by Beverly Long
“Just say it, honey,” Barrett said.
“What if those two men are behind Emma Whitman’s disappearance? What if they took her? Oh, Barrett. Doesn’t that just make you sick?”
Barrett Thompson looked at A.L. “My wife isn’t accusing anybody but I’ve learned over the years not to dismiss her ideas. She’s generally spot-on.”
“Can you describe the men in greater detail?” he asked, looking at both Gi-Gi and Barrett.
“White,” Gi-Gi said.
“Hair and eye color?”
“One had brown hair and the other had red hair. I don’t remember their eyes. Creepy, if that’s a color.”
“Height, weight?”
Gi-Gi looked at Barrett. He was evidently the height and weight expert.
“They were both kind of wiry. The redhead, I’d guess five-ten, maybe one fifty,” Barrett said. “The other was taller, could have been six feet. But not more than a hundred and seventy pounds.”
“Any distinguishing marks or tattoos?” A.L. asked.
“Not that I saw,” Gi-Gi said.
Coyote Frogg had a sleeve tattoo. Hard to miss unless he was wearing long sleeves. “Do you recall what they were wearing?”
“Dirty jeans. Shirts. Nothing memorable,” Gi-Gi said.
“Long sleeves?” A.L. asked.
“Yeah, I think so.” She smiled. “I guess that’s sort of weird. It’s been hot.”
“What were they driving?” A.L. asked.
“An old Jeep. The kind where the sides come off,” Barrett said.
“Color?”
“White. It was filthy, though,” Gi-Gi said. “Looked as if it hadn’t seen a car wash in several years.”
“Noticeable dents or marks?” A.L. asked.
“Not that I noticed,” Barrett said.
“Did you get a license plate?” A.L. asked.
Gi-Gi snorted, a most unladylike noise. Even Barrett looked surprised. “We were a little busy, Detective,” she said.
He’d had enough of these people. But he had one more question. “When they drove off, what direction did they go?”
“North,” Barrett said. “Away from town.”
North. In the direction of Dover. A.L. stood up. “Thank you for your time.”
* * *
It was almost 9:00 p.m. by the time A.L. drove back to the police station, the conversation with the Thompsons running through his head. The physical description was close enough to what Mr. Gibacki from Panini Playground had given them to call it the same.
When he got back to his desk, Rena was at hers. He quickly brought her up to speed on his conversation with the Thompsons. “Now, what did you find out about the funeral in Dover?”
“There was one. Burt Chrysler at the Smithe Funeral Home. No church service, everything at the funeral home. I reviewed the obituary and there was no specific mention of Davy Grace, although the obituary did say numerous nieces and nephews.”
“Cameras at the funeral home?” A.L. asked.
“Yes. I’m going to go look at the relevant footage once they email it.”
“You think it’s worth it?” A.L. asked.
“I do. I can’t explain it but I think Dover is important.”
“You think we’ve got a serial kidnapper?”
“I’m not saying that,” Rena said. “But I’m not going to ignore any Dover connection.”
“You’ve got a good gut,” A.L. said. “I think—” His desk phone rang. He picked it up. “McKittridge,” he said. He listened. “I’ll be right out.” He carefully put the phone back in its cradle.
“What?” Rena asked.
Her damn gut. He held his cards close but still, she knew that shit was blowing in the wind. “Nothing,” he said, his tone dismissive. Then realized that since he sucked at things like this, he might want to make good use of her gut and general knowledge of all things female. “Tess is in the lobby. Wants to see me.”
“About?”
He didn’t know but he didn’t think it was good. They’d been seeing one another for months and she’d never felt the need to visit him at work. Now it was late on a Friday evening. “I’m not a fucking mind reader,” he said.
“Well, then, I guess you’re going to have to go talk to her,” Rena said. She picked up her coffee and took a sip. She was enjoying this.
“I will.” He pushed his chair back. The walk to the visitor lobby was short. And there she was, perched on the edge of the cheap vinyl-and-aluminum chair.
She stood up. Didn’t smile. “I’m sorry to bother you at work,” she said.
Something was definitely not right. “Not a problem. There’s a conference room back here that we can use.” He held open the door. She passed in front of him. She smelled good. He wanted to reach out, give her a hug, bring her body in close to his, but he kept his hands to himself.
“What’s up?” he said, once the door was closed.
She licked her lips. “I got a call from Marnee. Guess who she ran into at her school dining hall?”
He had no fucking idea and wasn’t sure he cared. But that clearly wasn’t the right answer. “You tell me,” he said.
“Your ex-wife.”
“Jacqui?”
“You have more than one ex-wife?” she asked.
Of course not. “That’s odd,” he said. It was the best he could come up with. And it only came to him because Rena had said it earlier about the storage shed.
“Odd,” she repeated. “It’s not odd, it’s damn ridiculous. And I won’t have it, A.L. I won’t have Marnee pulled into your ex-wife’s drama.”
Jacqui could be a pain in the ass but she wasn’t the devil. “I don’t think she’s dangerous.”
She stared at him. Her pretty blue eyes were fierce. “Are you deliberately missing the point?” she asked. “Your ex-wife was on my daughter’s campus, in her dining room. Do you really think that was coincidence?”
“No,” he said. “What happened?”
“Jacqui made up some bullshit story about having a friend whose daughter was interested in UW-Eau Claire and they were touring the campus together.”
That probably was bullshit.
“Your ex-wife is stalking my daughter,” Tess said. “I’ll say it again. I won’t have it. She is too important to me.”
“I get that. My daughter is important to me, too.”
“You can’t understand. It’s just been the two of us for a long time,” Tess said.
“We’re not really going to argue over whose daughter is more important to them, are we?” A.L. asked.
Tess closed her eyes. Took a breath. “No. I’m sorry.”
“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, Tess. Jacqui pulled a fast one. Traci no doubt told her about meeting you at the mall and she decided turnaround was fair play. I don’t know what she’s trying to prove but I’ll tell her it needs to stop. Now. I’ll let her know—”
He paused at the knock on the door. Took two steps and opened the door. It was Rena.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, A.L.” Rena looked past him. “Hi, Tess.”
“Rena,” Tess said.
“What?” A.L. asked.
“We’ve got something.”
Thirteen
Rena felt like shit interrupting A.L. and Tess. The tension in the room was palpable.
“Tess, I’m...”
His voice trailed off as Tess held up her hand. “I’ve said my peace. Just take care of it, Able.”
Able. Rena stepped back to let Tess walk past her. She barely waited until Tess was through the double doors before turning back to A.L. “Your first name is Able?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Then why did she call you that?”
“Is that the important question now, Morgan? I’m hoping y
ou knocked on the door for something else.”
“Yeah. We have to go. The dogs picked up Emma’s scent in the backyard of a house, about two miles out of town.”
A.L. pulled his keys from his pocket. “I’ll drive. Who owns the house?”
“Alice Quest.”
His head snapped up. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”
Rena shook her head. Then started running to keep up with A.L., who was sprinting toward the door.
“That house has already been searched once,” A.L. said. They were in his SUV and he’d taken the turn out of the parking lot fast. “As was her vehicle. And she was in a classroom. All damn day. She’s the one who called the police.”
Rena didn’t answer. She had a feeling that A.L. was talking to himself.
It took less than five minutes to reach the address. There were already four other cop cars around the house. Two of them had their lights going. She also saw Chief Faster’s SUV.
The man must have seen them arrive because he came out of the house just as they were going in. “We’ve searched the property,” Faster said. “Emma isn’t here.”
“Was here, though?” A.L. asked.
Faster shrugged. “Dogs picked up her scent outside. Not inside.”
Alice Quest lived in a small ranch with a one-car attached garage. Her lot was maybe a half acre, nicely divided between a front and a backyard. There were no outbuildings, no place to hide a child.
“What’s the chance it’s a fluke?” A.L. asked.
“FBI said that they were very confident. That’s good enough for me,” Faster said.
There was a play set in the back. One of those nice wooden ones, with two swings, a good-sized slide and a climbing wall. The ground beneath it was a fine mulch. Rena remembered that Alice had told her she had two granddaughters.
“Where’s Alice Quest?” Rena asked.
Faster looked at his watch. “About right now, I’d say she’s walking into the Baywood PD. We pinged her phone, found her having dinner downtown, and Blithe picked her up.”
Rena felt ill. She really hadn’t wanted anyone at the day care to be responsible for harming Emma. It was such a betrayal. Alice and the others were supposed to be the trusted ones, the ones who maybe didn’t love the children as a parent would but goddamn it, would still step in front of the speeding train for them if it came to that.
What the hell would she do once her and Gabe’s baby was born? Quit work? Was that the only real option because day care wasn’t safe?
“The two of you should head back,” Faster said. “I want you to question her.”
“Okay,” Rena said. A.L. didn’t say anything, just started walking to his vehicle. They were headed back to town when he finally spoke.
“This doesn’t make sense,” he said.
“I know. Emma was outside but not inside? What kind of risk was that? There are neighbors.”
“Not super close,” he said. “And there’s some trees that impair visibility into the backyard.”
“Still. Are you going to abduct a child and let her play outside at your house?” Rena asked.
He shook his head. “She had to have had help. We have multiple witnesses who support the fact she was at the day care.”
Once A.L. had parked, they walked inside and went to find Blithe. “Where is she?” A.L. asked.
“Room 2,” Blithe said.
“She say anything?” Rena asked.
“Nope. She seems like a nice lady,” Blithe said. “It’s going to be a kick in the balls if she’s the one.”
How true, thought Rena. She had no balls but she clearly understood what Blithe meant. She turned and led A.L. back to the middle of their three interrogation rooms. When she walked inside, Alice Quest was sitting at the oblong table, a half-full plastic cup of water in front of her. She looked up when they entered.
“Detectives,” she said. “I’m assuming there’s news.”
“Alice,” Rena said, taking a chair. “Thank you for coming in.”
“It doesn’t seem as if I had much choice. It made for a rather awkward parting with my friend that I was having dinner with. I imagine she’ll have a few questions.”
“We picked up Emma Whitman’s trail,” Rena said.
Alice didn’t flinch. Just kept her eyes on Rena.
“On your property.”
“That’s impossible,” Alice said.
“We’re sure she was there,” A.L. said.
“Alice, tell us how she got there,” Rena said.
“I have no idea,” Alice said. “It makes no sense.”
That was exactly what A.L. had said.
“She doesn’t know where I live. I mean, maybe her parents have driven by and said Ms. Quest lives there but there’s no way she could get herself from the learning center to my house. It’s more than five miles.”
“She was there, Alice,” Rena said, keeping her voice gentle yet firm. Alice was talking and that was always better than having a suspect clam up.
Alice took a drink of water. Set her cup down. “I think I’m getting this. You didn’t bring me in here to tell me news. You brought me here because you think I had something to do with Emma’s disappearance.”
“We believe Emma was recently in your backyard and we need you to tell us about that,” Rena said.
“I don’t have a clue. Emma Whitman has never been in my backyard. None of the children from the day care have ever been at my home. I don’t mix business and pleasure. I give a lot of my life to the Lakeside Learning Center and generally, I’m pretty damn content to do that. But when I go home, I want to leave it behind.”
“So you’re saying that Emma has never been in your backyard or your home?” Rena asked.
“That’s what I’m saying. And quite frankly, Detective, if this is going to go much longer, I want to call my attorney.”
A.L. pushed his chair back and tapped Rena on the shoulder. “Excuse us for a minute,” A.L. said, looking at Alice.
The woman nodded.
Once they were in the hallway, A.L. leaned close. “What’s your gut saying, Morgan?”
“It’s not very talkative right now. But we don’t have enough to take this much further.”
“Agree. But we start digging,” A.L. said.
Rena nodded. There would be little they didn’t know about Alice Quest. “I’ll shake her loose,” Rena said.
A.L. turned to walk back to his desk. Rena reentered Room 2. “Alice, we appreciate you coming in. That will be all for today.”
“Do you believe me?” Alice asked. “Do you believe that I had nothing to do with Emma Whitman’s disappearance?”
Rena said nothing.
“Listen to me, Detective,” Alice said, her voice hard. “If even a whiff gets out that I might be a suspect, my business will be ruined. I’m not going to let the Baywood Police Department do that to me. Do you understand?”
Again, Rena was silent.
Alice reached for her purse, which had been sitting on the floor by her feet. She opened it, tore a piece of paper from a small lined notebook and wrote a name on it. She shoved it across the table at Rena. “That’s my attorney’s name. If you need anything else from me, you call her.”
Sandra Whitley. Alice hadn’t included a number.
“We’ll do that,” Rena said.
Alice picked up her purse and walked out of the room.
Rena went back to her desk. Pulled out her chair. Sank into it. “I don’t know, I just don’t know,” she said.
A.L. was scrolling through his cell phone. He looked up. “We keep working the case. All we can do.”
Rena leaned her head back, far enough that she could study the ceiling tiles. Finally looked at him again. “Tell me why Tess called you Able.”
A.L. sighed. “When we w
ere in California, I evidently spent a little too much time sleeping in a hammock. She was convinced that A.L. is short for Able Loafer.”
Rena laughed so hard that she almost fell out of her chair. “Thank you, A.L.,” she said, when she could finally talk. “I needed that. I really needed that.”
“Happy to help. Now I am going to take five minutes of personal time and go see my ex-wife and tell her to quit stalking Tess’s daughter.”
* * *
A.L. knocked on the front door of the house he used to live in. The house he’d liked. The house he’d painted and wallpapered, and where he’d cut the grass. The house that now felt very foreign to him.
The door swung open and Traci beamed at him. “Hey, Dad. It’s late. I didn’t know you were coming over.”
“Spur of the moment,” he said. “Did you check the peephole before you opened the door?”
“I’m the daughter of a cop. Of course I did. Checked it twice, to see if my visitor was naughty or nice.”
“Smart mouth,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Is your mom still up?”
“Yeah. In the kitchen.”
“Is she still dating Craig?”
“Why? You want to get back together?”
“Just answer the question.”
“Yes. I think she’s happy.”
“Good. Can you get her?” He stayed by the door, standing on ceramic tile flooring that he’d busted his ass to lay one summer weekend.
Traci narrowed her eyes. “Is this about me?”
“No,” he said honestly. “No more questions.”
“Okay. May the best man-slash-woman win.” She bounced down the hallway, her ponytail swinging. Damn, he loved that kid.
In a minute, Jacqui walked down the hallway. She was wearing shorts and a T-shirt. She’d put on a few pounds over the last ten years and it was starting to gather around her hips. But she was still an attractive woman, he supposed. “Do you have a minute?”
