by Sara L Foust
“Let’s take a quick peek around back. Maybe there’s a downstairs garage or something.”
“Following your lead, Special Agent Baker.” He smiled, wishing he could feel it on the inside.
Fortunately, Mr. Simpkins’s house occupied the corner. They made their way down the sidewalk, careful not to step over the presumed property line, until the rear of the house was fully in view.
“See anything?” he whispered.
“Tarp covering the vehicle in the far corner. The rear fender definitely looks like the Buick I saw at the restaurant.”
“Want me to call it in?”
She nodded. “Let’s wait in the car. Don’t want to spook him if he’s watching out the window.”
Zach dialed as they walked back. He requested the search warrant. “Will be half an hour or so.”
“Great.” Annalise ducked inside her SUV.
He slipped into the passenger seat and cracked the window. “Pull into that parking spot a little farther down the street. We can keep an eye on the periphery of his house, in case he decides to sneak out the back.”
She did as he instructed, and they settled into the seats, each watching a different area without needing to verbalize the plan. He loved that about working with Annalise. No matter what happened between them, no matter how out of whack his emotions or hers may be, the synchronization with which they operated never seemed to fail. Did it come simply from knowing each other most of their lives? From being a steady presence in each other’s lives all these years? Or was there something more to their connection?
He hoped it was something more.
The unexpected thought paused his random musings. He hoped it was something more? Like what, exactly?
“Zach, look.” Annalise touched his arm, and he jumped.
Thankfully, she didn’t seem to notice.
A dark-haired man in jeans and a button-down shirt exited the front gate at the Simpkins’s residence and started down the sidewalk in the opposite direction.
“We can’t let him leave, warrant or no,” Annalise said seconds before leaping from the driver’s side.
He burst onto the street and into a sprint right behind her.
The man glanced over his shoulder and bolted down the hill toward the old St. Mary’s Hospital building.
“Great!” Zach shouted to Annalise’s now also running backside.
He ducked through two close-together houses and cut the corner short, rapidly checking the street both directions before regaining full speed. The man and Annalise disappeared into the parking garage ahead, but he had closed the gap fractionally.
Dialing the Knox County Police Department as he ran, he requested backup and then paused outside the entrance where he’d last seen Annalise. Across parking floor D, Annalise pursued the man through a doorway. If he remembered correctly, it led to a walkway that entered the main hospital tower. He raced to catch up. How was Annalise so much faster than him anyway?
At the exit from the garage, Zach pulled up short and peered around the corner. Annalise waited at the end of a short walkway, with the fugitive penned to the front of a locked door.
“Hands up, sir.” She trained her weapon center mass and waited for the man to comply.
Instead, the man inched to his left, hopped the low, concrete wall and took off into the next section of the garage.
She spun. “Zach!” And motioned for him to round the corner and cut the man off.
As he turned to follow her instructions, she leapt over the wall and disappeared. When he made it to the next section of parking, neither of them was anywhere in sight.
THE MAN’S FOOTSTEPS echoed from just ahead of her and out of sight around the curves of the parking garage as it rose to the higher levels. She pressed harder into her pursuit, her thighs burning as she ascended. Sunlight pierced the nearest to top level. She rounded the last turn and broke into dazzling light from a brilliant sunset.
It was too late to back up. She froze until her eyes could adjust. Lord, I’m a sitting duck—
A gunshot splintered the air.
Annalise dove to the rough concrete, her face scraping against the ground, and held her breath. A metal door slammed shut. She scrambled for the nearest car and crouched behind it. That was dumb. She could kick herself. Zach definitely would if he had witnessed her foible.
She drew a deep breath and peeked up through the windows of the car. There was no sign of Michael Simpkins. Great. She called Zach. “I lost him.”
“Are you okay? I heard a shot.”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Annalise, seriously. You about gave me a heart attack. Hang on, I’m almost there.”
She ended the call and stood erect, surveying the top of the garage as she did. She seemed completely alone with the empty cars. The door to the stairwell on the opposite side swung open. A woman with a briefcase and high heels exited. The door closed behind her, repeating the sound Annalise heard directly after the gunshot.
No doubt Michael was long gone.
Zach approached from her left and embraced her. He pulled back and stared into her eyes. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine, Zach. Just mad that I lost Simpkins.”
“Come on. Let’s get back to the house before he can move the car while we are here.”
Sirens echoed on the air.
“There’s our backup, finally. I’ll redirect them to the residence.” He dialed, gave some quick commands, and hung up. “Come on. They’ll meet us there.”
They speed-walked back to the Simpkins residence. Three patrol cars, with their lights flashing, waited at the curb. The officers chatted in a huddle near the front gate. They grew silent as Annalise and Zach approached.
“We need to put an APB out on Michael Simpkins,” Zach told the closest one.
Annalise grabbed her evidence kit from her SUV, made her way straight to the vehicle in the back, and yanked the tarp to the ground. It was definitely the car she’d identified at the restaurant. She slid on latex gloves and began processing the car, dusting it for prints, collecting the numerous pieces of trash, and inspecting the glove box and other compartments. She popped the trunk and peered inside.
Her breath caught.
Several long, brown hairs dotted the deep red carpet. She collected each of them and paused before spraying the luminol to check for blood. Lord, please. I have a terrible feeling this test will be positive. The sun setting half an hour ago provided the dark environment she needed for the fluorescent light to work. She sprayed the reactant into the trunk, sure to mist each surface, plugged in the light, and shone it into the trunk. Tiny blue dots glowed near the driver’s side in a messy, haphazard drip pattern, as if one source of blood had been dragged across the surface. A nosebleed possibly? A small head wound? There would be no way of knowing until someone found and got answers from Simpkins.
“Zach!”
He stuck his head over the balcony porch railing, where he had been processing the kitchen just inside. “Yeah?”
“Got blood and hair. Escalate the status of the all-points bulletin.”
Chapter Eighteen
Annalise slept fitfully for a few hours, but four a.m. found her in front of her glowing fireplace, with Millie at her side and a cup of hot chocolate, coffee mix. Though the lab would open in a few hours, it would take another few hours to process the evidence from the car and house.
Meanwhile, if Olivia was still on the move and not the victim from the trunk, she was slipping farther and farther away. So was Michael Simpkins. So was hope that they’d ever fully resolve the case that had led to such upheaval in her life.
And how did Jimmy Vern Buchanan manage to weasel his way out of punishment for so many of his crimes? She pulled up the email response she’d received from her inquiry after the trial.
It made no sense that a man who had fully confessed to kidnapping, murder, moonshining, aggravated assault, and a host of other smaller crimes would ever be eligibl
e for parole. Yet, here was the proof. She could read the court summary a hundred times and it might never make sense. What exactly did he know about the Juarez cartel?
Though some of it had been redacted, it was clear enough Buchanan knew something huge, and was willing to put his life on the line in order to not have to put his life on the line. He’d agreed to share information in some big case, the name of which was blacked out—but which she’d already learned—in exchange for no death penalty. But it didn’t stop there. After ten years in a minimum security prison, he would be eligible for parole. Unbelievable. How could he possibly know something that monumental?
A knock on the front door made Annalise slosh coffee onto her hand. Who on earth was there before dawn? She drew her weapon and eased to the front door, peeking through the eyehole. “Zach.”
“I brought breakfast.”
She opened the door. “What are you doing here?”
“Is that any way to greet your cinnamon crunch bagel?” He smiled.
“By all means, come in.”
“I knew you’d be awake. I couldn’t sleep either.”
He handed her the bag and a large coffee cup. She peeked inside, inhaling the savory sweet aroma. “Aren’t you eating?”
“Ate mine in the truck.”
“Of course you did.”
“No sign of Michael Simpkins. I just got off the phone with Milt.”
“Lovely.”
“They are coming over.”
“They?” She knew he meant Henry, but she wasn’t sure she wanted that tension in her living room.
“Yeah, I’ll be good. I promise.”
“You’d better. Are we going to talk about this mastodon any time soon?” Elephant status had passed hours and hours ago.
“We will. I’m still processing.”
“I know, but I can help with that.”
“I know, but I don’t wanna.”
“You sound like a spoiled teenager.”
“So?” He elongated his whine and then sighed. “I’m really mad at him, Annalise. He had no right to let us believe...to let us wonder all these years.”
“It wasn’t your fault. Never was, Zach. Even if he had left for less valid reasons.”
Zach slumped onto the couch and hung his head. “My head knows that. My heart, not so much.”
She sat next to him and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “You’re an adult now. He is an adult. Surely the two of you can be adults about this situation.”
“Maybe.”
“I’m betting he feels just as badly, if not worse, about everything. Maybe, just maybe, you could give him a chance to show you the kind of man he really is?”
He shrugged her hand away. “I dunno if I can, Lise.” He drew a ragged breath. “It hurts too much.”
“I know.” She understood emotional pain better than ever now, but she would never truly understand Zach’s the way he did. Her parents were wonderful. Both of them.
Another knock echoed through the thick wooden door.
“I guess that must be them. You ready?”
He nodded, and Annalise let the haggard-looking men in.
Three hours later, with everyone hyped up on a zillion cups of coffee, they were no closer to figuring out where Olivia would have gone. Did the hair and blood in the trunk belong to her? The unspoken question floated in the air like an invisible mist, heavy and oppressive. Between that and the tension with Henry and Zach, the air in her living room became harder to breathe by the second. They were all four people of action, not of talking and waiting and wondering.
Henry excused himself to the restroom.
Annalise glanced at her watch. “I’ll call the lab. They’ve been open an hour now. Maybe we will get a miracle.”
She stepped into the kitchen to dial, but Zach stopped her. “How does Henry know where the restroom is?”
Annalise wrinkled her forehead. “I guess he just figured it was down the one hallway.”
“There are five closed doors leading off the living room, Annalise. Why wouldn’t he assume one of them was the guest bath?”
A weight sank in her stomach. “What are you getting at?”
“It’s like he already knows the layout of your house.”
Milt trusted Henry. Didn’t that mean they could too?
“We don’t know anything about him, do we?”
Annalise shook her head. “But Milt—”
Before she could finish her thought, Zach turned and stormed back into the living room. She hurried to catch up.
Zach stood at the end of the hallway, arms crossed over his chest, toe-to-toe with Henry. “How’d you know the bathroom was there?”
“Listen, son, it’s my job to know what I’m walking into.” Henry’s tone bristled, but he didn’t make a move to pass Zach.
“What does that mean?”
“I was here the other night, taking a look around the perimeter.”
Zach’s face flushed red. “You what?”
“I cannot be too careful in my line of work. You should understand that. Plus,” his voice softened. “I wanted to see you.”
“All you had to do was knock on the door.”
“I...I wanted to.”
Annalise’s heart wanted to reach out to this man. Clearly, he had a tender side too. It was buried like Zach’s often was, but it was there. “Listen, you two, discussion over. Henry, it was you that got Millie all in a tizzy the other night?”
Henry stepped around Zach and nodded.
“On the bright side, we have solved one mystery then. Let’s get to work on the one that really matters.”
She dialed the lab again and asked for an update.
“The hair fibers and blood match a deceased officer on file,” the technician said.
Annalise’s heart dropped into her toes. No, please no.
“Officer Joanie Greene, deceased in 2015.”
Annalise thought she said thank you as she hung up, but she couldn’t be sure. Olivia/Joanie had been in Michael Simpkins’s vehicle. And not three years ago.
“What is it?” Milt asked.
“The DNA matches Olivia.”
His face drained of all color. “It can’t be. She’s too smart, too good to...”
“We don’t know anything for sure, sir. It was a minimal amount of blood.” Annalise patted his shoulder.
“We must hurry. Her time is running out too quickly.” Milt strode for the front door and disappeared through it, leaving it standing open to the morning sunlight.
The three of them looked at each other and then followed silently.
“MILT, WHERE ARE YOU going?” Annalise called from behind him.
Where was he going, exactly? To Olivia. That’s all he knew. But if that thug had her at some point, what were the chances she was still breathing?
Milt leaned over the hood, both hands planted flat on the fender and tried to draw a deep enough breath to make the dizziness abate. “I don’t know.” He could barely hear his whisper.
Annalise leaned across from him. “Okay, let’s go find him.”
He gave her a half-hearted smile. “Thanks, Special Agent Baker. Hop in.” He’d known from the moment he hired Annalise, she’d be on his staff for only a short time. She had too much talent, too much potential to fade into the background of a sleepy town.
“Are you okay, sir?”
“No, not really.”
“You must have known Joanie very well.”
He could understand Annalise’s curiosity, but he wasn’t ready to share just yet. Yes, he’d known Joanie well. He could still imagine her scrunched up little face the first time he’d held her. Still see her tears the first time she’d wrecked her bike.
“Turn left here, sir.”
Milt shook himself from memories like faded photographs and did as she instructed. He glanced in the rearview and noticed Zach and Henry followed in separate vehicles. No surprise there.
“Maybe we missed something. Or maybe Sim
pkins came home.” Annalise smiled.
“I appreciate your fake enthusiasm.”
She chuckled. “I’m trying.”
His steps felt lined with stones as he approached the front door. Swung it open and waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. His nose to adjust to the stale cigarettes and dirty laundry.
“Henry and Zach went around back.” Annalise stepped through the threshold behind him.
A boot stuck out from behind the kitchen island. By the angle, he could tell it wasn’t an empty one. His throat clenched even tighter as he spoke. “Annalise, look.”
She slipped around him and approached the body. “It’s Simpkins.”
Great. He was their only connection to Olivia. And he was dead.
“Gunshot wound to the head. Close range.”
Annalise’s words sounded far away. Just like Olivia. Out there somewhere.
Never had he felt so useless, so lost.
Henry’s strong grip clapped onto his shoulder. “Got a lead on Domingo, Milt.”
“Where?”
“Local now. Must’ve followed the rest of them here.”
At least they wouldn’t be traveling to Memphis to speak with the man they’d considered second in command. Without proof, of course, and only in the privacy of Milt and Henry’s personal communications. “All right, let’s go.”
“You two can handle this, right?”
Annalise nodded.
Zach remained a rigid rock in the corner.
Milt’s mind wandered on the drive. Had it really only been five years since Memphis? It felt like a lifetime since he’d seen Olivia in person. He’d helped her disappear, redefine herself physically and on paper. She’d done the redefinition of her mental and emotional self by herself.
It had been the third most difficult decision he’d ever had to make, and yet easy since it was the only viable option to keep Olivia alive.
His first most difficult choice came when he left his first true love and their adorable little girl behind.
The second, when he chose divorce from a woman he loved but couldn’t keep safe or happy. Walking away from her and their kids had almost killed him.
The third, sending Olivia into a new life utterly alone.
