Her Silent Spring

by Melinda Woodhall

  Harriet shook her head.

  “Of course, he was. We adopted Donnie early in our marriage. Treated him the same as we’d treat any biological child,” she insisted. “He was just a teenager when my husband passed. That’s when he started getting into trouble.”

  Her voice turned grim at the memory.

  “And then after the trial, and everything in the papers, he was gone. Just like that, it was over.”

  “So, he didn’t keep in touch?” Veronica asked, dazed by Harriet’s revelation. “You never heard from him at all?”

  Sinking lower in her bed, Harriet’s energy seemed to fade.

  “No, he just…disappeared. I knew it was for the best, but it broke Tom’s heart just the same.”

  Harriet looked to a photo on the bedside that showed a man with long, disheveled hair and an uncomfortable smile. Veronica felt Hunter step up behind her to get a better look at the photo, just as a knock sounded on the door.

  A woman in blue scrubs appeared in the doorway holding a tray. She seemed surprised to see the group of people filling up the room.

  “Oh, I didn’t know you were having a party in here,” she said, navigating toward Harriet’s bedside. “She’s due for her medication.”

  Veronica stepped back from the bed, but Skylar stood still, clinging to Harriet’s hand.

  “So, you aren’t my grandmother?” she asked in a small voice, ignoring the woman with the tray.

  “I’d be tickled to have two pretty granddaughters like you girls,” Harriet said, producing a faint smile. “But I imagine you don’t want anything to do with me after everything Donnie has done.”

  Letting Veronica pull her away, Skylar seemed reluctant to go.

  “We don’t blame you, do we, Ronnie?”

  Veronica shook her head, knowing the woman in the bed was no more responsible for Donovan Locke’s crimes than she was. But the guilt could be hard to shake. He’d left them all wounded.

  “Of course not, and we can keep in touch, if you’d like,” she said, guiding Skylar toward the door. “But we’ll let you rest now.”

  As they made their way back to the rental car, Hunter got Skylar and Gracie settled into the backseat, then pulled Veronica and Frankie to the side.

  “Tom Locke was at Beau Spark’s charter company the day Charlie and I stopped by. I recognized him from the photo.”

  Frankie nodded at Hunter’s words.

  “Yeah, Conrad Fairfax said he’s worked there for years.”

  “Are you thinking Tom may be the link between Locke and Summer?” Veronica asked. “That maybe Locke stayed in touch with his little brother after he left Sky Lake?”

  Shrugging his shoulders, Hunter looked back toward the rehabilitation center, his eyes thoughtful.

  “If Tom worked with Summer’s boyfriend around the time she went missing, it’s possible he could have been involved somehow.”

  “I think it’s time we talked to Tom Locke,” Frankie added. “The dude has some explaining to do. Now we just have to find him.”

  But as they drove back toward Sky Lake, Veronica wasn’t sure she wanted them to find Tom Locke.

  If he’s anything like his brother, I don’t want Skylar anywhere near him.

  Looking at her watch, Veronica was suddenly glad they were scheduled to fly back to Willow Bay on the last flight out that afternoon.

  She pulled out her phone to check her messages, then hesitated and scrolled through her missed calls. A sense of foreboding tightened her chest as she realized Misty Bradshaw had never returned her call.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The waiting room was packed with expectant women and nervous fathers-to be as Nessa tried not to stare at the various sizes of bumps on display. Waiting for her name to be called, she pulled her jacket around her own expanding waistline and shifted on an uncomfortably narrow chair.

  Lifting her eyes to the little television mounted on the wall, she saw that Tenley Frost was anchoring Channel Ten’s noon broadcast. The anchor’s sleek auburn hair, perfectly applied make-up, and smooth delivery revealed nothing of the trauma she’d endured at the hands of Donovan Locke only months before.

  If rumors around the station were true, Tenley had recently been seen at a local restaurant having dinner with Special Agent Clint Marlowe. Although Nessa hadn’t decided yet if the big, stony faced agent was a good match for the elegant news woman, she was glad that Tenley had moved on from slimy Garth Bixby.

  Her ruminations on Tenley’s love life were cut short by a buzzing in her pocket. The phone’s display announced an incoming call from Deputy Marshal Vic Santino.

  Answering the call using her quietest library voice, Nessa stood and walked to the far end of the waiting room.

  “Santino, what’s up?”

  “I just got an update from an investigator who’s been following Locke’s money trail,” Santino said, not bothering to ask if she had time to talk. “Looks like Locke had sources in several small towns laundering money for him.”

  Nessa looked around, making sure she wasn’t close enough for the other expectant parents to overhear her side of the conversation.

  “I’m guessing one of the sources must be in Willow Bay,” she said. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be calling to tell me about it.”

  “You guessed right,” Santino confirmed. “Cashier checks issued at the Willow Bay Federal Credit Union were deposited into accounts that Locke managed.”

  Holding the phone closer to her ear, Nessa paced to the window, looking out toward the parking lot and the Willow River beyond.

  “Who bought the checks?” she asked. “Do we have a suspect?”

  “Not yet,” Santino admitted. “The checks were purchased with cash, and none exceeded an amount that required the bank to file a report with the federal government.”

  A nurse stepped out of the back and called a name. Nessa turned around, unsure if she’d been summoned, but another woman with an impressive bump was already struggling to heft herself out of a chair. She watched as the woman waddled into the back, then returned her attention to the call.

  “Okay, so someone in Willow Bay has been paying Locke for services rendered or helping him launder money from his trafficking activities.”

  “Right, that’s what we have to assume,” Santino agreed. “And I thought your team could look into it.”

  Nessa thought of Agent Marlowe and the joint task force. They’d been looking into the Diablo Syndicate’s financial dealings, and she knew Locke had worked with the syndicate in the past. Maybe Operation Stolen Angels would be able to help.

  Recalling her earlier conversation with Charlie Day, Nessa wondered if the FBI agent might also have useful information.

  “You mentioned that sources in several small towns had been helping Locke launder money,” Nessa said. “Was Sky Lake, Kentucky one of those towns?”

  Santino hesitated.

  “What do you know about Sky Lake?”

  “I know it’s Locke’s hometown, and I know that Agent Day was following up on a lead there just this week.”

  She lowered her voice even further.

  “I also know that a suspected trafficker we’re after has been traced back to an ISP in Sky Lake.”

  Hearing someone call her name, Nessa turned to see the nurse looking around the room, chart in hand.

  “A bank in Sky Lake also issued cashier’s checks which ended up in Locke’s accounts,” Santino confirmed. “We don’t know who purchased the checks yet.”

  “Sorry, Deputy Santino, I’ve got to go,” Nessa said, heading toward the nurse. “But I’ll be in touch soon to figure out a plan of action. If Locke had an accomplice in Willow Bay, we’ll find him.”

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Nessa stepped off the scale, trying to see the numbers the nurse was noting on her chart. She always closed her eyes when they were weighing her, then spent the rest of the visit trying to peek at the results.

  “Let’s get your blood pressure,” the nurse said, di
recting Nessa to a plastic chair that looked even smaller than the one out in the lobby.

  Strapping the cuff around Nessa’s arm, the nurse adjusted her stethoscope and began to pump. The nurse frowned as she listened, then bent to write more numbers on the chart.

  “You don’t seem happy,” Nessa said, trying to coax a smile out of the no-nonsense woman. “Is everything okay?”

  “The doctor will go over everything with you during your exam,” the nurse said, leading Nessa into a small, cold room.

  She handed Nessa a paper gown and gestured toward a long examination table covered in stiff white paper.

  “Take off everything and put this on,” the nurse instructed briskly, before walking to the door. “Dr. Proctor will be in momentarily.”

  Taking off her clothes, Nessa folded them, stacked them on a chair in the corner, then balanced her purse on top.

  She pulled on the paper gown and hopped up on the table, feeling anxious and vulnerable. Thinking of the nurse’s cold demeanor, she rehearsed the complaints she would make to the doctor when she arrived.

  But when the door opened to reveal Dr. Proctor’s kind, familiar face, Nessa could think of only one thing to say.

  “Is everything okay with the baby?”

  “Let’s listen and find out, shall we?”

  The doctor held the fetal Doppler to Nessa’s stomach, and smiled as a reassuring thump, thump, thump filled the room.

  “Sounds pretty good to me,” Dr. Proctor said, as Nessa heaved a sigh of relief. “But I see in your chart that your blood pressure is elevated. Have you been under extra strain lately?”

  Resisting the urge to roll her eyes at the understatement, Nessa shrugged and tried to look innocent.

  “Well, work can be kind of stressful at times, but I’m managing.”

  “Looking at your chart, I’d say we’ll need to put you on bed rest if your blood pressure remains elevated or gets any higher.”

  Nessa blinked in shock. She’d never even considered she wouldn’t be able to work up until the very end. That’s what she’d done with both Cole and Cooper. Of course, she’d been a bit younger back then, and she hadn’t been trying to run a whole police department.

  “I can’t…do that,” she stammered. “The department needs me.”

  “Well, your baby needs you, too, I imagine,” the doctor said, her voice kind. “And I’m sure if you do need to go on bed rest, the department will manage to survive without you.”

  Nessa sat through the rest of the appointment in a worried daze, even though she knew worrying would only make things worse.

  Once she was back in her clothes and out on the street, Nessa tried to tell herself that the high blood pressure reading had been a fluke. She’d let the stress of the job get to her lately, but she would take it easy going forward.

  Hurrying toward the parking lot, Nessa promised herself there would be nothing to worry about as long as she put her health and that of the baby first.

  And as long as Jerry doesn’t know what the doctor just said.

  She would never hear the end of it if her husband knew her position as chief of police might be causing her to develop high blood pressure. And if he knew the doctor was considering putting her on bedrest, there would be no way of getting around it.

  No, she didn’t dare tell Jerry. At least not before she’d decided who would be taking over as the acting chief of police when she went out on maternity leave.

  Diego Ramirez was an ideal candidate, but she feared Jankowski would have a hard time accepting his new partner as his new boss. Besides, Jankowski had seniority, and he knew the town better than anyone else on the force.

  If only he wasn’t so impulsive and hot-headed.

  Pulling her Charger onto the highway, Nessa headed back toward the station, pushing away her concerns about her health and her future plans. She needed to speak to Peyton and Vanzinger.

  Locke’s accomplice may still be operating in Willow Bay, and they needed to find him and stop him before he could do any more harm.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Peyton had arrived at Hope House just as the Narcotics Anonymous meeting was ending, but she didn’t see Misty Bradshaw in the stream of people leaving the meeting room. Disappointed not to have a chance to talk to the young woman, and determined to make sure she was safe, Peyton had asked to see Dr. Reggie Horn.

  After pacing the lobby for twenty minutes, she finally heard the click of high heels on the floor and turned as a petite black woman outfitted in a tailored jacket, slim black pants, and knee-high boots approached.

  “Peyton, good to see you,” Reggie said with a wide smile. “Is this a personal or an official visit?”

  It was a fair question. The director of Hope House often ran the AA meetings Peyton attended, and they’d come to know each other fairly well over the last few months.

  “Official, I guess,” Peyton said. “Although I’m really just trying to check on Misty Bradshaw and make sure she’s okay. I wanted to catch her after the NA meeting, but it doesn’t look like she attended. Now I’m hoping you can give me her address.”

  The director of Hope House hesitated, perhaps weighing the young woman’s right to privacy over concern for her safety.

  “Misty left the meeting early for an appointment,” Reggie said, a frown creasing the smooth ebony skin of her forehead, “and I’m not so sure she’ll want a police detective showing up at her new place.”

  “It’s important,” Peyton insisted, thinking of the orders Nessa had given. “Misty thinks someone’s been following her, and Chief Ainsley asked me to check it out.”

  With a reluctant sigh, Reggie crossed to the reception desk and wrote the address on a slip of paper.

  “It’s an easy walk from here,” she said, handing Peyton the paper. “Might be better not to pull up outside in a police cruiser.”

  Peyton had driven over in her unmarked Dodge Charger, but she decided to take Reggie’s advice. A quick walk in the mild spring weather might be the only exercise she’d get all day.

  She approached the house on Gladstone Drive on foot, following a footpath around to the side, where a wooden staircase led up to the little studio apartment over the garage.

  Taking the stairs two at a time, Peyton reached down to confirm her holster and Glock were safely in place. She adjusted her jacket and smoothed down her dark hair, then knocked on the door.

  There was no response. She could detect no sound or movement behind the door. Knocking again, she waited, then called out.

  “Misty, are you in there?”

  “She’s not home.”

  The voice startled Peyton, and she swung around, nearly losing her footing on the landing. A woman with a baby balanced on her hip stood at the foot of the stairs.

  “You know Misty Bradshaw?” Peyton asked, trying to catch her breath. “Do you know when she’ll be back?”

  Shaking her head, the woman shielded her eyes from the sun and looked up at Peyton.

  “You aren’t one of those porch pirates, are you?”

  Confused, Peyton shook her head.

  “No, I’m with the Willow Bay Police Department,” she said. “Just performing a wellness check.”

  The woman’s shoulders relaxed.

  “Oh, well I saw Misty leave this morning, but then she had a delivery, so I wanted to make sure you weren’t snatching her package. We’ve had trouble with porch pirates lately.”

  Peyton looked around the small landing, but it was empty.

  “I don’t see a package,” she said, looking down at the neighbor.

  But the baby had started to fuss, drowning out her voice

  “If I see Misty, I’ll tell her you stopped by,” the woman called out, turning to carry the shrieking baby back down the path.

  Looking back at the door, Peyton knew it was useless to knock again. She impulsively reached down and tried the handle, but the door was locked.

  Frustrated, she jogged back down the staircase, deciding
there was nothing else she could do for now, and trying to assure herself that the young woman would be fine.

  After all, If I can’t find Misty, Amber won’t be able to find her either.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Nessa was waiting for Peyton when she walked into the task force briefing room. The chief had assembled the team for a special meeting, and she stood at the front of the room wearing a stern expression, like a teacher presiding over a class of delinquents.

  Pointing at an empty chair between Agent Marlowe and Vanzinger, Nessa waited for Peyton to take a seat.

  “I got a call from Deputy Marshal Vic Santino today,” she said, pacing in front of the whiteboard. “He told me that Donovan Locke had been laundering money through a source in Willow Bay, and he’s hoping our task force can find out who it was.”

  Peyton felt Marlowe shift beside her, but before he could respond, a female agent from the Tampa field office spoke up from the back of the room.

  “We’ve been investigating the money trail to and from the Diablo Syndicate for months,” she said, as all eyes turned to her. “As far as I know, Donovan Locke hasn’t shown up on our radar.”

  Nessa faced the agent with a curious frown.

  “How about Sky Lake, Kentucky? Did the money trail lead you to Locke’s hometown? Is that on your radar?”

  The agent paused, then looked to Marlowe for help.

  “You know Sky Lake is on our radar, Chief Ainsley,” Marlowe said dryly, shifting again in his chair. “A user on the darknet board we’re tracking was using an ISP in Sky Lake to connect. We think it’s the same guy Amber Sloan has agreed to set up.”

  Turning to the whiteboard behind her, Nessa wrote the words Sky Lake at the top. She added notes below the words as she spoke.

  “Okay, so we have someone in Sky Lake using the darknet message board to communicate with the Syndicate,” she said. “And someone in Sky Lake was laundering money for Donovan Locke.”

  “And we know Special Agent Day was working on a lead there,” Vanzinger added. “Agent Marlowe, did you ever talk to Agent Day?’

  Vanzinger looked to Marlowe and raised his eyebrows expectantly.