Hour of Need (Scarlet Falls) (18 page)

Chapter Twenty-One

Ellie turned her car into her neighborhood. A police car passed her, lights on, and her pulse scrambled. She pressed the gas pedal harder.
No! It can’t be.

The police couldn’t be going to her house.

Nausea flooded her belly as she drove down her street. A police car sat at the curb next to the park. Two more were parked at Lee and Kate’s house. Relief, and then guilt, surged through Ellie. She shouldn’t be grateful the police were needed at her neighbor’s house instead of her own. Her gaze was drawn to the policeman taking photographs at the playground.

What had happened?

Ellie parked in her driveway, got out of her car, and slammed the door. With one eye on the Barrett house, she ran up to her front porch and went inside. An empty hush greeted her.

“Nan,” she called out in the foyer. Silence answered her. “Julia!”

Ellie hurried back to the kitchen and family room, but the rooms were empty. Nan wasn’t there. She’d made sure her grandmother was settled on the sofa before she’d left to deliver the files Grant had found to the firm. Ellie jogged upstairs and checked the three bedrooms anyway. No Nan. No Julia.

She raced outside and across the front yards. In the Barretts’ driveway, a uniformed officer stood next to his open cruiser and talked into his radio. On the front porch, she pressed the doorbell.

Another officer opened the door.

“I’m Ellie Ross. I live next door. What happened?”

“This way, ma’am.” He stood back and gestured for her to enter the house.

Ellie walked into the foyer, dread gathering behind her sternum. She looked up as Grant carried Faith down the stairs.

“Ellie.” He moved toward her. “Everyone is fine.”

“What happened?” she repeated. “Are Nan and Julia here?”

“Yes, and they’re all right.” His words were reassuring, but his eyes went flat.

Still, knowing that her family was OK made her light-headed with relief. Ellie reached for the wall.

“Whoa.” One-handing the baby, Grant caught her elbow. He steered her into Lee’s office. “Sit down. I’ll be right back. Keep your head down and breathe slowly.”

In the desk chair, she rested her elbows on her knees and let her forehead drop into her palms. The room pitched beneath her. Her vision went fuzzy. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on sucking air in and out of her lungs. The increased oxygen didn’t help.

They are all right. They are all right. Do not throw up.

Her inability to find the file hadn’t gotten her grandmother or her daughter killed.

Yet.

She heard the office door close. A hand splayed between her shoulder blades. Grant. The warmth and weight of his touch anchored her to the present.

Everyone was all right.

“Are you OK?” he asked.

Ellie lifted her head and nodded. The room tilted, then stilled.

“What happened?” she asked again, this time without the hysteria in her voice.

“Julia took the kids to the playground down the street for some air.”

“I told her to stay with Nan.”

“Nan is the one who sent her over. Your grandmother thought some fresh air would cheer them all up.”

“If I wanted her cheered up, I wouldn’t have grounded her.” Ellie swallowed her anger, but her hands clenched into tight fists.

“While the kids were at the park, a man approached them. Julia didn’t like the looks of him. She grabbed the kids and ran home yelling. Hannah chased the guy off. No one was hurt. I brought your grandmother over here just in case. I didn’t want her alone.” He paused, his gaze seeking hers as she stared at her fists. “They’re OK, Ellie. Your daughter reacted in exactly the right way. She listened to her instincts and saved them all.”

Ellie raised her chin. Her eyes locked with his. Her gut was screaming at her to trust him. He had taken care of her family while she wasn’t there. But could she count on him to keep quiet?

Thoughts spinning, she let her head fall into her hands. Her palms pressed against her temples as if trying to contain the terrible images rolling through her mind.

“Ellie!”

Hands shook her shoulders. She opened her eyes.

“Tell me what’s wrong.” Grant crouched in front of her. Concern filled the blue of his eyes.

She shook her head. How could she trust him? She’d just met him. He was a military officer. He followed orders and rules. He’d tell the police, and her family would suffer the consequences.

“Ellie, what is going on with you?”

Her eyes began to burn as fear overwhelmed her. Before she could react, Grant folded his arms around her. He didn’t say anything, just held her against his chest. She resisted for a few seconds, then gave in. His arms surrounded her with solid comfort. She buried her face in his shirt and stopped trying to hold back. Tears stormed her, part relief that her family was unharmed, part terror that next time they might not escape.

The outburst passed in a few seconds. She became gradually aware of Grant’s hand stroking her back. The touch was more than comforting.

She lifted her head from his chest. “I’m sorry.” Grabbing a tissue from a box on the desk, she blotted her eyes. “I’m not usually such a mess.”

Get your act together.

“Talk to me, Ellie.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

Unable to stay hidden, helplessness—and words—tumbled from Ellie’s mouth. “Because my family might die if I tell you.”

“What?”

“I’ve said too much.” She stood on shaky legs. “I’ll get Julia and Nan and go.”

“Julia and Nan are waiting to talk to the police. They can’t leave yet, and damn it, I want to know what the hell you’re talking about. Carson and Faith were in danger this afternoon, too. If you know something, you have to tell me. I won’t let anything happen to them.”

Ellie pressed a knuckle to her lips. No matter what she did, her family could be hurt. She was following orders, and Hoodie Man came after the kids anyway. And even if she gave him the file, she had no guarantees he’d leave them alone. She couldn’t win.

“Please, Ellie.” Grant put a hand on her arm. “I can help.”

“You have to promise not to tell the police.”

“I don’t know if I can do that.”

“Then I can’t tell you.” Ellie pulled away from him.

Grant stepped around her, blocking her path to the door. “All right. I’ll give you twenty-four hours.”

“Forty-eight.”

“Thirty-six,” he countered.

“Done.” Relief flooded Ellie. She wasn’t alone.

“But why not tell McNamara? He seems competent.”

“The man in the hoodie said if I told anyone, he’d kill my family.” Words spilled from her mouth. She told him everything that had happened from being taken at gunpoint from the firm parking lot to finding the heart and threatening note on her porch. “He said he’s watching me.”

“Do you have any idea who he is?”

“No.” She wrapped her arms around her waist.

Grant rubbed the back of his neck. “But I don’t understand. Why would he chase Carson and Julia? What could they possibly have to do with the Hamilton case?”

“I assume he did it to scare me.”

“And you still don’t want to tell the police?”

“No. They haven’t made much progress finding Lee and Kate’s murderer. The only physical description I can provide is average-size guy, probably not elderly. That’s not much to go on. If I tell them and they can’t find him, how long do you think they’ll be able to protect my family? Their resources are limited. You’ll be gone in a few weeks. My family will be alone—and vulnerable.”

A knock sounded on the office door, and they both went quiet. Grant opened the door. Detective McNamara stood in the hall. “I have Hannah’s statement. I’m going to question the kids. I’d like to take them down to the police station to do it. The county police artist is on her way to see if she can get a sketch. If we can come up with some suspects, I’d also like to show them mug shots. Is that all right with you?”

Ellie’s breath locked up. Would Grant give her away?

“Of course. We’re coming.” Grant’s hand settled under Ellie’s elbow in silent support. He steered her out into the hall, and they followed the policeman back to the kitchen.

Relief weakened the muscles in Ellie’s legs. Grant had kept her secret. But that was no guarantee that her family would be safe.

Chapter Twenty-Two

In the kitchen, Grant pulled Hannah aside. In the background, the baby cooed from a playpen parked next to Nan. “There are cops here, but when they leave, set the alarm.”

“I called Mac and left a message for him.” She lowered her voice. “He has Dad’s weapons collection. I asked him to bring it here.”

“He didn’t answer his phone?” Irritation and anxiety sparred in his chest. Damn Mac. How hard was it to keep his phone on?

Hannah shook her head and lowered her voice. “He keeps the firearms box in his attic. If he doesn’t call, we could drive out to the cabin and help ourselves.”

Grant nodded. He would love to have his M-4, but a machine gun was hard to conceal around the house, not to mention the difficulty of tucking it into his waistband.

“I wish I’d had my Glock this afternoon,” she said.

“Don’t blame yourself, Hannah.” Grant gave his sister a quick hug. “None of us expected this. I still don’t understand it, but from now on, we’re on guard. No chances.”

“Right.”

“You’ll look after Faith and Ellie’s grandmother?”

“I will.” Hannah’s mouth tightened, the ferocity of her expression sharpened by her lean face and edgy haircut. “I won’t let you down again.”

“You didn’t let anyone down, Hannah. You saved those kids.”

Her sideways glance was full of self-reproach.

“You’d scare the crap out of me.” But Grant’s attempt to lighten her mood only gleaned him a scant, tight-lipped smile.

He herded Ellie, Julia, and Carson into the minivan. He glanced at his nephew in the rearview mirror. Carson seemed to be holding up all right, but the boy hadn’t needed any more trauma. His eyes were too serious for a six-year-old. “Do you need to talk about what happened, Carson?”

The boy shook his head. “I’m not allowed.”

“Detective McNamara asked us not to discuss it until we’d given him our statement,” Julia explained.

“I listened,” Carson said.

“You certainly did. Good job, buddy.” Grant adjusted the mirror and studied Julia. The teen’s face displayed more anxiety than Carson’s. She had a better grasp of the danger they’d been in that afternoon. But neither kid had cracked under the pressure. They’d held it together like soldiers. From what Hannah had told him, Julia had behaved like a hero.

“OK. Well, we can talk about it afterward.” Grant backed out of the driveway and headed toward town. A glance at Ellie’s face showed her gaze fixed on the passenger window. Her revelation had rocked him.

His mind conjured up images of a man holding her at gunpoint and threatening her family and Ellie spending the next two days searching for the file.

Abducting Ellie was one more reason for Grant to extract payback. He’d given her a hard time agreeing to keep her predicament from the police, but the truth was, Grant wouldn’t mind finding his brother’s killer before the cops. Plus, Ellie made fair points about the lack of progress on the murder case and her inability to provide a description of her extortionist. Grant wanted the killer punished before he went back to Afghanistan. It wouldn’t be fair to force her to expose her secret and risk her family’s safety when he might have to leave her with the threat still viable.

Ellie and her family had worked their way into his heart over the past few days. In a perfect world, he’d tuck them under his wing along with his family. But nothing was perfect.

He parked at the police station and escorted them inside. Ellie and Julia took chairs in the waiting area. Carson walked in a circle, touching everything. His little hands ran over plastic chair backs and desk edges, as if he needed to ground himself physically in the police station to hold it together. Grant took a seat and offered the boy a knee, but Carson shook his head and kept moving.

While they waited for McNamara to get organized, Grant checked his messages. Mac hadn’t responded to his text. He would feel a lot better about Faith, Nan, and Hannah being alone if his sister had her handgun. Her hand-to-hand self-defense might be rusty after years as a corporate attorney, but she’d been a natural marksman at birth. Shooting came as easily to her as studying to Lee and sense of direction to Mac. Grant swore his youngest brother could find his way out of Siberia with a stick and a roll of duct tape. If only Mac were as reliable as he was directionally gifted. In the meantime, at least Hannah had Nan’s shotgun.

“We’re ready for Carson.” McNamara gestured toward an open door.

Grant put his hand on his nephew’s shoulder and guided him inside a small conference room. Five chairs surrounded an oval table.

McNamara stopped at the door. He motioned toward a slender young woman with long red hair and glasses seated at the table. “Kailee is a police artist for the county. She’s going to work with Carson while I take Julia’s statement. Then we’ll switch.”

“Good plan.” Grant settled in a chair, trying to look comfortable and hoping his attitude rubbed off on Carson.

“Hi, Carson. I’m Kailee.” Kailee smiled. On her lap she held a sketch pad and pencil.

“Hi, Kailee.” Carson crawled into Grant’s lap.

Grant hugged him close. No matter what happened, he wanted the boy to feel safe while he was reliving a scary incident.

McNamara crouched in front of Carson. “Kailee is really good at drawing people. Do you think you can describe the man you saw this afternoon?”

Carson turned his head to give Grant a questioning look.

Grant tightened his grip. “It’s OK.”

The boy pressed closer to Grant’s chest and nodded. “Yes.” His voice was small.

“OK, then. I’ll be back in a little while.” McNamara closed the door on his way out.

“Carson, tell me about the man’s face,” Kailee said.

“He’s always crying.”

Kailee tilted her head. “That’s interesting. How do you know?”

“He has a teardrop on his face.” Carson pointed to his own cheekbone, just below his eye socket. “Right here. It’s blue.”

Kailee’s pencil moved on her paper. “Like this?” She turned the paper to face Carson. She’d drawn the outline of a face with a tear where Carson indicated.

His head bobbed.

“Does he have any other pictures on his body?” she asked.

“He has a lucky charm on his arm.”

“A lucky charm?” Kailee’s pencil hovered above the page.

Carson’s missing drawings flashed in Grant’s head. “A shamrock?”

The boy smiled. “Uh-huh.”

“Show me where it is,” Kailee prompted.

Carson pointed to the inside of his wrist. “Here.”

Grant pictured the park and Carson and Julia being chased down the street. The tattoos seemed small. How did the boy get a clear picture? “How did you see the pictures? Weren’t you running away?”

“Today I was running.” Carson gave him a solemn nod. “But not last time I saw him.”

Grant’s heart missed a beat. “Last time?”

“He came to our house.”

“When?” Grant asked.

Carson’s eyes teared. He wiped under his nose with the back of his hand. “A little while after Mommy and Daddy left.” He sniffed and his little body shook with a single and silent bone-deep sob.

Grant hugged his nephew tighter and met the artist’s shocked eyes. The murderer had been to the house the night he’d killed Lee and Kate. If he’d missed them at the house, how did he know where they were going?

And he’d gone after Carson. The obvious reason why sent a blast of cold through Grant. His nephew could identify the killer.

“Carson, tell me exactly how you saw the man up close,” Kailee said.

“Julia babysits when Mommy and Daddy go someplace. She brought me macaroni and cheese. Nan made it for me special ’cause she knows I like it.” He took a breath. “Faith was crying, like always. I was watching TV. I’m not allowed to do that much, but Julia said it was OK.” Carson laid his cheek against Grant’s chest. “AnnaBelle barked, so I knew someone was outside. But I didn’t open the door ’cause there wasn’t a grown-up home.” He went quiet.

“If you didn’t open the door, how did you see the man?” Kailee prompted.

But Grant knew before the child answered. He pictured the chair in the foyer, Carson dragging it in front of the door and climbing on it.

Carson shrugged, his skinny shoulder moving in an abrupt up-and-down motion. “I looked out the peephole.”

Kailee continued her gentle questions, sketching while Carson talked. An hour later, Detective McNamara interviewed Carson while the artist went to work with Julia. The cop was brief, just asking the little boy to tell him what happened. Afterward, Ellie and Julia joined them in the now crowded conference room. Julia slid into the remaining chair. Ellie stood behind her daughter. With both kids’ input, Kailee had a rough sketch of the suspect.

Julia also confirmed the dog had been barking the night Lee and Kate were killed. “I was busy with the baby, though. I didn’t see anyone at the door.”

Kailee handed her sketch to Detective McNamara, who said, “Why don’t you take the kids and get them something from the vending machine in the break room?”

Carson gave Grant a questioning look.

“It’s fine. You’re safe here.” Grant pulled out his wallet and took out a few ones. He handed the bills to Carson. “Get whatever you want. I’ll be right here waiting for you.”

Carson took the money and followed Kailee and Julia down the hall to an open door.

McNamara studied the drawing. “Those tattoos suggest prison to me. The shamrock is a sign of the Aryan Brotherhood. We’ll enter this description in the National Crime Information Center and see if we get a match. We could get lucky. We’ll also get this picture out to the media. Someone might recognize him.”

Grant folded his arms across his chest and glanced at Ellie. “I don’t want Julia’s or Carson’s name on the news.”

With a grim nod, Ellie eased into the chair her daughter had vacated.

“Agreed,” McNamara said. “But attempted child abductions are big stories. I would expect the media to be all over this. There’s really no way to keep them out completely, but they won’t be able to name Carson or Julia because they’re minors. You’re lucky the press isn’t already here. We can’t stop them, so we might was well use them.”

“I saw on the news that my brother had agreed to represent the parents of Lindsay Hamilton in a civil trial. Do you think that could have anything to do with all of this?” Grant gestured to the kids in the break room.

McNamara scratched his head. “Honestly, we don’t know.”

“During the interview, the Hamiltons said Lee had discovered something about their daughter’s case.”

“We have no new evidence in the case,” McNamara said. “We never had enough to charge anyone. Bullying is harassment. Bullying someone until they commit suicide isn’t exactly murder. Bullying cases get a lot of national media coverage, but it’s damned hard to prosecute kids criminally. Sometimes a civil case is easier to win. Look at the O. J. Simpson trials. He was acquitted of murder, but found liable in the wrongful death suit.”

“So what kind of evidence would Lee need to win a civil suit?”

“That’s hard to say,” McNamara evaded. “We can’t ask your brother, and we don’t know what he had in mind. Do you?” The police would clearly like to have Lee’s file, too.

“No.” Sweeping a frustrated hand over his head, Grant glanced down the empty hall. Through the open door of the break room, he saw the little boy kneeling on a cafeteria chair at a round table. The artist handed him an open bottle of water and a bag of pretzels. Bluish semicircles of exhaustion hung under Carson’s eyes. His childish innocence and vulnerability sent Grant’s protective instincts rushing through him. “I’d better get Carson out of here before he’s spotted.”

“Give me a few minutes.” McNamara took the drawing and the verbal description with him to his office down the hall. “Let me make sure I have everything I need from him.”

“I can’t believe this is all happening,” Ellie said. “You know what this means, right? This guy is after the kids because they can identify him. They’re the only witnesses.”

She was right, and while the police were investigating the break-in and the attack on the kids, they didn’t know this guy had also threatened Ellie. Grant was tempted to come clean with McNamara, but he’d promised. And really, what could the cops do? They didn’t have the file. They had no idea who was behind all this, and all they had was the perpetrator’s description from the kids.

Their best bet was to keep looking for Lee’s notes and wait to see if the cops came up with any possible suspects from the composite drawing and kids’ descriptions. All Grant needed was a name to go on the offensive.