Somebody's Daughter

by David Bell

  “Lynn and Jake Little were talking about Felicity? Are you sure?”

  “They knew each other.”

  “How?”

  “Look, I’m telling you what I know.” He removed the bag and wiped moisture off his face with his other hand. Then he placed it back on his eye. “When Felicity missed those voice lessons, three days in a row, I got worried. I called Lynn and asked if she knew what was going on since she said she knew the kid and might have been related. For all I knew, she was involved in the kid’s life. That might have been a mistake.”

  “Why?”

  “I didn’t know Lynn was so vulnerable, so concerned about Felicity. She immediately went into overdrive, trying to get ahold of Erica and not being able to get a straight answer from her. To be honest, maybe Erica was avoiding Lynn because Lynn was so worked up. I don’t know.”

  “Is that why you went to the babysitter’s house?” Griffin asked.

  “Yes.”

  “With Lynn Frazier in the car?”

  “Yes. Erica had promised to meet Lynn that day. I think Lynn just wanted to be part of Felicity’s life. She wanted to get to know her better. But Erica stood her up. So we drove around looking, including at the babysitter’s house. We didn’t find them, so eventually I told Lynn I had things to do. That was the end of it for me, until yesterday morning when I heard Felicity was gone. The police came and questioned me. I told them what I knew about Felicity missing her voice lessons three days in a row and hearing nothing from Erica. I also told them my alibi. I was teaching a class at the community center. Rock solid. Thirty-five senior citizens saw me. That convinced them.”

  “Did you tell the police about Lynn’s concerns?” Griffin asked.

  “Are you talking about Michael’s sister?”

  The voice from the kitchen doorway made Griffin and Tolliver look over. They saw Angela Frazier standing there, her lips parted, her eyes expectant.

  “You should wait outside,” Griffin said.

  “You were gone for so long,” Angela said. “What if something had happened to you? And now I come in here, and you’re talking about my sister-in-law. Right? What does she have to do with this?”

  “I’m not sure,” Griffin said. She turned her attention back to Tolliver. “Well? Did you mention Lynn to the police?”

  “I didn’t. Given her fame, I wanted to keep her name out of it. And she told me she was heading out of town that night, the one before Felicity disappeared, so I didn’t think it mattered. She certainly didn’t seem like she was going to hurt Felicity. But I did freak out a little when her brother showed up at my door. What if Lynn had hurt the child? Or taken her? I’d gotten her all stirred up by calling. I just wanted to stay out of it. I didn’t want trouble, so I ran when I could. But, really, the focus should be on Erica.” He winced, as though he’d been hit with a stab of pain. “At least I thought that this morning.”

  “What’s different?”

  He used his free hand to point to his face. “Jake Little came by and did this to me. He wanted to know where Lynn Frazier was. He thought I was lying to him. He thought I knew where she was because we’d gone to Mary Beth’s house together the day before Felicity disappeared. I told him the truth. I haven’t seen Lynn since that day, and she’s supposed to be out of town. Working.”

  “She is out of town,” Angela said. “She’s doing a session or something.”

  Tolliver spun around, turning his body so he could see Angela in the doorway. “Right. See? She’s away.”

  “What does Jake Little think?” Griffin asked.

  Tolliver turned to the detective. “He’s on his way back to Cottonsville. He said he was there earlier looking for her, and he’s going to try again.”

  “Call your sister-in-law,” Griffin said. “See where she is.”

  Griffin took out her phone and called for assistance. She needed someone to keep an eye on Wayne Tolliver while she headed for Cottonsville.

  chapter

  seventy-one

  On the porch in front of Wayne Tolliver’s house, the two women stood with their phones to their ears. Angela watched the detective who seemed to be processing the conversation they’d just had as she made her phone call. Angela tried to process it herself.

  Erica had stood Lynn up, and so Lynn spent time trying to find Erica the day before Felicity disappeared. And then Jake Little showed up at Tolliver’s house trying to find Lynn. And was so upset, he beat Tolliver. And now appeared to be off looking for Lynn, even though she was supposed to be out of town.

  “Do you think Lynn’s in danger?” Angela asked. “You don’t think she knows anything about Felicity, do you?”

  “I’d certainly like to talk to her, even if she is out of town,” Griffin said, a thoughtful look on her face. “Did you reach her yet?”

  “Voice mail.” Angela held her phone out. “I already left one message, but I tried to sound normal. Should I warn her?”

  “Just tell her she needs to call you back. Or me.”

  “Lynn’s never been in any trouble.”

  “I’d like to be able to ask her about it myself,” Griffin said.

  Angela called again. While she listened to the ringing on the other end—a ringing that went on and on too long—her mind raced. It went to voice mail again, and Angela left a message, her voice as calm as could be, asking Lynn to call her when she had the chance.

  When she finished, she looked at Griffin. “Nothing again. Voice mail.”

  “So I heard.”

  “I can call Michael. Or my mother-in-law. Maybe they’ve heard from her.”

  Griffin nodded. “Do that. Since your husband’s out and about, try your mother-in-law first.”

  chapter

  seventy-two

  Griffin listened to the ringing. She stepped away from Angela Frazier who was leaving a voice mail message for her mother-in-law. Griffin moved away, but not because she didn’t think the woman already knew what was going on. She did. Clearly. But if Griffin’s call didn’t go as well as she hoped, if she ended up receiving a tongue-lashing—or worse—she wanted it to be between her and her colleagues rather than something consumed by a civilian.

  “Yo.”

  Twitchell sounded rushed. Harried.

  “It’s me.”

  “Oh,” he said. Voices came through the line in the background. A low rumbling like a truck. “Hey.”

  “Where are you?” she asked. “I have to tell you something.”

  “I’m in paradise,” Twitchell said. “I’m at the Friedman house. We’re all over it. This guy’s basement is a Pandora’s box of porn. I may not eat for a week.”

  “I’m sorry. Did you find anything there yet?”

  “We found a kid’s shoe at the edge of the woods. It doesn’t match what she was wearing when she disappeared, but it’s the right size. We don’t know if she’s the only kid he had an interest in. Word’s out. We’re getting calls from every jurisdiction within five hundred miles that has a cold missing kid case. Davenport County was never so popular.”

  “I bet. Look, I—”

  “Are you at home? I can call you later. But I’m knee-deep in this shit right now. Reddick’s here riding herd on everybody. State Bureau of Investigation is on the way. Maybe the feds.”

  “I can—” She stopped herself. She didn’t want to beg, didn’t want to open herself up to more scolding. But she couldn’t remain quiet. “Look, I can help.”

  “Easy, tiger,” Twitchell said. “I already asked Reddick. She’s going to call you later. But right now you’re too hot. The press caught wind that someone attacked Erica Frazier tonight. Soon enough, they’re going to know a cop goaded them into doing it.”

  “I didn’t goad anyone.”

  “Look, I bet they let you come back later today. Just let everyone cool off. Okay? We’ll talk later—”<
br />
  “Wait,” Griffin said. Her throat felt tight. Here she went, out on the ledge again. “I’ve got a line on Jake Little.”

  “Really? The prodigal ex-boyfriend and quasi stepfather?”

  “Yes. Him. The very one.”

  “Where is he?”

  “He’s heading back to Cottonsville. He’s looking for Lynn Frazier who we think is out of town.” She told him about Wayne Tolliver helping Lynn search for Erica the day before Felicity disappeared. And then Jake Little’s appearance at Wayne’s house and the subsequent beating.

  “How do you know all this?” he asked. Then he groaned. “Oh, shit. You’re there, aren’t you? Tolliver’s house? Get out of there. That jackass will make a stink or sue the department so fast, it will be like getting hit by a hurricane. Are you kidding me?”

  “But we’ve got to find Little. After he smacked Tolliver around, he headed for Cottonsville.”

  “Okay. I’ll call it in. But you get out of there.”

  “Everybody needs to get down to Cottonsville, That’s the center now.”

  “That’s the center?” Twitchell asked, his voice getting higher. “We’ve got a house full of porn here and woods full of spaces to hide a tiny body. What else do you want? Why the hell would you fixate solely on this Jake Little stuff when we have all this here? You saw the guy blow his brains out as we were closing in.”

  “Shit, can’t you just . . . not be so rigid? Can you try not to be such a . . . company man?”

  A silence dropped over the call like a curtain. Griffin looked back to where Angela Frazier talked on the phone, her words too low to be heard. She did hear breathing through the other end of the line, Twitchell’s huffing as he tried to rein in his anger. She’d stepped in it, pushed too hard. She almost squinted her eyes shut as if bracing for a blow.

  “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that,” Twitchell finally said. “I’m going to let it go by. A mulligan because I know you’re upset with yourself for cocking this up. Now, I’m going to get off the phone and go back to work. And while we look for a kid’s cold corpse out here in the woods, I’ll also tell Reddick what you learned, and she’ll peel somebody off to go check on it. But I suggest you go home and take a nap. I think you’re losing it. I really do.”

  The call ended. Griffin stared at the dead phone for several seconds. Then she looked over at Angela Frazier who was talking to someone.

  “Is that your husband?” Griffin asked.

  She nodded.

  Griffin wiggled her fingers in the air, asking for the phone. She handed it over.

  “Mr. Frazier? This is Detective Griffin from the Davenport County sheriff’s office. Where are you right now?”

  The man’s voice sounded far away. Faint like he was tired. “I’m at Erica’s house. There was a disturbance here. But the police just came and got Erica. They’re taking her to a potential crime scene to identify some of the items they found. They want to know if they belong to Felicity. A shoe . . . and some other clothes. Detective Phillips, was it?”

  “Do you know where your sister is?” she asked.

  “No, I don’t. Angela said she was out of town. And I think this is kind of crazy. Angela was saying—”

  A Trudeau police cruiser came down the street and stopped in front of Tolliver’s house. The help she had called for, allowing them to go.

  “Stay put. We’re coming to get you.”

  chapter

  seventy-three

  7:12 A.M.

  Michael rode in the backseat while the detective drove. Angela sat up front on the passenger side, not saying much and letting the soft, cool air-conditioning brush against her face.

  “Thank you for picking me up, although I don’t fully understand all this talk about my sister,” Michael said. “And who is this other guy? Erica’s ex-boyfriend?”

  “Can you call her? Your sister?” the detective asked.

  “I just talked to her during the night,” he said, “and she seemed fine.”

  “Was she home?” the detective asked.

  “She said she wasn’t.”

  “Did she say she was out of town?”

  “No, she didn’t.”

  “Try her.”

  But when he wasn’t able to reach her, the detective suggested he try his mother. So Michael did, reaching her right away.

  “Mom?”

  “Oh, Michael. I’m so glad to hear from you. I see Angela tried to call me too, but I was just getting out of the car. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, Mom. I’m fine. I was never . . . I wasn’t really in danger.”

  “But you were with Erica,” she said. “Was that . . . okay?”

  Michael heard a teakettle whistling in the background. “Shouldn’t I ask you the same thing?” he said. “I’m finding out all kinds of stuff about you.”

  “Michael, I was just trying to help Erica when she was in need. And I didn’t tell you because you have a life of your own, separate from Erica. If there was nothing to tell besides a little money changing hands, then why bother you? I help a lot of charities. How is this different?”

  “Because this one was my ex-wife,” he said. “I can’t believe this, Mom.”

  Angela turned her head to the left, looking over her shoulder into the backseat. Then she turned forward again.

  “And she’s claiming that kid is my daughter,” he said.

  “She cut me off over the paternity test,” his mother said. “I doubt the child is yours. And, honestly, why weren’t you more careful back then? None of this would be going on—”

  “Enough, Mom. Enough. Don’t try to turn it around on me.” Michael fought the urge to end the call. But something prevented him from treating his mother so harshly. Even if she deserved it sometimes. He knew he had a reason to call, a real reason. “Have you heard anything from Lynn?”

  “No, I haven’t. Angela told me to try to reach her, but she was very cryptic. This whole night has been rather cryptic, to be honest. But I did what I was told. I just went by Lynn’s house, but she wasn’t home. The place was locked up pretty tight. Blinds down, the flowers on the porch looked unwatered.” His mom lowered her voice. “She’s supposed to be out of town, isn’t she, Michael? You know she doesn’t always tell me when she travels.”

  “Did you go to the lake house?” he asked.

  “No, I didn’t. I called out there, on the landline, and it just rang and rang. Michael, I don’t know where she is. Can you tell me what’s going on? I’m getting worried. I called Lynn’s cell phone, and she didn’t answer that. You’d think with all of us calling her, she’d answer. Wouldn’t you?”

  “I’m sorry, Mom. Don’t worry. I talked to her a little while ago.”

  “Well, I am worrying, Michael. You’ve been off all night. Now something is going on with Lynn. You’re my children.”

  “We just need to find Lynn because she might know the whereabouts of Erica’s ex-boyfriend. His name is—”

  “Jake Little. Yes. I know who he is.”

  “Yeah, Angela told me.” Michael pressed his lips together until they hurt. He let it go for the moment. There were larger things at stake. “The police think he knows something about what happened to Felicity. And he’s looking for Lynn for some reason.”

  “Oh, God, Michael.”

  “Mom, just—we’ll go by the lake house.”

  “Who will? You and Erica? Michael—”

  “No, Mom. I’m in the car with Angela.” He paused. “And a detective. We’re going to go to the lake house to see if we can find Lynn.”

  “None of this makes sense to me.” His mother remained silent for a moment. “Michael, this is crazy. I thought this man on TV, the one who shot himself, did this. They think he might have hurt Felicity. Maybe even other children.”

  “I know. I don’t understa
nd it all either.”

  His mom made a noise, a worried rattling sound between a sigh and a moan. “Please tell me what happens, will you?”

  “I will.”

  “And Michael . . . I’m sorry for all of this. I feel that . . . I wish I’d never taken a single call from Erica. I think it opened some old wounds, for all of us. Going back to Robyn and everything . . .”

  “I’ll let you know what happens, Mom.”

  After he ended the call, he leaned forward. “My sister isn’t at her house, and she isn’t answering her cell.”

  “Is that unusual?” Griffin asked. “Does she usually answer?”

  “She does,” Angela said.

  “Unless she’s recording. Then she might be away from it.”

  “What about her house?” Griffin asked.

  “My mom just went there. No answer. But our family owns a lake house. It’s just a few miles outside of town. We should check there since you seem so worried. Lynn spends more time at the lake than the rest of us.”

  “Just tell me where to go,” Griffin said.

  chapter

  seventy-four

  The Fraziers bought the house on Cravens Lake when Michael was five years old. He remembered the first days going there with his family when Lynn was a toddler and Robyn hadn’t even been born. It seemed to Michael that the sun always shone at Cravens Lake, that his parents always seemed patient and relaxed, that everyone around them—neighbors and friends—laughed all the time when they were near the water.

  Cravens Lake sat seven miles outside of Cottonsville. The houses that ringed the water were mostly small cottages. Recently, people had started moving in from out of town, buying up one or two of the cottages, tearing them down, and building waterfront minimansions. Michael always respected his parents’ refusal to do that. His father said he’d sell the place, or let it sit there empty and unused, before he sold to someone who just wanted to tear it down and build something gaudy. Michael also wondered if his father couldn’t let go of something from the past, a reminder of the times before Robyn died. . . .