Web of Smoke (18 page)

Surprised, she opened the door. The man on the doorstep wore jeans and a blue button-down shirt. He handed her his badge to inspect.

“I’m Mike Simens,” he said. “Detective Simens.”

“Christie McCoy,” she answered automatically. Handing back his badge, she gave him a curious stare. “I didn’t expect a visit from the police. I was under the impression you guys were too busy for me.”

He nodded and shrugged, whether in apology or acknowledgment, she didn’t know.

“Do you have a few minutes to answer some questions?” he asked.

“Of course. Please come in.” She opened the door wider and moved aside for him to enter. “Has something happened? Did you catch DC?”

“No,” he said, managing to look both irritated and friendly at once.

“I didn’t think I’d be so lucky. So have you been assigned to my case?” she asked.

“Not exactly, but I may be looking for the same guy who attacked you.”

Christie blinked in surprise and waited for him to elaborate. But, having made this statement, he seemed in no hurry to further enlighten her.

He stepped into the cool house, pulling his sunglasses off and folding them into his pocket. He looked around, as if searching for a place to put himself.

“Would you like some iced tea?” she asked. “Come on into the kitchen and I’ll make some.”

Snort and Bear sniffed his shoes as he followed her to the kitchen and sat down at Sam’s breakfast bar. He looked at the dogs as if they were some new breed of rodent.

“I’ve got some questions about Porter,” he said.

“I didn’t think anyone had time to worry about him with all the kidnappings going on.”

“Yeah, well, Porter’s on the suspect list for the kidnappings.”

Christie caught her breath, exclaiming, “DC’s a suspect?’’

Mike nodded. “He’s been identified from a mug shot along with three other possibles.”

“I’m stunned. I mean, I knew DC was a sick individual, but I had no idea he’d go this far...”

Mike shrugged, patting his shirt pocket for his cigarettes. “Porter may be a false lead. The department’s number one suspect is among the three our witness picked out.”

“So you don’t really think DC is involved?”

“It’s too soon to say. Mind if I smoke?”

“Actually, I’d rather you didn’t.”

His surprised expression appeared comical on such a large man. He looked from Christie to his cigarettes for a moment, as if searching for a way to take back his polite question.

“Hell,” he said, crunching the pack in his big fist. “I should just quit.”

“You’ll feel better.”

“Better than what?” he asked, handing the crumpled pack over. Christie threw it away and gave him a glass of tea.

“What was I saying? Suspects—so far the department’s found a lot of dead ends, but that’s typical.”

“I heard that two little girls were taken last night,” she said.

“Yeah.”

He told her about the sighting in Seattle and the subsequent transfer of authority to the FBI. Christie sensed he needed a sounding board for his theories and she was glad to hear him out.

“The hell of it is, the department’s been claiming that one guy took both of them, if you can believe that. And now the FBI’s involved and they’re all for continuing the investigation on the same line.”

“How do you know? Maybe they’ll—”

“Believe me, I know how they operate. I’ve worked with them before.”

“You speak about the department as if you weren’t part of it.”

He let out his breath.  “Yeah.  Lately I’m not. They refuse to pursue the two-perpetrator theory at this time and they told me to butt out.”

“I can see their request made a big impact on you. Why aren’t they ‘pursuing’?”

“There’s some
forensic
evidence that’s got them convinced it’s the same guy taking all the girls. Since that fits nice and tidy with what they want the public to believe, they’re not going to rock the boat. They don’t want our good citizens to think there’s more than one bad guy out there and panic.”

“So they won’t even investigate DC?”

He shook his head with disgust. “If the media caught wind of that, this whole town would stink.”

“But they could be right, about the one guy. You said there’s evidence.”

“Yeah, but evidence can be planted. If this Porter is involved, he’s tried to make it look like the other kidnappings. He’s copying. But he made mistakes.”

Mike shifted on the stool, leaning forward as he spoke.

“See, until Monday, the department’s guy never grabbed a kid away from her mother. Never. He always caught her alone, on the way home from school or out playing. But last night the guy gets into the house through a little crawl space.” He paused, looking at Christie expectantly.

“Like a doggie door?”

“Exactly. The victim’s mother didn’t even know it was there. Then he
waits
for her to get home, brutally attacks her, and grabs the kid.” Mike paused. “Bells are ringing all over with me about DC Porter. Mrs. Mc—”

“Christie.”

“Christie, I read your statement. At the time, you thought he was a robber. Now you know who he is…. Could you fill me in?”

She could feel the comforting cloak of her privacy, her self-preserving silence, being tugged away. But there was no way she could deny Mike Simens any answer he sought.

Taking a deep breath, Christie explained about the locker key and her confirmation of DC’s identity before revealing, in detail, DC’s relationship with her mother, ending with his attempted rape and ultimate disappearance.

“You never reported the assaults?”

“No. I didn’t want to go public for a lot of reasons. Once he vanished, I didn’t see the point.”

“You say he worked with your mother? Does she know where he is? How can I get in touch with her?”

“My mother’s dead, but I think DC’s staying at her old place.” Christie told him of their meeting with DC’s neighbor, watching as he scribbled it down with the address. “I called the department with the information this afternoon, but I didn’t expect to hear back.”

“Is there anything else you can think of?”

“Well, I don’t know if this has anything to do with anything, but in the locker Sam and I found that belonged to DC, there were some files. Medical records.”

“Medical records?”

Christie grabbed them off Sam’s dining room table and handed them to Mike. He flipped through the stack, a frown on his face.

“I don’t know why DC had them,” Christie said, hesitating, as she wondered if she should give him DC’s application. “There’s one other thing, Mike, but it has to stay between you and me where you got it.”

“Okay.”

She retrieved the application from her purse, double-checking that it was a standard form without the clinic’s logo or name printed anywhere on it. Nervously, she handed it to Mike.

“The information is old, so I don’t how much use it will be to you.”

He took it, scanning the contents. “Thanks.”

He asked a few more questions but Christie didn’t think her answers told him anything he didn’t already know. Giving her his number, with instructions to call if she thought of anything else, he left.

Chapter Seventeen

She had almost managed to convince herself that DC wasn’t her son, but he persisted in showing up at unexpected times to remind her of his existence. Remind her of the pain and filth in which he’d been conceived. Remind her of his father—a man she desperately wanted to forget.

When her parents had agreed to take DC off her hands, she’d dumped her son without a second thought and never looked back. As if casting off chains, she’d looked forward to the future for the first time in her young life.

Never admitting, even to herself, that she’d seen her father offer DC’s hand as an appetizer to his dogs, she simply blocked the episode out, as she did with DC’s existence. Until he’d come back.

She met her own gaze in the rearview mirror. The first time DC had reappeared in her life, it hadn’t been so bad. She’d needed him. He’d helped her out. Solved some problems. Took his share of the take and left again. The perfect arrangement. Except he refused to stay gone.

She understood now what she hadn’t then. DC would always be back.

Turning onto the quiet street, she pulled her car into the drive of her rental house. Feeling conspicuous even though she had every right to be there, she hurried to the front door and let herself in with her key. Her footsteps echoed on the tile as she closed the door behind her.

“DC?” she called softly, looking around.

When he didn’t answer she began a silent search of the bare rooms that had once contained the memorabilia of her life. Her
real
life. The life that included her
real
family. Now it was contaminated by the return of DC.

She ended her inspection at the closed bathroom door. A hinge and padlock had been installed, locking the door from the outside. She found the key on the kitchen counter and went back to open it.

The bathtub had been padded with a blanket and a girl sat inside it. On the lid of the toilet, a bowl of cornflakes drooped in milk. The girl looked at her with widened, hopeful eyes and then shrank back, as if sensing an enemy instead of a savior.

Glaring at the kid, she felt swamped by two emotions. Pity and rage. Indirectly, the child was the crux of her problems, the hinge on which the door of dilemmas swung. What should she do about DC? What should she do about Jessica? Back and forth, back and forth.

She could care less what happened to DC. She wished a bus would run him over. She wished she had the nerve to do away with him herself. He was a fool.

The kid was another matter entirely and her whole future depended on what DC would do with her. She watched Jessica as the child sat staring back at her.

“You better eat your breakfast, kid. Who knows when you’ll eat again.”

Jessica nodded.

Sighing, she glanced around the room again. Over the bathtub was a tiny window, but it had been accidentally painted shut years ago. Even if the kid could reach it, she wouldn’t be able to force it up. Good. The bathroom was secure.

She stared at Jessica for a moment longer before locking the door behind her and leaving the house. She had to keep cool. Keep all her balls in the air. Stay sharp. Stay
very
sharp.

Chapter Eighteen

Mike
saw Kathy sitting on his doorstep when he got home and cursed. She’d drive him crazy before this was over. She bounded down the walkway and was face-to-face with him before he even got out of the car.

“What happened?” she demanded. “Did you talk to her?”

“Yes,” he said, automatically reaching for a cigarette, then remembering that he’d thrown them away. That had been a stupid impulse.

Kathy trotted beside him like a kid. “Well? Did she know anything?”

“I have a lead but don’t get all worked up. It could be a dead end.”

“But you don’t think so?”

“No. I think it’s your guy.”

Kathy’s agitation was palpable. “And?”

He stopped and faced her. “I have an address but he hasn’t been there for a while. I’m on my way now to question the neighbors.”

“I’m going with you.”

Mike continued to the door. “No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am. Just try to stop me.”

Mike unlocked the door and walked into his house. He went straight to the back door, where a giant German shepherd waited patiently to be let in. The dog stopped just inside the door and watched Kathy expectantly.

“Don’t worry, he’s harmless.”

“He doesn’t look harmless. He looks like a cross between a horse and a bear.”

“Come here, Rookie,” Mike commanded. Immediately, the dog obeyed. “He used to be a police dog. Took a bullet that was intended for me. Now he’s mine.”

“I’m sure you feel safe at night,” she murmured. Taking a deep breath, she opened her mouth to pick up the end of their argument.

Mike interrupted before she had the chance. “You’re not coming with me, Kathy. That’s final. It could be dangerous and I’ve got enough to think about without worrying about you.”

Kathy paled. “Of all the nerve! I fought this guy single-handedly—’’

“—and lost. Did you forget that part?”

“You bastard.”

Mike spun around to face her, grabbing her shoulders between his hands. Rookie looked instantly alert.

“Listen, Kathy. I know you’re tense. I know you’re worried sick about Jessica. But you’re not making it easy for me to want to help you.”

“Easy? Is that what you want? Easy?”

“Yes. Is that too much to ask?”

“Damn right. Easy was how I let you drag my husband where he shouldn’t have been. I’m not going to let the same thing happen to my daughter.”

For a moment he was so stunned by her accusation that he could only stare. Her embarrassed expression did little to stop his rising anger.

“I’m sorry, Mike, I shouldn’t have said—”

“I’ve really had it with you,” he interrupted her apology without hearing it. “You
pushed Dan. You were every bit as responsible for his death as I was. You drove him to it.”

“That’s a lie. We loved each other.” She felt tears prick at the back of her eyes and wrenched herself from his hands. “You’re just trying to hurt me. You’ve hated me since the first time you saw me.”

They were glaring at each other, their faces only inches apart.

“That’s not true,” he whispered in a cold voice. “The first
time I saw you, I thought you were beautiful. Breathtaking. But then you opened your mouth and the whole picture vanished. I’m going to find your daughter, Kathy. And then I never want to see you again.”

“Perfect,” she answered. “But I’m still going with you to see the neighbors.”

“You just don’t get it, do you? I don’t want you there.”

“It’s
you
who doesn’t get it. We’re talking about my daughter. My baby. I’m going.”

“Use that selfish brain of yours, Kathy. I’ll work better without you.”

“You’ll work harder with me.”

“You just don’t give up, do you?”

“I can’t afford to give up. My daughter’s life is on the line.”