by Karen Leabo
* * *
Technically Caro had until noon before she was obligated to turn the Arkin case over to CAPERS. But given what she’d learned in Taryton the day before, there was no question that foul play was involved in Amanda’s disappearance. So first thing this morning, with the approval of Lieutenant Hall and Sergeant Quayar, she had walked the file downstairs.
To her dismay, Deputy Chief Deacon Raines, who’d been in charge of CAPERS for as long as Caro could remember, had immediately turned the case over to Austin Lomax. She would have much preferred that one of her buddies from the old days, a seasoned investigator she trusted, take over Amanda Arkin. But she knew better than to second-guess the intractable Chief Raines, who had once been her supervisor.
So she was stuck with Lomax—again.
He was talking on the phone when she approached his desk. He saw her, acknowledged her with a nod, then kept right on chatting, forcing her to stand there like a ninny waiting for him. It sounded as if he was talking to a mechanic. It was something about car parts, anyway.
Hoping to irritate him, she started casually inventorying his desk. She picked up a framed photo and examined it. The subject wasn’t the wife or girlfriend she’d expected, but a huge Labrador retriever sitting in a vintage Jaguar. She noted three half-empty cups of coffee in various stages of calcification. Only carbon dating would reveal how long they’d been sitting there. A little orange pot contained an anemic-looking sprig of ivy, badly in need of watering. Scott Turow’s latest legal thriller lay open on Lomax’s blotter, no more than ten or fifteen pages read.
In contrast to the mess on the surface of his desk, his half-open file drawer looked neatly organized, each folder meticulously labeled. She was relieved to see that he was conscientious in that respect.
She idly picked up the novel and began reading the back cover, even though she’d already read the book. A strong hand snatched the paperback out of her grasp and slapped it back down on the desk.
“Do you mind?” Lomax said. “This desk isn’t much, but it’s all I’ve got and I don’t like other people poking around on it.”
“And I don’t like cooling my heels while you schmooze with your mechanic about your precious Jaguar.”
His eyes, which were a particularly electrifying shade of blue, opened wide with surprise. “Excuse me, but I don’t trust my Jaguar to any mechanic. I work on it myself. That phone call was official business—and none of yours, I might add. Who put a burr under your saddle this morning, anyway?”
“You aren’t exactly Mr. Sunshine yourself.”
“Yeah, well, rough weekend.”
“Me, too.” That was as close to an apology as either one of them was going to issue, she figured. “I brought you the Amanda Arkin file.”
“You mean I get your sloppy seconds again?”
She stiffened in momentary outrage. Her work was not sloppy. Then she realized he was grinning. Teasing her. Trying to lighten the mood. And she’d been about to take his careless comment too seriously. Lately she’d been much too sensitive.
“I guess I’m just not much good with pregnant teenagers,” she replied flippantly.
He sobered. “Another pregnant girl? What’s the story?”
She told him as much as she knew. He put on his glasses and scanned the various documents, asking occasional questions. He snorted when he saw the copy of the reward flier with which Russ Arkin had blanketed the city. “Peachy,” he muttered. “Have we gotten the evidence report back on the car yet?”
Caro shook her head. “Should be any time. Uh, Lomax, I’d really like to keep a hand in this case.”
He looked up over the top of his glasses. “Oh? Why’s that?”
“I’m more familiar with it than anyone. And it’s...” She hesitated, unsure if she wanted to really say aloud what was on her mind.
“What?” Lomax prompted.
She sighed. “It’s just that I feel like I failed Marcy Phelps. And now I almost feel personally responsible for Amanda Arkin—like I’m getting a chance to redeem myself. Plus, I think her father has come to trust me, and I don’t want to seem like I’m betraying that trust by just shuffling this case off on someone else.”
Lomax closed the folder sharply. “I appreciate the offer, Caro, but I work alone.”
Oh, brother. Of all the arrogant, stupid... What overworked CAPERS detective turned down an offer of help, no strings attached? Plus, she’d heard his partner, Frank Feldman, was out with the flu. Maybe Lomax hadn’t been working here long enough to feel overworked...yet.
Caro bit her lip until her temper was in check. “Look, Lomax, I don’t have any intention of second-guessing your decisions or stealing your glory when the case is solved. But I know how busy y’all are, and I don’t want this case to languish from a lack of manpower. So if you need someone to make phone calls or question a witness, or even keep the girl’s father off your back, I can do it.”
“I’ll send up a distress signal if I get overwhelmed,” he said with annoying smugness.
“Okay, fine. Then I won’t tell you what I learned last night when I dropped by the impound lot to check on Amanda’s car. It’s unofficial, anyway.” She turned and sauntered away from his desk.
Predictably, he followed her. “What? You talked to the Physical Evidence guys? What’d they say?”
“It’ll all be in the official report, which you’ll be getting any moment. You don’t need my input.”
“Hey, c’mon, Caro, no fair holding back. What did you find out?”
My, he was even more curious than she’d bargained for. Hungry, that’s what he was. Eager to solve a challenging case and make a name for himself. He followed her out the door and up the short flight of stairs while she did her best to ignore him. Before she could enter the Youth Division, however, where Missing Persons was located, he grabbed her arm and halted her.
“I’ll report you to your supervisor for impeding an investigation,” he said. Although he was grinning, she was half afraid he’d do it.
“I’ll report you to your supervisor for refusing an offer of perfectly good legwork.”
He seemed to consider her threat. Then he released her arm. “Okay. Since you are familiar with the case, you can assist in a strictly secondary capacity. Just don’t make a nuisance of yourself.”
“A nuisance? Do you have any idea how many years I worked in CAPERS?”
“Four.”
That took the starch right out of her. Austin Lomax had been checking up on her?
“And if you’re so hot to work on murder cases,” he continued, “what are you doing in Missing Persons?”
“That’s immaterial,” she said frostily. Her reasons for requesting a transfer four years ago were very personal, and not up for discussion. “Do you want to hear what I found out from PES or not?”
Chapter 5
Austin normally enjoyed driving. His official car was a ‘90 Ford Bronco, black, which his department had picked up at an auction of vehicles seized in a drug raid. It had plenty of get-up-and-go and was much more fun than the boring four-door sedan he’d had before.
But today driving was a chore. He was already a little nervous about the upcoming interviews. On top of that, the woman riding in his passenger seat was sorely distracting him. It wasn’t that Caro Triece was saying or doing anything. But she didn’t have to. Her light floral perfume filled the small, enclosed space, reminding him with every breath that she was here, and he wished she were anywhere else.
Austin was really ticked at himself for letting Caro manipulate him the way she had, dangling her little bits of information in front of his nose until he’d lunged for them like a dog after raw meat.
Her information hadn’t even been that great. The Physical Evidence folks had found traces of blood and skin on the door of Amanda Arkin’s Cavalier, as well as a torn fingernail—probably Amanda’s, if the bright pink polish was anything to go by. The evidence indicated a possible struggle in the car. That was really no surpr
ise at this point.
Also found in the car were three medium-length gray hairs, which might or might not have any bearing.
Regardless of what he’d agreed to, Austin hadn’t actually intended to include Caro in the Arkin investigation, not in any meaningful way. Unfortunately, he’d made the mistake of mentioning Caro’s offer of assistance to the unsmiling Chief Raines. If he’d known Raines was a card-carrying member of the Caro Triece Fan Club, Austin would’ve kept his mouth shut. But instead of the support he’d expected, Raines had ordered him—ordered him—to allow Caro to work on the Arkin case and any other case she took an interest in.
Raines had made no secret of the fact that he wanted Caro back in CAPERS. This was the first time in four years she had shown an interest in anything outside her own small realm of Missing Persons, and Raines intended to take advantage.
“You’re damn lucky to have her on your side,” Raines had said, tapping Austin on the chest with his finger.
Damn lucky, my ass, Austin thought now. Caro didn’t intend to restrict her “helpfulness” to the Arkin case. On his way out of the Police and Courts Building this morning he had run square into her. She’d asked where he was off to in such a hurry, and he’d told her, and before he knew it she was tagging along, claiming a special interest in the Marcy Phelps case, too.
He slowed the car and scanned the house numbers on Amalfi Drive in the modest north Dallas neighborhood where the Phelpses lived.
“It’s one more block,” Caro said.
He floored it to the next block, found the house number, pulled up crookedly with one tire on the curb and cut the engine. But he didn’t get out right away. He took a deep breath and consciously cleansed his mind of everything except the case at hand. The mystery surrounding Marcy Phelps’s disappearance and death was his priority now.
He got out of the car, quickly taking note of the yellow ranch house with orange shutters, recently painted. He couldn’t say he agreed with their sense of color, but the house was obviously well maintained. The winter-dead grass had been mown and edged in preparation for the colder months, and the shrubs were healthy and neatly trimmed.
“The Phelpses are pretty comfortable, huh?” he commented to Caro.
“They’re not hurting.” She turned away from him and sneezed twice, then fished around in her purse for a tissue.
“You ought to be home in bed with that cold, instead of running around in this weather,” he said. Instead of bothering me.
“No time to be sick.”
“But plenty of time to hang around where you’re not needed.” The ill-conceived words were out of his mouth before he could think better of them. He hadn’t meant to let his irritation show so plainly.
Instead of jumping down his throat, as he expected, she merely looked him up and down with appraising eyes. “It’s true what they say about you.”
He wished he had enough self-discipline not to rise to her bait, but he flat out didn’t. “Oh? What exactly do they say?” he asked, trying to sound utterly unconcerned.
“That you’re a hot dog. You don’t want to share the work because you don’t want to share the credit when the case is solved. That attitude might have served you well in Auto Theft. In fact, I understand you built quite a reputation in your former position. But things work a little differently in CAPERS.”
Austin was well aware of his image, and he liked it just fine. He made a mock bow in Caro’s direction. “Thanks for the advice, Corporal, but I fail to see how you should be lecturing me about CAPERS when you haven’t worked there for four years. Furthermore...”
He forgot whatever else he was about to say. His first barb had found its mark. The blaze of self-righteousness went out of Caro’s eyes and she looked down at her shoes.
“You’re right, of course,” she mumbled as she headed for the Phelpses’ front door. “Come on, let’s get this over with. I’ll try and stay out of your way.”
Austin wished he could take his words back. He preferred a feisty Caro to this more subdued one. It was much harder to resent her presence when she was acting humble.
Mr. and Mrs. Phelps met Austin and Caro at the door before either of them could even ring the bell. “Come in, Corporal Lomax, Corporal Triece, you’re right on time,” Audrey Phelps said, as if they’d just arrived for a weekly bridge game. She smiled pleasantly, if a tad vacantly. Bob, her husband, also smiled, though not with his eyes.
They were still in denial, Austin thought. As Caro had predicted, they had been close to useless as witnesses when he had questioned them at the station last Friday. And now, with their home reeking from the scent of funeral flowers, they still were trying to act as if their family hadn’t been irreparably ripped apart.
“May I take your jackets?” Audrey asked. “Would you care for some coffee? Tea?”
“No, thanks, we’re fine,” Austin answered for both of them. “I’m sorry to intrude at such a rough time, but I think we’ll all sleep better at night when we find out what exactly happened to Marcy.”
Audrey’s smile faded, and a trace of determination flashed in her tired eyes. “I agree,” she said, “but I fail to see how questioning Mindy and Debby will accomplish anything. Corporal Triece, you already talked to the girls at length. They don’t know anything. How could they possibly know anything?” The question sounded slightly desperate.
“Anyone in the family might have seen something, heard something, that he or she doesn’t realize is significant,” Austin said, using his standard spiel. “And we have some new areas to focus on.” Like the identity of the man who fathered Marcy’s child. “If you’ll get Debby and Mindy, we’ll finish up as quickly as possible and then get out of your way.”
The Phelpses acquiesced, but only reluctantly.
Sitting at the dining room table, with the parents hovering in the kitchen barely out of earshot, Austin questioned Mindy first while Caro sat back and observed. As Caro had indicated, the girl, now a college sophomore, had a superior, condescending attitude. She shared Marcy’s fair coloring, but unlike Marcy, she was fashion-model thin and sported a haircut Austin found repulsive. The top part was long and pulled into a ponytail, but everything that grew below the tops of her ears was buzzed so short her scalp showed through.
“I knew the police weren’t doing enough,” she said before Austin could even fire off his first question. She cast accusing eyes toward Caro as she mouthed off. “All these months Marcy was wandering around, pregnant and probably scared to death, and y’all were hardly looking for her.” Mindy pulled a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of her leather biker jacket and lit one, taking a long draw.
Trying to prove how adult she is, Austin mused. She didn’t come close to convincing him.
He started to defend Caro’s investigation, then stopped himself. Caro had done everything that could be done, so far as he could tell. It didn’t matter whether this little snipe believed that or not.
“We have more to go on now,” he said. “Our best lead will come if we can find the father of Marcy’s baby. As her older sister, you were probably closer to her than anyone. Did she have any boyfriends?”
Mindy snorted. “No. She had a crush on that twerp who’s on ‘Beverly Hills 90210.’ That’s as close as she got.”
“It may have seemed that way, but obviously that’s not the case. She got a lot closer to some boy...or some man. What did she say about the boys she knew in school?”
Mindy studied her purple-polished fingernails. “She didn’t talk about any boy in particular.”
“How about in general?” Austin prompted.
When the girl didn’t answer, Caro spoke up for the first time. “Mindy, you told me you knew your sister better than anyone.”
“I did,” Mindy said, sitting up straighter. “If she’d had a boyfriend, she would have told me.”
“Even though you were away at school?”
“I told you, she called me all the time and wrote me letters.”
“Lett
ers.” That piqued Austin’s attention. “Did you keep any of them?”
Mindy shrugged, but when she answered, her words were uneasy. “Corporal Triece asked me the same thing. I didn’t know where they were at the time, but I’ve found some of them since.”
And you didn’t see fit to bring that to Corporal Triece’s attention? Austin bit the inside of his cheek to keep from snapping the comment at Mindy. By the look on her face, she knew she should have turned the letters over to the police long ago.
Caro said nothing, but the penetrating stare she focused on Mindy was enough to unnerve anyone.
“I can get the letters for you,” Mindy offered, her arrogance momentarily subdued.
“I’d appreciate that,” Austin replied. “It can wait till we’re done here. Now, assuming Mindy didn’t have a boyfriend, you do realize that leaves a rather unpleasant alternative.”
Mindy nodded, refusing to meet Austin’s gaze.
“Please, Mindy, think hard. Was there any male she came into regular contact with—a neighbor, relative, teacher, church youth leader? Whether you think it’s possible she was raped or seduced by such a person or not, that doesn’t matter. Understand, I’m not going to go charging in making unfounded accusations. But you might be able to give me a place to start.”
She was shaking her head even before he finished talking. “No, there’s no one.”
She was lying, Austin was sure of it. And he was out of his depth. He’d always considered himself a good interrogator, knowing just when to put the pressure on. But his suspects had usually been car thieves, tough street kids with multipage rap sheets, or hardened criminals who would just as soon knife you as answer questions. Leaning on a teenage girl, no matter how tough she pretended to be, was foreign to him.
He had a sudden and very alien desire for help. He looked over at Caro. She’d worked in Sex Crimes for years. From what he’d heard, she knew how to handle suspects, victims and everyone in between with however much sensitivity was needed.
