by T. R. Ragan
Olivia whipped around and shook the spatula at her. “You scared me! Everyone keeps creeping up on me today.”
“Everyone?”
“Oh.” She blushed. “Yeah, you and Zee.”
“Zee Gatley?”
“How many Zees do you know?” She laughed. “Zee came to your office while I was filing and scared me just like you did.”
“You were filing?”
Olivia made a face.
Jessie put her things on the coffee table. “I’m teasing. What did Zee want?”
“Nothing really. We introduced ourselves, and then we talked a little. I really like her. She even said she could take me shopping tomorrow after school if that’s okay.”
Jessie crossed her arms. “Zee Gatley offered to take you shopping?”
Olivia snorted. “What’s wrong with that? I thought you liked her.”
Jessie anchored her hair behind her ear. “I do like her. But Zee isn’t like most people. In fact, she doesn’t enjoy other people’s company.”
Olivia let out an exasperated puff of air. “Well, I guess she’s changed. She knows you’re busy, so she offered to take me to the mall. It’s not that big of a deal.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea. She hasn’t been driving very long.”
“If her dad trusts her with a brand-new Tesla, I think I’m safe.”
“How do you know what kind of car she drives?”
“I looked through your office window and saw her drive away in it.” Olivia’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you so suspicious lately?” She turned back to the stove.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ve had a crazy day.”
“So I can go?”
“Sure, fine, but text me when you’re back home.”
“Where will you be?” Olivia asked.
“I need to interview some people about the Ashley Bale case.”
“Is that the woman whose baby was taken?”
Jessie nodded.
“That’s so sad. What sort of person would take someone else’s baby?”
“I wish I knew,” Jessie said.
FIFTEEN
After dragging Brad Elton into the warehouse, he’d been so exhausted that he’d gone home to sleep and take a shower.
He’d returned five minutes ago and now stood a few feet away from the dark-haired executive, watching him struggle to get his hands free from the ropes.
“Let me go,” Brad pleaded. “Please.”
Without any of the passion he’d had when he’d first come up with his plan to teach DHI a lesson, he ignored the man. He walked over to his bag and pulled out his camera. He set up his equipment on the table that he’d left there after videotaping Tyler McDonald.
He scratched his head, looked around, then dragged the metal fold-up chair to the table and sat down.
“Please don’t hurt me,” Brad said, over and over again. “Why are you doing this?”
That’s a very good question, he thought.
So many emotions had been running through him since Hannah died: Rage. Frustration. Confusion. At the moment, though, he was numb.
He stopped what he was doing and finally met Brad’s gaze. His shoulders fell as he decided not to bother videotaping him. He didn’t want to deal with him at all. But he also didn’t want to leave the man here all day. Best to get it over with now.
“My family and coworkers are probably looking for me,” Brad said, as if he sensed something had changed. “If you let me go now, I’ll write you a check. Name your price, and I’ll write the check.” His eyes flashed. “Better yet, we can go to an ATM. You pick the place. Somewhere private. Just tell me how much money you need, and the cash is yours.”
“I don’t want your money.”
Brad’s head fell back against the cement wall.
“You’re all the same. Greedy bastards who think everything can be taken care of with a wad of cash. Money isn’t going to help you, Brad. What do you think about that?”
“What do you want with me?”
“How long have you been with DHI?”
“Thirteen years,” Brad said.
“That’s a long time. Did you ever meet any of your clients?”
“You mean DHI’s clients?”
“Yes.”
“I work in finance, but, yes, I believe I met a few.”
“I’m sure the only clients you ever met were CEOs of large corporations.”
Brad Elton’s face paled. His arms began to shake.
“Am I right?”
Brad nodded. “Yes.”
“You don’t have a wife or kids.”
“No, but I have a girlfriend and a brother and both parents. Please don’t do this. Let me go.”
“Did anyone you know ever suffer from cancer or any sort of illness that would require long-term care?”
“No,” Brad said. He quickly added, “Not that I know of.”
He shut off the camera. He was done. Tired of talking. Tired of listening. Just plain tired. He wanted to go home, wasn’t sure if he’d ever come back to this place. He stood, went to his bag, slipped on his gloves, and then picked up the SIG.
Brad began to struggle with his bindings again. “What are you doing? Don’t hurt me. I’ll do anything you ask.”
Ignoring him, he attached the suppressor as the man rambled on, begging for his life just as he’d once begged for Hannah’s life. Stepping closer to Brad, he raised his gun and fired. One shot in the head. It was over.
After he turned away, he stopped, closed his eyes, and began gulping air. His anger had subsided. His hands shook as he put the gun to the side of his head. He could be done with it all right now. One shot. And it would be over.
But then he thought of Hannah.
How she’d suffered.
Shooting himself before he’d accomplished what he’d set out to do would be the coward’s way out.
And then it struck him—an idea. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t thought of it before. Adrenaline took over, pumping his body up with renewed energy. He put the gun away, pulled off the gloves, and rushed over to the laptop on the table. Once it was booted up, he searched the Internet.
Hannah had taught him everything he knew about computers. She’d always been an exceptionally bright child. He knew most parents felt that way about their children, but Hannah was gifted. At a young age she’d had a highly developed vocabulary and the ability to learn new words easily. She could read before she entered school. Her brain had been like a sponge, easily absorbing and incorporating everything brought to her attention. They’d had her tested, just to be sure, and the chances of a child her age having her IQ were one in five thousand.
She certainly hadn’t acquired her abilities from him, he thought as he typed with one finger.
Once he had the keywords plugged into the search bar, it only took twenty seconds to find what he was looking for—pictures of Owen Shepard’s family. He and his wife, Catherine, had three children. Two boys and a girl. His daughter, Emily, was in her early twenties and had recently started her second year at UC Davis.
He needed to know more about Emily Shepard.
Social media.
Hannah always said that everything you needed to know about anyone was on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter. It didn’t take him long to learn that Emily Shepard shared an apartment with two others. She also walked to campus every day.
He used Google Maps to find directions from the house he was renting to the university. The fastest route, despite the usual traffic, would take him about twenty-five minutes.
For the first time since Hannah’s death, he knew exactly how to get Owen Shepard’s attention. But first he had a body to dispose of.
SIXTEEN
Jessie knocked on the door of Apartment 6B at Woodlake Apartments off Marconi Avenue and then waited, hoping Kendra Sue Foster was home. At the time of Dakota’s abduction, Kendra Sue had been a volunteer at the hospital.
The door cracked open, and Jessie saw a pai
r of dark eyes peering out at her.
“Who is it?”
“My name is Jessie Cole. Are you Kendra Sue Foster?”
“Maybe I am, but I’m not the one knocking on your door.”
“I’m a private investigator, and I have a few questions about the Dakota Bale case.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“No,” Jessie said. “It’s important that I talk to you.”
“Go away.”
Jessie quickly recalled one of Ben’s favorite tactics and used it. “Twenty dollars for five minutes of your time.”
Seconds ticked by. Jessie waited for the door to be slammed in her face. Instead, it came open. Before Jessie could step inside, the woman put out a hand, palm up.
Jessie dug out her wallet and handed the woman a twenty.
Kendra Sue peeked outside and looked from left to right. “Come inside. I don’t want anyone to see you hanging around my place.”
Jessie did as she said. The door closed behind her.
“Your five minutes have begun.”
Jessie wanted to get a look around. She pointed at the misshapen couch. “Mind if I have a seat?”
Kendra Sue crossed her arms over her chest. “Have at it.”
Jessie looked at the wall of bookshelves and at the knickknacks on the coffee table before taking a seat.
Kendra Sue remained standing. “Three more minutes.”
“Do you have any idea who took Dakota Bale from the hospital seven years ago?”
“You think I wouldn’t have told the police if I did?” Before Jessie could respond, the woman added, “You people are something else.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“I was a volunteer at the hospital,” she said, her tone sharp. “A volunteer. When was the last time you volunteered to do anything at all?”
“I can’t remember.”
“Exactly. I loved my work at the hospital. I used to bring booties that had been hand-knitted by my grandmother and give them to sick kids. Volunteering gave me purpose.” Her eyes welled with tears. “And then Ashley Bale’s baby was stolen, and my life was turned upside down.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“Then why did you come? Do those people still think I had something to do with their baby’s disappearance?”
“No. But they are still searching, and I wanted to talk to everyone involved at the time.”
“It was a witch hunt,” Kendra Sue said. “Ashley Bale may not know it, but I saw her watching me 24-7. For a half a year she was my shadow. Do you know what that feels like to be sentenced without any proof?”
Jessie shook her head.
“She ruined my life. For whatever reason, that woman was convinced I had something to do with her—”
Jessie and Kendra Sue looked to the front door when it opened. A man stepped inside.
“What’s going on?” he wanted to know.
He was big. His long, dark hair was streaked with silver. He wasn’t much taller than Jessie, but he had a barrel chest and thick arms and legs.
“Are you crying?” he asked Kendra Sue.
“No,” she said nervously, shaking her head for good measure.
He turned on Jessie. “Who are you?”
Jessie didn’t like the way his fingers had rolled into fists at his sides. “I’m Jessie Cole. I had a few questions for Kendra Sue, but we’re finished. In fact, I was just about to leave.” She stood.
“That’s right,” Kendra Sue said.
Jessie headed for the door, but the man was standing in front of it. “Hold on,” he said, refusing to move out of the way. “You had questions about what?”
Jessie forced herself to stay calm. “I’m investigating the Ashley Bale case. The only way to do that is to interview people who knew Ashley Bale or who happened to be at the hospital that day.”
His eyes narrowed as he shoved a meaty finger into her collarbone.
Jessie tried not to panic. In a stern voice she said, “Keep your hands off me.”
Kendra Sue tried to get between them. “Stop it. She’s leaving!”
He grabbed hold of Kendra Sue’s shoulders and began shaking her like a rag doll. “You never should have let her inside!”
Jessie grabbed his arm and tried to pull him away. It was clear he was hurting Kendra Sue, and she had to do something.
He let go of Kendra Sue and turned his attention on Jessie. Before she could make a run for it, he picked her up by the waist and tossed her into the bookshelf. She experienced a jolt of pain as she fell to the ground. Books and picture frames toppled over and rained down around her. She used her arms to shield her head.
Kendra Sue grabbed the man’s arm and pulled him away.
There was glass everywhere. Jessie picked up the bigger pieces, along with a broken frame, and then pushed herself to her feet. As she set the picture aside, she saw that it was a young girl, two or three years old. She looked at Kendra Sue. “Is this your daughter?”
“Yes. She died from leukemia.”
“She thinks that’s the fucking Bale baby,” the man growled. “Don’t you get it? They’ll never be through with us. Never. I’m done with this bullshit.” He stormed away and disappeared into the other room.
Kendra Sue rushed to the door and opened it wide. “You need to get out of here, quick. He’s going for his gun.”
Jessie heard a closet door open and close. “What about you?”
“Don’t worry about me. It’s you he wants outta here. Hurry,” she said. “Run!”
Jessie rushed out of the apartment and down the stairs to the parking lot. Voices sounded behind her as she unlocked her car and climbed in behind the wheel. Afraid he might fire at her, she crouched low as she started the car and drove off, not bothering to fasten her seat belt.
Once she was out of harm’s way, Jessie buckled her belt. It took her a while to calm down. She thought about calling the police but decided against it. Kendra Sue seemed adamant about staying, and Jessie didn’t want to cause her more problems than she already had. But who the hell was that child in the picture?
She’d read through the file Ashley Bale had given her. She’d also searched her databases for anything she could find regarding Kendra Sue Foster. There had been nothing noted about the woman ever having a child of her own.
With binoculars in hand, Zee focused in on the Norton house. The curtains on the front window had been pushed to the side, but so far nothing was happening.
At least not in the front room. Zee shifted the binoculars to the right until she could clearly see the sixteen-pound rock she’d left at the curb earlier that morning. She rotated the focusing ring until the corner of the fifty-dollar bill she’d stuck under the rock as bait came into focus.
She chuckled at her genius.
What better way to get someone to lift a heavy object then to stick money under it? Sure, she could have left a five or even a twenty, but she figured a fifty would guarantee at least an attempt on Lindsay Norton’s part to lift the rock. A few minutes later she set the binoculars aside and reached for the brown paper bag sitting on the passenger seat. Her neighbor, who also happened to be Dad’s girlfriend, had packed her a lunch. Zee hadn’t wanted to take it from the woman, but Dad had given her one of his you-better-do-it kind of looks, and so she’d had no choice.
She looked inside the bag.
It was only ten thirty in the morning. She had eaten leftover lasagna for breakfast. She should be full.
Of course you’re hungry. Everyone gets hungry when they’re bored out of their minds.
“I’m not bored,” she told the voice in her head as she reached into the bag and pulled out a sandwich, three chocolate chip cookies, and a small can of apple juice. She lined everything up neatly on the console. The sandwich was lumpy peanut butter slathered between two slices of wheat bread. She took a bite and chewed as she stared straight ahead. Before she had a chance to swallow, she nearly choked when she recognized th
e truck coming down the road. It was the neighbor, the same guy she’d seen grabbing that woman.
After he passed by, she sat up and watched him through the rearview mirror. His garage door slowly opened. As he pulled in, she saw not one but two small heads pop up. And then the garage door closed, and she couldn’t see a thing.
What the hell was going on?
Who were those kids? If they were his kids, wouldn’t she see them running around outside every once in a while?
Mind your own business, the voice said. You want to keep your job, don’t you?
She fidgeted in her seat, wondering what she should do. Jessie had said she shouldn’t do a thing unless there were signs that someone was in danger. She hadn’t seen the kids’ actual faces, not that it would have made a difference. They could be his niece and nephew visiting for the day.
What does the man do for a living? she wondered. And just as that thought crossed her mind, she saw Lindsay Norton’s door open.
About time, Francis said.
There were many voices floating around inside her head, but she’d named only the three loudest. Francis was the troublemaker. Lucy was the bitch. And Marion was the clever one.
Zee grabbed the camera and fumbled around with it, her heart pumping fast as she readied the camera, pushed the lever to video, and began shooting.
Lindsay Norton did what she’d done every day that Zee had watched her. She headed for the mailbox. Today, though, Lindsay Norton appeared to have a bit of a bounce in her step, which was unusual. She had done her hair and was wearing a flowery dress. Zee had never seen her wearing anything but sweat suits. After she got her mail, she headed back toward the house.
Zee groaned.
Told you it wouldn’t work.
Lindsay Norton stopped suddenly and made an about-face. She was looking right at the rock.
Bingo!
The woman walked slowly as if she wasn’t sure what she was seeing. With the mail in her hand, she bent over and tugged at the money, but it didn’t come free, so she set the mail on the ground, then lifted the rock all the way to her chest as if it weighed two pounds instead of sixteen. After setting the rock aside, she was finally able to grab the money, gather her mail, and then hurry back to the house.
