Autumn Secrets (Seasons Pass Book 4)

by Susan C. Muller

  Lefty Bob wadded the remains of his lunch and hurled them into the trash. “What now? We got no solid leads, no suspects, and no place to start.”

  Noah slammed the auto identification notebook shut with more force than necessary. The sound echoed through the suddenly silent room. “We go back to the beginning. Who owns the field and the apartment building? Also, we wait for identifications on the other victims. Maybe the guy made a mistake with one of them. If none of that works, we go to the media. Ask for help.”

  A twenty-pound weight settled on Conner’s shoulders. Noah must be growing desperate to suggest going public. And he had every right to be.

  Friday afternoon. Innocent young women, their lives ahead of them, would be planning their weekend, looking for fun, with no idea what—who—was waiting for them.

  The Sanitizer could be out there tonight. Stalking his next victim. If he found a new disposal site, the bodies might not be found for another ten years.

  Saturday morning Noah mowed his and Mrs. Powell’s yards. Then he drove her to the store for groceries and her medications.

  “I’m not an invalid, you know. The doctor didn’t tell me I couldn’t drive.”

  She looked like one. Her face was thinner than he’d ever seen it and she hadn’t bothered with makeup.

  “Hey, I need food, too. There’s nothing in my fridge but dried out lunch meat and one of Rachelle’s casseroles.”

  “I thought you said her cooking had improved.”

  “It has. This is one of the old ones. I took it out of the freezer.”

  “Lord help you. Don’t eat it by accident.”

  She hmphed and shushed while he carried her groceries inside and helped put them away, but took his hand before he left. “I have a favor to ask you.”

  His breath caught in his throat. He could count on one hand the number of times she’d asked for his help in the four years he’d lived next door. This had to be something important.

  “Have I ever told you how much you remind me of my Andy? Oh, you don’t look like him, he was on the small side, but your dedication to duty. To right and wrong. He dropped out of school and joined the marines after 9/11. Not a day goes by I don’t think about him. Next week will be seven years since he died. Would you drive me out to the Veteran’s Cemetery? With this surgery coming up, I feel the need to sit by his grave and talk to him and I’m worried if I get down on the ground, I won’t be able to get back up.”

  Now it was Noah’s turn to hmph. He wasn’t sentimental. Betsy had been cremated as per her wishes. He’d sprinkled her ashes off a pier in Galveston at sunset. He didn’t visit his parents’ graves, but Rachelle did. She’d told him how much it helped her.

  The Sanitizer had yanked a dozen women—possibly more—away from their families and buried them in unmarked graves.

  How hard must it be, not knowing what happened to someone you loved?

  Conner eyed the folders under Noah’s arm and laughed. “Good luck with that.”

  A flash or irritation shot up Noah’s spine. He’d done plenty of babysitting with Emma and Iris and no one complained.

  Betsy sat in a jump seat swing, rocking back and forth, sucking on a pacifier. He rubbed the back of her hand with one finger and she reached up to him and giggled.

  He shot Conner a so-there look. He could handle this. Piece of cake.

  Jeannie came in, her face glowing and the back of her hair damp, as if she’d just gotten out of the shower. “Hey, Noah. I thought I heard the doorbell. I was worried you’d changed your mind.”

  “No. I swung by the office to pick up some work.”

  She glanced at Conner and sputtered out a laugh.

  “There’s a bottle in the fridge and the warmer’s on the counter. She’ll probably want to eat in an hour. Don’t feed her too fast. She gets gas. I left an Italian cream cake in the fridge if you get hungry.” Jeannie grabbed her purse and they were out the door.

  Noah eyed that sweet baby, swinging contentedly. She eyed him back.

  Two hours later he was pacing in front of the window, jiggling the baby as if he were trying to churn butter. But that was the only way she’d stop crying.

  How long did it take to eat one fucking dinner?

  And how on God’s good earth could a baby the size of a teddy bear produce so much gas? He didn’t even want to think about that diaper. He’d never smelled anything that foul in his life. And it had only been a week since he’d stepped on a decaying body.

  Fortunately, by the time Conner’s headlights swept across the ceiling, Betsy was sleeping contentedly and he had his file folders spread out on the coffee table.

  He had no intention of telling them if they had returned ten minutes earlier, it would have been a different story.

  Conner opened the door and Jeannie glanced around the peaceful room in surprise. “Where’s Betsy?”

  “Sleeping,”

  Noah’s pretend nonchalance didn’t fool Conner for an instant. He could see the line of sweat along his partner’s forehead. He turned toward his wife. “Why don’t you check on her and change out of those shoes you’ve been complaining about? Noah and I will go in the kitchen and cut the cake.”

  If Noah had managed more than five minutes to himself, a slice would be missing. Conner opened the refrigerator door. The cake was intact.

  “Now you want to tell me what’s up with all the files?”

  Noah went to the cabinet, lifted out three plates, and carried them over to the kitchen table.

  Conner stood rock still. He could out-wait his partner.

  “Before I transferred to Homicide, I spent six months in Missing Persons under Garrett Lewis.”

  Conner knew Lewis. Talk about a blowhard. That lazy loser spent more energy avoiding work than doing his job. He’d run through more partners than Betsy went through diapers.

  “He went to great lengths to teach me that any teenager who went missing had simply run away from home. They were all on drugs, you know. Even when there wasn’t any evidence. He’d been there for years. I figured he knew what was happening. He claimed he had a nose for it. Took me longer than it should have to realize he swept more cases under the rug than he worked.”

  Noah took his slice of cake and sat in his usual chair. “I tried to press for some of the cases, but he pulled rank on me. The one that did me in was a young girl named Felicia Vickers. I didn’t realize it at the time, but she was the younger sister of a girl Rachelle knew in college. Felicia was a typical high school senior. Chaffing to get out from under her parents’ thumb.”

  “Was she doing drugs?”

  “A little, but not enough to mess up her GPA. She would have graduated in two months. She had this boyfriend her folks hated, so they grounded her. Then she started slipping out the window at night. One time she didn’t come back. Lewis claimed she’d run off with the boyfriend. Only he was out of town that weekend, touring college campuses with his parents.”

  “That’s when you transferred?” He was starting to understand what had been on his partner’s mind for the last week. That didn’t make him any less pissed the guy was keeping secrets from him.

  “Not immediately. I tried to work the case myself, but Lewis kept piling shit work on me to keep me busy. An opening came up in Homicide and I jumped for it.”

  Conner tapped the pile of folders. He’d known something was up when Noah brought them over. “And you think this Felicia Vickers might be one of our killing field victims?”

  “Doc M thinks her dental impressions probably match the body he named Cloe.”

  “And you didn’t tell me? That’s unacceptable. How can I work the case if you’re keeping secrets from me?” Conner clamped his teeth together to keep from saying something he’d regret later.

  “Doc told me not to mention it anyone yet. We can’t go public with it until the official report from the forensic dentist, but I trust the doc.”

  “I seriously doubt he meant to keep it from me. Partners have to act as a
team. You know that. Any other way doesn’t work.”

  “I do know that. Not telling you right away was a bonehead move on my part. It’s been hanging over my head for days. I think I was embarrassed to admit I let Lewis pull that shit on me. The thing is, I’ve seen what waiting, never knowing, does to families. Felicia’s parents got a divorce. Her sister dropped out of college. What if there’s another one in the cases Lewis filed and forgot?”

  “You don’t think a match would show up when Doc or Lincoln Montgomery finished entering information in the computer?”

  “Are you kidding me? With all the missing persons in Harris County, not to mention the rest of the state, the nation? It could take a year, probably longer. Their families shouldn’t have to wait that long. In half an hour, I can pull out any young girl between the ages of seventeen and twenty-two, slight of stature, long hair, who Lewis shoved to the back of the pile.”

  Noah placed his hand on top of the stack of files. “I owe them that much. I failed them the first time.” The pain in his voice was palatable.

  Jeannie walked in wearing sweats and a T-shirt. She saw them staring at each other, not speaking. With an exaggerated sigh, she grabbed her slice of cake and headed toward the bedroom. “Shit,” she muttered. “Don’t be too long.”

  Conner pulled half the pile his direction. “Let’s make it between sixteen and twenty-three. Just to be on the safe side.”

  Noah studied the display of weapons. Which was more important, ease of use or amount of ammunition?

  He laughed and reached for the orange plastic water gun. This wasn’t rocket science, but he wasn’t going back to Rachelle’s without protection.

  Ten minutes later he stood on her doorstep and waited while she answered the bell. He put his finger to his lips and held up the orange menace. “The girls in?”

  The edges of her eyes crinkled. “They’re in the backyard. Are you sure you’re willing to take them on? Two to one and they’ve had more practice.”

  “Yeah, but I’m ready for them now.”

  In no time he was drenched and out of breath from laughing. Exactly what he needed after two weeks of death and destruction plus a well-deserved dressing-down from his partner. And another waiting from his sister when she found out what he’d avoided telling her.

  Sweet Pea had given him her patented ‘poor pitiful me,’ look when he’d started to leave the house, so he brought her along. Now she was running in circles, trying to trip him. “Whose side are you on, Pea? Have you forgotten who feeds you?”

  She barked and tugged at the hem of his jeans. Ungrateful little stinker.

  He was on the ground with two little girls standing over him when Rachelle called out. “Okay guys. Time to get ready for Mackenzie’s birthday party.”

  “But Mom. We’re having fun with Uncle Noah,” Emma whined.

  “And you’ll have fun at Mackenzie’s. Her feelings will be hurt if you don’t go. And Iris, remember how excited you were to be included in the invitation? Your clothes are on your beds. Go change and your daddy will drive you over there.”

  Noah French-braided Emma’s hair, a skill he’d mastered on Rachelle when their mother was ill, while his sister got them dressed and out the door.

  She led him to the kitchen and made them both a cup of tea. “Now, you want to tell me what’s on your mind? Why you turned up at my door unannounced? I’m not complaining. I love to see you anytime and so do the girls, but I know when you have an ulterior motive.”

  He kissed the top of her head and pulled out a chair. “Sometimes I need to see you and the girls to remember that some things in the world are good and clean. But you’re right, there’s more on my mind than that. Do you remember Felicia Vickers?”

  “Of course I remember. Her mother telephoned me the day you showed up on the news with all those dead bodies. She was afraid you’d ignore her if she called you herself. I swore to her you wouldn’t let her down and I’d keep her informed if there was any news. Is there? Any news?”

  “Maybe. Probably. But the identification isn’t official yet so I can’t let her know. Saying we’d found her daughter and then having to go back and admit we were mistaken would be worse than not knowing. I remember how torn up they were and not being able to tell them is killing me.”

  “When will you know for sure?”

  “A day. A week. A month. Who knows? I asked for a rush determination, but I don’t have any control over the situation.”

  “I’ll call her today and tell her you’ve sent in Felicia’s information and will let her know as soon as possible, one way or the other. Simply knowing you’re checking will make her feel better.”

  “When I get the final report, will you come with me to notify her? Our last conversation didn’t go that well.” That was an understatement. The woman had yelled and cursed at him and he was afraid the dad might hit him. The thought of having to arrest a grieving father had hung over him for the last ten years.

  “You didn’t need to ask. I was already planning on it.”

  Half the weight on his shoulder had lifted when he played with his nieces. The other half lifted now. He’d known Rachelle would help him figure out what to do. The one thing he didn’t understand was how she got so smart and why none of that talent came to him.

  Noah sat on the floor playing tug with Sweet Pea. After the workout she’d had at Rachelle’s, she didn’t need a walk, just dinner and fresh piddle pads.

  He started out the back door for Laurel’s townhouse when his eye caught on his favorite picture of his nieces. Every year for Christmas, Rachelle gave him a calendar with different photos taken of Emma and Iris.

  This one showed the girls in last year’s new back-to-school outfits. Emma, the prissy one, had on a blue dress and leggings. Iris wore jeans and a red top. He’d taken them shopping for their backpacks.

  He stopped abruptly when he realized the photo was for September. Already into October and he’d never turned the page. He flipped over to the next month and the new photo, ringed with orange leaves and pumpkins, showed the girls in their Halloween costumes.

  The photo wasn’t what caused his heart to slam against his ribs and try to escape.

  That would be the date circled in red. October 26. Fourteen months to the day since Betsy’s death. The day he’d chosen to join her.

  How the hell could he have forgotten?

  Now what? He couldn’t depart this earth with the Sanitizer on the loose, preying on unsuspecting women. And he couldn’t leave Rachelle. Or Emma and Iris. Or Conner. Or his new Goddaughter. Or ignore the next lowlife who showed up.

  Then there was Sweet Pea. He didn’t want to leave her—she’d already lost too much—and he didn’t want to take her with him like he’d planned in the beginning.

  Which left the big question. After fourteen months, had he made a decision?

  Noah had mixed emotions when he got to the office on Monday morning. The Yin and Yang of his weekend left him antsy. His conscience had told him he should be at the office, yet there was nothing he could do there.

  Sunday night was fun but still unsettling. The dating world had changed over the last years and he hadn’t kept up with the newest etiquette. What was he supposed to do? Not do? Had he been too pushy? Did she expect more? Less? What was it he wanted from this?

  Laurel made it easy. She chattered about her day and the kooks she had to deal with until he was laughing. They went out for a nice dinner, held hands on the way to the car, watched a ball game at her place.

  He never saw Harvey. Maybe the cat was invisible.

  Before he left, she gave him a printout of the phone numbers she’d uncovered. He’d even kissed her goodnight on his way out. More than once. They’d lingered in the doorway until he worried about nosy neighbors but decided he didn’t care.

  And that was the problem.

  Because he did care. He loved Rachelle and his nieces. Was devoted to his friends and his work. But that was half a life, not a full one. He needed m
ore if he planned to stick around another forty years. He hadn’t known Laurel that long, yet every time he was around her, he caught a glimpse of what life could hold, given a chance. But was he being fair to her?

  She didn’t fit into his plan. If things didn’t work out and he decided to take his original route, would it hurt her? Would she blame herself?

  So many questions, his head wanted to explode.

  He was almost glad to get back into death and murder. That’s where he belonged. Not on a comfortable sofa with a beautiful woman curled up against his shoulder. Making him laugh and forget there were things he didn’t deserve.

  Conner came in with a smile. Apparently, he’d forgiven Noah for keeping secrets. “What’s up, partner? Any word on…anything?”

  “We have multiple identifications on all three of the victims whose drawings appeared in the paper. We can let our rookie check out most of them, but we’ve got three similar hits for Lucy and two for Joyce. How about we track them down and see what we can find?”

  “Sounds good to me. What about Lefty Bob?”

  “He caught a new case last night. He’s going to work on that, but we can have him back if we need him.” Life—or death—went on. More murders to investigate. If they did need Lefty, would it be because they had new evidence or a new set of problems?

  The drive over to Cypress Creek Parkway took thirty minutes once rush hour traffic had passed. Conner was driving a nondescript motor pool car that for once didn’t scream ‘Cops.’

  They parked in front of a rundown motel sitting back half a block behind a tobacco shop. The manager, a potbellied man in his fifties, had a name tag that read Herman.

  “I thought the call was supposed to be anonymous,” he bitched. “That’ll teach me to do my civic duty.”

  “It is anonymous. No one will know except the three of us. Now, how did you meet this woman and what can you tell us about her?”