Pierced: Pierced Trilogy Boxed Set (116 page)

“Yeah, I just … I keep thinking about you,” I tell her. It's not a total lie; I haven't been able to stop thinking about her since that amazing kiss in the kitchen this morning. “And after that kiss at breakfast you've got me daydreaming about tonight.”

There's a slight pause, and I can almost hear her smile over the phone. “You have just earned yourself a very special evening, Lieutenant Pierce,” she says softly.

I smile at her response, but my heart is still filled with anxiety. “Are you in your office?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Just … picturing you sitting at your desk, looking sexy,” I tell her.

“You sound a little bit horny this morning, Lieutenant,” she says with a slight laugh.

“Guilty as charged,” I smile. “And the kids? They get off to preschool okay?” I ask, my anxiety growing by the second.

“Yes, of course. Josh … are you sure everything's okay?” she asks.

I pick up the pictures with my free hand and stare at the image of Leo and Livvie's preschool building, and I know in my gut that everything is not okay. But I know that I can't tell her that. Not yet. “Everything's good, baby,” I tell her. “Listen, I've gotta go. But I can't wait to get you in my arms.”

“I look forward to it,” she says lightly. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

We hang up and I immediately search the contacts of my phone. There's another call I need to make. Now. And I know that I'm probably going overboard, but I don't know what the hell any of this means.

“Progressive Learning Preschool and Daycare.” The voice is friendly and familiar. I'm so nervous I can't remember the woman's name right now, but I know that we've spoken on a number of occasions.

“Yes, this is Lieutenant Joshua Pierce, Seattle PD.”

“Oh, of course! Leo and Livvie's daddy. What can I do for you?”

“Um …” Once again, I'm confronted with the fact that I have no real clue what to say. I think quickly, pulling on the first thing that comes to my mind. “Well, I know this is probably very silly of me, but … Leo and Livvie had a spat this morning. And I just wanted to make sure that they were okay.” That is a total lie. Their little argument after breakfast has nothing to do with this. I just need for her to tell me that there is nothing out of the ordinary going on today.

I can hear her laugh slightly as she says, “Well I'm looking at them right now and they are holding hands and singing Jingle Bells together. So, whatever they fought about this morning seems to be forgotten.”

I smile at her words, feeling a small wave of relief wash over me. They're okay. For now, everything really is alright. “Jingle Bells, huh? That's a favorite in our house these days,” I tell her.

“Yes, it's a crowd favorite here too, I'm afraid. And we were just about to make Santa ornaments for Arts and Crafts.”

“Well, don't let me keep you,” I tell her. “Listen, can we keep this phone call just between you and me? I don't want my wife to think I'm being silly.”

“Lieutenant, this was a very sweet call to make, and I don't think Mrs. Pierce would think you were silly. But it will be our little secret.”

We hang up then and I turn my full attention to the photos on my desk as the millions of questions that have been quietly going through my head suddenly start to scream at me. Who would send me pictures of my kids' preschool? What the hell kind of message are they trying to send? When were these pictures taken? Where the fuck does someone get off pulling a stunt like this? Why would someone do this? And most importantly, how the hell do they know where my kids go to preschool?

I set the pictures down and pick up the office phone, calling down to administration. I ask to speak with whomever delivered the mail to the detective section this morning and for them to come to my office. When I hang up the phone, I open the bottom drawer of my desk and pull out an evidence bag. Then I carefully place the envelope and the pictures inside and seal it. I don't have a clue what's going on, but I intend to get to the bottom of it.

After I talk to the lady who delivered the mail this morning, I start asking around the bullpen if anyone noticed anything or anyone out of the ordinary, but no one seems to know a thing. Frustrated, I head back to my office and sit with my head in my hands for a moment.
Think, Pierce.

Desperate for something to start making some sense, I reach for my cellphone once more, hitting another speed dial number, and wait for him to answer.

“Feliz Navidad,” Lee says with his usual cheerful voice.

“Hey,” I answer distractedly as I try to focus. “What's going on, Lee?”

There's a slight pause on the other end of the line and I know instantly what he's thinking. I have never been able to hide anything from Lee.

“Well, why don't you tell me what's going on, kid?” Lee says, and I can hear the concern and speculation in his voice. “What's wrong?”

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You remember back a few months ago at the FOP picnic when I showed you that letter I found in my unit box?”

“Yeah,” he answers slowly. “You said there hadn't been any other activity on that.”

“And there hadn't. Until today,” I respond. “I can only assume that the two incidents are related.”

“You get something else in your unit box?”

“No. This one came through the mail,” I tell him. “Addressed to me with no return address.”

“And what'd it say?”

“It's not what it said. It's what it
didn't
say. Actually, there was no note at all this time. Just pictures.”

“Pictures? Of what?”

“Of Leo and Livvie's preschool,” I tell him.

There's a slight pause before he says, “I'll be right there.”

*

Less than an hour later, I hear a brief knock on my open office door, and I look up to see Lee standing there. He says nothing as we make eye contact, and he closes the door as he strides in. I hand him the plastic evidence bag and he sits in the chair across from my desk and begins to study it. We're both silent for a long time, and I can see his mind working as he turns it over in his hands.

“When you got that note a few months ago, you had a theory,” he says finally, his eyes still studying the pictures in the bag.

“Yeah. But I checked back then, and Echols is right where he's supposed to be,” I reply.

“So, what are you thinking now?” Lee asks, looking up at me.

“I got no fucking clue, Lee,” I tell him honestly. “I don't even have anything tying the first note with these photos, but I can't assume that they're isolated.”

“No, you can't,” he agrees. “But you also can't make the mistake of assuming they're connected either.” I nod my head in agreement, but say nothing. “What's your next move?”

I shrug my shoulders as I look at him. “I have been sitting here staring at those pictures and wondering how this could all be an innocent misunderstanding. But no matter how I come at it, I can't shake the feeling that someone is threatening my kids. Or at the very least … they're attempting to scare the shit out of me by making it look like they're threatening my kids. Either way … they've got my attention! And I have no choice but to treat it like a case.”

As if on cue, there's a knock at my door once more, and Conner sticks his head in. “Hey, sorry to interrupt, Lieu. You got a minute?”

“Yeah, come on in, Dave,” I mumble. “Whatcha need?”

“Hey, Old Timer,” he smiles at Lee as he steps in and closes the door behind him.

“Hey, Conner.”

“We did it,” he smiles at me. “Got a confession out of Bennett; he's being booked as we speak!”

He looks proud of himself, and I can't help but return his smile, even though I'm in knots right now. “That's great work, Dave. And it couldn't have come at a better time, because you and Marsh just caught another case. Top priority.”

I watch as his expression changes. He glances at Lee and I, taking in our somber expressions. “What's up?”

I look back at Lee, who's still holding the evidence bag, and gesture toward Conner. Without a word, Lee hands the bag to him and I watch Dave's brow knit together as he begins to study the contents of the bag.

“What am I looking at?”

“That envelope of pictures was on my desk this morning,” I reply.

He looks up at me. “This is why you were asking if any of us saw anything unusual this morning?”

“That's right.”

“Okay. What are these pictures of?” he asks, studying the photos once more.

“The twins' preschool.”

His head snaps up and his eyes lock with mine again. “Are you joking?”

I give him a blank stare. “Do I look like I'm joking?”

“Shit,” he mutters.

“I want you to start by going over those pics and the envelope with a fine toothed comb. Dust them for prints, check out the paper they're printed on. Then go and pay a discreet visit to the preschool. Try not to alarm the teachers, but I want to know if any of them has seen anything or anyone out of the ordinary. A person or a car hanging around that's not normally there. And while you're at it, look into the teachers themselves. Get me a background check on each one of them.”

Lee and Dave both look at me like I've just stepped into the deep end, but I stand my ground and return their stares.

“What? We can't just assume this is about me. As much as I hate to think about this possibility, my kids are Colbys. That automatically makes them targets!”

Lee nods slowly. “I'm afraid you're right, kid. This could be about Colby money. And since Lucas's son and Megan's little boy aren't old enough for preschool yet, the twins are easier to isolate from a kidnapper's point of view.”

“But would a kidnapper send a warning?” Dave asks, looking from me to Lee and back again.

“Sure, if he's ballsy enough,” Lee answers. “It's not like we haven't seen it before. Remember the Martelli case back before I retired?”

A grimace crosses Dave's face as he recalls the gruesome kidnapping of the Martelli girl. Daughter of the department store tycoon. The kidnapper sent a warning in the form of a letter that went ignored. Once she was taken and the FBI was called in, the ordeal stretched out for days. It didn't end well for the little girl. The Martellis were devastated. I shudder thinking about it.

“Look, son,” Lee says quietly. “I know how Sammy feels about this subject, but you might want to think about putting some security on her and the kids. At least until we know what we're dealing with here.”

“And you know that I can't do that without her asking questions, Lee,” I counter. “I don't want to tell her about this until I know exactly what
this
is. If I tell her about this now, all it's going to do is make her a nervous wreck, and that won't be good for the twins or the baby.”

We talk for a while longer and Dave heads out to finish up his paperwork on the attempted murder case and to get started on his new assignment. And when Lee finally leaves, I spend the rest of my day trying in vain to concentrate on my job. When my work day is over, I can't wait to get out of here and get home. But my mind is troubled on the drive home and all through dinner. And I try very hard to pay attention as I listen to Samantha talk about her day and how things are going at the foundation, but I know that she can sense something's off with me. She knows me so well.

After dinner, we all move into the large family room, and the twins are eager to show me the Santa ornaments they made at preschool. I pick each of them up in turn and help them to hang the ornaments on the Christmas tree. And I can't help but laugh when a chorus of Jingle Bells starts up as I take a seat on the couch. I am so sick of that song. Sam sits down beside me and I pull her into my arms.

“Are you going to tell me what's bothering you?” she asks as the kids play on the floor near us.

I can feel my stomach tighten up at her question, and I run my fingers through her hair as I hold her close. “I just had a crappy day at work, that's all,” I say quietly.

“You want to talk about it?”

“Not particularly.”

“What can I do to pull you out of this funk, Lieutenant?” she purrs, looking up at me.

I meet her warm gaze, my fingers still playing in her hair, and I give her a small smile. “You did promise me a special evening,” I say softly.

“Yes, I did. But you don't seem to be in the mood anymore.”

I shake my head at her. “I am always in the mood for you, baby. You should know that by now.”

She smiles at me, and leans up to softly kiss my lips. Then she snuggles closer to me as she looks over at the brightly lit Christmas tree with its multi-colored twinkling lights. And I get lost in the lights myself as my mind replays the events of the day.

I'm still thinking about the strange photos and trying to decipher what it might mean when Leo and Livvie begin to argue over something. She's taken one of his toys again and won't give it back. I listen in a sort of fog as Samantha tries to reason with them and calm the situation down, but the screaming only escalates. I'm trying my best to drown it out when I hear the loud smack of his little hand against his sister's face. Instantly, my blood runs cold as images from my childhood flash in my mind.

“Hey!”

My deep voice is louder and harsher than I mean for it to be, sounding gruff and full of anger. And I can see that Samantha is just as startled as both the kids are. Livvie bursts into tears, holding a hand to her face as she rushes to Sam. And I reach out and gently take Leo by the arm and pull him to me.

“What did you do?” I ask quietly, looking into his little eyes with an intense glare.

He looks scared, which is not my intention. I don't want my children to fear me the way I did my old man. And I try hard to dial it back several notches as I think about that.

“I hit Wivvie,” he says timidly.

“Were you supposed to hit Livvie?” I ask him.

“No,” he answers, his little eyes trained on mine.

“Why not?”

He hesitates a beat, and I can see his little mind working. “'Cause boys don't hit gurls.”

“And why don't we hit girls, Leo?”

My questions are coming in rapid-fire succession, but I know that I have his undivided attention, and I know that he remembers the answers. This is a conversation I started with my son at a very early age. One that I intend to drill into him until he's a man.