Deadly Bonds (A Detective Jackson Mystery)

by L. J. Sellers

  “Keep your doors locked and don’t hang up. A police officer will be there in a minute.”

  Benjie bawled, “I want Jackson.”

  For the boy’s sake, Katie wouldn’t let herself cry, but she desperately wanted her dad to come home too.

  CHAPTER 31

  Jackson turned on his street and saw two patrol cars parked in front of his house. Holy shit! His heart missed a beat. He careened into the driveway and jumped from his car. Where was everyone? He rushed into the house and heard his brother talking. Katie’s voice too. Thank god.

  In the living room, Derrick lay in his recliner with an icepack on his nose, and Katie was on the couch with Benjie in her lap. Everyone accounted for! His heart settled into a steady pace. Two uniformed officers stood near the dining room. Officer Whitstone, a woman he’d worked a case with before, and Officer Anderson, who had taken his investigative class. Benjie rushed to Jackson with a plaintive cry. He scooped him up.

  Katie spoke first. “I was going to call you, but the dispatcher made me stay on the line. Then the officers showed up and started asking questions.”

  “What happened?” Jackson didn’t know who to focus on. He wanted to hear it from Katie, but instinct told him to get the official version.

  His daughter moved in for a hug too. “Someone tried to take Benjie, but Uncle Derrick fought him off.”

  He should have seen that coming. Jackson held Katie for too long, but it felt so good to have her back.

  “We fought him off, but you saved him.” His brother sat up. “My nose may be broken, but I’m okay.”

  How had he let this happen? He’d been at the hospital, kissing Evans, instead of here, protecting his family. The pain in his gut made him flinch. He would never forgive himself. “Who was it? What did he look like?”

  “He was tall and wore a black jacket,” Katie answered. “But he had on a ski mask.”

  Was Carl Wagner still in the area? Had his wife lied about their location?

  Officer Whitstone seemed to sense his concern. “What is it? Do you know the perp?”

  “I have a possible lead. Carl Wagner of Salt Lake City. We need to call the Utah motor vehicles department and see what he drives. And put out an attempt-to-locate.” He hugged Katie again. “Take Benjie into a bedroom so we can discuss the case for a minute.”

  But the boy cried and wouldn’t let go of him, so Jackson resorted to putting the headphones on Benjie while he and the officers exchanged information. Katie headed for her room, and Jackson called after her, “Please don’t post anything on Facebook or text your friends. This is an active case.”

  She shook her head and kept walking.

  Once the patrol officers left, Jackson had to confront the issue of how to protect his family while they hunted down the assailant. Benjie couldn’t stay here—that was clear. But this was his investigation, and he had to get out there and find the bastard. It wasn’t in his nature to sit around and babysit while his team did the legwork. There had been too much of that already.

  How the hell had the perp found his address? He wasn’t listed in the white pages. No, his old home hadn’t been listed. Derrick’s address probably was. Still, there were other Jacksons in the phone book and it would have been guesswork. Had the father/perp been here in Eugene all along? Maybe following him around, waiting for an opportunity?

  “We can keep Benjie right here,” Derrick argued. “I didn’t know he and Katie were leaving. I’ll do better.”

  “I thought you had to get back on the road.”

  “I got the forklift job. I’m gonna be home this weekend and every evening in the future.” His brother offered a hopeful smile.

  Jackson tried to look happy for him, but everything in his own life was about to change again. “I appreciate your help, but we have to relocate Benjie, and I have another idea.” The boy had finally let go, but he was sitting right next to him, wearing headphones, while he and Derrick drank coffee at the table. “Let me make a call.”

  Ed McCray, a retired detective and friend of twenty years, was near the top of his phone list. Jackson expected him to be out golfing on one of the last warm Saturdays of the season, but he picked up. “Hey, Jackson.”

  “Hey, pal. I need your help again.” The ex-cop had found Katie for him when she first ran away.

  “Good, cuz I’m bored out of my mind.”

  Jackson summed up the case and outlined Benjie’s situation. “Can he stay with you for a few days until we nail this perp? We’ll do a sting if we have to.”

  “Of course. The wife will be pleased to have a little one around.”

  Jackson knew Benjie wouldn’t handle the transfer well, but he had no choice. “I’ll bring him over soon.”

  “You have clothes and toys and things? Or do we need to go shopping?”

  What a good friend. “He’s set for now, but he may need new puzzles in a day or so. He loves them.”

  “He’s three?”

  “Yes. And he doesn’t eat junk food.”

  Katie came into the room. “Or watch cartoons.”

  Jackson looked up, surprised. He finished his conversation with McCray. “Thanks. I’ll be in touch.” He called to Katie as she rummaged in the fridge. “Would you go with Benjie to Ed McCray’s house? He could use a familiar face around.”

  “No. Sorry.” She leaned into the archway. “I have a life and I’m going back to it very soon.”

  He tensed, but tried to sound calm. “I’d feel better if you stayed with me until we put this guy in jail.”

  “I’m not here to make you feel better, and the creep isn’t after me.” She grinned to soften the sting of her words.

  Jackson didn’t have time to argue, and he knew better than to push her when she was dug in. “I’ll give you fifty dollars to stay for another day or so.”

  “Seriously?” She shrugged. “I’ll take your money.”

  Relieved, Jackson pulled the cash out of his wallet. Katie had never gone back on a promise or deal. Also, patrol officers would swing by the house periodically, while he met with his team and gathered forces to track down the perp. Everyone was safe for the moment.

  Katie grabbed an apple and went back to her room.

  “How do we get the kid over to McCray’s without the risk of being followed?” Derrick asked. “Shouldn’t we wait until it’s dark or something?”

  “The perp is probably busy now, trying to switch cars and maybe get out of town until the pressure eases. This is the best time to act.” Jackson finished his coffee and stood. “We’ll switch cars and both leave at once, just in case he’s watching and waiting for us to make a move.”

  “I assume you know how to lose a tail,” Derrick joked.

  “I think I’ll manage.”

  Jackson gathered up Benjie’s things into an overnight bag—vowing to buy him more clothes—and the four of them, including the patrol officer, huddled near the front door.

  “You two go out first, blocking the view of Benjie,” Jackson instructed. “I’ll head between the cars, then duck into yours from the wrong side.”

  None of it was probably necessary. Only an idiot or a psychopath would hang around the neighborhood, waiting for another opportunity. But then, most criminals were one or the other. Still, he felt confident they would pull this off and Benjie would be safe—for a while. Police and sheriff departments around the state were looking for the Wagners’ motorhome, a black midsize sedan with silver trim, and a light-blue Nissan truck. They would get him soon.

  CHAPTER 32

  Saturday, September 7, 10:25 a.m.

  Evans stared at the clothes the nurse had brought her. The tank top she’d worn to the party had been cut open and the jeans were bloody and stained with scuff marks from her attackers’ feet. Bastards! She dug in the front pocket and was relieved to find the little bag of cocaine she’
d purchased from Marcos. At least she still had the sample. It could have disappeared so easily into a tired nurse’s pocket. She’d drop off the drugs at the crime lab today for Joe to send to the state lab for analysis. Schak, who’d brought her to the hospital with lights and siren wailing, had reported that Marcos had been arrested. The handcuffs she’d put on the dealer had kept him from running too far or too fast. Of course, he’d probably be released this morning, but at least now he faced distribution charges, so she had some leverage.

  The jeans she could wear, but she still needed a shirt. Her purse had stayed strapped across her chest when she went down, so she still had it too, but no car. She could have asked Jackson to wait and give her a ride, but he’d been spooked and had bolted. Worried that she had ruined their friendship, Evans regretted her part in the kiss. But what did it matter? Either Jackson would come around and want to be together or she would transfer out of his unit. At least now she knew he had feelings for her too. But would he act on them? Not likely. He was a family man, and she was a wild card. She fought the tears threatening to overwhelm her and shut down the train of thought. The physical pain she was dealing with was bad enough by itself. Why wallow and make it worse?

  The sound of footsteps made her look up. Ben came in, carrying clean clothes, a vase filled with flowers, and a stack of magazines. Her first emotion was relief. She really needed the clothes. Then gratitude filled her heart. The gifts were thoughtful, reminding her that Ben was a good guy. Seconds later, guilt set in. If he was such a great guy, why couldn’t she love him the way she loved Jackson?

  “Why didn’t you call me last night?” A frown creased Ben’s brow, but it didn’t detract from his sexy shaved-head look. “I had to hear about this through the grapevine.” He kissed her gently as she stood up. “Why aren’t you in bed?”

  “I’m getting out of here, and your timing is perfect. After I’m dressed, will you give me a ride to my car?”

  “Of course, but are you okay? I mean, you look better than I expected, based on the stories I heard about the campus riot.”

  “My head hurts, and I feel like someone beat me with a bat, but I’m functional.” She reached for the clothes he’d laid on the bed. Jeans and a black sweater. Not work clothes, but they would be all right. “Thanks for making a trip to my place to get these. I have a funeral to attend.”

  “What?”

  Evans pulled on the jeans. “Logan Grayson, the football player. I was assigned to investigate his death.”

  “I knew that. But why are you going to the service? You should rest.” Ben grabbed her hands. “It’s Saturday. You’re injured. Your case is closed. Come to my place for the weekend and let me pamper you.”

  He was so sweet. Uncommitted, but really good to her . . . at times. “That is very tempting.” She pulled her hands free. “But I told his mother I would go, and I still need some closure on the case.” Evans peeled off the hospital gown and grabbed the black sweater. “I’ll come over later.”

  “I’m glad I brought you something black.” He smiled, but his eyes were worried.

  “Me too.” It suited her mood.

  The memorial was being held at St. Mary’s Church, a huge red-brick building in the downtown area. As late as she was, the parking lot was full and so were the streets around it. Evans finally parked at the Kiva and walked over, each step a painful reminder of the drunk students who had viciously assaulted her just for the hell of it. Maybe not all of them had been students. Campus parties attracted all kinds of young people, including addicts and lowlifes.

  From the alley across the street, she could see the crowd filling the church steps and figured she wasn’t getting inside. If this had been yesterday, Evans would have flashed her badge and pushed her way in. Today, she would keep her distance from the gathering of college students and football fans. All she really wanted to do was observe the crowd and see if anyone stood out as not belonging. Or if anyone had a black eye from a fistfight with Grayson. She could do that as people left the building in a half hour or so. She took a seat on a bench nearby, pulled out her cell phone, and called Schak.

  “Evans! Did they kick you out of the hospital for being an obnoxious patient?”

  “I didn’t give ’em the chance. But I wanted to thank you for being my backup and bringing me in last night. You may have saved my life.”

  “A patrol officer reached you first. I was almost too late getting downtown.” His voice shifted. “I should have been outside that party house ten minutes earlier.”

  “You were there and I’m fine. In fact, I’m sitting across from St. Mary’s waiting for Grayson’s memorial service to let out.”

  “You’re working?” He let out a bitter laugh. “You’re getting as bad as Jackson.”

  She took it as a compliment. “Aren’t you working? What’s happening with the Andra Caiden case?”

  He hesitated for a long moment. “There’s been a development.” His tone was deadly serious.

  A shiver of worry went up her neck. Evans reached for the sample pack of pain pills the nurse had given her. “What is it?”

  “Someone tried to abduct Benjie from Jackson’s house this morning. Jackson wasn’t home but his brother was and intervened.”

  “Oh shit. Is everyone okay?”

  “Yes, but the perp escaped. We’ve got a massive manhunt underway.”

  “Maybe this is the break we needed. If we catch him, we catch the killer. ”

  “That’s what we’re thinking. But I’ll know more in a while.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “There’s a task force meeting at one.”

  “Why didn’t anyone tell me?” She knew why, but it still pissed her off.

  “I just told you, but you don’t have to be there. We’ve got this.”

  “I’m still on this team. I’m moving slow, but I’ll be there.” She hung up and stared at the pain pill in her hand. If she took it, she would feel and move better. But it might dull her critical-thinking skills. Oh hell, not enough to make a difference. She worked up some spit and dry-swallowed it. She would have given just about anything for a kick-ass cup of coffee to wash it down with.

  As the church bells tolled, the mourners spilled out the wide doors, moving like a slow-motion, weeping parade. Evans crossed the street to stand near the sidewalk and see faces up close. The crowd was overwhelming as people moved toward their cars and stood on the sidewalk talking. A tremor of fear shook her. Goddamn, she hated being afraid. Many of the mourners were big young men dressed in dark clothes, and she almost missed Jake Keener, who walked by with Danica Mercado. The cheerleader looked more upset today than she had earlier in the week.

  Evans kept shifting her eyes, looking for anyone who seemed out of place or uncomfortable about being there. She caught sight of a young man who looked so much like Grayson she did a double take. His brother? Did he play football for the Ducks too? She jotted down brother? in her notebook, then went back to scanning the crowd.

  After a few minutes, Catalina Morales came down the steps, accompanied by another woman who looked like her, but was a little older and a little heavier. Probably a sister. Catalina likely wouldn’t have been notified about the service if Evans hadn’t done it herself. She felt a little sorry for the woman and wondered if her presence had set off any sparks. Evans followed Catalina to the parking lot to observe who she interacted with, if anyone. Every step made her wince.

  She lost the girl in the cluster of vehicles all trying to exit at once. Hobbling and cursing, she made her way through the cars. A light-blue Nissan pickup got in line to pull out onto Tenth Avenue. It took a moment to realize why the truck was important. The other homicide case. It matched the vehicle the neighbors had seen at the house the day before Andra Caiden moved in. What the hell? Who was driving it? Two people were in the front and they looked like long-haired women. She needed to get her car a
nd follow them.

  Evans turned and jogged for the Kiva parking lot, her ribs screaming and her head throbbing. Halfway there, she had to slow down, unable to take the jarring pain. She knew where Catalina lived and could find her there. But what if it hadn’t been Catalina in the truck? She hadn’t seen the their faces. The people in the Nissan could have been men. Some of the football players had long hair. But if the truck’s occupants had been at the Pershing house, she had to find out who they were.

  What if the driver was the killer? The man who’d tried to abduct Benjie and the perp everyone was looking for?

  Evans picked up her pace , trotting down the alley in an awkward gait, unable to see the little blue truck, which was on the other side of the library now. She reached her car just as a meter maid was ticketing it. The health food store obviously monitored its parking lot.

  “Police officer. Get away from my car.” She didn’t have her badge and couldn’t show it.

  The woman in the blue uniform looked up, startled.

  “Move!”

  The meter maid stepped aside and yelled, “I have your license number!”

  Good for you. Evans climbed in, started the engine, and roared out of the parking, turning left toward Tenth Avenue. When she reached the corner, she eased into the intersection and spotted the truck traveling east toward Willamette. She turned right, pulling out in front of a yellow sports car. The driver honked, and she resisted the urge to flip him off, staying focused on the truck.

  The Nissan turned right on Willamette and crossed Eleventh Avenue heading south. Toward Catalina’s apartment? A few minutes later, the truck pulled into an apartment complex. Evans stopped in the parking lot next door and watched as a dark-haired woman got out of the truck on the passenger’s side. The same one who’d been with Catalina at the funeral service. The passenger closed the door and walked upstairs as the truck turned around. Evans could see the driver now and she had platinum-blond hair. She made a mental note of the complex’s name and location but stayed with the truck.