The Innocent
Page 8
It wasn’t that she thought Karen Brodie was lying, nor did she seem the type of woman who would hurt her child. Abby could hardly imagine any mother harming her own child, but it happened all too often. But there was something about Karen Brodie, something Abby couldn’t quite put her finger on, that troubled her.
Curtis Brodie, however, was another matter altogether. He wasn’t the least bit hard to figure out. The epitome of tall, dark and handsome, he exuded a kind of raw masculinity that some women found attractive, but that Abby found merely irritating.
He’d been cooperative, even charming, until the questions began to take a turn he hadn’t cared for, and then he’d grown snide and belligerent, attacking the county sheriff’s department for what he perceived as incompetence.
But even in the midst of his rant, Abby had seen him glance at his watch once, as if something more pressing than his daughter’s disappearance was occupying his mind.
In short, Curtis Brodie had made a very unfavorable impression on Abby, and she secretly thought that both Karen and Sara Beth were better off without him. That opinion, however, she kept to herself.
She pulled to the curb in front of the Brodie residence, a beautiful two-story Mediterranean, one of the nicest and biggest houses in a subdivision that remained under-developed because few people in Eden could afford such luxury. Unlike Emily Campbell and Sadie, Sara Beth obviously came from an affluent family. But if money was the motive for the kidnapping, why had there been no ransom demand?
Abby got out of the car and glanced around. The neighborhood was somnolent in the heat. A lawn mower droned in the distance and somewhere down the street, a stereo played vintage Patsy Cline from someone’s patio. But beneath the tranquillity of a lazy summer morning lay a profound darkness, a troubling cancer that had taken three of Eden’s children.
Abby wanted to believe, had to believe, that Sara Beth and Emily would be found safe and unharmed. That unlike her sister, Naomi, Karen Brodie and Tess Campbell wouldn’t be robbed of all those precious years with their children.
But an ex-FBI profiler had come to town. A profiler who’d worked serial-killer cases. A profiler who had glimpsed, perhaps, the existence of an evil in this town that no one here wanted to believe was real.
But it was. It was real.
Shivering in the heat, Abby headed up the walkway and rang the bell. After a moment, the housekeeper answered the door. Virginia Temple, middle-aged with graying hair and a sweet round face, caught her breath when she saw Abby. Her expression twisted in fear. “Sara Beth—”
“No, no, it’s nothing like that,” Abby said quickly. “I just need to speak with Mrs. Brodie for a moment. Is she in?”
The woman wiped her hands on the yellow gingham apron she wore tied around her waist. “Yes, of course. She hasn’t gone out since it happened. She doesn’t eat. She doesn’t sleep. All she does is brood and worry. If she could just get out for a while—”
Abby nodded. “I know it’s difficult. But believe it or not, she’s doing the right thing. We need her here by the phone.”
“But there’s a deputy here around the clock. I’m here.” A tear spilled over and ran down the woman’s face. She wiped it away with the corner of her apron. “I just feel so helpless. Sara Beth is like my own granddaughter to me. If anything happens to that baby—”
“We’re doing everything we can to find her,” Abby said. “In the meantime, there is something you can do. Something we can all do. Pray.”
The woman nodded. “I keep telling myself it’s all in His hands. He’ll protect Sara Beth and Emily, but then I think about that other little girl. The one who disappeared all those years ago. She was never found, and God only knows what happened to her—” She broke off, as if realizing suddenly Abby’s relationship to the missing child. She wiped her eyes again, and said softly, “I’ll go find Mrs. Brodie and tell her you’re here. Why don’t you wait in the living room?” She gestured to a room to the right of the foyer.
After the housekeeper disappeared, Abby walked about the beautifully appointed room, wondering briefly what it would be like to live in such a place. For all its expensive furnishings and gleaming chandeliers, the house seemed cold. Sterile. Not at all like Abby’s grandmother’s house. It was hard to imagine a child feeling at home here.
A set of atrium doors looked out on a tropical landscape designed around a huge, grotto-like swimming pool. Near the waterfall, a man and woman stood talking.
The man had his back to Abby, but the woman was Karen Brodie. She appeared very distraught, and as Abby watched, the man took her in his arms and held her gently.
The action was tender and poignant, and Abby felt as if she were intruding on a very private moment. Then the couple moved slightly, and the man lifted his head. Abby could see his profile, and her breath caught in her throat.
Well, well, she thought with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Sam Burke was just full of surprises.
THE MOMENT he spotted Abby, Sam released Karen and took a step back from her.
Damn, he thought. This wasn’t the way he’d wanted Abby to find out about Karen. He braced himself as Abby opened the glass door and stepped out onto the patio.
Karen, still oblivious to Abby’s presence, took a tissue from the pocket of her slacks and wiped her eyes. She was thinner than Sam remembered, but still just as pretty with her short, blond hair and cornflower eyes.
She’d grown into an elegant, sophisticated woman, with an expensive hairstyle that subdued the ringlets she’d always hated and makeup that gave color to her pale, fragile skin. But there was still a waif-like quality about her that tugged at Sam’s guilt. He shouldn’t have let her disappear from his life. He knew that now. He should never have walked away when she’d needed him the most.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to fall apart like that.” She dabbed at her nose with the tissue. “I’m usually much stronger. I promise.”
Her words seemed almost pitiful to Sam, as if she were trying very hard to convince him of her strength. As if she were trying to absolve him of his guilt.
“You’re entitled,” he said gruffly, his gaze on Abby as she walked across the flagstones toward them.
Karen opened her mouth to say something else, but then she noticed the direction of his attention and whirled. “What’s she doing here?” she muttered, spotting Abby. Then, anxiously, “You have some news about my daughter?”
“I’m afraid not,” Abby said. “I’m sorry if I alarmed you.”
Her dark gaze collided with Sam’s, and the impact jolted him. She wore jeans again today and a white T-shirt that did very little to disguise her feminine curves. Her dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail, her tanned face devoid of any makeup. But there were purple smudges beneath her eyes, as if, like Sam, she hadn’t slept well last night.
She would have lain awake, obsessing about the disappearances, he thought. She would have tried to play out every scenario in her head, rack her brain for anything the investigation might have missed thus far. She would have tried to put herself in both the victims’ and the perpetrators’ shoes. Sam knew, because he’d done the same things himself.
But, once in awhile, images of Abby had intruded. He couldn’t seem to separate her from these cases. Her determination, her passion made him at times feel old, all used up inside. She believed with all her heart they’d still find those little girls, safe and sound, because she hadn’t been a cop long enough to be jaded. She hadn’t yet seen what Sam had seen.
She was what he’d once been, and glancing at her now, Sam was reminded of a time when the world had seemed all black and white to him, too. Good against evil. But that was before he’d seen what human beings could do to each other. That was before Jonathan had died. Sam was still convinced of the existence of evil; he’d seen it. He just wasn’t as certain of the other side anymore.
As if glimpsing something in his eyes she didn’t want to see, Abby turned back to Karen. But her gaze strayed almost imm
ediately back to Sam. “I’m surprised to see you here.”
“You two know each other?” Karen asked, surprised.
“Perhaps I should be the one asking that question.” Abby’s tone held a note of accusation and something else Sam couldn’t quite define.
“Karen is my sister, Abby.”
“Your sister?” Shock flashed across her features, followed by a quick look of comprehension. “Your sister,” she repeated. “Well, that certainly sheds new light on the matter. Why didn’t you tell me this yesterday?”
“Because I didn’t want that knowledge to limit the amount and quality of information you were willing to give me.”
She gave him a cool smile. “At least you’re being honest about that. It seems there are quite a few things you neglected to share with me yesterday, Special Agent Burke. You and I need to get a few things straight when I’m finished here.”
Karen stared at Abby in confusion. “If there’s some problem about Sam being here, maybe I can clear it up. I’m the one who called him,” she said almost defensively. “Given his background, I thought he could help.”
Abby shot Sam a glance. “Oh, I’m sure he can.” Her tone bordered on sarcastic, and Sam knew that she was still thoroughly pissed. He couldn’t blame her. But he’d had his reasons for withholding the information. Whether Abby would understand them or not was a different matter.
“Shall we sit down?” She motioned to a patio table in the shade, and once they were settled, she focused her attention on Karen, ignoring Sam as if he were nothing more than part of the scenery. “As you know, I’ve been assigned to your daughter’s case, so you’ll be seeing a lot of me,” she said almost apologetically. “In fact, I’m sure you’ll get sick of seeing me, and you’ll get even more tired of all my questions. But everything I do is with one goal in mind, and that’s finding your daughter. I’ll give my heart and soul to this case, Mrs. Brodie. I won’t rest until we find Sara Beth and bring her back home to you safely.”
She was so certain, Sam thought. So sure that good and right would prevail. She leaned forward slightly, her brown eyes wide and earnest. It almost seemed as if she could somehow bolster Karen’s courage by sheer force of will.
But his sister seemed to have grown paler since Abby arrived, as if her official presence here only reinforced the gravity of the situation and reminded Karen of the lessening odds of finding Sara Beth alive with each tick of the clock.
“I’ll try to make this brief,” Abby said. “We’ve talked to some witnesses who have placed a white, Chevrolet Caprice, possibly a ’91 or ’92 model, in the vicinity of Ferguson’s Drugstore at the time Sara Beth was taken. Do you know anyone who drives a car matching that description?”
Karen shook her head. “Sam asked me the same question earlier. I’ve been racking my brain all morning, but I can’t think of anyone who drives a car like that. I’m sorry.”
Abby finally flashed Sam a glance, but it wasn’t a pleasant one. She didn’t like that he’d beat her to the punch. Well, too bad, he decided. Abby wasn’t going to like a lot of things she found out about him, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except finding Sara Beth. His sister’s daughter. A child Sam had never even set eyes on.
“Mrs. Brodie—”
“Call me Karen.”
Abby smiled. “And I’m Abby.” She paused. “We’ve been over some of the questions I’m about to ask you before, and I know they’re a bit uncomfortable. But they are necessary.”
Karen nodded, closing her eyes briefly.
“Why did you and your husband decide to separate?”
Karen stared at a spot on the patio table. “I’d like to tell you it’s a matter of irreconcilable differences, but…it’s more that. Curtis is…very difficult to live with.”
“In what way?”
“He’s very controlling.”
“Violent?” Abby asked softly.
Karen hesitated. Sam saw that her hands, clasped in her lap, were still trembling.
“Did he ever hit you?” Abby persisted.
“Once. He never did it again.” Karen kept her gaze on the table, as if she was too ashamed to look up.
“Did he ever hit Sara Beth?”
Karen flinched. “No.”
“Is she afraid of him?”
“I don’t know. She doesn’t like to go to his house. She says he gets mad at her a lot and yells at her, and that his new girlfriend doesn’t like having her around.”
“Are you referring to Luanne Plimpton?”
Karen’s face remained placid, but her hands curled into fists in her lap. “Yes. The one who picked Sara Beth up at school the day she disappeared.”
Abby leaned slightly toward her. “As I understand it, you and your husband are each trying to get full custody of Sara Beth. Do you believe he could have had anything to do with her disappearance?”
Sam didn’t think his sister was going to answer at first. For the longest time, she seemed to cling to the last vestiges of her self-control. Then her expression crumpled. She put her hands to her face and said in a near whisper, “I think Curtis is capable of almost anything. The separation was my idea. I kicked him out. I told him I never wanted to see him again. You don’t turn on Curtis like that. You don’t cross him.” She drew a tremulous breath. Her hands fluttered back to her lap. “He knows the only thing I care about in this world is Sara Beth. I think he would do just about anything to keep me away from her.”
ABBY TALKED to Karen for several more minutes, and when her interview was concluded, she stood and asked Sam to meet her out front.
“Just give me a minute here.”
Her gaze was still cool as she nodded.
After Abby left, he turned back to his sister. “Are you okay?”
“Oh, God.” Her face had grown deathly white. She put a trembling hand to her mouth. “I…think I’m going to be sick.”
Sam was instantly at her side. “Here. Put your head down between your knees. That’s it. Take deep breaths. Just relax.”
“I’m so sorry,” Karen murmured, over and over, her voice a broken whisper.
“Don’t be.” Sam took her hand in his. Her skin was ice cold.
After a few moments, she sat up, still looking unnaturally pale, but there was a hard gleam in her eyes now. She backed her shoulders, as if summoning every last scrap of courage and determination from some secret place inside her.
The same courage and determination that had sustained her after he’d left home, Sam thought. After he’d abandoned her to their father’s tyranny.
“I’m okay now.”
But Sam thought the declaration was meant to convince herself more than him.
He wanted to touch her hand again, put his arm around her, offer her some bit of comfort, but in spite of the circumstances, their relationship remained awkward and strained.
Until he’d arrived in Eden, Sam hadn’t seen his sister in years, and it struck him as he gazed down at her that this pale, fragile woman was hardly more than a stranger to him. He knew very little about her life, only that she was separated from her husband and that her child was missing.
She can be violent, if you want to know the truth.
Luanne Plimpton had told a very different story than the one his sister had related to Abby, but that wasn’t unusual in messy divorce cases. Emotions ran rampant. Feelings got out of hand. But how had all that animosity affected Sara Beth? What—if anything—did the bitterness between Karen and her husband have to do with their daughter’s disappearance?
As if reading his mind, Karen managed to muster a wan smile. “You must not know what to make of all this. You don’t know Curtis. You’ve heard only my side of things. And you didn’t come all the way down here to get dragged into my divorce.”
Sam shrugged. “I’ve been through a divorce myself, remember?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s over and done with. And I told you before, I’m here because I want to be.”
Sam shrugged, but he felt that same aching emptiness he always experienced at the mention of his son. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. I wanted to come. There were…reasons why I didn’t.” She looked very tired and very sad. “I’ve made such a mess of my life, Sam.”
“You’re going through a rough time, but you’ll get through it.”
“You’re lucky you got out when you did,” she said almost fiercely.
He knew what she meant. He’d escaped home at seventeen and by the time he’d come back, Karen had grown into a very troubled teenager. A girl who’d had a penchant for dangerous relationships. A young woman who had already been lost to a big brother who’d wanted to help her.
“I never should have left without you,” he said with deep regret.
She made a helpless gesture with her hand. “You were young. What would you have done with a ten-year-old kid? Besides, it wasn’t as bad for me. He didn’t hit me. Not like he did you.”
Their father might not have beat her, but Sam knew that men like Kenneth Burke had other ways of imposing their will, of instilling fear. The threats, the constant degradation, the steady erosion of confidence and self-esteem were sometimes more damaging than fists. Sam knew the lengths someone like that would go to for control. He’d witnessed firsthand the battered bodies men like their father had left in their wakes.
And from everything he’d seen and heard, Sam suspected Karen had married someone very much like their father, very much like the man she’d been trying all her life to escape.
Sam’s hands balled into fists at his sides. “I should have done something.”
“What could you have done?” Karen’s gaze looked haunted. “And besides, he was harder on you than any of us. Back then, I couldn’t understand why Mother wouldn’t make him stop when he started in on you. Now I understand it was because she was afraid of making him worse. Of pushing him into doing something even more savage.” For the first time since he’d arrived, Karen reached out and placed her hand over Sam’s. Her gaze met his, and it seemed to him that there was a message buried in the depths of her blue eyes. A subtle entreaty that he couldn’t quite decipher. “Mother tried to protect you in the only way she knew how. Don’t think too badly of her.”