Into Thin Air

by Karen Leabo

  “I’m not ready to give up yet,” Odell said. “Let’s wait and see if there are any more problems. Maybe this will wash over. I can’t help but believe the Lord is watching over us, protecting us.”

  “I don’t know, sis. This is getting a lot more uncomfortable than I’d bargained for. I never dreamed the police would start to catch on from this end.”

  Odell didn’t like this wavering in her brother’s attitude. “Just make sure you have those new parents in line. Terri Zamasko could give birth at any time.”

  “Look, Odell, I’m getting pretty tired of you ordering me around—”

  “Ah, here’s Henry,” Odell interrupted. There was a pause. “Would you like to speak to your son? Or perhaps you’d like me to bring him up for a visit. I know your dear wife would be thrilled.”

  Silence greeted her taunting. Finally Travis spoke again. “You’ve made your point. All right, we’ll continue a little longer. Like you said, maybe the trouble will wash over.”

  But just in case, Odell planned to save as many babies as she could in whatever time she had left. She would stop being so selective about the girls she brought to the home. She would put two to a room, if she had to. Whatever it took.

  Chapter 9

  After her hasty lunch of barbecued chicken and iced tea at Dave’s, Caro threw on her quilted jacket and reluctantly headed back across the street. She was bummed out about Scott Humphrey. Since he’d demonstrated to her satisfaction that he was not a suspect in Amanda’s case, and since Austin wasn’t anywhere to be found, she and Tony had gone ahead and taken Scott’s statement. He had confirmed everything Russ Arkin had said, and he had added absolutely nothing new. That meant the Arkin investigation had slowed to a crawl.

  Preoccupied as she headed up the long flight of stairs into the Police and Courts Building, Caro wasn’t prepared for an assault. But as she reached for the door handle, she found herself grasped by the shoulders and thrown up against the wall—not hard enough to injure her, but certainly with enough force to make her yelp in surprise.

  “Why did you pick up Scott Humphrey and interrogate him like some common criminal?” Russ Arkin demanded, his face twisted with fury. “I told you he had nothing to do with Amanda’s disappearance.”

  It was all Caro could do not to level the guy. Somehow she managed to respond calmly. “I did what any competent investigator would do under the circumstances. And you’re right, he had nothing to do with Amanda’s disappearance. I knew he was innocent five minutes after I started talking to him. But I had to find that out for myself. And if you don’t take your hands off me, I’ll have you brought up on assault charges.”

  Her threat garnered no response from Russ.

  “Mr. Arkin, if you don’t let go, I’ll knee you in the groin so hard you’ll be a candidate for the Vienna Boys Choir.”

  That seemed to shake him loose. He looked down in surprise, first at one hand, then the other, as if he couldn’t believe what he was doing. Trembling, he gradually loosened his hold.

  “That’s better. I know you’re distraught, Russ. I know you’re going through hell. I think about it all the time. And we’re doing our best.”

  He stared at her through bloodshot eyes. “It seems your best isn’t good enough.”

  “Sometimes it isn’t,” she agreed with a sigh. Just then she spotted Austin standing a few feet away, watching them alertly, apparently ready to intervene at a moment’s notice. She shook her head, indicating she didn’t need any help.

  He approached, anyway, an unwelcome distraction.

  “Russ, you remember Corporal Lomax, don’t you?” Caro asked, nodding toward Austin. The sudden burst of civility seemed out of place.

  “Yeah, sure, how are you?” Russ said in a wooden voice, offering his hand in a perfunctory shake.

  “Look, why don’t we all go inside?” Caro suggested. “We can sit down, have some coffee and Austin and I will—”

  “I was just on my way out,” Austin interrupted, “and I’m kind of in a hurry. And Caro, I need you to come with me.”

  “Oh, but—” she started to object.

  “It’s okay,” Russ said. “I shouldn’t be here wasting your time like this, anyway. I didn’t expect it to drag on like this....” His voice cracked and a sheen of moisture formed over his eyes.

  He looked so pitiful that Caro couldn’t help herself. She touched his arm, then squeezed it gently. “I won’t give up on Amanda. Don’t you give up, either. Call me tomorrow morning, and I’ll bring you up to speed, okay?” It wasn’t like her to offer hope and optimism in a case like this. It especially wasn’t her style to intimately touch a man she wasn’t close to. But Russ’s utter dejection got to her. She’d never seen such pain in a man’s eyes.

  He pulled away awkwardly. “Thanks, Caro. Sorry for the...you know, for acting like an ass.”

  “It’s okay.”

  As Russ turned to leave, Austin was already grabbing Caro’s hand to drag her down the stairs toward his Bronco, which was parked illegally on the street. “You’re a strange lady,” he said with a laugh. “First you threaten to turn the guy into a soprano, then you get downright mushy with him. Sounds like love to me.”

  “Can it, Lomax,” she said in disgust, then reconsidered. “So you saw the whole thing?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “And you didn’t feel compelled to ‘save’ me?” His self-control surprised her. Most men, even her colleagues, refused to believe she could take care of herself. What she lacked in brute strength, she made up for in quickness.

  “I figured you could have turned the guy into mincemeat if you’d wanted to. Jeez, I can’t believe he was stupid enough to assault a cop in front of a police station. He could have gotten himself shot.” Austin opened the passenger door for her—not out of any sense of chivalry, but for expediency, Caro figured.

  She unlocked his door from the inside as he walked around. “He’s not thinking too clearly, poor guy,” she said as Austin climbed in. “He really loves his daughter. It’s kind of refreshing, in a way.” She automatically fastened her seat belt. “Am I entitled to know where we’re going? Or is this some clever ploy so you can drag me to your den of iniquity and have your way with me?”

  The silence stretched uncomfortably as he started the engine. Finally he turned, giving her what could only be described as a leer. “Nice thought, but when I said I needed you, that’s not what I meant. We’re going to Denton. The police there picked up Ray Seifert this morning.”

  “All right! That’s the best news I’ve had in days.” Her enthusiasm quickly gave way to wariness. “What do you need me for?”

  “They won’t be able to hold him for long after his arraignment. I tried to get an arrest warrant for the sexual assault on Marcy, but the judge wouldn’t go for it, not based on the admittedly iffy testimony of an eleven-year-old. Without the victim’s testimony, there’s no hope of making the charge stick. But we can still take a crack at him.”

  Not on a bet. “You can crack all you want. Leave me out of it, please.”

  He gave her a sideways look. “Were you, or were you not, once known as the Terror of the Sex Crimes Unit?”

  She forced a laugh. “That was a long time ago.”

  He was silent for a few moments as he negotiated downtown lunchtime traffic. As soon as he was headed up the I-35 on-ramp, he continued. “You can’t have forgotten everything. Anyway, I’ve never in my life questioned a sexual offender. I don’t want this messed up.”

  She stared at him, her mouth hanging open. “Wait a minute. Did aliens invade your body and replace your brain?”

  “Huh?”

  “You’re actually asking for my help? A week ago you didn’t want me within a hundred feet of you or your cases.”

  “Yeah, well, a week ago I thought I was going to solve both these cases in record time and get a medal or something.” He shook his head and gave a short, self-deprecating laugh. “Now I’m starting to look downright incompetent. I�
��d be crazy not to take advantage of your expertise in this type of situation.”

  “So I’m supposed to make you look good?”

  “Yeah,” he answered without hesitation.

  The man constantly amazed her. At least he was honest. “Well, sorry to disappoint you, but I have no intention of interrogating Ray Seifert. You might as well take me back to the station.”

  “I can’t. Don’t have time.”

  “Hell,” Caro muttered. “Give me the phone. Sergeant Quayar is going to have a fit.”

  He pulled his portable cellular phone from his pocket and handed it to her. “Don’t worry. Chief Raines talked to Quayar and Hall. You’re cleared to work with me whenever I need you.”

  Just what I always wanted, she thought as she dialed the number. “Sergeant Quayar? This is Corporal Triece. I’m being kidnapped by Austin Lomax—”

  Austin took the phone out of her hand and put it to his own ear. “This is Corporal Lomax. Triece and I are on our way to Denton to interrogate a suspect in the Marcy Phelps case. That’s not a problem, is it?” He listened a moment, then nodded. “Good, good. I really appreciate your loaning her to me. She’s been a big help. Thanks.” Then he laughed. “You got it, Nona,” he said before disconnecting.

  “You call my sergeant ‘Nona’?”

  “We worked the same beat over in Southeast for a while before she transferred to Youth Division. She’s a crack-up.”

  “Quayar, a crack-up? I always thought her face was made of stone.”

  Austin grinned. “She smiles for me.”

  Yeah, and so does most of the world’s female population. Austin probably had conquests all over the department.

  “So, you want to tell me about it?” he asked casually.

  “About what?” Caro didn’t think he was talking about Sergeant Quayar.

  “Why you refuse to question Seifert.”

  She squirmed a little in her seat. “Interrogations aren’t my cup of tea, that’s all.”

  “You questioned those kids in Taryton. And Scott Humphrey.”

  “The kids were witnesses, not suspects.”

  “And Scott?”

  She filled him in on what she’d discovered about their previously prime suspect. “Anyway, you weren’t there. I didn’t handle any of the interviews very well.”

  “You found out what we needed to know.”

  She shrugged. How could she explain that a rape suspect was a whole different thing? Yeah, she’d once been the Terror, all right. And she’d terrorized one poor man right into his grave.

  “Fine,” Austin said, the single word clipped.

  They rode in silence for thirty minutes or so, with Caro growing more uncomfortable with each mile they traveled. She’d seldom seen Austin truly angry with anyone. She was the one with the hot temper. Normally she didn’t back off an argument this easily. But, oddly, she found herself wanting to appease him. She actually felt guilty for making the affable Austin mad.

  “There’s a part of me that comes to the surface when I’m dealing with a rapist or a murderer,” she began cautiously, “and it’s a part I don’t like.”

  “Look, you don’t owe me any explanations—”

  “Apparently I do.”

  He flexed his arms and squeezed the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white, then relaxed. “Only if you want to.”

  Hell, maybe she should talk about it. It amazed her that no one in the department had connected Charlie Northcutt’s death with her transfer to Missing Persons. But they all had their own problems, she supposed.

  The only person she’d ever told was the staff shrink, and somehow his attempts to absolve her of guilt had been less than effective.

  “Have you ever been afraid of something inside you?” she asked Austin.

  He thought for a moment. “You mean, like when I’m at the firing range, blasting away at a target, and I’m fantasizing about taking down some poor sucker, and I realize that not only am I capable of killing, but that I might even enjoy it a little? Is that what you’re talking about?”

  She studied him, gauging his sincerity. Maybe he would understand. “Yeah, something like that.”

  “They say all humans have a killing instinct, and it just takes the right conditions to bring it out. It’s a part of being human. But it does scare me sometimes. Did you...I mean, you never killed anyone, did you?”

  “Yes. Oh, not with a gun or a knife. It wasn’t that swift or sure.” She stopped, uncertain whether she could continue.

  “Tell me about it,” Austin said. It was not a demand, but a gentle invitation, one Caro felt compelled to accept.

  She took a deep, steadying breath and plunged in. “You might remember the case. Charlie Northcutt. He was in his twenties, borderline mentally retarded, lived with his mother. He was convicted of raping and impregnating a thirteen-year-old neighbor girl. The girl picked him out of a lineup, and subsequently he gave a full confession. Within six months of going to jail he killed himself—”

  “Oh, yeah, I remember now,” Austin said. “After he died, the supposed victim recanted her accusation. Said she never even had intercourse with the man, that it was her boyfriend who got her pregnant and she made up the rape so she wouldn’t get in trouble. Sad case.” Austin shook his head, then glanced over at Caro. “I take it you were involved somehow.”

  Even four years later, the memory filled her with self-loathing. But she forced herself to admit what she’d done. “I interrogated Charlie Northcutt for six hours. I didn’t let up on him for one minute. I didn’t let him see his mother, which was all in the world he wanted. He was scared to death, and I loved it.”

  Austin took the Oak Street exit and waited patiently for her to continue.

  “I browbeat the man until he was in tears, begging me to leave him alone. And then you know what I did? I told him that if he wanted to see his mother, all he had to do was confess and I’d let him go. Then I led him step-by-step through the confession. By then he would have admitted to anything if he thought it was what I wanted to hear.”

  Austin said nothing, but he reached under the seat and retrieved a box of tissue, which he laid on the seat beside her. It was only then she realized her cheeks were wet with tears.

  “Damn,” she muttered as she grabbed a handful of tissues and mopped her face, then blew her nose. She had never, in eleven years on the force, cried in front of a fellow officer. At home, in bed, in the dark, yeah, but not on the job. “You mention this to anyone, Lomax, and I’ll...I’ll...” Hell, she couldn’t even think of a decent threat.

  He smiled as he pulled up in front of the Denton police headquarters. “My lips are sealed.” He cut the engine, and then he did something that totally flummoxed Caro. He reached over and smoothed a lock of her hair behind her ear in a gesture that could only be described as a caress. “So, you helped send an innocent man to jail. It happens. We’re trained to go into every interrogation assuming the suspect is guilty. And ninety-nine percent of them are. It sounds to me like you were just doing your job—and doing it well.”

  Caro blew her nose again, acutely aware of Austin’s hand resting lightly on her shoulder. “Yeah, I was good at my job,” she said, her voice muffled by the tissue. “But I enjoyed it just a little too much. It’s like what you were talking about. All cops believe they can kill, if they have to. But what if we find out we enjoy it? I had not one ounce of compassion for that poor man. I was no better than a...a Neanderthal, feeling that surge of triumph as he kills a wild animal with a rock. If doing my job well means losing my humanity, I don’t want any part of it.”

  “And I still maintain that the killing instinct is part of our humanity. As long as we control that instinct, and channel it into socially acceptable avenues, we’re okay.”

  “What I did to Charlie Northcutt was not socially acceptable by anyone’s definition.”

  “I think you could be wrong about that. You know how faulty human memory is. Just try questioning three different pe
ople who all witnessed the same accident. You’ve probably built that scene up in your mind until you think you behaved like some kind of monster. It couldn’t be as bad as all that, or Northcutt’s attorney would have made a stink about it.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” she replied, unconvinced.

  “C’mon, we’ve got work to do.”

  “Go ahead. I’m staying here.”

  He didn’t argue with her. Instead he climbed out of the car, calmly walked to the passenger door and jerked it open, then reached across her and unfastened her seat belt. “Stop whining and get out of the damn car. If you don’t want to interrogate Seifert, then at least be there to coach me. Or don’t you want to find out who kidnapped Marcy Phelps?”

  “You know, Lomax, you can be a real ass at times.” But she was smiling as she said it. And she got out of the car.

  * * *

  Ray Seifert gave new meaning to the term “hostile witness.” He was obviously well acquainted with the procedure of being interrogated. With his lawyer a comfortable two feet away, Seifert wasn’t about to admit anything. His expression was smug, his answers glib, and he made Austin all too aware of the killing instinct. He wanted nothing more than to fit his hands around Seifert’s scrawny neck and throttle the truth out of him.

  But Austin conducted his questioning by the book. “How did you feel when Marcy’s body was found?”

  The smug smile abruptly fled Seifert’s face, and his complexion paled noticeably. “She’s dead?”

  “Do you mean to tell me you didn’t know her body had been recovered?”

  “No! I told you, man, I’ve been up in Oklahoma for the past month, working my ass off twelve hours a day on a construction job. I don’t read the papers, and if it was on TV I missed it. What happened to her?”

  “I thought you could tell me.”

  “Whoa, wait a minute. If you’re trying to pin her murder on me you can just forget it. I’ve been up in Oklahoma for weeks, and I got a lot of people who’ll swear I never left until last night.”

  “That’s interesting. You’re providing an alibi for her murder when I haven’t even told you when she died.”