One Child Alive: An absolutely gripping crime thriller packed with nail-biting suspense (Rockwell and Decker Book 3)

by Kane, Ellery A.

  They found the lieutenant in another bedroom. This one, with a view of the water. A pile of green plastic army men littered the bedspread and the carpet in front of the partially open sliding glass door.

  Lieutenant Hunt pointed to the sand abutting the house, where a single soldier had been left behind, half buried, and a set of small footprints led into the night.

  Seven

  Olivia found a seat in one of the oversized wooden rocking chairs on the back porch of Shells-by-the-Sea, soothing herself with the predictable rhythm and the sounds of the ocean. Emily had taken Leah up on her offer to stay the night in the only available guest room, left vacant by a last-minute cancellation. But Olivia felt too wired to sleep and too unnerved to return to their house secluded in the watchful redwoods.

  Leah returned to the porch, baby-less. She placed a hot cup of tea in Olivia’s hands and joined her in the adjacent chair, which creaked as Leah started it rocking. That plaintive whine sent a jolt of unease up Olivia’s back. “So, I hear you’ve got a new patient.”

  Olivia nodded, avoiding Leah’s eyes. She knew exactly where the conversation was headed. Now that Leah had returned from maternity leave—with a chic short haircut and fierce maternal instincts—she couldn’t get anything past her. Especially not this. “It’s not a big deal.”

  “I’ve got room on my caseload. I could’ve taken him.”

  “And let you have all the fun?” Olivia hoped Leah would laugh and let it go. “You know I’m a sucker for the lost causes.”

  “Or better yet, give him to an intern.”

  They both chuckled, knowing inmate Javier Mendez ate interns for breakfast. But Leah sobered quick.

  “Seriously, Liv? Mendez? That guy creeps me out.” Leah had given her the same speech about Drake Devere, the serial killer who’d escaped from Crescent Bay State Prison in December. And in Leah’s defense, she hadn’t been wrong. Olivia had nearly lost her little sister thanks to Drake’s twisted schemes.

  “You do realize we work in a prison.” Olivia grinned. “Our patients are not exactly upstanding citizens.”

  “True. But there’s bad and there’s seriously bad…”

  Olivia thought back to her first session with Javier, the way he’d studied her like an insect in a jar. She didn’t dare tell Leah how, when he’d finally dropped his predatory gaze, he’d winked at her.

  “…And then, there are the monsters. Like chupacabra-level bad,” Leah continued. “That’s Javier Mendez.”

  Sipping her tea, Olivia cast an ironic side-eye at her friend. “Well, you know I’m not afraid of monsters.”

  “Not to mention I know the real reason you volunteered to therapize that guy.”

  Olivia nearly choked on her chamomile as her heart skipped like a pebble then sank to the deep, dark bottom of her stomach. No one knew the real reason. Not Leah. Not Deck. Not even Emily. “Which is?”

  “Doctor Carrie Brown-nose Stanley. You want to put her in her place. Remind her you’re the big dog in the MHU.”

  “Exactly.” In the two-plus years since Olivia had returned to Fog Harbor and accepted the job as chief psychologist at Crescent Bay, Carrie still hadn’t gotten over the warden’s snub, and lately, she’d made it her mission to discredit Olivia at every turn, all the while doing her fair share of sucking up to Warden Blevins. “If anybody can get Mendez to talk, it’s the big dog.”

  Leah sighed. “Just remember what happened to the last woman who tried that.”

  Olivia stopped rocking, held up her hand for Leah to do the same. “Do you hear that?”

  Above the rumble of the waves and the gentle swish of the wind, Olivia heard someone crying.

  Wade Coffman pointed his flashlight toward the beach, the beam spotlighting the still-warm sand and the black water beyond it. Keeping his free hand on the mace canister affixed to his belt, he walked in the direction of the lifeguard stand.

  “Should I wake Jake?” Leah asked. “Or call the cops?”

  “Not necessary.” Wade didn’t bother to turn around. “I’m sure it’s just a drunk gal with a broken heart. Nothing I can’t handle.”

  Olivia bundled herself tighter inside her sweater, listening again for the muffled cries. It sounded like a child to her, not a drunk girl. She stepped off the porch and hurried to catch up. “I’m going with you.”

  “Well, you’re not leaving me here all alone.” Leah jogged along behind her, both of them following Wade and the deep footprints of his boots in the sand.

  As they neared the lifeguard stand, the crying intensified. Little sobs, broken by desperate gasps for breath. Wade held up a closed fist, directing his foot soldiers to halt. He looked like a military man with a graying buzz cut and a square jaw, arms accustomed to carrying a rucksack through the jungle.

  But Olivia couldn’t wait. That child needed help. She felt certain of it. She ran ahead of Wade and up the wooden plank leading to the door.

  Peering in through the window, her eyes adjusting to the dark, she saw a little boy, barefoot and huddled in the corner, his head down on his knees. His whole body trembled, scared as a rabbit.

  Hoping not to spook him, Olivia tapped the door before she cracked it open. He looked up and sniffled. He wiped at his splotchy face with the sleeve of his dinosaur pajamas.

  “It’s okay.” She didn’t dare move toward him. Not yet. She wondered where he’d come from and what led him to a dark lifeguard stand in the middle of the night. “You’re okay.”

  As she took the first step inside, she felt someone behind her. She kept her gaze locked on the boy as a pair of familiar boat shoes appeared in her lower periphery, alongside Wade’s sturdy boots.

  “I got this.” Deck pushed ahead of her. Olivia tried to shake off her irritation as he dropped to his knee, lowering himself to the boy’s level. Of course he thought he knew better.

  “You’re safe now,” he said softly as he produced his badge from his pocket. It shined, even in the dark, and the little boy’s eyes widened as they fixed on it. “I’m a policeman.”

  The boy gasped and scrambled back as if the badge had sharp teeth that would bite. Then he opened his mouth and screamed.

  Eight

  Terror had a sound. Raw and ugly. The sound of the boy’s sudden screams pierced the tense quiet of the beach like an icepick, sending Will reeling.

  He backed away as fast as he could, bumping into Olivia and skirting past Wade. Olivia reached for the boy, and he latched onto her, still frantic. His sobs muffled by her shoulder, she carried him out of the lifeguard stand with Wade a few steps behind her, leaving Will alone. He’d done nothing wrong, but he felt like an ogre anyway.

  Will stooped in the corner, where the boy had been sitting, and pocketed another toy soldier. An infantryman lying on his stomach, his tiny rifle aimed at an imaginary bad guy. Later, he’d make the kid a peace offering.

  By the time Will emerged, still flummoxed, Olivia had nearly made it back to the house, trudging up the beach with the boy’s legs wrapped around her waist. The others waited on the beach, dumbfounded.

  Will felt an inexplicable relief at the sight of JB’s smart-ass grin. His partner had barely made the run from the house, laboring as he’d discarded his crime scene booties on the sand. By the time Will had ascended the lifeguard platform, JB had been doubled over and wheezing.

  “That went well, City Boy. You’re a regular Mister Rogers.” JB chuckled but it came out one-note, clunky as a dead piano key. He took a halting step and clutched at his chest. Opened his mouth to speak again but only managed a groan.

  Before Will could register his own shock, JB staggered forward and collapsed onto the beach. He lay there, stone-like, even after Will dropped to his knees to try to rouse him. His pulse raced beneath Will’s fingers. His face, blanched and sweaty, felt cold to the touch.

  Lieutenant Hunt radioed for assistance, as the hellish night dragged on with no promise of morning.

  *

  Fog Harbor Gazette

&nbs
p; “Police Suspect Arson in Ocean’s Song Fire; Multiple Victims Found Deceased”

  by Jeanie Turtletaub

  Authorities in Fog Harbor, California, are investigating two suspicious fires that started late Saturday night, following the July Fourth festivities at Shell Beach. At approximately 9:30 p.m., Fog Harbor Fire and Rescue responded to reports of a car fire on an unmarked dirt road near the beach parking lot. A good Samaritan discovered the victim inside the vehicle and attempted to pull him to safety. Police later discovered he had sustained a fatal gunshot wound to the head. The victim has since been identified as fifty-one-year-old prominent Santa Barbara defense attorney, Peter Fox. According to his professional website, Fox spent ten years as a public defender before moving to private practice, where he was known for his tenacity, guile, and legal acumen.

  While responding to the first scene, Fire and Rescue received a second call of a house fire burning at Shell Beach. Upon arrival, firefighters discovered the lavish vacation rental, known as Ocean’s Song, ablaze. Fortunately, due to the home’s cinder block construction, the fire was quickly contained to the back portion of the house, and the property sustained minimal structural damage. Three victims, all members of the Fox family, were discovered deceased inside the dwelling having sustained fatal gunshot wounds. They have since been identified as forty-four-year-old Hannah Fox and her children, fourteen-year-old Dylan and eleven-year-old Lily. A third child, age four, was found unharmed and has been placed in the custody of Child Protective Services. Sources close to the investigation revealed that the Fox family had been vacationing in Fog Harbor since July 1st and briefly attended the Hickory Pit’s Twentieth Annual Barbecue Bash.

  Police Chief Sheila Flack is expected to issue a statement on the investigation early Monday morning. Anyone with information regarding either crime is asked to contact the Fog Harbor Police Department. Marta Gregori, the owner of Ocean’s Song, could not be reached for comment.

  Nine

  JB didn’t move. He rested in the hospital bed, still as a stopped heart, an IV snaking from his arm onto the stand beside him. It unnerved Will, seeing him like that, but the steady beat of the monitor reassured him.

  “Hey, partner.”

  No response.

  Will plunked into the chair in the corner, watching the rise and fall of JB’s chest. “I told you those Twinkies were a bad idea.”

  Not even an eyelash flutter.

  “It figures. You bailing out on me now. When I’ve got two crime scenes and four bodies to deal with.”

  Despite the chair’s stiff back, Will’s eyes grew heavy. After stopping off at home to change his clothes and feed Cyclops, the one-eyed stray cat that had claimed Will as his own, he’d had no time for a nap. Fueled by weak hospital coffee, his body sputtered like an old engine on a cold day. He kept talking to stay awake, unburdening himself to a man who couldn’t hear a single word.

  “Something weird happened last night with Olivia. I blame it on that damn sundress. Those things should be outlawed. Anyway, we went for a walk down the beach. Just a walk, no biggie. But then she—”

  “Detective Decker?”

  Will jolted upright to see Tammy standing beside him, still dressed in last night’s clothes.

  “How are you?” He catalogued the evidence, the answer obvious. The dark circles beneath her eyes. The balled-up tissue in her hand. The thin hospital blanket draped messily on the pull-out sofa.

  “I’m as fried as a chicken leg.”

  Will chuckled, glancing over her shoulder at JB, the king of ridiculous metaphors. Tammy didn’t crack a smile. “This whole thing is my fault. I pressured him too much about sticking to the damn diet. This morning, I found a stash of peanut butter cups and a bottle of Zero Smoke odor eliminator in the glove box. Do you think he’s been cheating the whole time?”

  “Uh…” Will spun around, certain he’d heard JB grunt, but he found him unchanged and unmoving. “He tried his best. I’m sure this will scare him straight.”

  “Speaking of, I just saw the doctor.”

  “And? What’s the word?”

  “Atrial fibrillation.”

  “Fib who?” JB spoke up, suddenly wide-eyed.

  “It’s caused by your high blood pressure, Jimmy. And that’s not all. The doc said you’re prediabetic and well on your way to a heart attack. You’re on the bad side of fifty. It’s time to get serious about your—”

  Will cleared his throat.

  “What I mean is, I want us to grow old together.” She clasped JB’s hand, taking a seat on the bed beside him, and he pulled her in close. “I can’t bear the thought of losing you. Not after we’ve found each other again.”

  “I’ll leave you two alone.” Will shuffled for the exit, averting his eyes from JB and Tammy, who’d already started locking lips like a pair of teenagers.

  “The hell you will.”

  JB grinned, propping another pillow behind his head as Tammy offered him a sip of water.

  “You can’t leave me hanging. I need to hear more about that sundress.”

  Ten

  Olivia peered through the two-way mirror at Thomas Fox. The little red-haired boy sat cross-legged on the floor opposite Dr. Lucy Berry. He stared vacantly, pulling at his shoelace, while Dr. Lucy built the tallest—and possibly, the only—block tower the Fog Harbor Police Department interview room had ever seen.

  As the tower teetered and threatened to fall, Olivia held her breath. Thomas appeared preoccupied, barely glancing at Dr. Lucy when she offered him the last square-shaped block. He wound the shoelace around his finger, pulling it so tight he winced. With no choice, Lucy did the honors herself, carefully placing the block atop the structure and clapping her hands at her achievement like a deranged wind-up toy.

  “Are you sure she knows what she’s doing?” Chief Flack punctuated the question with a healthy dose of skepticism.

  When the chief had arrived on the scene at Ocean’s Song early that morning, Olivia had recommended she contact Fog Harbor’s only child psychologist. After all, picking the brains of convicted criminals didn’t exactly translate to getting little boys to give up the secrets locked in theirs, no matter how much Olivia wanted to help. But if Dr. Lucy crashed and burned—which seemed more and more likely by the minute—Olivia had promised to take a crack at him.

  “Give her a chance, Chief. She’s just trying to build some rapport.” But already Olivia felt anxious. Thomas trusted her; she couldn’t let him down.

  Chief Flack raised an eyebrow. “She’s building something, alright. I’m just not sure what it is.”

  On cue, the tower toppled, sending an avalanche of blocks scattering within a four foot radius.

  “Oh, no!” Dr. Lucy met Thomas’s indifference with an exaggerated frown and began collecting the pieces. “Shall we build another?”

  “For the love of God.” Chief Flack sighed and stood up, making a break for the door. She pointed at the telephone mounted on the observation room wall. “Call me if anything exciting happens. Decker should be back from the hospital any minute now. I’ll have him check on you when he arrives.”

  Olivia nodded, turning her attention back to Thomas. It felt easier than sorting her thoughts about Deck. Her brain, fogged by exhaustion, could only manage one issue at a time.

  “I want to go home. I hate this place.” Thomas planted himself in front of the door, his small hands balled at the waist of his blue striped shorts. He wore the clothes Olivia had picked out from the drawer in the room with the bunk beds while Deck had looked on. She’d put them in a plastic bag, along with a stuffed dog she’d found, and handed them to the social worker, while Thomas waited in the car seat.

  Dr. Lucy cast a desperate glance up at the mirror. With her bobbed hair and red-framed glasses, she could’ve been a child herself. “First, we need to talk about what happened last night. Will you tell me about it?”

  “Where’s Mommy?”

  Olivia groaned. That made five now. Five times Dr. Lucy ha
d posed the same question. Five times Thomas had answered with a question of his own. But she couldn’t blame him. Her own mother had taken her to a therapist once, after what she’d witnessed at the Double Rock, and it had gone no better. She’d spent the fifty-minute session with her head buried in a dollhouse, ignoring the therapist’s well-meaning questions.

  “Your mommy is in heaven, remember? With Daddy and Dylan and Lily.”

  “But when is she coming back?” The insistent edge in his voice broke Olivia’s heart. “I want to give her my Superman so she won’t cry anymore.”

  He pointed to his shirt, where Dr. Lucy had affixed a small sticker, hoping to encourage him.

  “Your mommy was crying?”

  Ignoring her, Thomas peeled off the sticker, pushing out his lower lip. “I want to give it to her.”

  “She’s not coming back, Thomas. But she’ll always be with you.” Dr. Lucy laid a hand on her own chest. “In here. With the rest of your family.”

  Thomas looked down at himself, confused. “In here?”

  The door to the observation room opened, startling Olivia and jangling her over-caffeinated nerves. When she dropped the pen she’d been holding, it somersaulted, skittering toward the door, and landed on the toe of Deck’s dress boot.

  Deck looked more tired than surprised. Unshaven and bleary-eyed, she wondered if he’d slept at all. He bent to retrieve her pen, holding it out to her shyly. In a flash, she travelled back to the beach. To last night, before the whole world went sideways.

  “How’s JB?”

  Deck slumped into the chair the chief had left vacant. “As ornery as ever. The doc said he’ll be fine. With a few lifestyle changes. And a little time off. I’m under strict orders from Tammy to clean out his stash.”

  “Oof. How’s he taking it?”