn’t entirely true.

  The question was, what was she going to do about it? Tempting as the idea sounded, stringing the kid up by her toes and leaving her there until she got the idea that lying was bad probably wouldn’t fly, either with Mason or the department. “I guess I’m going to have to call your dad and get him to stop by and pick you up, then. Do you know his number at work?”

  Debra’s gaze shifted away. “He doesn’t have one. He works outside all the time.”

  “Does he have a cell phone?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you know that number?”

  “No.”

  “So you’re telling me that your dad takes off for work and leaves you home alone, without any way to contact him?”

  Debra must have heard the disbelief in her voice because her gaze settled on a picture on the far wall and her voice grew less confident. “I have it, but it’s on speed dial and I lost where he wrote it down.”

  Yeah. That figured. It seemed to Jolene that the kid was having a great time making up stories. Unfortunately for her, Jolene was in no mood. She leaned forward and put herself in the girl’s line of vision. “Listen up, Debra, because I’m only going to say this once. I don’t like being lied to. In fact, I really, really don’t like being lied to. In fact, when I find out that somebody is lying to me, I get really angry. It’s hard to like somebody who makes up stuff just to get somebody else in trouble. So think about that and let’s go get a Coke out of the machine, and then you tell me again where your dad is, okay?”

  The gleam died and Debra’s expression went from crafty to subdued in a heartbeat. “Maybe he—”

  Jolene stood and held up a hand to stop her. “Not right now. I’ve had a bad day and I’m not feeling very happy. Let’s go get that Coke. I’m sure it will help.”

  Debra stood reluctantly, grabbed her jacket and held it in front of her as she shuffled into the elevator beside Jolene. There was something endearing about her, but Jolene couldn’t have explained what it was if her life depended on it.

  They reached the second floor, and Jolene led the girl into the cafeteria. Several tables were occupied and the acidic smell of old coffee filled the air. Jolene chose a table apart from the others and left Debra there while she fed quarters into the Coke machine. On impulse, she bought a bag of chips and a cookie, then carried everything back to the table and sat where she could look into Debra’s eyes.

  “Okay, now,” she said, passing the food and one can to the girl. “Let’s try this again. Where is your dad?”

  Debra focused on removing the plastic wrap from the cookie. “He’s at work.”

  “Do you know where he’s working?”

  “At the county complex out by the university, I think.”

  Jolene knew that area well. She could probably find him if she wanted to go looking. But since both of her parents would also be there, that was not an area of town she wanted to spend time in. “When does he get home?”

  “That depends.”

  “What time does he usually get home?”

  Debra shrugged, crumpled the plastic wrap in her fist, and broke the cookie in two. “Maybe seven.”

  That was just an hour from now, and Jolene’s shift would be ending at roughly the same time. She could just drive Debra home—again—but she hated to make a habit of it. She watched two uniformed officers sitting nearby finish their snacks and toss their garbage. “Have you thought about that cell phone number some more?”

  Debra’s expression grew earnest. “I don’t remember it. I have it written down at home, but I can’t get in.” She dropped her gaze again and added, “I forgot my key.”

  Finally, the truth. “What about a neighbor? Is there somebody in the complex we can call?”

  “I don’t know very many people. I don’t know their names.”

  Jolene knew she could call the leasing office. They’d have a spare key, and they could let Debra into her apartment. But something held her back. She ignored the flash of anticipation at the thought of seeing Mason again and told herself she just didn’t want to leave Debra alone. “What about that guy who was at your house when I took you home? Your dad’s friend. What was his name again?”

  “Ike?”

  “That’s the one.”

  Debra nibbled one corner of the cookie. “He’s not home, and I’m not making that up. He had to go somewhere for a couple of days.”

  “Is there anybody else? Do you have family nearby? Maybe somebody from the Cherokee Center who could watch you?”

  Debra’s gaze flew to hers. “My dad would never let me go there.”

  “Really? Why not?”

  “He doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like any of that stuff.”

  “What stuff? Cherokee stuff?”

  Debra’s expression grew solemn. “He gets really mad whenever somebody asks about it.”

  That was certainly interesting. “Do you know why?”

  Debra took another bite of cookie. “My mom said he hates to talk about it. I’m supposed to do a report on my grandparents. Kind of an interview thing, you know? For school?” Her gaze flicked around the room, never quite landing on anything. “I wanted to find out about my dad’s family because I don’t know anything about them, but my mom said not to count on it. He never talks about them.”

  Intrigued, Jolene rested her chin in her hand and let herself acknowledge the heritage she shared with this girl. “So you don’t know anything about the Cherokee?”

  “Not much. I found some books in the library, but they were all just stories about spiders finding fire and rabbits and talking wolves and stuff. It didn’t make sense.”

  “Lots of legends, huh?”

  “I guess.”

  “And your dad won’t talk to you about it?”

  Debra swept crumbs onto the floor. “I don’t know what the big deal is, but he acts like he’s…you know…prejudiced or something.”

  Against himself? His daughter? Could that even happen? Mason didn’t seem like the kind of guy to be that unreasonable, but she barely knew him. “I’m sure that’s not it,” she told Debra. “Maybe he just doesn’t know much about the culture.”

  Debra took a long drink of Coke and shook her head. “Ike told me that after my grandma died, that old man who raised my dad—Henry?—he taught them all kinds of things. Ike says he was a tribal elder, and he knew all about the history, and he taught my dad. My dad just won’t tell me.”

  Another parent who thought he had the right to keep the truth from his daughter just because he didn’t like it? And he seemed like such a nice guy. “What about Ike? Can you talk to him?”

  Debra nodded slowly. “I can, and I do a little bit, but I’m afraid my dad will get mad.”

  It was on the tip of Jolene’s tongue to tell Debra she shouldn’t let that stop her, but some tiny seed of common sense found its way to the surface. No matter what her personal situation, no matter what she thought about Mason’s choices, it wasn’t her place to incite rebellion in his already mutinous daughter. Not telling the kid about her Cherokee heritage wasn’t a crime—even though Jolene thought it ought to be.

  “Come with me,” she said, standing abruptly.

  Debra swept the crumbs from her shirt with the back of her hand. “Where?”

  “Upstairs. I need to finish something and let my partner know I’m leaving, then I’ll drive you home. But I want you to write down all the phone numbers you need and carry them with you from now on. And remember your key.”

  Debra grabbed her sweater and almost looked worried. “Are you mad at me?”

  “No. I’m not mad. This just isn’t the best place in the world for a kid, and I’m really busy. I can’t stop working to drive you home every time I see you.”

  The sadness in Debra’s sharp little face sent a pang of guilt through Jolene, but it couldn’t be helped. The last thing she needed right now was to form an emotional connection to a testy kid and her secretive d
ad.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  TRYING TO HANG ON TO the sanity he had left, Mason flipped through the telephone directory and tried to think of someone else he could call. He’d walked in the door half an hour ago, only to find the house empty and dark. No sign of Debra anywhere. No note. No voice mail message. Nothing. And after the stunt she’d pulled on Friday, he was half-crazy with worry.

  He’d already called Brynne Stanton’s mother, hoping they’d taken Debra home with them. Brynne’s mother wasn’t home, but her dad swore that Debra hadn’t been with them when they came in after practice. So where was she?

  His heart thumped ominously in his chest and he stared at the names swimming on the page in front of him. Debra didn’t know that many people in Tulsa. She didn’t have a list of places she could go. That frightened him a whole lot more than if he’d had a thousand possibilities to choose from.

  He flipped pages, found a listing for Coach Walkenhorst and punched the number on the keypad. Just as the phone started to ring, the doorbell rang. He jumped and dropped the phone onto the counter.

  Nerves. He swore Debra was going to be the death of him.

  Breaking the connection, he strode to the front door, praying that Debra would be there, already planning what he’d say to her if she was. He yanked open the door, saw Debra, and felt such an overwhelming surge of relief, it took a second to recognize Jolene as the woman standing next to her.

  When he did, his heart sank. “What happened? Is she in trouble again?”

  “She’s fine. She asked someone to bring her to the station after practice because she forgot her key.”

  Mason looked from one to the other. “To the police station? Why didn’t you just go to the leasing office? They have a spare key.”

  “I didn’t think of it.” Debra stared him in the eye, daring him to pressure her further.

  Jolene put a hand on her shoulder and smiled. “Next time she’ll remember. But she’s promised she won’t forget her key again, right, Debra?”