Don't Close Your Eyes

by Christie Craig

  “Doesn’t look like it,” Juan said.

  “How do you know he’s our guy?” Connor asked.

  “Because I’m that good.” Mark forced a grin. “I saw his kids at his business—bright red hair. And Johnny said our guy—”

  “Then he has to be guilty,” Juan said with sarcasm. “But hey, Murdock has red hair, too.”

  Mark shot him a frown. “I also asked how big their dad was. They said he’s taller than me and looks like a football player.”

  Connor held his hands up. “Okay, I’m biting.”

  “Did you bring him in?” Juan asked.

  “No. He’s in Florida. Flying home this afternoon.”

  “What about motive?” Juan asked.

  “I have a hunch. I called both Brian and Bethany Talbot and Bethany’s sister to come in to confirm it. They should start arriving in a couple of hours.” He looked at Juan. “Can you pull a picture of Coleman off the Internet and put together a lineup with several redheads? Johnny should be here to make the official identification shortly.”

  “Why bring in Mrs. Talbot’s sister? What’s this hunch?” Connor asked.

  “I think someone was fucking around. Either Mrs. Talbot was screwing Mr. Coleman or Mr. Talbot was screwing Mrs. Coleman. And since Gary Coleman is the one who fired Brian and is now suspected to have dumped the body, I’m inclined to believe he was the scorned lover.”

  “Love and murder, just like peanut butter and jelly,” Connor said.

  Mark wasn’t quite that cynical, but neither did he buy into the happily-ever-after thing. Not for him anyway. Another reason to heed the old man’s warning.

  “None of them know the others are coming. I’ll play musical interview rooms. I’m going to see if we can’t catch someone in a lie.”

  “We’re likely to end up with a catfight,” Connor said. “Then one or both of them might go after Mr. Talbot.”

  “I wish there was another way.” Mark turned his cup.

  “Yeah, sometimes after the claws come out, so does the truth,” Connor said.

  Mark exhaled frustration. Normally this was the part of the job he enjoyed. But the memory of Bethany Talbot appearing so devastated, leaning up against him, ate at his conscience.

  “You okay?” Connor’s tone and question pulled Mark from his thoughts.

  “Yeah, why?”

  “I don’t know. This case seems to have gotten to you more than others.”

  “I’m fine,” Mark lied.

  “I think this case has gotten to all of us more than the others,” Juan said.

  No one disagreed. And for one second, Mark didn’t feel so alone in his misery. He’d always resisted working with partners, but this…was good.

  “And yet it’s what we do for a living.” Mark pulled out the numbers he’d gotten for Fran’s friends. He punched in the number, hoping his earlier luck would hold and he’d find Fran Roberts. Waiting for an answer, his mind went back to the possibility of Jenny Reed having been just a victim of a drowning.

  Was he chasing leads that didn’t matter? Could Jenny’s death have been an accident?

  * * *

  His luck didn’t hold. He spoke with two of the three women. Both said they hadn’t heard from Fran in weeks. The third didn’t answer, so he left a message.

  His phone dinged with a text just as Johnny Harden walked in. Mark gave it a quick glance. It was Annie. Call me when you can.

  He would, but not now.

  Connor had set up the photo lineup in an interview room. The three of them and the sergeant all walked into the room. Johnny kept fidgeting with his keys. Mark worried he was wrong. But Johnny only took seconds to point to Coleman. “That’s him.”

  Connor and Juan shot Mark a smile. Everyone but Mark and Johnny walked out.

  “You did good,” Mark said.

  “I hope you catch the bastard.”

  “Me too.”

  “Will I have to testify?” Johnny asked.

  “You have a problem with that?”

  “I don’t look forward to having my past thrown in my face. But it’s for the kid, right?”

  “Right,” Mark said.

  Johnny walked out. Mark stood there and breathed. In. Out. For the kids, he thought. He just wished like hell he’d been there for his sister.

  When he turned to collect the images, he saw Harden’s keys on the table. Picking them up, he saw the leather keychain. In a slotted pocket in the middle was a bronze token. An AA token. A sobriety symbol.

  Johnny returned. “Hey.”

  “Here.” Mark held out the keys.

  “Been sober for three years.”

  “That’s quite an accomplishment.” Mark remembered Murdock, the department shrink, asking if he was an alcoholic. He also remembered what he’d told him: I don’t have a drinking problem, I have a dead kid problem.

  After Johnny left, Mark went back to the office. Connor saw him and piped up, “We did it. Solved a case the sergeant couldn’t.”

  “Yeah,” Mark said without enthusiasm.

  He knew getting to the bottom of this wasn’t going to be pretty. Sometimes breaking a case meant breaking hearts. Normally, he still celebrated a win. But not this time. And it wasn’t fair.

  “So why the hell doesn’t it feel good?” Connor echoed Mark’s thought.

  No one answered.

  Connor left to grab lunch. Juan left to look for a Missing Persons file for another case that had been brought to their attention.

  Mark started writing the interview report, then he remembered Annie’s text. He dialed her number with anticipation. It went to voice mail. “Hey. I’m going to be tied up until later. Looking forward to tonight.”

  He was almost finished with the report when his office phone rang. The morgue’s number flashed on the screen. Knowing it was his friend Stone, he picked it up. “Yes, the poker game is still on for tomorrow. Bring plenty of money.”

  “Right.” Stone chuckled. “That’s not why I called. I finished the Talbot autopsy.”

  “I thought you’d already finished it.”

  “No, I still had some tests to do. I told Juan and Connor that.”

  “They didn’t mention it.” An image flashed in his head. “So you found something else?”

  “Yes. Something I wasn’t expecting.”

  * * *

  “Where are you going?”

  Annie looked over her shoulder at Isabella down the hall. “Just to my car. I think I left some papers in there.”

  “When your class is over, drop in.”

  “Sure.” Annie left the building. The parking lot was quiet, not a lot of foot traffic during the classes.

  She heard her footsteps on the pavement. She recalled her time at the park. She recalled Sam’s visit at the coffee shop.

  The feeling of being watched hit. Fear bit. She slowed down, swallowed, and recalled Mark’s warning to be careful.

  This was crazy. It was daytime. She looked around. Saw nothing.

  Her heart drummed in her ears as the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Was she worrying about nothing? Or was she crazy not to worry?

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Connor and Juan returned at the same time Bethany Talbot showed up. Mark didn’t have a chance to inform them about the call from Stone. Then again, it didn’t change anything. The kid was dead. How she died didn’t matter.

  Mark walked Bethany Talbot into interview room one.

  “What is it?” She went limp as she dropped into a chair. The grayness of the room seemed to soak her up and set the mood.

  Sitting across from her, he had a front row seat to the anguish in her eyes. Regret drop-kicked his conscience. But he had to do this.

  “We’ve made some headway.”

  “Did Brian kill our daughter?”

  “No.”

  “Then who? Do I know them?” Her voice shook with soul-deep pain.

  He felt the rattle all the way in his chest. “I’m not at liberty to—”
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  “‘Not at liberty’? There is no liberty or justice in this world.” Now her voice was laced with rage. He knew how quick pain could morph into fury.

  He spoke before thinking. “Believe me when I say I know exactly how you feel.”

  “Really? You had a kid who was murdered?”

  “My sister.” The confession slipped off his lips and opened his own vein of pain and fury. Why the fuck had he…? Ms. Talbot stared at him and he knew why. People needed to know they weren’t alone.

  Anger drained from her expression and with it faded a bit of his own. “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “I know this is hard, but I need to ask.” He tapped his pen on the folder. “Were you having an affair when your daughter went missing?”

  She tensed. “No. I taught school. I worked all day and took care of my daughter in the evenings and at night. When would I have had time to have an affair?”

  Was her defensiveness a cover-up or honest indignation? “Other teachers manage it.”

  Her posture hardened, then softened. “Okay, you’re right. But that’s not me. I loved Brian.”

  Mark heard the honesty in her voice. “What about Brian?”

  Her hesitation spoke loudly. “Right before Brittany went missing, I recall worrying that he was. But I told myself I was being ridiculous. My brother-in-law and sister were with him every day. When would he have had the time?”

  Mark clinked his pen. “Your sister worked at Coleman Concrete, too?”

  “She was the office manager.” A frown wrinkled Bethany Talbot’s brow. “Are you thinking Brian and…? No. Michele wouldn’t do that to me. Brian either.”

  Mark wished he could save her this pain. For his mother, finding out someone she loved was responsible had been too much.

  A knock sounded. Mark knew what that meant. “Give me a minute.”

  He left and walked into interview room two, another gray room with a flimsy table, identical to the room he’d just left. But in here, the air reeked of guilt and tension. Michele Coleman sat fidgeting with her hair. She lifted her gaze, suspicious. Were her nerves about more than the affair? Had she been a part of the kidnapping?

  “I don’t understand why you think I have information on Brian Talbot.”

  He’d given her that piece of info when he called, wanting to give her time to stew.

  He dropped into a chair. “You want to come clean on this?”

  “On what?” Her chin lifted to a stubborn angle.

  “Tell me!”

  She didn’t answer. He slapped the table. She jumped.

  “Did you have something to do with your niece’s kidnapping?”

  Something akin to relief filled her eyes. “God no! I loved Brittany.”

  He believed her. He leaned closer. “How long had the affair been going on?”

  Her gulp sounded raw. Guilt brightened her eyes. “Please don’t tell Bethany. She’ll hate me.”

  Unfortunately, Mark didn’t think there was a way to spare her sister. “You and Brian were together when the kidnapping happened.”

  She nodded. “We were ending it. It was our last time.”

  “Your husband found out?”

  Her defiant chin dropped. “He caught us kissing.”

  “Did you know he kidnapped your niece?”

  The answer flashed in her expression. “Gary wouldn’t…You’re wrong.”

  Mark wasn’t wrong.

  “He’s not a monster.”

  “When people feel betrayed, they do things.” A knock sounded on the door, and Mark stood up. “Excuse me.”

  He walked out and toward room four, hesitating a second before turning the knob. Solving a case was supposed to feel good. Nothing about this felt good. He now knew why. They hadn’t caught anyone evil. Just people who’d made bad mistakes. It brought home the grave mistake he’d made.

  He walked into the room. Brian, hands clenched, stood waiting. “Why are my ex-wife’s and her sister’s cars here?”

  Mark dropped in a chair and motioned for Brian to sit. Only when he did, did Mark speak. “We know the truth.”

  Brian banged his fist on the table. “If you’re saying I killed—”

  “I’m not saying that. I’m saying I know where you were the day your daughter was taken.”

  His face paled.

  “I was a fucking idiot. But putting that out there would hurt Bethany. She loves her sister. She’s been hurt enough. And it won’t catch my daughter’s killer. So why are you doing this?”

  “I wouldn’t if I didn’t think it was connected.”

  “So you still suspect me? Look, I was a piece of shit for cheating, but I loved my daughter and Bethany. It was a mistake. I’d never—”

  “I believe you,” Mark said.

  Mark could see Brian’s mind searching for answers. “You think…Michele? She was with me.” Then his face lost its color. “Gary?” He shot to his feet and slung his chair across the room.

  “Calm down,” Mark said.

  Talbot hit the wall with his fist. A loud, bone-crushing clunk.

  “Stop,” Mark insisted.

  Talbot swung around. “I’ll kill him.” He breathed in. Out. His nostrils flared, then Mark watched as his fury faded into self-loathing. Talbot realized the truth.

  His affair had been the catalyst for his daughter’s death.

  Mark recognized that pain. “You have a chance to be the one who tells your wife about the affair. Or her sister can tell her. Unfortunately, this will come out. The media feeds on this stuff.”

  “Should I talk to her now?” Talbot asked, sounding lost, hopeless, guilty.

  “No, not now. Not here. But hopefully before any of this comes out.” He took one step then turned back. “Go have your hand x-rayed.”

  Mark walked away, feeling raw and swollen inside. He wanted a drink. No, he wanted several. He wanted to forget that he knew exactly what Brian Talbot felt.

  He couldn’t.

  He had to go pick up a murderer.

  Then he remembered his plans for that night. Hell, he didn’t need whiskey. He needed Annie. What had the old man called her, a slice of heaven? Yeah, he needed an extra-large slice.

  Brown arranged for other officers to release the interviewees, one at a time. Reports would need to be written up later.

  * * *

  “Has he not called you back?” Isabella asked, as they hurried across the rubber-sole-melting parking lot and into the store.

  Precious air conditioning welcomed them inside. “He called during class.” Annie snagged a buggy. They’d finished their classes and decided to go shopping. On the ride over she’d told her about her uncle showing up at the coffee shop. About swearing someone was watching her.

  “Why haven’t you called him back? He should know your uncle threatened you, not to mention that thing in the parking lot.”

  “My uncle didn’t threaten me. He just tried to get me to go with him. And I didn’t see anyone in the parking lot.” Annie had been trying to put things into perspective. To not overreact. Yet overreacting seemed to be in her DNA.

  “Yeah, it appeared so unthreatening that the entire coffee shop came to your rescue. You need to tell Mark.”

  Isabella wasn’t helping Annie’s perspective.

  “I’m going to.” Annie glanced around to get her bearings in the store. “In his message, he said he was busy today.”

  “Then you should’ve called the cops. Your uncle should’ve been arrested.”

  “I took a picture of his car driving away. Got the license plate. For proof that he was really there. And I’ll give it to Mark tonight.”

  “You still think Mark won’t believe you?”

  “I don’t know.” She hesitated. “But I don’t want to think about that tonight.”

  Hence the reason she headed to the lingerie department.

  “What about this?” Isabella held up a sexy pajamas set and made them dance. “They’re pink.”

  Annie rolled her eye
s. “I should’ve never told you that.”

  “Please. Let me live vicariously through you. It’s the most fun I’ve had in years.” She gave the hanger another shake. “Yea or nay?”

  “I like it.” Annie took the hanger. The tight-fitting tank top had a little lace and came with matching boy shorts. Sexy, but not do-me-now sexy. Annie didn’t go for the do-me-now style—at least not in the beginning. She’d gone there when she noticed the spice running low in her and Ted’s relationship.

  Perhaps Ted’s leaving wasn’t all about her being crazy. Maybe he’d just been bored with her. Oddly, she didn’t know which was worse. Him thinking she was crazy. Or thinking she was a dud in bed.

  She checked the price of the dancing pajamas. Seeing it was affordable, she dropped the set in her basket.

  “Score one for me,” Isabella said. “Let’s pick him out a sexy pair of silk boxers.”

  “Not happening.” But Annie’s mind took her to how he’d looked in his fitted cotton boxers. She moved to the next rack.

  It had been a while since she’d invested in underwear. She found her size and bought two bra-and-panty sets.

  She’d be eating beans and rice for a few weeks so she could afford it. A smile warmed her chest. It’d be worth it.

  Isabella pulled out a red bra-and-panty set and eyed it.

  “Buy it,” Annie said.

  “Nope.” Her friend rehung the bra.

  “Why aren’t you having fun? You’re divorced. You claim it’s over. And yet…you go to bed with a book.”

  “They’re good books.” She wiggled her brows.

  “Seriously?”

  “Don’t worry. I put ‘get laid’ on my to-do list.”

  Annie cut her friend a stern look.

  Isabella cut her one back. “When you’ve had the best, it’s hard to accept less.”

  “Jose was that good?” Annie asked.

  “One smile, and I melted into my panties. We were married for four years and we still had sex five times a week. I miss that.”

  “Then do something about it?”

  “I’ve considered hiring a gigolo.”

  Annie laughed, but she wasn’t fooled. Humor was Isabella’s defense mechanism. In truth, Annie had been known to use it herself. “I think you should buy something sexy and call him.”