The girl beamed with pride at Savannah’s interest. “Sure. Anybody can come, if you pay three dollars.”
“Thank you . . . . and what is your name?”
“Marilee.”
“Thank you, Marilee. I’ll be looking forward to it.”
“Are you really going to come?” the girl cried after her as Savannah climbed into the Camaro.
“Sure, and thank you for the invitation,” she replied. “I’ll be there. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Savannah lay in her bed, trying to enjoy her new rose-sprinkled sheets and her latest Victoria’s Secret acquisition, an oversize, silk poet’s shirt. The ruffles spilled over her wrists and tickled the backs of her hands. The deep vee in the neckline revealed softly rounded femininity.
Here, in her own bedroom, she had always indulged her female side . . . . a part of herself that was often neglected in her day-to-day work. In the course of being a detective, she saw some pretty horrible aspects of society, revelations that would have made her hard and cold before her time. But every night, she could walk into this cozy room with its antique brass bed, the turn-of-the-century French armoire, the floral wallpaper and crisp, ruffled linens, and she could feel pampered and soothed.
But tonight, it wasn’t working.
She sat up in bed, propped against half a dozen pillows, Tammy’s latest reports spread across the duvet. And the facts she saw there in black and white disturbed her.
Name: Lisa Mallock
Age: 45
Previous occupation: Registered Nurse
Military history: Nurse in army hospitals, 23 years
Divorced: Ex-husband’s name, Earl Mallock
Children: One daughter, Christy, age 10, full custody
Credit rating: Excellent
Savannah continued to scan the report. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Lisa Mallock appeared to have led a responsible, productive life, until a year ago, when she had begun to move from one place to another about every three months. She had left her long-standing, well-paying job at the Veterans’ Hospital and had worked for a string of temp agencies, providing in-home nursing for less than half the money.
Why?
Usually, people didn’t pull up stakes and move households every three months just because they got an itch. Being on the run was a lot of work, especially with a child.
What was Lisa Mallock running from?
More importantly, whom?
Earl Mallock seemed the likely person. Mothers were seldom given full custody of a child, unless the court deemed the father unsuitable for some reason.
Savannah thought of the man who had sat, sipping coffee and eating cookies in her den. Brian O’Donnell . . . . biological brother in search of his sister.
Tammy had said that he checked out, that he was who he claimed to be.
All the same, Savannah decided to proceed carefully, paying close attention to that voice inside that was warning her about this situation. She had no intention of being a pawn in some bitter ex-husband’s game, or anyone else’s for that matter. From what she could see on paper, Lisa Mallock was a decent person, a hardworking mother.
Someday the devils who were chasing Lisa would probably catch up to her; that was the way life usually worked. Savannah might not be able to prevent that from happening, but she sure as hell didn’t want to be the cause of it.
Saturday afternoon, at one-thirty sharp, Savannah stood in line outside the gymnasium with her three dollars in hand, eager to see “The Snow Fairy Queen” pageant in all its glory.
With the golden California summer sun beating down on her dark hair and perspiration pooling in the cups of her bra, it wasn’t easy to get into the “winter” mood, but she was trying.
Fifteen minutes later, she was allowed in and found herself an excellent, if uncomfortable, seat on the bleachers . . . . four rows back in the center.
As the giggling cast of dozens scurried about on the makeshift “stage,” wearing pink satin, ruffles of stiff netting, glistening with bits of iridescent glitter, Savannah felt a twang of regret. Here she was, forty years old, no kids of her own, not even a marital prospect on the horizon.
Loving children, she hadn’t exactly planned her life this way. Like most women she knew, she had nurtured fantasies of home, hearth, husband, and a handful of hellions. But “Life” had a way of happening while you were busy coping with the present and dreaming about the future. And when today’s problems were settled and tomorrow arrived, it seemed to always have a new set of concerns all its own. Either way, she was discovering that the “future”—once it had arrived—wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.
Shaking herself out of her somewhat depressing reverie, Savannah searched the crowd for the hundredth time, looking for the red-haired woman whose picture she had seen on Dirk’s computer screen.
But the moment the presentation began, it was Christy Mallock who first caught her attention.
The child, who twirled across the stage on her tiptoes, was the image of her mother. Dark, copper hair fell in shimmering waves to her waist. Her pretty face reflected the same strength of will, the same enthusiasm for life, as her mom’s.
And there was no mistaking the costume with its extra ruffles, excess glitter, and the jeweled crown perched on her head. Christy was, indeed, the personification of a Snow Fairy Queen.
A second later, Savannah spotted Lisa Mallock, sitting a few rows behind her and to the left, wearing an infinitely proud smile on her tension-tight face. At that moment, Savannah envied her. . . . despite whatever personal problems she might have. Savannah would have given anything to have felt that kind of pride, even for a moment, to take that little girl home with her and spend the evening baking chocolate chip cookies and maybe watching Beauty and the Beast on home video.
She had intended to approach Lisa Mallock here, after the show in the parking lot, to attempt to give her the information about her brother and his search for her.
But she couldn’t bring herself to interfere with this event, which obviously meant so much to both mother and daughter. If Lisa Mallock had been living under even half the stress that Savannah supposed, she would need this fanciful interlude to enjoy some of the precious aspects of life.
No problem. Savannah had tailed more than one person from place to place. She would follow them home, and then, only then, would she intrude on their lives. If worse came to worst, she’d just get another door slammed in her face, right?
Wrong. It was worse. Much worse.
That evening, when Savannah knocked on the door of the modest duplex, it opened promptly, and she found herself staring down the barrel of a gun.
The face at the other end of the pistol had the same basic features, but bore little resemblance to the proud mommy at the dance recital.
“I wondered how long it would take someone to show up here,” Lisa Mallock said, sighting down the barrel. “Get away from my door and leave me alone.”
Savannah had a long-standing policy: If they’re pointing a gun at you, do whatever they say . . . . within reason.
She had been at gunpoint before, but each time, she had previously anticipated the problem and had been somewhat emotionally prepared. When you went barging into a major cocaine dealer’s house with a dozen ATF officers, you expected trouble.
She hadn’t seen this one coming.
The thought deeply disturbed her. Mistakes like that could leave her dead.
She was getting old and sloppy . . . . at least, complacent. Not a comforting realization.
If she were smart, Savannah knew that she would turn on her heel and march away from the door, tell Brian O’Donnell where his sister lived, wish him luck—he would need it—and collect her money.
But she didn’t work that way.
Why? Because she was a compassionate, caring person.
Or maybe just stupid. Time would tell.
“Lisa,” she said in what she hoped was her most cajoling, soothing tone. “I’m not here
to cause you trouble of any kind, really. I just—”
“I know why you’re here. He hired you, just like he hired all the other ones.”
“He? He who?”
“Earl, my ex-husband. He wants to kill me and kidnap my daughter. He’s certainly threatened to often enough.” Anger blazed in her eyes, but beneath the fury, Savannah saw the fear, the pain. Lisa shook her head and for a moment, Savannah thought she might start to cry. “I don’t understand,” the woman said. “How can you people help someone like that?”
Savannah’s heart went out to the woman, in spite of the weapon pointed at her. In Lisa Mallock’s shoes, stalked by a vengeful ex, with a child to protect, she might do the same thing.
No “might.” She would.
“I’m not working for Earl,” Savannah told her. “I’ve never met him, I swear. The man who hired me is Brian O’Donnell, your natural brother. He wants very badly to get in touch with you.”
For a brief moment the woman’s eyes softened, a look of hope crossed her face, but it quickly dissolved into bitterness. “It’s Earl, all right. He lied to you.”
“I don’t think so. He’s—”
“A fat guy with dark brown hair, blue eyes and a beard, right?”
“No, kinda skinny with dark red hair, like yours and Christy’s, and brown eyes. No beard. Just a curly mustache. Looks like a barbershop quartet tenor.”
For the first time, the hand that held the gun began to tremble. Savannah was immensely relieved to see Lisa lower the pistol to her side.
“Really?” Lisa’s eyes searched hers, begging her to be telling the truth.
Holding up two fingers, Savannah said solemnly, “Scout’s honor.”
“Were you ever a Girl Scout?”
Savannah shrugged and gave her a sheepish grin. “No, but I was a Blue Bird for six months in ’62.”
“Close enough.” She opened the door wider. “Come on in.”
Usually, Savannah refused any form of refreshment when conducting an investigation in someone’s home. But the fresh peanut butter and M&M cookies on the kitchen table were too great a temptation to be denied.
“I put the candies on myself,” Christy bragged, still prancing around in her regal, fairy queen attire. “Four on each one and all different colors.”
“I can see that. You did an excellent job.” Savannah smiled at her and once again felt the twang of loss. Dang those biological urges, she thought. “You’re almost as good a baker as you are a dancer.”
Christy blushed with pride, but Lisa seemed less affected by her comments. Silently, she stepped over to the stove and poured two mugs of coffee. Joining them at the table, she slid onto a chair across from Savannah, pushing some piles of bills aside.
Overdue . . . . considering the red envelopes.
But then, Savannah wasn’t going to judge the woman. Recently, her own phone had been scheduled for disconnection, and she had been granted a reprieve only by the grace of Brian O’Donnell’s retainer.
With only a modicum of civility, Lisa shoved the mug of coffee across the table at Savannah.
“Chris, go to your room now and play or something. This lady and I have some business to discuss.”
Christy’s face crumpled into a pout, her bottom lip protruding to the extreme that Savannah thought pigeons might have been tempted to perch on it. “I don’t wanna play right now,” the child said, casting a curious look at Savannah.
“Then go into my room and watch television.”
“I’m not supposed to watch TV until I have all my homework done.”
“So, do your homework first . . . . in your room.”
“But . . . . but it’s that hard stuff . . . . long division . . . . and you said you’d help me. I can’t do it by myself.”
“Christina Louise.”
“Okay, I’m going. I’m going.”
Savannah wiped her hand across her lips, trying to hide her smile as the once-graceful pageant queen stomped away to her bedroom, ruffles bouncing indignantly.
“Do you have kids?” Lisa asked as she took a sip from her mug. Savannah noticed that, in spite of her forced nonchalance, her hands were still shaking. Savannah didn’t think it was from a caffeine overdose.
“No, I’m sorry to say I don’t. But I practically raised my eight younger brothers and sisters back in Georgia. Do I get credit for that?”
Lisa nodded, and a bit of her hostility seemed to slip away. “Eight of them? Yes, tons of credit. That must have been a lot of work and responsibility for a young person.”
“It was. But I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. I really love kids.”
Across the table, Lisa’s eyes met hers with an intensity born of fear and determination. “Then you can understand why I have to protect my daughter from a man who would destroy her life and mine.”
“Yes, I can.”
Lisa paused and took a long drink of her coffee, as though fortifying herself for the rest of the conversation. “Tell me, Ms. Reid, do you think some people are really evil? Not just misguided, but truly evil?”
Having been a cop for fifteen years, Savannah didn’t have to think long to answer Lisa’s question. “Yes, I do. Thankfully, I think they are rare. I believe that most folks mean well, that the majority live by some sort of moral code, however warped their philosophy might be. But I have come across a few individuals who I would say are evil to the core.”
“Well, my ex-husband is one of those people. He doesn’t care who he hurts as long as he can control everything and everyone around him. I left him. I divorced him. I removed myself and our daughter from his control. He’ll never forgive me for that. And he will never accept the situation.”
Savannah liked to believe she knew people. After years of dealing with the best and worst of humanity, she could usually read a person and know what was going on behind the facade they presented to the world. This woman was telling the truth.
Savannah’s heart went out to Lisa and her little fairy princess daughter.
“Have you been running from him for long?” she asked.
“It seems like forever. He always finds us, and then we have to move. A new house, another job for me, a change of schools for Christy. Thanks to that bastard, we’re a couple of nomads.” She sighed, and Savannah could see the depth of her fatigue. Lisa Mallock wasn’t just tired; she was deeply, dangerously exhausted.
“It isn’t fair,” Savannah said, feeling the impotence she had always experienced when confronted with this situation. Even as a peace officer, she had been unable to do much in these circumstances. The law protected men like Earl Mallock far better than it did the women and children they terrorized. A restraining order was a flimsy bit of paper that did nothing to protect a victim from a bullet or the blade of a knife.
In Savannah’s career, it had been one of her most profound frustrations.
“No, it isn’t fair,” Lisa agreed, her voice as hollow as her eyes. “But it’s the way things are. And for right now, all I can do is be careful. That’s why I’m so reluctant to trust what you’re telling me about my brother.”
“I understand. But this could be a wonderful opportunity for you and your daughter. With all that’s going on in your life, it might be nice to be reconnected with your brother, to have a sense of family. He lives in Orlando, Florida, with his wife and children and—”
“Brian has kids of his own?” Lisa’s eyes misted.
“Three boys. He said he wants them to meet your children, to play with them.”
The moisture on Lisa’s lids puddled and spilled down her cheeks. “We used to have a tree house,” she said wistfully. “I remember playing in it . . . . before my mom died . . . . before my dad gave me away. . . .”
“Your dad . . . . oh, yes, by the way . . . .” Savannah swallowed, wondering how the already-stressed woman would take this news. “Part of the reason why Brian is looking for you now is because your father recently passed away. It seems he left you with an inheritance.�
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“My father included me in his will?” Lisa looked pleased and touched.
“Well, I’m not certain of all the facts, but I do know that Brian wants to make sure that you get your share.”
Savannah glanced around the sparsely furnished duplex. Nomads couldn’t afford luxuries. “I understand it’s around fifty thousand dollars. That much money might help you and your daughter, too,” she added.
Lisa nodded, studying her coffee as though the swirls of cream—like a fortune-teller’s tea leaves—might tell her something. “Mostly,” she said, “I just want to see Brian again. I don’t have many memories of him, but the ones I have are some of the happiest of my life.”
Setting down her coffee mug, Lisa covered her face with her hands and began to cry softly. “I don’t know what to do,” she said.
Savannah reached across the table and placed her hand on the woman’s arm, trying to impart some degree of comfort and reassurance.
“We’ve checked this guy out, Lisa,” she said, “from top to bottom. This time it isn’t Earl. It’s Brian. This time it’s something good coming into your life, not something bad. It’s true. You can trust me.”
Lisa uncovered her face and stared at Savannah with a haunted, hunted look that Savannah would never forget. “Trust isn’t something that comes easy for me anymore,” she said.
“I can understand that.” Savannah patted her arm. “But can you bring yourself to do it . . . . for yourself, for Christy . . . . one more time?”
Slowly, Lisa Mallock nodded her head and a light of hope entered those tired eyes. “Okay,” she said with quiet conviction. “I’ll trust somebody. One more time.”
By the time Savannah left Lisa Mallock’s home, the hour was much later than she had thought. Once Savannah had convinced the worried mother of her child’s safety and Savannah’s own altruistic intentions, the visit had turned more social. The two women had shared a few more cups of coffee and enough personal information to convince Savannah that she would like to pursue a friendship with this gutsy, compassionate lady. Apparently, being a nurse had required some of the same personality traits as law enforcement. They had found they had a lot in common.
Bitter Sweets Page 4
