Every Waking Hour

by Joanna Schaffhausen

  “Hello. Just checking in to make sure you’re not dragging our child into any other police investigations. How is Tula?”

  “She’s fine. Would you like to say hello?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Reed found his daughter with her cousins, Renee and Callie, dancing in their pajamas and singing along to Taylor Swift. Reed was a tad alarmed to note his seven-year-old appeared to know all the lyrics. “It’s Mama,” he said over the din as he handed her the phone. He motioned for Renee to cut the music. “Come give me the phone when you’re done,” he told Tula.

  “Mama, guess what? I’m at Auntie Kimmy’s house!”

  Reed winced as he left the room, knowing he would get an earful about this later. Sarit was an only child to older parents who had long ago passed on. She had cousins in India she had met a few times, but stateside he and Tula were her family. She had always been intimidated by Reed’s ever-expanding brood of relatives and the way they were enmeshed in one another’s lives, whereas Reed relished the sense of belonging he felt whenever they were together, even if it did get noisy or uncomfortable at times. He wanted to give that same grounding to his daughter, the knowledge that there was a small army of Markhams on her side, ready to pick her up should she ever fall. To Sarit, it seemed like he was passing off Tula to whoever was handy, as though he didn’t value time with her, but Reed did not want his daughter to be a stranger to her extended family.

  Kimmy was on her third cup of coffee from a mug that read: ALL MY PANTS ARE SASSY. She watched him as he lowered himself into the empty seat next to her. “Did you bring up Houston?” she asked.

  “No, it didn’t seem like a great idea to get into that over the phone.”

  She smiled and tousled his hair. “Look at that—my little brother is learning.”

  “Do you even own any pants?” he asked as he ducked away from her touch. Kimmy dressed in skirts and heels almost exclusively.

  “Of course. I do yoga.”

  “With sass, I take it.”

  “Honey, I do everything with sass,” she replied, putting on the Southern drawl for effect, and he grinned and shook his head. She sobered and regarded him with serious blue eyes. “I looked over that paperwork you forwarded me. It does say that the custody terms can be renegotiated if either party doesn’t abide by the initial agreement.”

  “I have abided,” Reed protested.

  “You told me you didn’t always stick to the schedule.”

  “My life doesn’t happen on a strict schedule. Sarit damn well knows that.”

  “Yes, and that’s probably the source of your problem,” Kimmy told him. “You’re still with the other woman.”

  “What? I didn’t even start seeing Ellery until a few months ago. Sarit and I were long divorced by then.”

  “I am not talking about Ellery. I’m talking about your job. You remember–the thing that broke up your marriage. I’m sure in Sarit’s view, your work took you away from her and now it’s taking you away from Tula. She thinks she’s protecting her.”

  “Tula is right in there, with me.”

  “So you’re working a case with your seven-year-old daughter in tow? I don’t think I’d bring that up, either. And, as long as we’re laying all the cards on the table, then yes, there’s Ellery, too. Sarit doesn’t like her.”

  “Sarit doesn’t know her.”

  Kimmy frowned. Sarit hadn’t met Ellery, but she had. “All things being equal, that’s probably a good thing. She’s, um … well, she’s a lot.” Reed shot her a look and Kimmy held up her palms. “Hey, I like her. I do. Now. But you have to admit, Reed, she comes on like a freight train. She’s got nails in her closets. She nearly lost her job because she shot a guy in cold blood.”

  “A man who nearly killed me.”

  “I know.” She reached for his hand and squeezed it. “I know it all makes sense to you and her, and maybe that’s how love is supposed to be, but a judge is going to look at the considerable number of hospital bills and wonder whether she’s fit to be around kids.”

  Reed jerked his hand back at the word “love.” He didn’t say anything for a long time. “You’re saying I have to choose, then. Is that right?” He gave Kimmy a hard look. “Tula or Ellery?”

  Kimmy didn’t get a chance to answer. Tula came bounding into the room with Reed’s cell phone. “Here, Daddy. Mama says to tell you she’ll deal with you later.” She peered into his face, her eyes worried. “Are you in trouble? That’s what she says to me when I’m getting punished.”

  “No, baby.”

  “Good.” She slid into his lap and threw her arms around his neck. He hugged his daughter close, laying his cheek atop her shining hair, and he met Kimmy’s gaze. She looked away with a sad smile and Reed closed his eyes. If he had to choose, there was no choice at all.

  * * *

  Reed had one additional stop to make before returning to Boston on the train. Fortunately, Kennedy Harris worked as a barista in a coffee shop just one mile from the station. “How would you like to buy some cookies to eat on the trip back to Boston?” he asked Tula, who was skipping along beside him, swinging his hand back and forth as they walked.

  “Yeah, chocolate chip!”

  “Let’s see what they have.” His phone buzzed as he pushed open the door to the coffee shop. “Ellery,” the ID read. He took the call and prayed for good news. “How goes it?” he asked as he and Tula took their places at the end of the line.

  “We found the guy from the picture, Tyreek Cantrell. We’ve brought him in for questioning.”

  “Sounds serious.”

  “He’s got Chloe’s bracelet. The one from the day she disappeared.”

  They shuffled forward in line. “You don’t sound convinced he’s the guy.”

  “We checked the apartment, even going down to the basement. There’s no sign of her. He’s not giving off the vibe of an angry kidnapper, though. We’re letting him stew by himself for a few minutes before we hit him with the bracelet. Meanwhile, people here are divided on whether Teresa should do another televised plea.”

  “What does she want?”

  “She wants to do it.”

  Reed glanced down at his daughter. Of course a parent would say anything, do anything. Pluck out all their eyelashes. Give away their savings. Stand naked in Times Square and scream for God Almighty to smite them for their sins. The kidnapper was using this natural desperation for their own pleasure. Whoever it was didn’t care about Chloe. It was about making Teresa suffer, and Teresa would do so endlessly. Reed’s concern was the end game—taking Chloe’s life would be the final move. They had to hope the kidnapper hadn’t made it yet.

  “Reed? Are you there?”

  “Yes, just thinking.”

  “What do you say? Should she do it?”

  There were justifications either way from a tactical point of view. Conceding to the demand invited Chloe’s abductor to make further contact, and each contact increased the data they could draw on to find her. Giving in could also embolden the kidnapper to up the ante, moving them all closer to the end. But as he stood there, Tula’s warm hand in his, Reed answered like a parent, not an FBI agent. If this went bad, if the worst happened, he would want Teresa to know she had done all she could. “Do the TV appearance,” he said finally.

  “There’s not much else new. Just some additional security camera footage from the T. Chloe got on the Green Line at Arlington headed inbound.”

  “Can I see the footage?”

  “Sure, I’ll send it. What about you? Anything from Philly that explains this case?”

  “Nothing yet. I’m headed back to Boston shortly and I’ll fill you in then.”

  He heard voices on her end. “I’ve got to go,” she said.

  “Ellery—” He almost said, Love you, but bit it back. “Be careful,” he amended.

  She hesitated, like she heard what he didn’t say. “You, too.”

  At the counter, they ordered a milk for Tula, a coffee for Reed,
and a pair of chocolate chip cookies to go. Reed set Tula up at a small table with her iPad and went to pick up his coffee. The barista had a nose stud and bright red hair pulled back into a bun. She prepared the coffee in no particular hurry, looking preoccupied with her thoughts. Her name tag read: KENNEDY, so he knew he had the right woman.

  “Reed!” she called out as she brandished the paper cup.

  “That’s me,” he said, but he didn’t take the coffee from her. Instead, he showed off his FBI credentials. “Are you Kennedy Harris?”

  She didn’t look impressed. “You already know that I am or you wouldn’t be asking.”

  “My name is Reed Markham. I was hoping to ask you a couple of questions.”

  She waved at the expresso machine. “I’m kinda busy here.”

  “It’s important.”

  She rolled her eyes, but she hollered toward the back, “Hey, Max! Can you cover for me?”

  “It’s not your break yet!” a male voice yelled in return.

  “Tell that to the Feds.”

  A young man with floppy hair and visible arm tattoos emerged to look at Reed. He held up his ID again. “Holy shit, Kennedy. What did you do?”

  “Just cover for me, will you?” She pulled out a pack of cigarettes from her back pocket and headed for the door. “We can talk outside.”

  Reed took his coffee and brought Tula along to the sidewalk. Tula regarded their new companion with solemn eyes. “You shouldn’t smoke. It’s bad for you.”

  “I’ll quit tomorrow,” Kennedy said around the cigarette. She looked to Reed. “Talk fast. I’ve only got five minutes.”

  “I’m here about Professor Ethan Stone.”

  “Oh God, not this again.” She spun in a circle, her gaze to the sky. “I haven’t been anywhere near the guy. I swear.”

  “You filed a complaint against him with the university,” Reed said. “For inappropriate behavior.”

  Her gaze flickered to Tula, who was sucking her milk through a striped paper straw. “Do you always take children around with you on your cases?”

  “Never mind what I do. I want to hear about the complaint.”

  She blew out a frustrated breath along with a plume of smoke. “I made it up, okay? Is that what you want to hear?”

  “If it’s the truth.”

  “Ha, right. The truth. It’s out there—isn’t that, like your motto or something?”

  “Or something. Why did you make that complaint about Ethan Stone?”

  “Because he was an asshole who liked to stare at my breasts and then he flunked me. I studied for that exam, too.”

  “He stared at you. Did he do anything else?”

  “No,” she said, impatient again. “Not to me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I made up the complaint, okay? He didn’t corner me in his office and grab my ass. He did it to this other girl, Laurie Schofield. She told me what happened, and I saw the bruises he gave her. She didn’t want to make a big stink about it, though. Her grade was already an A.”

  “I see. So then you used her story in your complaint.”

  “If she wasn’t going to use it, sure. Someone should make the asshole pay, right?” She glanced at Tula. “Sorry.” Tula shrugged.

  Reed had to give Kennedy points for cunning. If the story was true, Ethan Stone would have recognized the details and known the true origin. It was a power play of epic proportions, but unfortunately for Kennedy, Ethan Stone didn’t blink. “Laurie didn’t come forward,” Reed said. “Not even when the investigation let him off the hook.”

  She turned her head away to blow out smoke. “It’s all fine when it’s just a story,” she said. “When it’s real, you don’t want to talk about it.” She looked him up and down, assessing. “What’s your angle here, anyway? Did some other girl get groped?”

  This, Reed thought as he considered Professor Stone’s grant, was the million-dollar question.

  18

  Conroy met with Dorie and Ellery in the hall outside the room where they were holding Tyreek Cantrell for questioning. He had the bracelet, which sat inside a plastic evidence bag. “The nanny has confirmed this is the bracelet Chloe was wearing the day she went missing,” he said. “We need to lean on this kid hard.”

  Ellery chewed her bottom lip. “I don’t think he’s our kidnapper.”

  “I agree, Captain,” Dorie said. “We found a kid who’s clearly spent the last couple of days sitting around in his underwear playing video games.”

  “He got that bracelet somehow. The press is crawling up my ass for answers, and right now, we don’t have any. So I’m telling you two as plainly as I can: go in there and get some.” He shoved the bracelet into Ellery’s hands. She looked to Dorie, who indicated with her eyes that they should just get this over with already.

  Ellery took a breath and pushed open the door. Ty had been slumped over on the table, but he righted himself quickly at their appearance. “Do I need a lawyer or something?”

  “You tell us,” Ellery said as she pulled out a chair. “Did you do anything you’d need a lawyer for?”

  “No,” he said defensively.

  “Then you don’t need one.”

  “I told you everything I know.”

  “I don’t think that’s true. For starters, where’d you get this?” She tossed the bracelet on the table in front of him. He stared at it a moment.

  “You took that from my room.”

  “Answer the question,” Dorie cut in. “Where did you get it?”

  “From Chloe,” he said reasonably. “She made it for me a few months ago. It’s, like, a friendship bracelet or something.” Color heightened on his cheeks. “I took it, but there’s no way I’m wearing some string of beads like that. I’d be laughed off the courts.”

  “Chloe was wearing a bracelet just like this the day she disappeared.”

  “She made two of them. One for me and one for her. Only I just told you, I don’t wear mine. I made pretend like I did because I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.” He spread his hands. “Is that it? Can I go now?”

  “Chloe had a second cell phone,” Ellery said, ignoring him. “What do you know about that?”

  He flopped back in his seat, deflated. “Man, I don’t know nothing about that. We played games and cracked each other up—that’s it. I don’t know what kind of cell phones she had.”

  “You didn’t buy her one? Maybe so you could keep in touch on a line not being monitored by her strict parents?”

  He made an offended face. “No. I gave her a stuffed kitten I won at the arcade once. That’s all.”

  “You seem to have a taste for expensive electronics,” Ellery said. “TV, gaming systems. Those shoes you’re wearing go for more than a hundred bucks. Where did you get them?”

  “Nike.”

  Ellery repressed a sigh. “I mean how did you pay for them?”

  “Nike.” They stared at him, disbelieving. “They gave me the shoes, man. I use them when I do my tricks, and it’s like advertising for them.”

  “Tricks?” Ellery asked, arching an eyebrow.

  “Yeah, on my YouTube channel—FlyGuy?” He got up lightning fast and seemed to walk sideways up the wall. Then he flipped over his head and landed on both feet. “See? I can show you.” He took out his phone. “I have more than three hundred thousand subscribers. The companies pay me to wear their gear.”

  “You realize we can check this.”

  “Check all you want. I got receipts. Gran lets me spend a chunk of it, and the rest goes in my college savings.”

  “College,” Ellery said.

  “Yeah, college.” He folded his arms across his chest. “You think I want to spend the rest of my life here? I got the grades. I just need the dough, and now I’m about sixty percent of the way there.”

  “That’s great,” Ellery said, meaning it. “Good for you.” Ellery had had to pay her own way through school, too, through even more dubious means, so she admired the kid’s ingenuit
y. She hoped like hell he wasn’t guilty of anything that could pull him from the ladder he was stubbornly climbing, one stunt at a time. “Back to Chloe,” she said, and he yanked the chair back out to take a seat with them. “You mentioned there was an older guy creeping on her. What do you know about that?”

  “What? How’d you hear that?”

  “The game last night,” Ellery explained. “That was us you were talking to.”

  He slumped in his chair. “Figures,” he muttered. He picked at his cuticles and his leg started to bounce under the table. “I don’t know much. Just that some older guy, one of her parents’ friends, was bugging her to send him pictures and stuff. He liked to hug her and once he grabbed her butt.”

  “Did she tell her parents?”

  “Naw, she was scared to. This guy’s been in the family for a long time. I think he’s some kind of lawyer?”

  “She never said his name?”

  “Not to me. I told her she should knee him in the balls real hard and let him explain how he got that injury.” He smiled to himself, remembering. “I didn’t think he’d really try anything serious with her. I mean, a lawyer messing with a kid like that, he could get in major trouble if she told anyone.”

  Ellery looked to Dorie. “Wintour,” she said softly.

  Dorie nodded. “I’m on it.” She left to run a background check on Martin Lockhart’s attorney friend, while Ellery returned her attention to Ty. “You’ve been helpful so far, thank you,” she said. “But I need you to think harder. Chloe needs you. Anything else you can tell us about her plans, her fears, her relationships—it could be the key to finding her.”

  He looked glumly at the bagged friendship bracelet on the table. “I wish I could help you. On TV, they’re saying that the kidnapper chopped off all her hair. Is that true?”

  “We’re not sure. Maybe.”

  “I liked to yank her pigtails, just a little bit. It made her laugh.”

  “Anything else she may have told you,” Ellery urged, leaning forward.