“I didn’t let him in this time. He didn’t knock. If he did, I didn’t hear him. We had both gone to bed. Mom was in my room and I made up a bed on the couch.
He must have tried the door and then gone around the house until he found a way in. Both doors were locked and all the windows were shut, but I hadn’t put the wooden dowels in all of them. Shannon’s window. She must have taken it out to play sword fight with. That’s her new thing. He just lifted it up and let himself in.”
“Like I said, I was in the living room when he walked in from the back with Shannon in his arms, still asleep, her head on his shoulder.”
“I’d never seen him like that. Crazy look on his face. His hair was sticking out on one side, his clothes were all dirty and the look on his face. It was just manic looking,” she said. “My heart just stopped.”
“What happened next?” Singh asked, checking his note pad.
“Like I told you before, he started talking crazy, but all calm, like everything else he’d done hadn’t happened. He had this awful smile. Told me he had gassed up the car, it was waiting for us all outside, we were going now, it was all going to be great. Better than ever. He just kept rambling on. He grabbed my arm, pulling me toward the porch.
“That’s when Shannon woke up and started screaming. Mom came out to help. Shannon tried to squirm away from him, latching onto my neck. And then, once he tore her loose, he took her.”
Lori hung her head.
“She screamed all the way to the car,” her mom added, stroking Lori’s hair.
“And they headed north or south on PCH?” Singh asked.
“South, they turned left. South,” she said softly, all hope gone from her voice.
♦ ♦ ♦
The golden arches were a godsend. Garrett pulled off the freeway. Next to the McDonald’s was a strip mall with a darkened thrift store and a shoe repair place. All closed. He pulled around back and parked behind the dumpster. Checking quickly around the car, he got out, locked Shannon in, and jogged across the street to the McDonald’s. Hopefully, it wouldn’t take long. Happy Meals were Shannon’s favorite. One of those should shut her up.
It didn’t.
She started screaming again the minute he got back. He tried several times to shove a Chicken McNugget into her mouth, but she spit it out each time, then gagged, throwing up all over the seat and him. Thrashing wildly, she kicked over her drink and now he was covered in vomit and root beer.
“You ungrateful brat!” he yelled, slapping her across the cheek.
Shocked into silence, Shannon just stared at him, then started screaming again, this time even louder. Enraged, Garrett got out and stomped around the car. This is what they did to his daughter! Turned her into a brat. Scared to death of her own father! All he wanted was to take care of her. This was all Lauren’s fault—and that bitch of a mother she had. Probably half under the influence of that Logan woman. He knew Lauren would have seen reason and come with him to Mexico so they could all be safe together if it wasn’t for her nosy neighbor getting involved. She must have poisoned them both, corrupted his family, turned them against him!
He yanked open the door and grabbed Shannon out of the car by one arm, holding her away from him, avoiding touching her soiled pajamas. Throwing her into the bushes, he tossed what was left of her Happy Meal back in her direction. Then, using some wipes he had in the glove compartment, he mopped out the seat as best he could, removed the floor mat where much of the root beer had spilled. Shaking, he dumped them on the ground and slammed the door shut.
“There. All yours! Let’s see how you do on your own, Miss Independent!”
Feeling rather pleased with himself, he got back into the Volvo and, spitting gravel, sped away from Shannon’s cries. He was through with women. Of all ages.
Mexico, here I come!
He managed to get over into the correct lane before the light turned red. He still had a few more hours to the border, didn’t want to get popped when he was so close.
His phone buzzed as the car in front of him made it through the yellow. Text message. He reached down to shut it off, but before he did, the phone rang loudly and he accidentally answered it. The voice was cold and very familiar coming through the car’s audio system.
“What’s the matter, Mr. Delaney? Didn’t Shannon like her Happy Meal?”
♦ ♦ ♦
The RAV4 full of teenagers going to a beach party barely missed broadsiding the Volvo as it rolled through the intersection. The driver swerved to the left. As the Toyota went into a ninety-degree spin, the girl in the passenger seat screamed. Inches from her face, bloody brains were sprayed all over the Volvo’s window. They belonged to the man missing part of his head, slumped over the steering wheel.
64
November 24, 2016, Thanksgiving Day
Iona and Taylor were the first to arrive. Iona handed Logan an insulated, nine-by-thirteen casserole carrier with handles.
“Cheesy-Jalapeno Enchiladas, my specialty. They may need to be warmed up a little. We drove in from my place. Holiday traffic is hell this time of day. Four hundred for ten minutes ought to do it,” she said.
“Better put a warning sign on those,” Taylor said, before exiting out to the patio. “They’ll singe your eyebrows at thirty feet.”
“It’s true! I like my food hot and my men hotter!” Iona laughed.
In the last couple of months, Logan and Ben had gone out with the unlikely pair a few times. She got to know Iona better, as a person, not the stern head of security at the Otter Arts Festival. She learned Iona was a breast cancer survivor, for one thing, which explained her “grab life by the horns” attitude.
“Beating cancer gives you a remarkable perspective,” she told Logan one night. “You take no shit, no prisoners, and just do what feels right in life.”
Logan couldn’t disagree. The only thing she’d survived lately was knee surgery and that was enough to make her not take her health or anything else for granted. Although still going to physical therapy twice a week, she’d ditched the crutches and was pretty much back to normal. She offered to ship them back to Edna in Oregon, but she said to keep them.
“You never know when you might want to go hiking again at midnight,” she deadpanned.
Someday Logan would have to tell her the truth about what happened.
Bonnie and family were already seated at the picnic tables outside with Amy and Liam. Ben, as usual, had gone all out. Brined turkey, roasted sweet potatoes, shredded Brussels sprouts with bacon. They had to do without the fry bread, because Lisa and Thomas were up in Idaho, but Logan picked up some baguettes and Paul brought crescent rolls.
In Southern California, you could still enjoy most Thanksgiving dinners al fresco. Amy had invited Cheryl, an associate of Liam’s from New Jersey who didn’t have any family in town. She brought cherry pie. Cheryl was Liam’s supervisor at Scripps Aquarium in La Jolla, where he was doing post doctoral work in Marine Botany.
“I’m still in shock,” Haley was saying. “How did he ever get elected?”
“Well, I for one voted for him!” Cheryl said. “I like him.”
When everyone looked at her like she had lost her mind, she said, “I know. Everyone says he’s crazy, but all the other choices were same-o, same-o. And who needs more of the status quo? Nothing is getting done. It’s a complete logjam in Congress. Things need to be shaken up. It couldn’t get any worse!”
Logan wasn’t sure she agreed with that. Just look at history. Countries didn’t last forever. On the timeline of history, the United States of America was only a blip. A lot of civilizations had gone under after being on top a lot longer.
“Not much any of us can do about it, anyway,” Liam said, ever the peacemaker. “You’ve got all these checks and balances here, right? It’s not like he’s an emperor. American presidents can’t do whatever they want.
Someone will keep a lid on him.”
Bonnie rolled her eyes, “OK guys, no politics or religion around the Thanksgiving table. We need at least one peaceful meal.”
The election results were all anyone had been talking about all week. Rose called and was in apoplectic shock. Rita wasn’t far behind, but calmer about it. Ben was pretty much apolitical, which Logan hadn’t decided was good or bad.
In her mind, there were no easy answers. The only way anything was going to change was to get money out of politics, and how that was ever going to happen, she had no idea. She decided to help Bonnie change the subject.
“Haley, how are the applications coming?” she asked.
After seeing firsthand what Shannon went through, Haley had decided to become a child psychologist or social worker. She got to sit in on some of Shannon’s therapy sessions and was in awe of Shannon’s counselor and how much she helped her work through everything. Haley piled on extra credits in order to graduate with her class and meet all the requirements for the colleges she was applying to.
“OK, but I’m having a tough time with some of the essays,” she said.
“I know your Mom has it covered, but if you need a second pair of eyes on it, let me know,” Logan offered.
Haley thanked her and then got up to check on something in the house. Logan grinned and gave her a thumbs-up.
Gina, the director of the Sea Otter Center and Amy’s boss, came in with her assistant, Dennis. Amy had been working with them at the Sea Otter Center and doing so well Gina was considering putting her in charge of elementary school field trips. Amy loved baby humans almost as much as baby otters.
Bonnie asked Logan about the school board’s big Fractals report instigated by her nemesis, Dr. Metterson. He was just looking for ways to make the program and by default, Logan, fail.
Logan raised her glass of Sauvignon Blanc, “Passed with flying colors!”
“Hear! Hear!”
“Slainte!” Liam raised his with the traditional, Scottish toast.
Logan couldn’t prove direct correlation that Fractals was improving test scores on the big, standardized end-of-the-year exams, but second–year Fractals students outperformed students not enrolled in the program by more than 14 percent. Several of the board members, one of them a retired engineer, who were at first skeptical of the connection between music and increased development in the brain, visited campuses where her program was being run and shared their support with her privately.
“Those kids look happy—and they stay happy all the way through Calculus, Organic Chemistry and Physics! Which more are grasping. Now that’s progress! That has to be good for kids!”
Lori and Shannon made it just in time for dinner. What a difference two months made!
65
Dressed in a crisp, white, cotton blouse and navy capris, Lori’s new, short haircut made her look like an entirely different person. Glowing and happy, she didn’t need much makeup, but indulged in a mani-pedi for the occasion. Her feet clad in slim leather sandals, one ankle sported a small, discrete tattoo.
She told Logan last week she applied to officially change her name to Lori Wright from Lauren Delaney, and already had two job offers from local businesses. The House of Ruth people were working with her to purchase the house she’d been staying in. She didn’t have it yet, but it looked like Garrett’s life insurance was going to pay out. That would definitely help. She was even talking about setting up an online accounting business, so she could spend more time with Shannon.
Shannon, black curls bouncing, was adorable in her navy and white sailor dress. Shirley Temple reincarnated, she was all dimples and smiles, a far cry from the frightened little girl dropped off anonymously at the Emergency Room of the local hospital, scraped and bruised, her dress ripped and half-covered in vomit. Because of the Amber Alert, she was quickly identified and after being cleaned up, checked over, and treated for minor abrasions, reunited with her very grateful mother and grandmother.
Grandma Stanton, after staying as long as she could to get in as much Shannon time as possible, was back in Washington state. They wouldn’t be separated long, though. Lori said they were going up there for Christmas.
Enrolled in pre-school now, Shannon was always bringing Logan and Ben macaroni necklaces or pictures she drew of Purgatory or them. When she spotted Ben, she let go of her Mom’s hand and ran over to tell him all about something. He scooped her up, gave her a hug, nodded sagely at whatever it was she said to him, then set her down to go play with Purgatory, who was waiting patiently for her attention.
The huge dog and the little girl spent a lot of time together over the last two months. Purgatory was a big part of her therapy after what she went through at the hands of her father.
No one mentioned Garrett anymore, but Rick filled Logan and Ben in on the details of his demise a couple of weeks ago when he and Paula came over for dinner. He said Detective Andrews was pissed Delaney got shot before they could arrest him. Singh, a rookie detective, went over the CCTV footage at higher magnification, and did indeed find the black Jeep that matched up with the partial plate Logan got. Turns out it belonged to a friend of Delaney’s—one that also had a private plane he borrowed occasionally, which, coincidentally, Medford reported had some damage to it that could easily have been caused by a heavy weight hitting it, like a body being tossed out of the airplane over the Pacific.
In coordination with the Seattle Police Department, Rick said Detective Lutrell did a financial autopsy on Delaney’s banking and crypto records. They had him dead to rights on everything, even before he went rogue. They even matched the DNA collected from under Lori’s fingernails from the first attack. The feds were particularly interested in one of Delaney’s primary clients, a Mr. Yoshimoto. Logan remembered that name coming up frequently on the flash drive files she had seen but didn’t understand at the time.
It would have been so much more satisfying to arrest Garret, Rick said, but since he was fairly well off, he probably would have walked anyway, or gotten off with a slap on the wrist.
“Even with Logan witnessing him kidnapping his daughter, and Lori testifying against him in court?” Ben asked.
“Yep. Happens more than you know,” Rick said. “You can shoot somebody in the street at high noon with a dozen witnesses, and a good lawyer can get you off. Say the sun was in your eyes and you were aiming at a squirrel.”
“Amazing!”
“So, in a way, maybe whoever it was who got him did everyone a favor,” Rick said. “At least he won’t be around to bother Lori or Shannon anymore. Or you, Sis.”
Couldn’t argue with that. She’d certainly slept better the last few weeks, knowing her attacker was dead. No one knew for sure, but it was assumed one of his criminal clients got to him first. Rick said Andrews didn’t have time to cry in his beer. He already had five more cases piled on his desk, which brought the grand total to 32. He was working these with Singh. He and the younger detective seemed to get along well, and Diaz was out for foot surgery.
♦ ♦ ♦
While the guys cleared the table, the girls went inside.
Bonnie put four pink candles in the cake and found some matches. Haley got the ice cream out—“chockit” of course—and put it on the tray with a metal scoop, some napkins, bowls and plates. The surprise had been hard to keep.
“Do you think she knows?” Logan asked.
“Nope,” Lori said. “Bonnie had Mike keep him under wraps at the firehouse for me. All the guys at the firehouse fell in love with him—didn’t want to let him go. They just brought him over, brought him in the front so Shannon didn’t see him. And you can’t hear anything from outside.”
As they mounted the stairs, they could hear Shannon’s surprise whining to be let out. Not much more than a ball of thick, wavy, white fur, the puppy waddled over and started to nose Lori’s hand through the wire door.
>
“Are they ready out there?” Logan asked, grabbing the bag of dog treats and toys she’d kept hidden in her closet the last couple of months. Turns out Lori told the truth about one thing. Shannon really did have a birthday coming up. It just happened to fall on Thanksgiving this year.
Haley went to scout things out.
“Yeah, Ben’s got her on his lap right now,” she reported. “They’ve got all her presents piled next to her and everyone’s sitting around in a circle on the blanket, over on the grass.”
Lori lifted the carrier by the handle on top, stepping carefully down the stairs. Logan thought to throw a dishtowel over the carrier to help quiet him momentarily.
The procession wound its way out onto the patio.
“Close your eyes, Shannon!” her mother said.
Shannon, wiggling with anticipation, did as she was instructed.
Lori walked into the middle of the blanket, knelt down and unlatched the wire gate of the carrier. Just as Shannon’s eyes flew open, three pounds of puppy love launched himself out of the carrier and bounded joyfully right to Shannon, licking her face and arms and legs, turning himself inside out with delight at the new turn of events in his life. Shannon threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tight.
“What kind of dog is that?” Cheryl asked. “He’s big! How old is he?”
“He’s called an English Cream Golden Retriever. He’s only eight weeks old,” Lori told her, not taking her eyes off her daughter and her new puppy.
“He’s so cute! Look at those polar bear paws!”
Purgatory padded over and lay down at Ben’s feet. He accepted being upstaged by the newcomer. You can’t compete with a cute puppy. He yawned widely.
Just wait till the first time you poop on the floor...
“What’s his name, Mommy?” Shannon asked her mom.
“He doesn’t have a name yet. He’s whatever you want to call him,” Lori said.
Shannon furrowed her brow in concentration while she considered this monumental task.
Vanishing Day Page 23
