Chapter Nine
Wednesday, August 16th, 6:30 a.m.
Matt pushed himself to consciousness with great effort when his cell vibrated across the nightstand. He credited Catherine for his sound sleep. He’d dozed off with his mind full of pleasant, albeit inappropriate thoughts. Having her in his dreams helped him forget the outside world. For that small respite, he was grateful.
Caller ID read “dispatch,” meaning this wasn’t a friendly wake-up call.
Less than an hour later, he parked in front of the courthouse and jogged up the steps. Sue, in a prim black dress with a white collar, greeted him.
“They’re in your office.”
“One of these days you’re going to tell me how you manage to be here before me.” He made a mental note and filed it. Without fail, the woman stayed one step ahead.
Annie Travers’ husband, Ben, and her father, Will Brooking, waited for Matt in his office. After obtaining permission to record their conversation, he identified each person in the room, and tried to calm both men. “It’s important you take a deep breath and talk to me with a clear head. You’re worried and scared. I get that. But you’re no help unless you’re under control.”
“I understand.” Ben looked to his father-in-law for a nod.
“What time did you get concerned about your wife?”
“When she wasn’t home by eleven. Time never varies more than fifteen minutes. She’s the night manager at the Dairy Dream. I called her cell at eleven-thirty. Called again every five minutes. Never got an answer.”
Ben might've been in his early thirties, but as he rubbed the back of his neck and grimaced, his eyes looked much older. His thin body stretched over a six-foot frame gave him an Ichabod Crane look. With blond hair, his mustache was barely noticeable until he pulled a corner into his mouth and chewed on it.
“Annie.” A mental picture of the young brown-haired woman with green eyes formed in Matt’s mind. Shit. She’d served him lots of hamburgers. “You always wait up?”
“Most nights I’m up grading papers. I teach sixth grade history at Curry Middle School. But yeah, even if I’m done, I wait up. We work different hours.” Ben shifted his gaze from Matt to Will and back. “Late at night is our time together.”
Matt studied Ben for a second. His eyes were rimmed in red and filled with tears. If he was faking his concern for his wife, he was a damned good actor. “Walk me through her end of shift procedure—if you can.”
“She and whoever’s working lock the door at ten. The other person cleans up while Annie makes out the night deposit. They always leave together. She goes straight to the night deposit drive-thru at the Republic Bank in Butte Crest. Then she drives home.”
Sue stepped in with a pot of coffee and three paper cups. She silently filled each one and then set them in front of the men. She gripped Ben’s shoulder before leaving.
“Go on,” Matt said.
“At midnight, I called Will to see if Annie had checked in with them.” Ben lifted the cup to his mouth with both hands and blew on the hot liquid. Steam rolled up and over his face.
Matt turned to Will who hadn’t uttered a word. “That’s when you got involved?”
“Yeah. And all this jawing ain’t finding my Annie.”
Ben flinched at Will’s statement. A slight movement the recorder wouldn’t pick up, but Matt made a note in his book. There was friction between the two men, maybe because of the “my Annie” reference made by her father.
Will leaned forward. In his mid-fifties, he’d spent years in the field trying to eek a living out of the unforgiving dry land. His weathered, ruddy complexion reflected his hard work. Chapped, rough hands rested on the arms of his chair.
“We couldn’t find her,” Will said around a wad of dip. “Now it’s time you did something about bringing her home.”
“You searched for her before reporting her missing?” Matt worked to keep frustration off his face.
“We weren’t sure. Not until we found her empty car at the drive-through deposit at the bank.” Will stood. His chair wobbled, came close to turning over.
“You found her car?” This was news Matt should’ve been told first. His jaw muscle ached from gritting his teeth, but he held his temper. He stepped to the door and met Sue on her way in. Her desk sat right outside his office. Nothing got by her ears.
“I’ve already contacted Jake and Rey. Said you wanted to see them. They’ll be in shortly.” This time, it was Matt’s shoulder she reached up and gripped.
“Always one step ahead of me. Maybe you do deserve detective pay,” he said softly before returning to Ben and Will.
“You didn’t touch anything in or around the car did you?” Matt looked from one man to the other.
“I needed to know if she’d had car trouble, didn’t I?”
“Dammit, Will.” So much for staying calm. “By trying to start the car, you touched the keys, the steering wheel, and the door handle? What else?”
Will’s mistake hit him quick and hard. He sank down on the chair as if someone cut him off at the knees.
“Not the door handle.”
“The car door was standing open?” Matt’s temples were on the verge of imploding. He pressed a headache back with the heels of his hands when Ben and Will simultaneously nodded.
“I need a photograph of your wife, Ben. Get it to Sue right away.”
“I’ll bring it by myself.”
Matt got the make and model of Annie’s vehicle. Rey went to ensure no one else touched or moved the car. Matt asked Sue to call San Antonio for a crime scene unit. Then he sent Ben and Will to check with friends on the off-chance Annie had contacted them.
“Jake, let’s make that run between the Dairy Dream to the Republic Bank.” They’d lost valuable time by not being called last night. Now they had a cold trail to follow.
****
Wednesday, August 16th, 11:45 a.m.
“You know the family?” Matt asked Jake during the drive from Curry to Butte Crest.
“They go to our church. Ben’s trying to hire on at one of the bigger schools in San Antonio. Pay’s better than Curry Middle School.”
“I can imagine.”
“Annie and Ben are newlyweds.”
“Shit.”
“Exactly.”
Newlyweds. That explained Ben being uncomfortable talking about his and Annie’s private time in front of her dad. Sex wouldn’t be a topic you’d discuss in front of a new father-in-law. Ben moved further down Matt’s list of suspects, but not off. Everybody was subject to scrutiny. Too many times murder led right back to a family member. Matt shook off the thought. For now, he’d count on Annie being alive.
Matt parked and went inside to question the Dairy Dream day shift manager and her team. Annie hadn’t mentioned anyone new hanging around, nor had she complained about anybody bothering her. He joined Jake who’d stayed outside to walk the perimeter of the building and lot.
“We can pull fingerprints from inside this squat and gobble if you want. Be a lot, but I’ll see to it,” Jake said on the way to the bank.
“Squat and gobble?”
“That’s what Kaye calls fast food restaurants. Doesn’t much care for them.”
“Hmm.” Matt wasn’t touching that one. “Too many people in and out. Don’t mess with prints.”
“Works for me.”
“Dammit, Jake. Where’s the bastard hiding these women?”
“Could be anywhere from an old storm cellar to under his bed. We keep turning over rocks, we’ll find him.”
Annie’s car sat inside a circle of yellow tape when Matt and Jake arrived at the bank. Two men were taking pictures. “You recognize either one of those guys?”
“Nope. Let’s find out who they are.” Jake was unbuckled and out of the cruiser before Matt killed the engine.
He caught up with the shorter Jake, amused by his impatience. Both relaxed and slowed their pace when the men flashed their ID’s from the ME’s office.
“Damn. Are you guys short-handed?” He waved off a response. “Sheriff Matt Ballard. This is Deputy Jake Foley. What have you found?”
The two men introduced themselves. Their hands were covered with latex gloves, neither Dave Foster nor Hector Ruiz offered to shake hands. Foster rocked back and forth on his Reeboks and slid his glasses on top of his head. He handed his camera off to Ruiz, pulled out his notebook, and read.
“We arrived on scene at approximately thirteen-hundred hours and identified ourselves to Deputy Rey Santos. He in turn identified the automobile as belonging to the missing woman. We taped the area around the car—”
“Okay. I get it,” Matt interrupted Ruiz. “You’ve been here twenty minutes, and I’m rushing you. Where’s Deputy Santos?”
Ruiz nodded toward the bank. “Inside.”
Matt walked a few feet away and punched in Dr. Reinhardt’s number. He slapped his phone closed after leaving a message.
“These guys will be here a while.” Jake looked up from his notebook and smiled when Matt leaned up against the cruiser.
“Pisses me off Reinhardt only sent two men. It’s unacceptable, and he’s gonna hear about it. Hell, he had a full compliment at Julia’s crime scene. And I’m still waiting on DNA and toxicological reports.”
“Here’s an idea. Why don’t I stay here with Rey? Take our own pictures. Then drive over and interview Annie’s night shift waitress. You go deal with the ME.”
The voice of reason and experience, Jake provided a steady counterbalance to Matt’s sometimes-volatile personality. He had earned Matt’s trust.
“I picked a hell of a place to do this, but if you’ll take the job, I’d be proud to have you accept the position of Deputy Sheriff of Crest County.”
Jake raised his eyebrows, pulling his continuous frown into a quizzical expression. “Sort of like a battlefield promotion?”
“Exactly.” Matt used Jake’s phrase on him.
“I accept.” He held his hand out, and his firm grip spoke volumes.
“Good. First, let’s check in with Rey. I want to watch the security camera trained on this night drop lane.”
Before the front door closed behind them, Bank President Tom Logan in his three piece suit, trim haircut, and pocket full of ballpoint pens pounced like a hungry vulture. Twisting his fingers into knots, he rushed toward them, his face the color of a tomato. Rey leaned against a counter. A snide grin on his face.
“Deputy Santos refuses to have that car moved. It’s clogging up the flow of my business.”
Matt directed his comment to Rey. “Good call.”
Rey pushed away, striding toward the exit. “I’ll be outside with the techs.”
Jake gripped Logan by the elbow and escorted the cigarette-thin man to an office. “Sheriff, Tom’s a cooperative fella, aren’t you?” Jake’s words slid out slow and cold.
Logan collapsed in his desk chair, adjusted his crooked tie, and deflated. Whoosh. He was done. “I’ve got a job to do.”
“So do we,” Matt said. “We need to view your security feed starting at ten-thirty last night. Will that be a problem? If so, we can sit here and wait until I get a warrant.”
“No warrant. Right, Tom?” Jake’s head swung like a pendulum while he uttered the word no.
Logan fiddled with the buttons and then turned the small monitor around. “I assume you want me to leave.”
“Thank you. We can manage,” Jake commented.
Matt stared at Jake in amazement as he closed the door behind the disgruntled bank manager. “Damn, I made the right decision promoting you. We’ll do it again formally when we get back to the office.”
“No hurry.” Jake smiled.
His expression returned to his deadpan, stoic persona when he sat and pressed the Slow Forward button. The two of them leaned close to the screen, watching in silence. Ben had been right about his wife’s schedule. The readout said eleven-fifteen when Annie’s car pulled in and stopped. A figure stepped into the shadows, stood at an angle where the camera caught nothing but a hand holding a pistol.
“Stop there.” Matt studied the hand in the picture, looking for identifying marks. Seeing none, he nodded. “Gun’s a .380. Go ahead.”
Annie’s eyes flashed wide, and her mouth formed the word no. She held the night deposit bag out the window and waited. Her expression shifted to confusion right before she pulled her arm back inside and then exited the car. Damn. She stepped out of the frame and never returned. They ran the feed twice more. Annie’s kidnapper had avoided the camera.
“She recognized him. Didn’t get scared until she spotted the gun.” Jake backed the action up and hit pause.
“I’ll bet she thought she was being robbed and took the money to him. The bastard knew what he was doing, where to stand and what to say. She trusted him. Didn’t she realize he couldn’t leave a witness? Not after she saw his face.” Matt leaned back in the chair. Pain surged in his temple. “Jake, you’ll get a copy?”
“Yep. You go on. I’ve got this.”
****
Wednesday, August 16th, 10:00 p.m.
Catherine paced and argued with herself. Should she stay or go home? She’d told Matt he’d need a friend after the first woman went missing and now this. She couldn’t imagine the pressure he must be under. Her plan was to have a hot supper waiting for him. She’d basted and basted until the roast withered and fell apart. The once firm potatoes? Mush. The gravy was a light brown paste.
Benedict Arnold stood and trotted to the back door before Catherine heard Matt’s pickup. The dog was glad to know Matt was home, too. She leaned back against the kitchen counter and waited.
“Hey.” A lame greeting, but seeing him stunned her speechless.
Dark circles and cold, weary, blue eyes marred his Michelangelo face. His black hair fell in disarray and looked like he’d raked his fingers through a number of times today. His chiseled jaw and chin were dark with a long day’s stubble. With a couple of long strides, he pinned her between him and the counter. He framed her face with his hands, closed his eyes, and lowered his forehead to hers. They stood in silence for a long time, unmoving, their bodies not touching. Fear for the missing woman radiated off him.
His anguish, more than she’d planned for, hit her hard. His dedication and concern, traits she admired, shook her conviction that no man could be trusted. His tenderness, something she’d never had, touched a long-neglected place in her soul.
In that small space of time, where no one else in the world existed, Catherine’s heart found hope. Tears she’d promised herself never to shed again, slid unchecked down her cheeks. But these tears weren’t because of her pain or grief. She cried because Matt suffered and grieved for the missing woman. She slid her arms around him, stroking his tense muscles.
“Hey, yourself.” He leaned back and studied her face. The warmth behind his eyes returned as he wiped away her tears with the pads of his thumbs. “Were those for me?”
She nodded and emotions swirled in her head. Catherine struggled to regain her perspective. “I have to remove no more tears from the Never list.”
“Why would you hold yourself to such a never?”
“The only thing crying gets you is red eyes.”
“Okay, tough guy. Maybe someday you’ll trust me enough to explain. Why’d you break a rule for me?”
“The worry for Annie Travers in your eyes broke my heart. I’ve never known anyone with your compassion and dedication.”
“Careful.” The corners of his mouth lifted. “You’ll be calling me John Wayne again.”
“Same soul.” She pushed a lock of black hair off his face. He caught her wrist in his hand.
“Stop, Catherine. I’m nobody’s hero. I failed miserably in that department.” He walked to the stove. “What smells good?”
He’d changed the subject. She understood the maneuver. It was probably for the best, because she’d spooked when he grabbed her by the wrist. She needed to put some distance between th
em. “Dried-out roast. I should’ve cooked something that could be reheated.”
“This’ll be great.” He lifted the top off the pot, looked inside, and then glanced back over his shoulder. Humor filled his eyes, and the corners of his mouth twitched. “Yum. Looks delicious.”
“Yeah. Right.”
“Does to me. Let’s eat.”
To Catherine’s surprise, the roast tasted okay. As Matt ate, the circles under his eyes seemed to fade with each bite, but nothing could hide the worry hidden under the surface. She regaled him with small bits of gossip and news. Anything to lighten his spirit. But working at a funeral home offered poor fodder for conversation.
She stacked the dishes in his sink. “You need a dishwasher.”
“Too much work involved to install plumbing for one. Besides, until you came along it’s been me and Benedict.” He walked up behind her. His hands slid around her waist.
Surely, he was joking. “You’re saying I’m the first female that’s been in your kitchen?”
“Yep. First one inside since I’ve owned the place.”
“You need to get to bed, and I have to go home.”
“Stay with me.”
He lifted her hair and nuzzled the back of her neck, sending goose bumps across her skin. She tilted her head and relaxed into him, enjoying his low moan. Full body contact with Matt sent her hormones into overdrive. Could she trust her innermost wants and desires to his hands? It was too much control to surrender.
“Matt, I need to go.”
He let out a long, slow breath then kissed the top of her head. “Probably be best.”
Matt moved back a couple of inches then turned her in place and lowered his forehead to hers. For a quiet minute, they stood exactly the same way they’d started the evening. The urge to comfort him roared through her system. With a sigh, he stepped away, leaving her with an empty feeling inside.
“Thank you for fixing my supper.”
Benedict and Matt walked her outside. She placed a kiss on his cheek, rubbed the dog’s ears, and then drove away. Her going home was as much for him as for her, she reasoned. Tired and emotional, he didn’t know what he wanted. In the middle of an investigation wasn’t the time to start an affair. But the yearning in her chest, the desire growing in her lower stomach meant she could feel need. She could desire and be desired.
The Green-Eyed Doll Page 10
