by P J Parrish
“Then you better get her fixed.”
Issy let out a wail like a crying baby.
“The thing’s going nuts. I’ll take her in first thing tomorrow,” Louis said.
“What about Susan?” Mel asked.
Louis sat back down on the bed. “So you think I should go over there?”
“Yup. Show her you care. Women like men who do that. You’re already in her head, Rocky. Now you got to get in her heart.”
Louis was quiet.
“If you don’t go, you’re going to end up in worse shape than that cat,” Mel said. “I need some sleep. I’ll talk to you later.”
Mel hung up. Louis put the receiver back in the cradle and leaned back against the headboard. The bedroom had turned cold now, the wind whistling between the jalousies. Louis watched Issy on the floor. She stopped her writhing long enough to look up at him.
“I know how you feel,” he said.
He rose suddenly and went to the closet. He grabbed a jacket slipped on some old loafers and snatched up his car keys. With a last look at Issy, he left the bedroom.
Susan was glad to see him. At least it seemed like it from the relieved expression on her face as she opened the door.
“Come in,” she said, holding open the screen door. Louis followed her into the living room. It was warm after the chill of the outdoors? There was a fire going in the hearth and the TV was on, the volume turned low. The lumpy blue sofa was covered with case files, and Susan’s briefcase was propped open on the coffee table, next to an empty wine glass.
Susan was wearing old jeans with a rip at the knee, a baggy red sweater, and bright pink socks. She started to tidy up the mess on the sofa.
“Sorry, I was working,” she said. “I’ve got a prelim Monday morning. She picked up the wine glass and paused. “I’m drinking pinot. You want some?”
“You got a beer?”
She nodded and went to the kitchen. Louis followed. He noticed the house seemed awfully quiet.
“Where are Ben and Austin?” he asked.
“They’re not back yet,” Susan said, taking a Heineken from the refrigerator. “Austin said they were going to lunch at McDonald’s then over to Lakes Park. Ben likes to ride the train there. They probably stopped for ice cream.” She opened the beer and held it out to Louis.
Louis saw her eyes stray to the clock on the wall. She let out a sigh and refilled her wine glass. When she looked back at Louis, her eyes were dark with worry.
She picked up the wine glass and left the kitchen. Louis followed her back to the living room. She was sitting on the sofa, staring at the television, elbows on knees, her hands clasping the wine glass. The guy on the TV was talking now about the cold front, standing in front of a big map marked with huge crescents of white moving down from the north toward the Florida peninsula.
“Are they late?” Louis asked.
“Yes...well, no,” Susan said. “Austin told me he has to leave here no later than five-thirty. He has a plane to catch in Miami and it leaves at ten. I saw his ticket. He had tickets for me and Ben, too.”
“He bought tickets before he asked you to go?”
“That’s how he is. He just does things without asking.”
Louis glanced at his watch. It was almost six. He knew it was at least a two-and-a-half hour drive to Miami. He sat down next to Susan, pushing aside a pile of legal briefs.
“He’ll bring him back,” he said.
Susan shook her head slowly. “You don’t know him.”
Louis nodded to the suede coat and hat lying on a chair by the door. “He left his coat and hat.”
“He said it was going to rain and he didn’t want to get it ruined,” she said absently.
“He wouldn’t leave his precious suede coat here, Susan.”
She set the glass down sharply on the coffee table and jumped up, going to the window and pulling back the curtain.
Louis stifled a sigh and turned back toward the television. The type above the talking head said “Body Found in Glades.” With a glance back at Susan, Louis dug the remote out of the cushions and turned up the sound.
“Broward County deputies are investigating the discovery of a body found yesterday at a rest stop off Alligator Alley just inside the county line. The unidentified woman was most likely the victim of a sexual assault.”
Louis glanced back at Susan. She was still staring out at the street. He went back to the news.
“The victim is a black woman in her late twenties, about five feet five, one hundred and fifteen pounds. Police are asking anyone who might know the woman to please contact the Broward County Sheriff’s Department.”
There was a photograph on the screen now. It was of the victim’s face, probably taken on the autopsy table. Her dark hair was pulled back away from her round face. But she didn’t look black, Louis thought with a slight flash of annoyance. The woman looked Hawaiian...Polynesian, maybe.
“It’s ten after,” Susan said.
Louis looked at her. Her mouth was drawn tight and her eyes teary.
“You want me to go look for him?” Louis asked.
She took a second, then nodded.
Louis turned off the television and stood up. “Where’s the McDonald’s and the ice cream place?”
“I can show you.”
“No, you stay here. You need to be here when they get home.”
Susan nodded again and gave him directions to the McDonald’s and ice cream place. Louis started to the door, catching a glimpse of a small framed photograph of Benjamin on the mantel. He picked it up.
“Can I take this?” he asked.
“What for?”
“To show it around.”
Susan’s face sagged, and it suddenly occurred to him what she must be feeling, what it must feel like to have someone ask if they can take a picture of your missing kid. He had done it before in the child custody cases he had worked. But he had never realized how much hope could be pinned to a small photograph.
“Susan, I’m sure they’re fine,” he said. “They probably just lost track of time.”
“Call me every time you stop.”
Louis nodded and walked out, Benjamin’s photo in his hand.
CHAPTER 5
As Louis swung into the McDonald’s, his heart dropped at the sight of three Lee County school buses parked in the lot. The place was packed. He drove around the back of the building, looking for Austin’s BMW, but saw nothing. Finally he parked, grabbed the photo of Benjamin off the passenger seat and went inside.
The place was noisy, filled with the laughter of the teenagers. Louis elbowed his way to the front of the line and pushed Benjamin’s picture forward. The teenage cashier glanced up at him.
“You need to wait your turn, Mister.”
“No,” Louis said sharply. “I’m a cop and this kid is missing. I need to know if you saw him in the last few hours.”
“I’ve only been here since six. You need to ask Jason.”
“Which one is he?”
She tilted her head toward the back and let out a yell. A skinny young man came forward. Louis leaned over the counter and held out the photo. “I need to know if you saw this kid earlier this afternoon. He’s missing.”
The young man looked confused. “Man, we’re busy in here. I don’t know.”
“Think," Louis said. The noise died suddenly, and Louis saw the other employees staring at him. He swung the picture in front of them.
“Anyone seen this kid today?” Louis asked loudly. “Anyone?”
“He was here just before four,” a young girl behind the counter said as she moved forward. “He had a Happy Meal and a Sprite. He wanted a shake but his father told him he’d have ice cream later, so he could wait.”
Louis left, pushing open the glass doors and stopping on the sidewalk. He could see the sign for the ice cream place just across the convenience store parking lot and he headed toward it.
Queenie’s Ice Cream was empty, except for a brunett
e woman behind the freezers. She was rinsing scoopers in a sink and looked up as he came in. “Got a special on sundaes. Only a dollar-ninety-nine.”
Louis held up the photo. “I’m looking for this kid. Was he in earlier?”
Her eyes widened. “What’s happened to him?”
“Have you seen him?”
The woman’s eyes stayed on the photograph of Benjamin. “Yes, he was here earlier with his father.” She looked up at Louis. “At least I thought it was his father. He seemed like a father.”
“What time did you see him?”
“Four or a little after. They both had fudge ripple in a cup.”
“Do you know where they went?” Louis asked.
“I think they were headed to Lakes Park,” the woman said. “I heard the father —- sorry —- the man say something about the little train and he said he wanted to tell him something very important. Oh my, I had no idea.”
“Lakes Park...where is it?
“It’s a couple miles from here on Gladiolus Road.” She gave Louis directions and he left, jogging back to his car. He jerked the Mustang into reverse, peeling out onto Summerlin Road. It took less than ten minutes to get to the park entrance.
Inside, he slammed to a stop in front of a wooden sign that read PARK HOURS 8 am - 6 pm. There was a phone booth, and he thought about calling Susan, but he wanted to look here first, just in case.
He climbed out, scanned the few cars left in the lot, but didn’t see the black BMW. He saw a map of the park and hurried over to it. The place was huge, almost three hundred acres of nature trails, swimming spots, picnic areas, and playgrounds.
He spotted the miniature train on the map and ran back to the Mustang. He drove along, forcing himself to go slow, keeping an eye out for the black BMW. But it was after closing now, and everyone had left. Rounding a curve, he saw a lake, shimmering under the reddening sunset. Ahead was a sign for the train. He pulled into the lot and jumped out.
He trotted to the shuttered ticket booth. The little train sat empty beyond the turnstile. His eyes came to rest on a trash can, and he spotted an ice cream cup with the distinctive Queenie’s pink lettering.
Louis swiveled, scanning the lot, the trees, the nearby playground.
Nothing. No one.
Man, why was he even still here? Why was he even looking when he knew they were probably halfway across the state? Shit, he should’ve called the cops right away. He was wasting time.
As he hurried back to the car, a pay phone caught his eye. He needed to call Susan now. Maybe they were back. Maybe everything was all right.
Susan answered before the second ring. “Did you find them?”
He took a deep breath. “They were everywhere you said, but there’s no sign of them now.”
“I’m calling the police.”
“No, call Dan Wainwright,” Louis said. “He’s your chief out there and he can be there quicker. Use my name. He’ll come himself.”
Louis hung up and glanced around the parking lot. His gut was in a knot, but it wasn’t the cold hard fear that came with the thought that a loved one was in danger. It was anger. Anger that a man could put an ex-wife and mother through this. Anger that a man could put his own son through anything like this. Anger at his own inability to stop it or to even see it coming.
Louis glanced at the clock on Susan’s mantle. It was ten minutes to seven.
His eyes drifted back to Dan Wainwright. He was standing in front of Susan, his cap tilted back on his head, a notebook in his hand. Wainwright was in uniform, his towering, bulky body seeming to fill Susan’s small living room. Louis had watched Wainwright at work before, always marveling at the chief’s calmness. Maybe it was the older man’s quiet authority, composure born of decades of FBI work and years of just plain living that Louis didn’t have. The coolness, combined with his sheer size and mane of white hair, gave Wainwright a gravity that somehow conveyed a sense that things would be all right.
But Susan wasn’t buying any of it. Louis could see that in her face as she poured out the day’s events to Wainwright. Louis went to look out the window, came back for a moment to stand beside Susan, then returned to the window, looking out at the darkness.
Louis could see Wainwright watching him out of the corner of his eye. “Mrs. Outlaw, where was your husband staying while he was in town?” he asked. “Have you tried calling there?”
“He was staying here,” she said.
“Here?”
Susan saw the look. “I know how that sounds, but it was for Benjamin’s sake.”
“I understand.” Wainwright closed his notebook and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry to tell you this, but I’m afraid all we got here is a petty custody battle.”
“Petty?” Susan said. “Petty?”
“You’re a lawyer, Mrs. Outlaw,” Wainwright said. “You know how these things are. He’s the boy’s father.”
“I’ve had custody of him for the last five years with barely a word from the asshole. Doesn’t that mean anything?”
“What do you have on paper?” Wainwright asked.
“What?”
“What’s in your divorce papers regarding custody?”
Susan stared at him, her body tight. “We’re not divorced.”
Louis turned and stared at Susan. Her eyes were steady on Wainwright, but Louis sensed she could feel his stare.
“We have a separation agreement,” she added.
Wainwright looked at Louis, raising a brow. “I suppose that’s something. Does it say anything about custody?”
She shook her head. “Just that he’s supposed to pay child support and has to call before he shows up.”
“And you’ve held him to that agreement?” Wainwright asked.
She shook her head again.
Wainwright cleared his throat. “What do you want me to do, Mrs. Outlaw?”
“Dan, can’t you call Miami and see if they can intercept him at the airport?” Louis asked.
“I can try but I doubt they’ll lift a finger, Louis,” Wainwright said. “There’s no crime here.”
“No crime,” Susan said turning away.
“Wait,” Louis said. “He can’t take a child to Australia without a passport.”
Susan spun back to face them. “That won’t stop him. Austin’s the kind of man who knows people. He’s not above getting Benjamin a passport illegally. And there are plenty of people in Miami who would do it. Believe me, I know. I defended one once.”
The room fell silent again. Louis looked at the clock. Almost seven.
“Mrs. Outlaw,” Wainwright said, “I’m sure he’ll call you when he gets to wherever he’s headed. He probably just wants to scare you.”
“He doesn’t want to just scare me,” she said. “He wants me to go back with him and he’s using Ben to make me come. Don’t you understand?”
“Did he ask you before he left? To go back with him?” Wainwright asked.
She nodded. “He said we’d have a new life, that he has money now. That he was sorry for everything. I don’t know what gave him the idea I’d even consider it.”
“You sure?”
Susan’s eyes narrowed. “Sure about what?”
“That you didn’t give him any ideas about a reconciliation?”
She stared at Wainwright. “What exactly are you asking me?”
“Susan —-” Louis said.
“No, I want an answer. Are you accusing me of sleeping with him?”
Wainwright didn’t flinch. “I was only suggesting that sometimes urges can be impulsive between people who have an emotional history. Sometimes what is only a quickie for old time’s sake can sometimes be misconstrued by the other party.”
Susan pointed to the door. “Get out of my house.”
Louis came forward. “Susan —-”
She spun, her eyes silencing him.
Wainwright sighed and started toward the door. “I’ll call Miami and I’ll let you know if it does any good.” He stopped at
the door. “Good night, Mrs. Outlaw.”
She didn’t reply, her arms crossed over her chest. The door closed and the clock chimed. Seven straight up.
“I need to get going,” Louis said
“You’re leaving?” Susan asked.
“For Miami. I’ve got less than three hours to catch that plane.”
“I’m going with you.”
“No. What if we’re wrong? What if he is just trying to scare you and shows up back here?”
“You know he won’t come back here. I’m going with you.”
Louis shook his head. “You need to stay here on the chance that something else has happened, like an accident or something. I’ll call you when I get there. I promise.”
She looked at him, a wave of anger in her eyes at being left out.
“We’ve got to be a team here, Susan. You need to stay.”
“Wait” she said, disappearing. She came back from the bedroom with a pager and slapped it in his hand. “I’ll page you if I hear anything. And only if I hear anything.”
Louis turned it on and slipped it into his pocket. “What airline were the tickets for?”
She frowned. “I didn’t actually see the tickets. He told me they were for Sydney. Wait... wait, I remember him telling Ben something about kangaroos on the airplane.”
“Qantas, that’s their mascot” Louis said. “Okay, I’ll call as soon as I can.”
He opened the door and looked back at her. The yellow porch light glimmered in her dark teary eyes.
“He’s fine, Susan. He’s with his father.”
She put her arms around Louis’s neck and gave him a quick hug. “That’s what I’m afraid of,” she whispered.
CHAPTER 6
Chaos. That was Louis’s first thought as he went through the glass doors of Miami International Airport. A swift-flowing stream of people dragging suitcases. Screaming babies. Burning neon advertising duty-free booze and perfume. And a babel of languages he couldn’t understand.
His second thought was that there was no way he going to be able to find Austin and Benjamin in this mess. If they were even here.
Louis pushed his way through the crowd, his eyes scanning the signs above the ticket counters. Aerolinas Argentinas. Sol Air. Iberia. Varig.
