The Taking of Carly Bradford. Ramona Richards
it if you would keep this to yourself for a bit. We don’t want any wild speculations getting back to Jack and Nancy before we have a chance to talk with them. You know how it is.”
Jenna glowed at his confidence in her, as he had hoped. “Of course, Tyler. I’ll keep it quiet until you say otherwise.” She held up two fingers. “Scout’s honor.”
“Thank you.” Tyler released her and motioned Wayne and Fletcher to follow him. They remained silent as they returned to the cars. Wayne left with the evidence he’d gathered as Tyler and Fletcher settled into the sedan. Tyler scratched the patient Patty behind her ears, barely glancing at his friend as they fastened their seat belts and left the house.
Tyler finally cleared his throat. “Everything okay?”
Fletcher gave a quick nod. “That woman talks more than anyone I’ve met in a long time. And clingy. She never left my side. Kept trying to pump me for info.” He rolled his shoulders, as if to push away the encounter.
Tyler fought a smile. This wasn’t the first time Fletcher’s striking Eurasian looks had gotten him unwanted attention. Women around Mercer found Fletcher to be both handsome and exotic, and some never resisted the temptation to flirt shamelessly. Such attention, however, never failed to annoy the happily married detective. “I appreciate you getting her away from the scene. See anything else suspicious in the house?”
Fletcher glanced at him, then finally grinned. He straightened his shoulders, as if to shake off the last of Jenna’s advances. “No. The kitchen and living room were clean, just the usual clutter of a house that’s actually used. Not a lot of light. She said she’d been cleaning, and the dishwasher was running. She went on about how expensive the heating oil had been this winter, and that she was having trouble with air in her pipes making them rattle. She talked about her daughter, told me she’d been following Carly’s story.”
Tyler looked out the window at the passing suburban houses. They all looked so…normal…“Yeah. Elaine. Wayne and I discussed that might be why the kidnapper left the dress with her.”
“She said any mother worth her salt would be watching around every corner.”
“Like Dee.”
“You think it was her mother’s instinct that made Dee fight for the sandals?”
Tyler nodded. “She’s still a bit of a wounded bird, as you well know. Stronger, but the idea of losing a child resonates deeply with her.”
Fletcher swung the car through a turn and headed for downtown Mercer. “You want me to drop you at the house or the station?”
“The station. I’ll make sure Wayne doesn’t need anything else from me right now, then walk home. Patty’s been patient, so I’m sure she’d love a chance to stretch her legs.”
Fletcher pulled into a parking spot in front of the storefront office, and Tyler got out, snapping his fingers for Patty, who bounded out of the car and halfway up the block and back before Tyler could reach the door. The Mercer police station, a converted storefront, had been both a dime store and a bank in years gone by. Now it held Mercer’s tiny force of five officers, a dispatcher, and Wayne, who did double duty as detective and crime scene specialist. One of their three dispatchers always sat behind the front desk to greet visitors and direct them to the proper officer for a complaint. A cheaply paneled wall separated the front from the bull pen area where the officers and Wayne had desks. The wall extended the width of the building, creating a front hall and waiting area.
Two doors in the wall allowed access to the back. One led to the bull pen. The other opened onto a narrow hallway leading to the police chief’s office and two interrogation rooms.
A bell clanged over Tyler’s head as he pulled the door open, and the third shift dispatcher, Sally, looked up. She acknowledged her boss with a nod of the head toward the bull pen door. “Wayne beat you back by about five minutes. Anything I can do?”
“Thanks. Think we’re covered.” He entered the bull pen, Patty trotting behind him. Normally silent at this hour, the room echoed with Wayne’s shuffling evidence bags and paperwork. Tyler sat down next to his desk. “You going to stay long?”
Wayne shook his head. “I’m going to lock everything in my desk, then e-mail the lab to let them know I’m sending the dress and shoes tomorrow.”
“Take them.”
Wayne paused in his work. “What?”
“I want you to deliver them. I’ll call Rick before I leave and see if his folks can put a little pressure on the process.”
“You sure?”
“Yes. Tomorrow will mostly be spent with the Bradfords. I want to show them the shoes and dress first thing. Then you can take them.”
Wayne hesitated. “Show them before—”
“They’ll know whether they’re Carly’s.”
“Tyler, I don’t—”
“Tyler.” The sharp voice interrupted them, cutting through the deliberation. They turned toward the door, where Sally stood, distress on her face. She continued without pausing. “The security alarm at the retreat is going off.”
FIVE
The alarm siren sliced through Dee’s brain, blurring her vision and making her teeth ache. Dizzy from the pain of the attack as well as the alarm, she pressed her hands over her ears as she braced herself in the doorway leading from the hall into the lodge’s great room. Moonlight laced through the windows, creating stark bands of silver light throughout the room, while the lights that ringed the house flashed like yellow, disco-era strobe lights.
Near the door, Maggie frantically entered the alarm code into a keypad with one hand, while the other clutched a baseball bat. Both hands trembled furiously, but she succeeded. The alarm went silent and the outside lights stopped flashing. She turned on the inside lights, and the women looked at each other. Maggie swallowed hard and renewed a two-handed grip on the bat. “Are you okay?”
Dee nodded once, then whispered, “Where’s Fletcher?”
“Still with Tyle—”
Maggie’s words broke off as the front door burst open. They both screamed, whirling toward it. Fletcher stood there, gun drawn. His gaze swept the room, then focused on his wife. “You all right?” His voice, low and guttural, sounded like a drum in Dee’s ears, and her knees felt weak. Stumbling forward, she fumbled for one of the soft chairs near the fireplace on the front wall and sank down into it.
Instead of answering Fletcher, Maggie nodded toward the back door, which stood open. Following her lead, Fletcher exited cautiously onto the back deck, scanning all around him. Maggie watched him go, then a horrified look crossed her face as a raw wail echoed through the house. “David!” She fled down the hall on the other side of the great room, toward her baby son.
Dee drew her knees up to her chest and pushed deeper into the chair, confusion clouding her mind and adrenaline making her shiver. She realized that her thoughts remained locked in a swirl because of the painkillers she’d taken, but she couldn’t blame the drugs for the maelstrom of emotions within her. A black fear blended with a stark sense of loss yanked her back to the dark days following Mickey and Joshua’s deaths, when daily she felt as if she were being pulled into a bottomless pit.
“I can’t do this again.” Her choked voice sounded flat and unfamiliar, as if it were not her own, and the fear spiked again. This time Dee realized the fear came not from the alarm or the attack but from deep within. A fear that this would push her back to the chasm of grief that she had dwelled in for so long.
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