introduce him to a more exotic taste, but when he was
alone Tom preferred to tap back into his old ways. Born
and raised in Smithfield, North Carolina—population
13,000—Tom still preferred biscuits and gravy over
eggs benedict any day.
He was getting ready to take the first sip, the aroma
of strong coffee tantalizing to his nostrils and the steam
rising up to fog his reading glasses, when Sergeant
Parker appeared out of nowhere like a bad dream.
“We need to notify the family, Lackey. Wanna do it,
or should we call St. Louis?”
“I haven’t thought that far yet. I suppose it is
probably better for them to deliver the news in person
than for us to call. Would you want to find out about
your daughter’s death over the phone?”
Parker’s face softened. He had a kid of about the
same age, and his paternal instincts were stronger than
his crusty attitude. Lackey had no children of his own,
but over the years he had become close to Kathy’s
daughter, so he could sympathize.
“No, I guess not,” Parker answered with a much
more subdued tone. “I will get on the phone with them
in a minute, and ask them to visit the family.”
“Thank you, Parker. We can request dental records
as soon as the family is contacted. After Greer is
through with the autopsy, and if everything checks out,
we can start with her apartment. We have a local name,
Shannon Brinkley. She was Tracey Newman’s best
friend and she is the one who called the family to let
them know that Tracey didn’t show up for her shift at
the hospital.”
“You think that’s her, Lackey?”
“Look for yourself.” Lackey tapped a few keys on
his computer and clicked on the photo Tracey
Newman’s family had provided. “See the resemblance?”
Parker arched his eyebrow. “Shit…it sure looks like
the same girl. Okay, I’m going to call St. Louis now.”
When Parker left, Lackey took a sip of his coffee,
but it was already lukewarm and not sweet enough, so
he put the lid back on and dropped the cup inside his
waste basket. Today, coffee wasn’t in the cards and a
cold-hearted killer was still on the loose. Sometimes he
really hated his job.
Chapter 3
Rose Howard focused on watering her plants to hide
her nervousness. According to the police in North
Carolina, there had been no activity on Tracey’s credit
cards or debit card since the day she didn’t show up for
work over a week ago, but Rose refused to wrap her
mind around the possibility that something could have
happened to her daughter. The family had been on edge
since Shannon called; preparations were being made for
Rose and her husband Mike to fly to Raleigh by the end
of this week, if something didn’t turn up. Tracey was a
free spirit—she always had been—and Rose preferred to
think that her young daughter was gone to take care of a
friend, and maybe she just didn’t take the time to notify
anyone. Yes, that had to be it.
The soft patter of Alexis’ footsteps transported Rose
back to the present moment, and she turned around to
welcome her younger daughter with a smile. “Hi, Angel
Face! I didn’t hear the bus. How was school?”
Alexis wrinkled her miniature nose and shrugged.
“It was okay, Mom…same old stuff.”
Her expression made Rose smile in spite of the
anxiety that kept her heart trapped in an ice chest. Alexis
acted so grown up, and even if she was very petite for
her nine years, her mind was far beyond her
chronological age. There was something very wise
about Alexis, and many people often commented that
she was an old soul. The child was also extremely
sensitive in a way that Rose considered a little strange,
and she sometimes surprised her parents with questions
that made them uncomfortable. Since a very early age,
Alexis claimed she had a friend—an imaginary pal
named Lily—who visited her from time to time, and
told her all sorts of strange things. Rose and Mike
worried about it at first, and they even took Alexis to see
a specialist, but the diagnosis was that Alexis was a
perfectly healthy child with a very fertile imagination.
“Is your stuff packed to go to Grandma’s this
weekend, Alexis?” Rose asked while she continued to
water the plants.
Alexis pouted. “I don’t want to go to Grandma’s! I
want to go with you!”
Rose’s nerves were on edge, but she tried her best to
maintain her cool. “You know that’s not possible,
Alexis. Dad and I are flying to Raleigh to look for
Tracey…we’ve talked about that.”
“Tracey is not coming back, Mom. Tracey is dead!
Lily told me.”
Rose’s hand flew to strike her daughter’s face
before she could even acknowledge her reaction. “Stop
it with this nonsense! Lily doesn’t exist!” The moment
her hand fell back to her side, Rose was aware of what
she had done. Alexis just stood there looking smaller
than ever, her big blue eyes filling with tears.
“Oh, Alexis, I am so sorry…I didn’t mean to…I’m
just a bit out of sorts, you know. Tracey is fine. We are
bringing her home with us.”
“No, you are not! Tracey is dead!” Alexis shot
through the room and ran up the stairs to her room
before Rose could say anything else. Rose followed
with her eyes, but didn’t move, and as soon as Alexis
was gone she burst into tears. She wasn’t sure how long
she sat there crying, and when Mike walked in from
work he ran to her and wrapped his arms around her.
“There, there…it’s going to be okay, Darling.”
Rose cried softly against his chest, the bulk of her
tears now spent. “I’m sorry…Alexis came home from
school and told me Tracey was dead. I couldn’t handle
it, even if what she considers facts are based on an
imaginary conversation she had with Phantom Lily.”
Mike’s face darkened. “This is a lot for her to
process, Rose. I’m not surprised she is seeking comfort
in any way she can. Yet…she shouldn’t say things like
that. I will talk to her.”
“No, you’re right. She is upset. I shouldn’t have
reacted the way I did.”
“Come on,” Mike said. “Let’s go make a cup of tea.
It will make you feel better.”
They stood up and were walking slowly toward the
kitchen when the doorbell rang.
“Probably just a salesman,” Mike suggested. “They
always ignore the ‘No Soliciting’ sign at the entrance to
the subdivision. I will get rid of him in a second. Why
don’t you get the kettle on the stove while you wait?”
Rose nodded and they separated in the hallway—
Mike heading to the door, and Rose to the kitchen.
Rose filled the kettle with water and turned on the
burner, then she sat down at the kitchen table to wait for
Mike. After a few moments she wondered why he
wasn’t coming back and decided to go see if the
salesman was gone, but as she stood up, Mike walked
through the kitchen door, a thousand invisible bricks
weighing on his shoulders. His face was pale, and Rose
could tell his eyes were wet with tears, though he had
done his best to wipe them before coming in.
“Mike? What’s wrong?”
Mike didn’t respond immediately, and Rose felt
panic rising from the pit of her stomach until it
constricted her heart. “Mike! Tell me what is wrong!”
Mike walked closer, and put his arms around her.
His voice was eerily soft. “Sit down, Rose.”
“Mike, you are scaring me…what is it?”
Mike looked down at his feet for a few seconds,
then he took a deep breath and spoke. “Two detectives
just came by to bring the latest news, Rose. It’s not
good.” His eyes shifted back down, unable to face the
pain he knew would register in Rose’s face.
“But…but what kind of news, Mike? Is Tracey
hurt? Is she in a hospital? We need to leave right away
and bring her home, so I can stay with her until she is
completely healed.”
“Tracey is not going to heal, Rose. Her body was
found early this morning in a park in North Carolina.”
There, he had said it. Rose just sat there, with her mouth
open, unable to speak and just shaking her head. When
she at last recovered her voice, it sounded like the voice
of a child. “No…no, they are wrong. Tracey is fine, they
have the wrong girl. I just know it! It’s not my baby.”
Mike kneeled in front of her, and took her face into
his shaking hands. “Rose, I hope to God you’re right,
but according to the detectives, it is almost certain that
the woman they found is Tracey. They will need dental
records and a positive identification, but everything else
seems to match.”
Rose stood up but she could barely move. “No…it’s
not possible. I will talk to them. They need to find the
parents of this poor girl. They can’t afford to waste their
time like this.”
“Rose…the description of the girl matches Tracey’s
photo. Let’s go talk to them.”
When Rose looked into Mike’s eyes again, the
certainty of her denial wavered slightly, but she brushed
off the unwelcome sensation and walked with him to
meet the detectives sitting in the living room.
One of the two men, a tall, slim individual in his
late fifties, stood up the moment they entered. He had
small hazel eyes set deep in his thin face, and his dark
hair was streaked with veins of silver throughout. The
other man was younger, maybe in his mid-thirties,
sporting cropped sandy blond hair and a thin moustache.
He wasn’t as tall as the other detective, but he appeared
more muscular. As if on cue, the second man stood up
also, and for a moment Rose hoped they would just
disappear and leave her in the comfort of her illusion.
“Mrs. Howard, I am Detective Wilson, and this is
my partner, Detective Wheeler.” The older man
extended his hand, but Rose didn’t shake it. “Please sit
down, Mrs. Howard.”
Rose sat on the leather sofa and took a deep breath.
“As I was telling my husband, Detective, I think there is
a mistake. This young girl is not our daughter, I am sure
of it.”
Detective Wilson nodded, well aware of the sense of
denial and shock parents experience when told their
children were gone forever. “Preliminary identification
suggests that the young woman found by Raleigh police
early today is your daughter, Ma’am. Of course, we will
need to order dental records and we will need you or
your husband to identify the body.”
“I know how you can tell it is not my daughter,
Detective. Tracey has a small Tinker Bell tattoo on her
lower abdomen. Does your girl have that?” Rose’s tone
was nearly defiant.
“I am not sure, Mrs. Howard. The body was just
taken to the medical examiner’s office. The autopsy will
take place later today or tomorrow. I’m afraid I don’t
have many details, but it would be advisable for
someone to travel over there and identify the body.”
Mike broke into the conversation. “I can leave
tonight if I can find an available flight, or tomorrow
morning at the latest.”
The detective nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Howard. I
will arrange for someone to pick you up at the airport as
soon as we have the details of your flight.”
As the detectives walked toward the front door, they
didn’t see the small girl sitting on one of the stairs, and
nobody heard her when she whispered. “I knew you
were right, Lily. Mom should have listened.”
#
The chicken
cacciatora simmering on the stove sent
out a heavenly aroma, and Kathy inhaled deeply while
she poured a glass of wine. Tom had called while she
was in the shower; she was a little disappointed when
she listened to the message he left and heard that he
would be late for dinner. She had moved forward with
dinner preparations anyway, knowing that, after a
horrific day on the job, a good dinner was the best
healing tonic for him; even if he got home late, all of
Tom’s worries would disappear the moment he tasted
the succulent bird. Unlike Tom’s ex-wife, Kathy didn’t
usually mind his working hours; in fact, she treasured
having some time alone, and she figured that the daily
separations only made every moment they spent
together feel more special. Tonight she felt differently,
however, and craved human companionship. She hoped
that Caroline would call as promised, but knowing her
daughter and being familiar with her spontaneous—and
sometimes slightly erratic—ways, Kathy wasn’t holding
her breath. Caroline was a lovely young lady, but it was
typical for her to overlap her plans and forget things;
Kathy was so accustomed to this side of her that she no
longer took her missed phone calls personally.
She took the chicken off the burner and brought her
glass of wine to the living room. When she turned the
TV on, the channel was set on News 14, so she left it on
and almost absently listened to the weather forecast.
Intense heat for the next several days…Kathy had a
feeling this summer would be a long one. The next
segment was about the woman found at Durant Park, so
she turned up the volume and listened carefully.
According to the reporter, the police were not releasing
much information pending a criminal investigation;
there was speculation that the woman had been attacked
by a stranger while she was jogging, so women were
warned against walking alone, especially after dusk. The
footag
e showed the entrance to the park on Perry Creek
Road, and yellow tape could be seen in the distance.
Several law enforcement officers were moving around
the area, but they were too far away for Kathy to
determine if Tom was among them. The next segment
was about rebels making headway in Libya, and Kathy
decided to turn off the set—not because she didn’t care
about the people of Libya, but simply because she had
heard enough bad news today, and needed to clear her
head instead.
She picked up a novel from Lillian Jackson Brown’s
series and tried to focus on the adventures of Koko, an
extremely intelligent Siamese cat who helped his
human, James Quilleran, solve several mysteries. This
series was one of Kathy’s favorites, even if she didn’t
own a cat and was more of a dog person. She quickly
became so absorbed in the story that she felt she could
almost reach out and touch Koko’s silky fur. When she
heard a loud noise in the hallway she jumped and looked
around, unsure whether she had really heard it, or if her
mind had made it up as a consequence of being so
absorbed in a mystery novel. She decided to go check
anyway, and put her wine glass down on the coffee table
next to the book. As she turned the corner, she saw her
personal camera on the floor and instantly panicked.
How could it have fallen? She picked it up and
examined every part of it; to her relief, it appeared to
have suffered no damage. She took a few photos around
the house to make sure the camera still worked and,
satisfied that it wasn’t broken, she placed it gently on
the table near the door and headed back to the living
room to continue reading.
Tom walked in a few minutes later. “Hey,
Sweetheart! I’m home!”
Kathy put the book down and met Tom in the
hallway where she kissed him, wrapping her arms
around his waist in a welcoming hug. “I hope you are
hungry. Some chicken cacciatora is waiting for you in
the kitchen.”
“Mmm-mmm…my favorite. You definitely know
how to turn a bad day into a great evening.”
Kathy smiled. “I have wine, too. Chilled Pinot
Grigio.”
Tom looked up toward the ceiling and brought his
hands together as he smiled. “Thank you God, for
giving me a woman who understands me and knows
how to cook chicken cacciatora. And if the blessings
weren’t enough, she can also pick a good wine.”
Killer in Sight (A Tom Lackey Mystery) Page 3
