Mattie gathered up her paperwork, placed it in the out basket, and turned to Robo. He’d slept through the entire conversation with Brody, something he didn’t do with just everyone. He must’ve been comfortable enough and not felt threatened.
She remembered how Robo had bristled when he’d first met Brennaman. She paused, standing still. The room fell away as a rush of adrenalin hit her system.
Oh my God. Robo’s scent memory!
Robo had sensed danger the moment John Brennaman entered the room. She’d been too ignorant to read what he’d tried to tell her. Another click of her memory, and she remembered Belle barking furiously out the window when Brennaman came by the Walker house.
Had he come to the house to see what Angela knew? She probed her mind to recall the conversation. Yes! He’d asked Angie if she and Grace spent much time together during the summer, if they’d talked the past week. Christ! He had some ego to question Angie with a police officer standing by. Her ears grew warm as she realized that he’d gotten away with it, too. Except for the dogs. They’d tried to tell the humans that the killer was standing right in front of them.
And when she’d taken Robo out through the back door, he’d picked up Brennaman’s scent immediately, as evidenced by the hackles raised on his back. Hell, she’d wasted time suspecting Brody, and she was sorry she’d ever mentioned her suspicion to Stella. She reached for her cell phone to give Stella a call, but it wasn’t in her pocket. She must have left it out in the cruiser.
“Come on, Robo. We need to go,” she said, heading out the door with her partner at her heels.
Chapter 27
She found her cell phone where she’d left it: in its slot on the dashboard of her cruiser. In the waning light of dusk, she could tell that she had two missed calls, one from Stella and one from an unknown number. Stella’s message was first in the queue.
“Hey, Mattie. I wanted you to know that the details from Phoenix were confirmed as originally stated. But I turned up an interesting thing. When I talked to the golf pro in charge of the tournament Brinkman played in, I asked if they had any registrants in their tourney from Timber Creek. The answer was yes. A Mr. John Brennaman. I think I’ve heard you and the sheriff mention him. He’s the high school principal, isn’t he? I plan to talk with him first thing tomorrow. I have one more interview now and then let’s go see Tommy O’Malley. I’ll call you when I’m done.”
So Brennaman had been at the tournament where the gun went missing. Even though it seemed unbelievable, Mattie grew more and more confident that he was their guy for both murders.
She saved Stella’s message and listened to the next one. After a long pause filled with shouting in the background, a child’s voice spoke in a near whisper. “Mrs. Cobb? This is Sean. I need help.”
Mattie’s heart sank as a sense of déjà vu almost overwhelmed her. She checked the time on the child’s call. Twenty minutes ago. She started the cruiser’s engine and headed straight to the O’Malley trailer, calling the dispatcher and telling him to send the night shift deputy, Cy Garcia, for backup. She told him it was a potential domestic disturbance and gave the trailer’s exact address and location.
Following up on Brennaman would have to wait until she took care of this crisis. She sped the few blocks it took to get to Sean’s home, chastising herself for leaving her cell phone in the car.
The first to arrive, she parked out front and switched on the rotary lights. Red and blue created a cyclical flash against the trailer wall. The trailer itself was dark; there was no sign of anyone inside or out.
Mattie opened the front of Robo’s cage and then tested the door popper button she wore on her belt to open her vehicle door by remote. When she pushed the button to send the electronic signal, her door swung wide. Confident that her equipment worked like it was supposed to, Mattie knew she could call Robo out for backup if she needed him.
“Stay here,” she told him, shutting the door again. She lifted her Glock in its holster while she strode to the trailer, assuring herself she could clear it quickly if necessary.
Standing off to the side, she pounded the tinny door, making it rattle. “Open up. Sheriff’s Department.”
Mattie could feel her heart beat as she waited. No response from the trailer.
She pounded the door again. “Fran O’Malley! Open the door!”
After what seemed like eons but was probably only a few seconds, the door opened a crack. Without lights on inside, Mattie couldn’t see anything beyond the door. She strained to hear, but her ears weren’t giving her much either.
Mattie took her flashlight from her utility belt and switched it on. Training the beam into the crack in the doorway, Mattie could see Fran peeking through from the other side. She squinted in the light, and it was obvious she’d been crying.
“Are you all right, Fran?”
“I thought maybe I should call you,” she responded in a hushed voice. “But I couldn’t.”
That’s right. Your child had to do it.
Mattie lowered the light so it wouldn’t shine directly in Fran’s eyes. “Step outside, please.”
Fran did as she was told, at first clutching her arms across her chest and then wiping her nose with the back of her hand.
Sweeping Fran with the flashlight beam, Mattie couldn’t see any new bruises. “Where’s Sean, Fran?”
“I don’t know.” Fran’s voice caught in a sob, and she covered her mouth with both hands.
Mattie had a bad feeling. “What do you mean you don’t know?”
“Tommy took him.”
“Tommy?”
“Yes.”
They must have been running from their father. “Where did he take him? Somewhere safe?”
Fran covered her face with her hands and cried, shaking her head.
With a sense of urgency, she took hold of Fran’s wrist to pull her hands away from her face. “Tell me what’s going on, Fran. Is Sean all right?”
The front door banged open, and Mattie jumped to the side of the porch to keep from getting hit. She heard someone say, “You need to get in the house, woman.”
She recognized Patrick O’Malley’s voice. Where was her backup? She was afraid the situation might deteriorate rapidly. Also sensing the threat, Robo started to bark from his cage in the cruiser.
She stepped from the porch platform, off to the side where she could get some distance between her, the swinging door, and Patrick. “It’s Deputy Cobb,” Mattie shouted. “Step outside, Patrick O’Malley. Show me your hands.”
Mattie trained her flashlight on Patrick as he stood at the threshold, his hands lowered where she couldn’t tell if he was carrying a weapon or not. “Put your hands on your head!” she shouted, her voice gruff from the force behind it. “Do it now! Hands to your head.”
“No, no,” Fran cried. “You don’t understand. He’s not the one. He’s not the one.” Her voice dropped off in a low moan.
Patrick came off the porch in a rush, hands outstretched, headed for Fran. Mattie could see that he wasn’t holding a weapon, but a jolt of energy shot through her as he grabbed Fran’s wrist and started hauling her back into the trailer.
Mattie pressed the door button, and the cruiser door popped open. “Robo, come,” she shouted. “Guard!”
Robo jumped out of the cruiser and loomed beside her in a crouch, toenails digging into the ground, flashing white teeth bared. A growl rumbled from his chest.
It was enough to make Patrick O’Malley pause so that Mattie could try to get him to stop. “Release her! Or I’ll send the dog.”
Patrick glanced at the open door behind him.
“You’re not fast enough to beat this dog to that door. Let go of Fran!”
He dropped Fran’s wrist and stepped back toward the door, hands halfway raised.
“Keep your hands there where I can see them.” As she spoke, Mattie moved to the porch. “Fran, step off the porch.”
Fran moved away from her husband.
“Yo
u got no right to treat a man this way in his own home,” Patrick growled. “I’m gonna sue you and this town for all you’re worth.”
Moving her flashlight over his face, she could see that it showed signs of a recent beating—a fat lip, bruises, and an eye that was starting to darken. He was a big man, and he stood at the trailer door. In an instant, he could be inside with the door shut; if he had a weapon inside, their lives could be in danger. Where the hell was Cy Garcia? Mattie knew she had to get Patrick under control without his backup.
“Sit down on the porch steps,” she told him.
Patrick’s eyes widened slightly. “Not with that dog there.”
Robo had stopped growling, but his silent crouch threatened more than sound.
Mattie kept her voice level and authoritative. “He won’t move unless I tell him to. Sit down. We need to talk.”
“You keep that son of a bitch away from me.”
“Step off the porch.”
He took two steps away from the door, eyes on Robo.
Mattie felt she’d won a major victory, getting him farther from the trailer door. Now she needed to neutralize him. “Sit down on the step please, sir.”
From behind her, Mattie heard a siren chirp and then fall silent as Garcia drew his cruiser up beside hers to park, lights flashing on top. The baby started to wail inside the trailer.
“You can’t arrest a man for no reason,” Patrick said.
“You’re not under arrest. Sit down on the step so we can talk.”
Garcia parked so that his headlights lit the yard. He exited his car and stood at the perimeter, sizing things up. Since she was first officer at the scene, and as long as she had everything under control, it was Mattie’s role to be in charge.
“Mr. O’Malley, I’m not going to ask you again. You need to sit down.”
Mattie placed her hand on her service weapon, and Robo edged closer.
Patrick sat.
“Thank you. Now, keep your hands on your knees where I can see them,” Mattie told him. “Fran, is there anyone else inside the house beside the baby?”
“Molly.” Her voice came out in a moan.
“Molly, can you hear me?” Mattie called to her.
“Yes.” The girl sounded frightened.
“Can you turn on a light inside?”
“Our power was shut off,” Fran said.
“Molly, bring the baby and come outside,” Mattie told her.
The baby had already quieted. With the child in her arms, Molly stepped onto the porch.
“Come down here beside your mother,” she told her. Head down, the girl moved to comply.
Mattie decided to let Robo hang in his guard dog mode a bit longer. She needed some answers, and she wanted them fast. A little pressure on Patrick wouldn’t hurt.
She looked from Patrick to Fran and back. “I need one of you to tell me where Sean is, and I need you to tell me that right now.”
“We’re not telling you anything,” Patrick said.
Fists clenched against her mouth, Fran whimpered. “Tommy was mad when he left here. I’m scared he might hurt Sean.”
“Shut up, woman.”
“Where were they headed?” Mattie asked.
“I don’t know, I don’t know.”
“How long ago did they leave?”
“Fifteen minutes, maybe a half hour.”
“Who did this to your face?” Mattie asked Patrick.
With jaw set, he remained silent.
“Tommy did it.” The information burst from Fran as if she could no longer contain it. “He hit me, too.”
“Fran.” Patrick’s voice held a warning.
“I don’t care,” Fran shouted at him. “I don’t care who knows. We need their help. I’m sick of being afraid.”
Mattie realized that her own childhood experiences had colored her judgment, so she had not read this family’s situation accurately. “Think, Fran. Where would Tommy go?”
Fran became utterly silent, and her eyes lost focus as she forced herself to look inward, trying to dredge up some memory that would tell her where her children might be.
Molly spoke up, her face blanched, eyes wide. “I think he might take him to the Powderhorn.”
The Powderhorn mine had been abandoned decades ago, after a cave-in made it too dangerous to work anymore. “What makes you think that?”
“I heard Tommy tell someone that he’d been there a few days ago and how scary the place is. He said he wanted to scare Sean, teach him a lesson.”
“Why?”
“For being friends with you. For calling you just now about the drugs.”
Tommy must’ve caught Sean at it. She felt a sinking sensation as she realized how she’d failed the child.
“Did Tommy take your truck?” she asked Fran.
“No. It’s broken down.”
“What’s he driving?”
“A dark-gray Jeep Cherokee.”
“What’s the license plate?”
“I don’t know.”
Mattie remembered the SUV that passed her when she was jogging last night. “Where’d he get the Jeep?”
Fran looked at Patrick. He glared up at Fran in silence as if warning her not to say anything more.
“Molly, do you know where he got the Jeep?” Mattie asked.
“No. He showed up driving it in the middle of the night.”
Mattie decided she’d gleaned all the information she could for the moment, and she didn’t want to waste time trying to get anything more out of the family. “Robo, out.”
Robo gave her a look of doggie disappointment. He relaxed his position somewhat though he remained in a crouch.
“Deputy Garcia,” Mattie called.
“Yes, Mattie?”
“Take this family into the department for questioning and for their own safety. I believe the son Tommy may be involved in drug running, and I think someone here knows more about it. Call the sheriff, and let him decide how to handle it.”
Patrick’s face darkened.
“Will you go peacefully, Mr. O’Malley, or do I need to put cuffs on you?”
“I’ll go,” he said. “But you’re going to hear from my attorney on this.”
Mattie held back a sarcastic smile. She knew a bluff when she heard one.
“Can you handle this while I go after the kids?” Mattie asked Garcia.
“Sure.”
Mattie told Patrick to stand, and then she patted him down for weapons. Finding none, she let Robo escort him to Garcia’s cruiser. She shut him and Fran into the back cage while directing Molly and the baby into the front seat.
Moving over to her own cruiser, she loaded Robo into his compartment through the front. She buckled into the driver’s seat, reached for her radio transmitter, and keyed it on. She started her engine, pulling out into the street as she spoke into the microphone. “Dispatch, this is K-9 One. We’ve had a domestic dispute, and Officer Garcia is en route to the station with the family, including one adult male, one adult female, a teenage girl, and an infant. Notify Sheriff McCoy and tell him that any one of them, including the girl, may know something about our local drug traffic. I have not yet arrested nor Mirandized any of them. Got all that?”
“Sure, Mattie,” Sam Corns, the night dispatcher, said.
By this time, Mattie was turning onto the highway. She hit the switch to turn on her overhead lights, but she didn’t put on the siren. “I am en route code ten-forty to Powderhorn mine on a kidnapping in progress. Tell Sheriff McCoy that our teenage person of interest has kidnapped his younger brother for purposes unknown. Their mother fears for the child’s safety. The suspect is driving a gray Jeep Cherokee, license plate unknown. Family suspects he’s headed to the Powderhorn. Earlier this evening, the youngest child left a call for help on my cell phone.”
Mattie almost choked as she added this last bit of information, and she paused for a moment to collect herself. “Advise the sheriff that I may need backup at the mine.”
“I’ll call in when I get to the mine.”
By now, Mattie had accelerated to just under ninety miles per hour, and when she put down the transmitter, she nudged her speed up another notch. Her headlights pierced the darkness, and she hoped for clear highway up ahead without deer or antelope crossing her path. Her current speed wouldn’t allow for much brake time.
Moonlight lit the landscape as it had the previous night. Her speed ate away the miles, and soon Mattie was able to turn off onto the dirt road that led to the mine. This road was maintained by the county and in fair shape, but as she rounded the first curve, her cruiser fishtailed, the rear end fanning out in the gravel. Mattie slowed. The last thing she needed was to end up in a ditch at the side of the road. She’d be of little help to Sean sitting with her vehicle high centered.
Though Mattie couldn’t see farther than the beam of her headlights, she knew that this road ran straight for a while after the first few curves, and then it curved back and forth again as it climbed halfway up the first set of foothills in the mountain range. The opening to the mine was tucked deep inside a canyon formed by a creek bed, hidden from view until you drove right up to it. The mine’s tunnels honeycombed the mountain.
Once as a teen, Mattie had tried to explore a part of the abandoned Powderhorn. But her fear of close, dark spaces had gotten the best of her. She’d barely made it past the first fork in the main tunnel. She knew from what friends told her that there were so many tunnels in the mountain that they feared getting lost. On top of that, some of the shafts were flooded with at least a foot of water from an unknown source, probably an underground spring.
“If they’re up there, we’re going to need your nose,” she told Robo.
He stood, his eyes not wavering from the windshield. Mattie had never been so grateful to have a K-9 partner. If it meant going into a dark mine, she’d rather go in with Robo than any human partner.
It felt like it took forever, but barely twenty minutes had passed since she’d checked in with dispatch. She was approaching the tunnel entrance. As soon as she topped the last rise leading up to the mine, she spotted two vehicles, black shadows in the dark night. She reached for her radio transmitter and keyed it on.
Killing Trail: A Timber Creek K-9 Mystery Page 23
