Читать книгу Single Father Sheriff - Carol Ericson - Страница 11
ОглавлениеKendall’s scream pierced the still night and turned the blood in his veins to ice. Coop had already been making his way back down the drive when he’d heard Kendall’s truck coming back to the house. Now his boots grappled for purchase against the soggy leaves on the walkway as he ran toward Kendall.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” By the time he reached her, he was panting as if he’d just run a marathon.
She’d stumbled back from the truck and stood staring at the tailgate with wide, glassy eyes. Raising her arm, she pointed to the truck with her cell phone. She worked her jaw but couldn’t form any words—no coherent words, anyway.
He pried the phone from her stiff fingers and aiming the light at the truck bed, he jumped on the bumper. The phone illuminated a light-colored tarp with something rolled up in it.
“I-it’s a body.”
His heart slammed against his rib cage when his gaze stumbled across a hand peeking from the tarp. He leaned in close, aiming the phone’s flashlight at the pale appendage, sniffing the air.
He smelled...turpentine. The hard plastic of the hand gleamed under the light and he poked it with the corner of the phone.
Pinching a corner of the tarp between his fingers, he lifted it, exposing the foot of the mannequin.
He blew out a breath and jumped down from the truck. “It’s not a body, Kendall. It’s a mannequin.”
Her eyebrows collided over her nose. “A mannequin?”
“Do you want to have a look?”
She hunched her shoulders and drew her shawl around her body. “No. What’s it doing in my truck? I didn’t put a mannequin in my truck. I don’t even have a mannequin. Why is it wrapped up like that?”
“Beats me, but I’m going to get a few of my guys down here to collect some evidence, and I’d better call the FBI.”
“FBI?” Her voice squeaked and she burrowed further into her shawl. “Why would you call the FBI?”
“I’m pretty sure the agents investigating the kidnappings will be interested in this development, or at least they should be.”
“Why?” She tilted her head and her long braid almost reached her waist.
“The mannequin?” Coop chewed on his bottom lip before spitting out his next words. “It’s a kid.”
Kendall choked and swayed on her feet.
He jumped forward to grab her and ended up pulling her against his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around her shaking frame. Beads of moisture trembled in the strands of her hair, and he brushed his hand across the top of her head to sweep them off.
“Let’s go inside. I’ll make those calls and you can warm up.” He rubbed her arms still wrapped in the shawl. “You’re shivering.”
“Do we have to?” she murmured against his chest. “You can’t use your cell phone for those calls?”
“And keep you waiting around outside while I do? No way.”
She placed her hands against his chest and leaned back, looking into his face. “I don’t want to go back in there and make a scene. I’m surprised they didn’t all come rushing out here when they heard me scream.”
“They didn’t hear you. I was standing on the porch and the decibel level is high in there. Someone even turned on some music, not to mention the house is set back from the street.” He spread his arms. “So, no alarm bells.”
“Until we walk into that house. They were already eyeing me in there like I was some kind of black cloud.”
Grabbing the edges of her shawl, he tugged. “It’s just a mannequin, Kendall, not a dead body. Just some kind of sick trick.”
“If you really believe that, why are you calling out your officers, the FBI and God knows who else?”
“Because we’ve had two kidnappings in this town, and that mannequin was left for you. If there’s any kind of forensic evidence in your truck, we need to get our hands on it.”
“All right.” She rolled back her shoulders. “Let’s get this over with.”
He ushered Kendall back into the house, but most of the guests were too busy talking, eating and singing karaoke in the corner to notice them.
As one of Daryl’s colleagues from Evergreen hit a high note in a 1980s rock song, Coop winced and squeezed Kendall’s arm.
She rewarded him with an answering grimace and an eye roll.
“Couldn’t stay away from the karaoke?” Melissa sailed forward, snapping her fingers and shaking her hips. Then her eyes widened and the smile dropped from her lips. “What’s wrong?”
Coop bent forward until his lips almost grazed Melissa’s ear. “Someone pulled a prank on Kendall by leaving a mannequin wrapped in a tarp in the back of her truck.”
“Why would someone do that?” Melissa clapped one hand over her mouth. “You think it has something to do with—” she glanced over her shoulder at her guests whooping it up “—the kidnappings?”
“Maybe, maybe not, but if it is just teenagers and we catch them, let’s just say this could be a teachable moment for them.”
“I’m sure that’s all it is.” She yanked on Kendall’s braid and grabbed a phone from its stand. “You can use our landline. Our reception is so iffy down here, we can’t always depend on our cell phones.”
Coop called the station first and asked the sergeant on duty to bring a forensics kit and send a squad car over. Then he plucked Agent Dennis Maxfield’s business card from his wallet and punched in his number.
While the phone rang, he covered the mouthpiece and jerked his chin toward an open bottle of wine on the counter. “Have another glass, Kendall. I’ll give you a ride home when this is all over.”
“Agent Maxfield.”
“This is Sheriff Sloane. There was an incident tonight I thought you might want to know about. Someone wrapped a tarp around a child-sized mannequin and put it in a truck bed to make it look like a body.”
“Sick SOB. What’s that got to do with the kidnappings?”
Coop turned his back to Kendall and Melissa chatting over their wine. “The truck belonged to Kendall Rush.”
Silence ticked by for two seconds. “Who?”
“Kendall Rush. Her sister Kayla Rush was one of the Timberline Trio.”
“Yeah—twenty-five years ago.”
Coop’s jaw tightened. “It’s a coincidence, don’t you think? If the mannequin had appeared in some random employee’s truck at Evergreen, I wouldn’t be as interested in it as I am.”
“Is your department already looking into it, Sheriff?”
“My guys are on the way.”
“We’ll let you handle...this one. Let us know if you find anything of interest to our case.”
Coop had a death grip on the phone, but he closed his eyes and relaxed his muscles. “Copy that, Maxfield.”
He held out the phone to Melissa. “Thanks.”
“Well? Is everyone going to rush out here with their lights spinning and guns blazing?” Kendall swirled the single sip of wine left in her glass before downing it.
“Couple of my guys are going to have a look—fingerprints, fibers, footprints. Then they’ll take the mannequin away and we can figure out where it and the tarp came from.”
“My guests are going to know, aren’t they?” Melissa’s gaze slid to the merrymakers in the other room.
Coop snorted. “By the sound of it, they’ll be too drunk to notice what’s going on. I hope they all have designated drivers.”
Ten minutes later, Sergeant Payton called to indicate he and the patrol officer were out front.
Coop popped a mini creampuff in his mouth and charged toward the front door, eager to escape the screeching duo on the makeshift stage.
“Hold your horses.” Kendall grabbed on to his belt loop. “I’m coming with you.”
“Are you sure?”
She covered her ears. “Even looking into the dead eyes of a mannequin has got to be better than this.”
Nodding, he opened the door for her, releasing a breath into the cold night. The wine had done her good, or maybe it was being around people oblivious to her uneasiness. He glanced back into the room, still frothing with hilarity.
That wouldn’t last long.
Both officers had double-parked their squad cars, since the party guests had left no room on the street. They broke off their conversation when Coop and Kendall exited the Rhodes’ yard.
Sergeant Payton pushed off the door of his car and met them at the truck. “We already took a look. Creepy.”
“Did you watch where you were stepping?” Coop pointed at the ground. “Ms. Rush and I already tromped through here before we knew what we had.”
The sergeant flicked on a spotlight to flood the truck bed and the area around it with light. “We had a look before, but either the person who planted the mannequin covered up any footprints and disturbances or the wind and rain did it.”
Coop crouched next to the back tire and examined the road. It hadn’t helped matters that Kendall had driven the truck away and then backed up. The moist dirt bordering the street showed no footprints except theirs.
The patrol officer joined them—a new kid named Quentin Stevens.
He held up a black case. “I have the fingerprint materials. Should I give it a try?”
“Why not? Dust the tailgate and all around the back of the truck.”
“Do the homeowners have a surveillance camera, by any chance?” The sergeant poked his head into the yard.
“Not that I know of. Like I said, Ms. Rush and I were both attending a party at the house. The owners are friends of mine. I think they would’ve told me if they had cameras, but I’ll ask.”
The front door swung open, and a couple descended the porch steps. As they looked up, they stumbled to a stop.
“What’s going on?”
Kendall cleared her throat. “Someone left something in my truck, probably a stupid joke.”
The couple, who had two kids at home, picked up their pace and approached the circle of white light. The woman spoke up. “What kind of joke?”
“A stupid mannequin.”
The man draped his arm around his wife and forced a laugh. “Teenagers.”
Coop shot a glance at his two deputies, willing them to keep quiet about the fact that the mannequin was a child and wrapped up to look like a dead body.
Melissa and Daryl must’ve ended the party because a steady stream of people started leaving their house, all drawn to the investigation area like lemmings to the sea.
Sergeant Payton and Stevens went about their business as Coop and Kendall fielded questions and kept the looky-loos at bay.
Finally, they all cleared out and when the last one drove off, Melissa and Daryl barreled down the drive.
Melissa took Kendall’s hand. “Anything?”
“Nothing yet, but they’re about to take the thing out of the truck.”
“Maybe we’ll find something when we bring it in.” Coop opened the back door of the squad car. “Lay it in the backseat.”
He turned to Daryl while the sergeant and Stevens wrestled with the mannequin. “Do you guys have a security camera on the house?”
“No, but after this? We’re getting one. Tell us the best model to buy and we’ll buy it.”
“Will do.”
“Sweetie, do you want to come inside for a while?” Melissa rubbed a circle on Kendall’s back. “You’re freezing, and I promise I won’t make you help clean up—unless you want to.”
“Thanks, Melissa, but I just want to get home.”
Coop raised his hand. “I’m taking Kendall home.”
“That’s okay. I think that second glass of wine has worn off by now.”
“Ha! Let me warn you, ma’am, if you attempt to get behind the wheel of this truck, I’m gonna have to arrest you.”
Melissa squeezed Kendall’s shoulder. “I can pick you up tomorrow, Kendall, to get the truck or if you want to leave the keys, Daryl can take it over in the morning.”
“If you don’t mind.” Kendall dug the keys to the truck out of her purse and dangled them in front of Melissa.
Melissa snatched them from her fingers. “Not at all. Go—warm up, relax. You’re in good hands with Sheriff Sloane.”
They said their goodbyes and Coop bundled Kendall in the passenger seat of his civilian car—a truck but a newer model than Kendall’s old jalopy.
He slid a glance at Kendall’s profile, which looked carved from ice. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“It might just be a joke. There’s some pretty sick humor out there, and you know teens.”
“You’re probably right. Why would the kidnapper want to expose himself to scrutiny before he collects his ransom?”
His hands tightened on the steering wheel in a spasm. She had to know that if the kidnapper hadn’t demanded a ransom now, chances are good he never would. None was ever asked for her twin sister.
Spitting angry droplets against his windshield, the rain started up again before he pulled into her driveway. Steffi hated the rain and another pinprick of guilt needled him next to all the others for making her stay in a place she didn’t like, a place that never seemed like home even though she was born here. It had seemed like a good idea at the time to stay. Now he wasn’t quite so sure.
He parked the truck and killed the engine. He’d at least walk Kendall up to the front door, not that he felt comfortable leaving her here after that stunt.
She swung around. “Do you want to come inside for a minute? I hate the rain.”
“Sure. This was supposed to be a relaxing evening for me, a kickoff to a few vacation days, and I spent the second half of it working.”
“Sorry.”
“I don’t blame you—not much, anyway.”
A smile quirked her lips, and she grabbed the door handle.
He exited the truck and followed her to the porch, scanning her outdoor lighting and the screens on her windows. She could use a surveillance system here, too.
She unlocked the door and twisted her head over her shoulder. “I think you’ll find it a little easier to breathe in here compared to this afternoon.”
He stepped across the threshold and took a deep breath. Not only did he not get a lungful of dust, but the sweet scent of a candle or some air freshener tickled his nose. “That’s better.”
“I can’t vouch for the rest of the rooms, but at least this one’s clean, and the kitchen and the bedroom where I’m sleeping.” She tossed her purse on the nearest chair. “I’m going to admit defeat and get a cleaning crew in to finish the job.”
“Probably not a bad idea.” He poked the toe of his boot at one of the boxes. “When are you going to have the estate sale?”
“As early as this weekend. You looking for some furniture from the Nixon era?”
“I think I’ll pass.”
“Would you like something to drink?”
He took a turn around the room, his gaze wandering to the cabinet where the phantom spider had been hiding. “Coffee, if it’s not too much trouble.”
“None, but do you need to get home to your daughter?”
Ah, he knew that was coming. “She’s having a sleepover with her friend, who happens to be the daughter of our receptionist at the station.”
“She’s five?” She crooked her finger. “Follow me to the kitchen while I make the coffee.”
He folded his arms and wedged a shoulder against the doorway into the small kitchen. “Yeah, Steffi’s five and a half, as she’ll be quick to tell you, and she’s in kindergarten at Carver Elementary.”
“Good, old Carver.” She poured water into the coffeemaker and punched the button to start the brew. “Are you...married?”
Knew that one was coming, too.
He held up his left hand and wiggled his fingers. “Nope.”
“Divorced?”
Even though it had been business, he’d poked into her personal life and that intimacy must’ve given her the impression it was okay for her to return the favor. She probably wouldn’t feel the same way if one of her clients turned the tables and started asking her personal questions.
“I’m sorry. I’m prying. Occupational hazard. You can just ignore me, if you like.” She turned and grabbed the handle to the refrigerator. “Milk with your coffee? No cream.”
“I take it black, and I don’t mind the third degree.”
“Yes, you do.” She pulled a carton of milk from the fridge. “Your face closed down, and your mouth got tight.”
“You’d be good interviewing suspects.” He took a quick breath and then blurted out, “She’s dead.”
Her hand jerked and the milk she’d been pouring into a mug sloshed onto the counter. “Excuse me?”
“My wife—she’s dead.”
“I’m so sorry.” She swiped a sponge from the sink and dabbed at the pool of milk.
He pointed to the coffeemaker, the last drips of coffee falling into the pot. “Coffee’s done.”
Kendall tossed the sponge back into the sink and poured a stream into his cup. Then she added some to the mug with the milk.
Taking the handles of both cups, she said, “Let’s go sit in the living room where it’s warmer.”
He took the mug from her. “Thanks.”
They sat in chairs across from each other, and he used the box next to his chair as an end table.
“Do you like Timberline?” She watched him over the rim of her cup and he got the sense that she had the same look in her eye when she was sitting across from a patient or a client or whatever term they used.
“I like it. I’m an outdoorsy kind of guy, so I like the fishing, hiking, rafting.”
“You’ve come to the right place for that.” She ran the tip of her finger around the rim of her mug. “Looks like Evergreen Software is making an impact on the area. Young and Sons Lumber had gone out of business before I left for college, and Timberline was in danger of becoming a ghost town.”
“Evergreen had already planted stakes by the time I got here, so I don’t have the before and after picture, except from the locals’ stories of the old days, and Mayor Young is always crowing about how much he’s done for development in Timberline.”
“Ah, so Jordan Young is mayor now.”
“Actually, he stepped down recently, but he’s a one-man cheerleading squad.”
“Timberline does have a storied history—from silver mining to lumber to high tech. It’s nice to see some life in the old place—maybe a little too much life.” She wrapped both hands around her mug. “What do you really think about that mannequin?”
He blew the steam from the surface of the coffee in his cup and took a sip. “I don’t think it was a coincidence that it was left for you, even if it was a joke. Everyone in town knows your connection to the old kidnappings.”
“I wonder if Wyatt got any surprises tonight.” She tapped her fingernail against her mug. “I’m not the only one in town connected to the Timberline Trio, although it’s just the two of us after Heather Brice’s family left the area. I don’t suppose her older brother, wherever he is, has been getting these little reminders”
“Good idea. I’ll check with Wyatt tomorrow. He’s still working on a job at the station for us.”
“I have a hard time believing it’s the kidnapper who left it. What’s the point?”
“He’s a kidnapper. Who knows? There could be a million reasons in his deranged mind—if he has a deranged mind.”
Her eyes widened. “It’s like you just said—he’s a kidnapper. Why wouldn’t he have a deranged mind? Anyone who kidnaps a child for whatever reason has to be sick.”
“These two kidnappings could be for a purpose.”
“You mean like some kind of ring?” She laced her fingers around her cup as if trying to draw warmth from the liquid inside. “I can’t bear to think about that possibility.”
“I know. Believe me, as the father of a young daughter, I can’t, either.”
“Someone like that wouldn’t hang around to plant mannequins in trucks.”
“Exactly, so we don’t know what we’re looking at yet, but I’m sure that mannequin is connected to the kidnappings, even if it is just a cruel joke on you.”
She yawned and covered her mouth. “Sorry. Not even coffee can keep me awake after the day I’ve had.”
“I’ll get going. Didn’t mean to keep you up all night.”
His mind flashed on keeping her up all night another way and as her brows lifted slightly, he had an uneasy feeling the therapist could not only read his face but his mind, too—unless it was all an act. A therapist didn’t know much more than a layman or a cop, for that matter.
“I was glad for the company. Having you here in this empty house made my jitters go away.” She rose from the chair and held out her hand for his cup.
“Good.” He handed her the mug. “Is it okay if I use your restroom before heading out?”
“First door on your right.”
After he washed his hands and stepped into the short hallway, he heard clinking glass in the kitchen. He glanced at the cabinet again.
Something had spooked her this afternoon, and then the mannequin had spooked her tonight. Was this a pattern? And didn’t he have an obligation to find out if it was?
He crept toward the cabinet and eased open the drawer, his gaze tracking through the contents.
“Shouldn’t you get a search warrant before you go snooping through my stuff?”
Her cold voice stopped him in his tracks. Then he plucked the pink ribbon from the drawer and turned, dangling it in front of him.
“Funny-looking spider.”
