“I think I’ll do that,” Seth said. “Are you ready to go, Callie?”
A tired smile pulled at her lips. “I am.”
She glanced at her uncle once more before she turned and walked out of the Critical Care Unit. They stopped at the elevator and pushed the button, but when the door opened, Captain Wilson of the Memphis Police Department and two officers stepped off.
Callie’s eyes lit up when she saw her uncle’s best friend and former partner. She threw her arms around his neck, and he pulled her close. “Anthony,” Callie said, “it’s so good to see you.”
He pulled back and stared down into her face. “I’ve been trying to get over here ever since I was notified about Dan being shot, but I’m on duty all night. It’s been one of the busiest nights I’ve had in a long time. But when the call about Dan’s attack in the ICU came in, I broke all speed records getting here. What happened?”
He shook his head in dismay as Callie told what had happened when she walked into her uncle’s room. “I didn’t think before I jumped on the man’s back. He was twice as big as me, but I knew I had to stop him,” she said.
Captain Wilson’s gaze raked her body. “Are you okay? Did he injure you in any way?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“Then what can you tell me about the man? Was there anything that would help you identify him if you saw him again?”
She nodded. “When I wrapped my arms around his neck, the medical face mask he was wearing slipped to the side. He had a jagged scar that ran down the right side of his face from about the bottom of his ear to his chin. And he had a star tattooed on his neck.”
“Was there anything else? Was he short? Tall? Skinny? What was his coloring?”
Callie thought for a moment before she responded. “Dark hair and tan skin—maybe Latino, but I can’t be sure. He was about Seth’s height, and he was very muscular. He had broad shoulders, and I felt his muscles flex when he threw me off. He reminded me of the guys you see constantly working out in a gym.”
Captain Wilson nodded. “Good. That ought to help us.” He smiled at her. “You’ve done well tonight, Callie. You survived two shootings and you fought someone who seemed intent on killing your uncle. It’s good to see that it’s not only the men in the Lattimer family who can hold their own with the bad guys. You can, too.”
She laughed and shook her head. “I don’t think so, Anthony. I just want to teach school. I’ll leave chasing crooks to men like you and Seth.”
He smiled. “I think you’ve had enough excitement for a while. You go on home now. I need to talk with Rob Grant and make sure nothing like this happens again.” He turned to Seth. “Can you see that Callie gets home?”
“I will, sir.”
Without another word, Captain Wilson strode down the hallway and through the doors of the Critical Care Unit. The elevator doors opened again, and Seth and Callie stepped inside. Neither of them said anything until they had exited the hospital and stood in the parking lot outside the E.R. Seth pointed across the rows of cars to where his sat underneath a lamppost. “That’s my car over there.”
He led her to his car and unlocked the door for her to crawl in before he walked around to the driver’s side and slipped behind the steering wheel. He glanced over at her as he started the car, but she had her head resting against the back of her seat and her eyes closed. He thought she must have been asleep before they drove from the parking lot.
Thirty minutes later he stopped in the driveway of Dan’s house and placed his hand on her shoulder. “Callie,” he said as he gently shook her, “we’re at your uncle’s house.”
She sat up, rubbed her eyes and looked around. “I’m sorry. I must have fallen asleep.” She reached for the door handle but frowned and hesitated. “I thought we were going to get my bags.”
He laughed and opened his door. “Already done, ma’am. You were sleeping so soundly I didn’t wake you for the pickup. I have your bags in the trunk. I’ll take them in and check the house before I leave.”
He started to get out of the car, but she reached out and touched his arm. “Seth, I really do appreciate all you’ve done for me tonight.”
Seth smiled. “No need to thank me. Dan is special to me.” He didn’t mention the way that Dan had filled the void in his life after his father walked out on them when he was a boy. Back when he’d dated Callie, he’d told her the whole story, about how he’d always envied his friends who had fathers who came to their ball games and had time to take them fishing or work on cars in the backyard. He’d never had anything like that until Dan became the father he needed. Tears threatened to fill his eyes, and he turned his head to stare out the car window so she wouldn’t see.
“I know,” she said. “He’s often told me you’re the son he never had. After I went to college and on to graduate school, I didn’t come home very much. I should have. I know he was lonely at times and I’m glad he had you.” Her voice broke on the last words.
“Don’t blame yourself for anything,” Seth replied. “He’s proud of you and what you’ve made of your life. He tells everybody about his smart niece who’s got her Ph.D. and is a big-time professor at the University of Virginia.”
She chuckled. “I don’t know about the big-time part, but I do love my job.”
“Just as Dan and I do ours, Callie. Try to remember that.”
She stared at him for a minute before she took a deep breath and opened her car door. “I get your point, Seth, but nothing’s changed since we last saw each other.”
“I know,” he said. “I’ve moved on, and I hope you have, too.”
She regarded him for a moment before she spoke. “I have. Now I’d appreciate it if you’d check out the house before you go. I don’t want another encounter with Scarface tonight.”
“You’ve got that right,” he said as he stepped out of the car. “I’ll do a walk-through and then be on my way, but I’ll come back tomorrow and take you to the hospital.” He glanced at the clock on the dash. “Since it’s nearly three o’clock in the morning, tomorrow will be here before we know it.”
She nodded and headed toward the house. “I don’t think I’ll have any trouble falling asleep.”
She’d already opened the front door by the time he arrived on the steps with her bags. He put them down in the entry and proceeded to search the house before he let her enter.
As he walked through the rooms, Callie’s heart sank to the pit of her stomach. The house exuded a hollow feeling as if her uncle’s absence had sucked out all the life it usually possessed. Seth must have felt it, too, because she knew it had become the home away from home he’d come to love.
He stopped just inside the den, and his gaze raked the room. Then she saw his lips move and knew he was offering a prayer for his friend’s life. Callie turned away and shook her head. That was something else she and Seth had never shared, and she doubted they ever would.
Ten minutes later she stood at the front door and watched Seth get in his car. Then she locked the door and walked back into the living room. The lamp by the window she’d turned on when she’d first entered the house still lit the room.
She turned the light off and stood there in the dark room for a few minutes, staring out to the quiet cul-de-sac where she’d first learned to ride her bicycle. Sweet memories of her uncle holding her upright until she learned to balance drifted into her head, and a tear slipped down her cheek.
She was about to turn away when the lights of an approaching car caught her attention. It moved so slowly she wasn’t sure whether she imagined it or not when it seemed to come to a stop in front of her house.
A small circle of red lit the interior for a brief second. A lit cigarette. Callie’s skin prickled at the feeling that someone inside that car had stopped to study her uncle’s house. After a minute, the car moved slowly to the end of the street and m
ade a circle in the cul-de-sac before driving past her uncle’s house once more.
This time she studied the outline of the vehicle more carefully. Her knees trembled, and she grabbed the table to steady herself. Was this the car she’d caught a fleeting glimpse of before Uncle Dan shoved her head into her lap?
THREE
Callie rose in bed and pounded her pillow again in an effort to get more comfortable. Her statement that she wouldn’t have any trouble falling asleep had come before a strange car had stopped in front of her uncle’s house. Even though she had watched it drive away, every time she closed her eyes, she either relived the gunshot blasting into the car, the scene of a man with a pillow over her uncle’s face or a dark car with its engine idling in front of the house.
She glanced at the cell phone lying on the bedside table and sighed. Four a.m. It would probably be sunup in an hour or so, and she hadn’t slept a wink. Groaning, she sat up on the side of the bed and rubbed her tired eyes. She wouldn’t be able to keep her eyes open at the hospital when she went back later today, but she couldn’t help it. Her raw nerves refused to let her relax, and she climbed out of bed.
She put on her robe, slipped her cell phone in her pocket and went downstairs. Maybe a glass of warm milk would help her fall asleep. After heating some milk, she carried the cup into the den and sipped at it as she stared out the window into the backyard.
The tree she’d climbed as a child seemed to wave its branches at her as she stared into the darkness. She smiled, remembering the times she had called for her uncle, who was usually busy in his office next to the den, to come watch her climb one branch higher. He had always answered her summons. She still had trouble believing he’d been just as devoted to an unsolved case.
She paused in remembering and turned her head to stare at the door leading from the den into the office. That room was where he kept all his important papers. Could there be something in his desk that would help her understand his obsession with the case she’d learned about tonight?
Easing into the room, she switched on the light, placed her cup of milk on the desk and sat down in the chair behind it. She spread her hands out over the smooth wood on the desktop and closed her eyes for a moment. She could almost feel the presence of the man she thought of as her father.
After a moment, she opened the right-side top drawer, but there was nothing inside except a collection of pens and pencils along with a stapler and an assortment of rubber bands. The drawer below held odds and ends, too. When she opened the bottom drawer, which looked to be the deepest, there were only a few papers lying inside.
She was about to close it when something strange caught her eye. The drawer appeared deeper than the two above it, and yet it had little room inside to hold items. She leaned closer and stared at the interior before pulling the papers out and tapping on the bottom of the drawer. A hollow-sounding noise told her the drawer had a false bottom.
She grabbed a letter opener from the desktop and slipped it between the edge of the bottom and the side of the drawer. The bottom of the drawer sprang open to reveal a large three-ring notebook inside.
Her heart pounded as she pulled out the notebook and laid it on the desk. With shaking fingers, she opened it and gasped at the picture of a woman, her eyes closed in death, on the first page. Tears filled Callie’s eyes as she read the caption written in her uncle’s familiar handwriting underneath the picture.
Hope
You will never be forgotten.
Callie swallowed her tears and turned the page. Entries that followed described the discovery of the body on the banks of the Mississippi River, the medical examiner’s report and facts about the investigation. It seemed every detail that had been known about “Hope” at the time of her death was listed on the pages. What pricked Callie’s heart was the fact that nothing about her identity had been added in the years since.
She turned to the next section and read through what appeared to be hundreds of reports on missing persons near Hope’s determined age who had disappeared from various parts of the country about the same time as she had. Each entry contained notes on the victim, her uncle’s contact with the families and his conclusion that this wasn’t a match to the woman he was looking for.
She frowned as she leafed through the thick stack of reports. He’d spent endless hours through the years tracking down dozens of leads, but nothing had yielded the identity of the one he’d buried in Memphis twenty-five years ago.
Callie had never stopped to think about the number of people who disappeared in this country every year. Her uncle had known, though, and he had cared. She turned back to the picture of Hope and stared at it again. Who was she? Where had she come from? And how did she end up dead in the Mississippi River? Those thoughts must have run through her uncle’s head every day.
She noticed a piece of paper that looked different from the others sticking from the back of the notebook, and she turned to it. It was a flyer advertising a homeless shelter near downtown. The name Dorothy Tipton, written in her uncle’s handwriting, was paper-clipped to the flyer. What was that about?
She turned another page and frowned at the names listed with phone numbers beside them. She read through the names, but she’d never heard of any of them. One near the bottom had a check mark next to it, and she stared at it. Melvin Harris. Who could he be? She made a mental note to ask Seth if he knew the man.
Closing the notebook, she sat there a moment thinking about what she’d found out tonight. Even though the news of her uncle’s secret case had surprised her, she had a different feeling toward it now. Hope had been a real person to him, a woman whose dreams and desires had been cut short by a killer. He wanted justice for her, and he’d tried to give it to her. Now he might not get to do that. Before, she’d felt only worry for her uncle, but now she understood a little better how much this case had meant to him. She was glad to think that Seth could continue her uncle’s work. She’d turn the notebook over to him when he came by in the morning.
She took the last drink of her milk and was about to return the notebook to its drawer when the sound of shattering glass from the direction of the kitchen ripped through the house.
She bolted to her feet and glanced wildly around to see if anyone came charging into the den. Another crash split the air, and a new fear engulfed her. She grabbed the edge of the desk to steady herself. Hissing and popping sounds mixed with the odor of an accelerant could only mean one thing.
Someone had thrown a fire bomb into the house.
Cold fear washed over her as smoke curled around the corner of the door. Callie grabbed the notebook and ran from the room toward the house’s front door. Before she could reach it, another firebomb crashed through the window to the right of the door. A trail of flames fanned across the entry as a combustible liquid spread across the floor. Another bomb slammed through the window to the left of the door. With a loud whooshing sound a giant wall of fire rose to cut off her exit.
She clutched the notebook to her chest and stared in horror as she realized her escape routes had both been cut off. It only took her a moment to remember what Uncle Dan had taught her years ago when she’d come to live with him.
Holding tightly to the notebook, she dashed up the staircase into her room. She raised the window and stepped out onto the roof of the garage that joined the house at a ninety-degree angle. Uncle Dan, always mindful of her safety, had assigned her this bedroom so she would have an easy escape route in case of a fire on the ground floor.
Callie climbed out the window onto the roof and ran to the end where she shimmied down the gutter drainpipe at the corner of the garage. When she was on the ground, she ran to the back of the yard before she stopped and stared at the house now engulfed in flames.
Tears ran down her face as she pulled her cell phone from her pocket and dialed 911. “Nine-one-one,” the operator’s voice an
swered. “What is your emergency?”
“My house is on fire!” she screamed.
“Are you at 1901 Willow Springs Road?”
“Yes.”
“Help is already on the way. Someone called it in.”
In the distance she could hear the sirens, and she relaxed. “Thank you. I hear them. They’re almost here.”
Callie disconnected the call and stared at the house where she’d grown up being devoured by flames. Someone was determined to make Uncle Dan suffer. First they’d shot him, then tried to kill him in the Critical Care Unit, and now they’d burned his house down. What more could they do to him?
Her eyes grew wide as the truth hit her like a bolt of lightning. Uncle Dan hadn’t been home, and they knew it. They hadn’t come with the intention of hurting him. She was the one they were after. She could identify the person who’d tried to kill her uncle, and someone didn’t intend for that to happen.
What more could they do to Dan Lattimer? They could kill his niece.
* * *
Seth slammed on the brakes a block away from Dan’s house and jumped from the car. Fire trucks and police cars blocked the middle of the street, and he zigzagged through the obstacle course they created as he raced toward the burning house.
He stumbled when his foot struck a fire hose, slamming him against the side of a hook and ladder fire truck parked next to the curb. Taking a deep breath, he pushed back to his feet and ran toward Dan’s front yard.
Smoke poured from the burning building, and he stopped in the driveway of the house next door to survey the scene. In spite of the valiant efforts the Memphis firemen were waging, it was evident there was no way this house could be saved. At that moment the roof gave way and crashed to the ground.
Seth scanned the gathered crowd, but he couldn’t spot Callie anywhere. Captain Wilson stood in a group of firefighters a few feet away, and he moved over to them. The captain acknowledged his arrival with a nod. “Can you believe this?” he said.
Trail of Secrets Page 4
