Читать книгу Silent Witness - Diane Burke - Страница 11

TWO

“Sal, can you come in here for a minute?” Liz placed her purse in the bottom drawer of her desk.

The wiry Italian strode in. His brown shoulder harness held his Glock in place. Muscular biceps puffed out the short sleeves of his black T-shirt. A thin gold necklace ringed his neck. He grinned, his teeth white and even, and it was all Liz could do not to laugh. He was a walking caricature of a mafioso wannabe—an Italian tough guy. He knew it and played it to the hilt for the ladies. She’d found herself immune to this particular part of his charm years ago.

Sal folded his wiry body onto one of the straight-back chairs in front of her desk and crossed an ankle on top of his knee.

“Never thought you’d be one of the missing-in-

action’s. Where you been? The spa?”

“I wish.” Liz ignored his lighthearted teasing. He’d been her right hand for over four years now and she didn’t know what she’d do without him. “Wait a minute. Does Country Corners even have a spa?”

“Sure does. I heard the Thompson pig farm offers mud baths at half price this week only and they’re selling fast.”

“That so?”

“Has to be true. I got it straight from Gertie Simpson’s mud-caked lips.”

Liz laughed out loud at the mental image of old maid Gertie Simpson covered with mud and thinking it was a beauty remedy.

“Okay, I admit that was a good one. Now, get serious and fill me in.” Liz sat down and pulled her wheeled chair closer to her desk. “I take it you met with the state boys.”

“Sure did. Detective Frank Davenport will be acting as liaison between our people and his men. They’ve agreed to handle the physical evidence—follow up with the state lab on the ballistic reports, prints and so on. They’re also investigating the Hendersons’ background prior to their move here.”

Liz nodded and continued listening.

“Darlene enlarged all of the crime scene photos. She gave copies to Davenport and posted the other set to our board in the conference room.”

Liz breathed a sigh of relief. Adam had been right. A couple hours of sleep hadn’t prevented progress from being made on the case.

“Anything helpful in the photos?”

Sal shrugged and took a sip of coffee from the cup he’d carried in with him. “Not yet. You know how that goes. You don’t know what is or isn’t helpful until you have more of an idea about what happened in the first place.”

“Thanks, Sal. I appreciate you coordinating things for me.”

“No problem.” He grinned at her like a kid who’d nabbed the top score on a school test and then continued updating her. “Our department’s handling the investigation of the Hendersons since their move here in January. I’m running a check to see if there are any business ties we should be looking into. Paul’s checking out Mrs. Henderson’s social calendar. He’s also interviewing neighbors to see if anybody saw anything—which is unlikely since the houses are so remote and secluded out there, but it’s worth a shot. Miller’s off this shift. I sent him home. I figure the guy’s kissing retirement. Don’t see any reason to ask him to work double shifts. Not yet, anyway.”

“Darlene?”

“She’s on a B and E call. I don’t know—home invasions, murders, dead drug dealers, breaking and entering. All of a sudden our quiet little town isn’t so quiet anymore.”

“Tell me about it.” Liz pulled a mug out of her top drawer and looked longingly at Sal’s coffee cup.

He laughed. “Want me to grab you a cup of coffee, boss?”

“I’ll get some in a minute. Want to catch up first.”

He leaned over and poured half of the contents of his cup into hers. “Here, that should hold you over.”

Liz grinned, leaned back in her chair and took a welcome sip of the hot liquid. “What would I do without you, Sal?”

“Just remember that when reviews roll around,” Sal quipped.

“I’m glad you sent Tom home. We don’t need two cops dead on their feet. I was at the hospital all night and had to grab a couple of z’s myself. My mind was becoming mush.”

“How’s the kid?”

“They had to sedate him. He hasn’t come out of it yet.”

“I still can’t believe there was a kid in the house and the killer missed him. I can’t believe we missed him the first go-round.”

“He hid in his mother’s closet under a pile of blankets. Thank the good Lord, the killer did miss him,” Liz replied. “He’s such an adorable little boy…and he’s our only witness.”

“Think he’ll be able to identify the shooter?”

Liz leaned back and gazed up at the white ceiling tiles. “I really don’t know. He’s only five. Besides, he’s autistic.”

“Autism. I’ve heard of it but don’t know exactly what it is.”

“It’s a psychological disorder that affects language and socialization skills. Even if he saw the killer, I’m not sure he would be any help in identifying him.”

“So, what you’re telling me is that we have a witness that can’t tell us what he witnessed. What kind of luck is that?”

“At least the little guy is alive. That’s a plus. We’ll know more when he wakes up.”

“Do you want me to head over to the hospital and see if he’s awake yet? I don’t have a lot of experience with kids, but I’m willing to give it a try and see if I can get something helpful out of him.”

“No, but thanks. Dr. Morgan is a highly respected psychiatrist. He’s taking care of Jeremy. He’ll let us know the second anything changes.”

Sal slammed his foot back to the floor and stood up. “Then I’m out of here. I’m headed over to Henderson’s business. Try to see if anyone there got passed over for a promotion or had their nose bent out of shape for any other reason.”

“Be sure to report in,” Liz called to his departing back and laughed when he waved her away like the nag she sometimes knew she was.

* * *

The following morning, after several hours of fielding phone calls, reading reports and reviewing the crime scene photos, Liz came up for air. Progress on the case was slower than she’d like, but at least it was moving forward.

Liz glanced at the phone on her desk. Why hadn’t Adam called? It had been three days since the murders and two since Adam took over Jeremy’s case. There had to be some news to share by now.

The mental image of the six-foot blond-headed doctor played over and over in her mind.

Adam’s back.

More handsome than ever—in a mature adult way. The gangly teen finally grew into his feet, shoulders widened, muscles rock hard. He looked like that gorgeous young actor she’d seen when she’d watched an old classic movie marathon last weekend.

She hadn’t known how she would feel when she saw him again. She expected to be disappointed, maybe even nurse a tinge of pain for old hurts—but instead she had felt an unexpected sadness for years lost. She’d expected to feel wells of hatred—but the Lord’s Prayer had put a quick end to that.

What she hadn’t expected was his ability to still snatch her breath away.

She thought she was going to melt into a puddle on the floor when he’d looked at her with those golden-brown eyes—and when he’d placed a hand on her shoulder to comfort her, she could have sworn her heart had physically flip-flopped in her chest.

She slammed her hand on the desk. What was the matter with her?

She’d decided years ago to pursue a career and not entangle herself with any permanent relationships.

It had been difficult following in her father’s footsteps while trying to blaze a trail of her own. She’d had to devote herself one hundred per cent to her job. She’d worked hard, putting in long hours, but over the years it had paid off. She’d gained the respect of her team and her community. She couldn’t afford to let down her guard now. She didn’t have time for a man in her life, any man, and particularly one who had already broken her heart once before.

Another hour passed and Liz tried not to stare at the minute hand on the wall clock or jump each time the phone rang. Usually, she could lose herself in work, but not this time.

She drummed her fingers on her desk. What was she going to do with Jeremy when Adam did call and tell her the child could be released?

Darlene had done a thorough family background check on the Hendersons. Both Kate and Dave had been only children. No relatives to lay claim to the boy. So, what was going to happen to him?

Liz didn’t have the heart to place him with Child Protective Services—not yet, anyway. Being autistic, she knew Jeremy would never understand what was happening to him. He’d been through so much already. He needed placement with a family trained to handle special-needs children and, unfortunately, she didn’t think there would be much to choose from here in Country Corners.

Besides, Jeremy was a material witness for their murder case. Child Protective Services would have no means to protect him.

Liz stared out the window but didn’t focus on anything she saw.

“What did you see, Jeremy?” Liz spoke the words aloud, almost as if the walls could talk and might provide the answers she desperately needed. She ran through the crime scene in her mind for what was probably the hundredth time.

If he had seen the killer, would he be able to identify the person from a photo lineup of suspects? If and when they ever came up with a suspect, that is.

She knew she had to try not to be so impatient. It had only been three days. They’d find something. They had to.

Liz stood up and looked through the blinds of her office window.

Great! Just what I need.

Two reporters from the local newspaper were buzzing about in the parking lot. How was she going to keep the situation under control if the national media picked up the story and ran with it? She could picture the sensationalized headlines.

Double Homicide in Small Town. Little Boy Only Survivor.

As soon as the press broadcast the existence of a sole survivor and possible witness, would the killer return to tie up loose ends?

A tight, painful knot formed in the pit of her stomach.

She glanced one more time at the clock. Jeremy had to be awake by now. Well, no more waiting. She grabbed her purse and muttered a string of unflattering descriptions of Dr. Adam Morgan for not calling her with an update. But why should he? Not calling her was his specialty.

* * *

Adam, standing in the hall in front of Jeremy’s room, had an unobstructed view of Liz Bradford storming down the hall in his direction. If she could breathe fire and shoot lasers, he would be under attack at any moment. He knew he should keep a cool, calm, professional facade but he couldn’t help himself. After all, this was Lizzie. When they were kids he had always gotten great pleasure out of pushing her buttons and watching her explode.

“It’s about time you showed up,” he said as soon as she was within earshot. “I was beginning to think you didn’t care a hoot about this boy.”

She came to such an abrupt halt it looked like she’d slammed into an invisible force field. Her eyes widened and her expression clearly showed she thought that he’d lost his mind. When she saw the grin on his face, she exploded right on cue.

“What are you talking about? I’ve been waiting to hear from you. Why haven’t you called me with an update?”

Adam laughed out loud. “Calm down, Lizzie. I was just about to call you. I’ve been tied up with the boy.”

His explanation seemed to appease her for the moment. When he took one step too close to her personal space, however, the warm fuzzies were gone and she stepped back.

She shifted beneath his gaze, and the sparks of anger he’d seen when she’d first approached quickly faded to something else—a wariness, almost like an animal that had been hurt and wasn’t sure if it was going to be hurt again.

“I told you. Nobody calls me Lizzie.”

“I do.”

That’s how he’d always think of her…Lizzie…tall, lanky, spirited, beautiful Lizzie. She looked up at him, and he thought he might drown in the pale blue of her eyes.

“Just tell me about Jeremy, please.” Liz chewed on her bottom lip and waited for his answer.

“Okay…Sheriff.” He nodded in deference to her request. “The boy is doing as well as can be expected under the circumstances. I was just about to call you. I need to know how much longer the house will be off-limits.”

“Why?” She eyed him warily. “If you need clothes or toys or something, I would be happy to pick them up for you.”

“That’s not what I’m asking. I want to know if you’ve finished gathering evidence for the forensic portion of your investigation.”

Liz studied him like a specimen under a microscope. “It’s been three days. To my knowledge, we’ve already gathered all the forensic evidence. I’ll have to check with Detective Davenport and verify that he’s finished with the premises but the house will probably be available sometime tomorrow. Why?”

“Because I want to take Jeremy home.”

“Home? To his home? You can’t be serious.” Her shocked expression was almost painful to see. “We haven’t even had a team in there to clean the place!”

“I have already arranged for a cleaning service from Poplar Bluff that specializes in difficult stains and hazardous materials to go in and sanitize the house. They’re on standby. As soon as you give me the go-ahead, I’ll call them. The place will be spotless before we arrive.”

She planted her hands on her hips. This time he could actually feel the heat from the laser look she shot him.

“The worst thing you can do is take him back into that house after everything that has happened. He’s been traumatized. He doesn’t need to be reminded of it.”

“That’s one school of thought.” Adam kept his voice soft and calm so he didn’t upset her more. “Some psychiatrists will tell you to avoid the place where a trauma occurred. I don’t necessarily agree.”

“Of course not,” Liz hissed. “You’re just like your father, aren’t you? Following in the same footsteps like a clone instead of being your own person.”

Adam felt a flush of anger warm his neck and cheeks at her biting barb. He realized he wasn’t the only one who knew which buttons to push to get a rise.

“Don’t do this, Adam. Please. You know what living in a place where a terrible tragedy occurred can do to the survivors. You saw the devastation up close and personal.” The pleading tone in her voice verified his assumptions. This wasn’t just about Jeremy. This was also about Luke.

“Jeremy has been through a major traumatic event. He needs to start to heal,” he said.

“You think I don’t know that?”

“Autistic children, on the whole, do not function well with sudden change. They require structure and repetition in their lives.”

“Well, go ahead and provide him with structure and repetition—someplace else. You can’t expect him to live in that house. Not now. Not since his family…”

Adam noted the near hysteria in her voice, the tense body language. Liz fought to remain calm and logical but she was losing the battle. The thought of returning Jeremy to the crime scene was obviously plunging her back in time…Luke and Jeremy…past and present…all swirling around in a painful mess and coloring her decisions. He knew he had to tread as lightly as possible but he also knew that he couldn’t budge on this issue regardless.

“Liz, I understand your concerns. I do.” He reached out a hand to comfort her. She moved away before he could connect and a shaft of pain hit his heart. He understood her desire to steer clear of him. He deserved it. He’d treated her abominably and he didn’t deserve her kindness or forgiveness. But it hurt just the same.

He pulled his hand back, ran it through his hair and sighed heavily.

“I believe that being in familiar surroundings is the best thing for Jeremy. He is barely holding it together. I know he won’t understand why his family isn’t there, but their belongings will be…and his belongings…and I believe it will help him recover.”

She continued to stare at him, her arms wrapped tightly and protectively around her body.

“Think about it, Liz. If he did witness the murder, it might trigger memories for him. You might find out something useful for your investigation.” Adam caught her gaze with his. “Don’t you want a professional with him when he begins to deal with his loss? I intend to be there with Jeremy. I will help him through it, I promise.”

“You’re moving into the house, too?”

“Yes, of course. Someone has to be with the boy until I feel we can safely transition him to a more permanent placement.”

He could tell from the expression on her face that she was carefully weighing his words.

“Trust me.”

Her eyes flashed at his words. “Trust you? Like my family trusted your father with my brother, Luke? Like I trusted you before…before…”

If she had slapped him with every ounce of strength in her body, it couldn’t have hurt more. He knew she wasn’t trying to hurt him. She was reacting to her own pain and not thinking. The words probably popped out of her mouth before she even knew what she was going to say.

But words can be as lethal as weapons and once spoken can’t be erased.

Adam put up his own protective shield. He hardened his body language and the tone of his voice.

“Sheriff, it is my professional opinion that Jeremy Henderson needs to be in familiar surroundings in order to be able to process through his trauma. It will also give state officials time to work on a more permanent living situation for him, with people trained in dealing with his special needs. I am hoping not to get any opposition from the sheriff’s department on this move. However, I am perfectly willing to get a court order if you insist.”

“I think you are making a terrible mistake, Adam.” Her eyes pleaded for understanding.

“Jeremy isn’t Luke.”

“You think I don’t know that? The situation is totally different.”

“That’s right, Liz, it is.” He waited, giving her the time she needed to think things through and come to grips with the situation.

She searched his eyes for some sort of reassurance. “You’re moving into the house with him? You promise that he will never have to go through anything alone.”

“Yes.”

“Fine. Let me make a call. If Davenport is finished, you can have the cleaning crew go into the house today.” She took a step toward him, her body taut, her posture threatening. “I don’t want there to be anything, not one tiny thing, left behind to remind that child of the violence that happened in that house.”

“Consider it done.”

Adam could read her expression like an open book. She was struggling with the question of whether or not she could trust him.

They stood in the hospital hallway simply staring at each other. The minutes ticked away while her heart battled with her head. He knew from the steely glint in her eyes when she’d reached her decision—and somehow he didn’t think he was going to like it.

“I’ll meet you tomorrow at 4:00 p.m.”

“That’s not necessary, Liz. I can drive the boy myself.”

“If you don’t want to be forced into court for a ruling on this, then you’ll do things my way.” Her body language told him that her terms were nonnegotiable. “I am going to make sure nothing happens to that boy physically or emotionally. I will not let you repeat the damage your father did to Luke or to my family. I will be driving you to the house. Is that understood?”

Adam stifled the desire to lash back in anger and simply nodded his agreement to her terms.

Liz started to walk away and then turned. “By the way, if you are moving into the house with the boy, then be prepared, Freud, because I am, too.”

* * *

He turned off his headlights, eased into a parking spot across the street from the hospital and cut the engine. He glanced at his wristwatch in the glow from the streetlamp. Ten minutes past midnight. He looked up and down the deserted street. No one around. He was safe for the moment.

He shouldn’t be here. He knew that. But he couldn’t stay away.

He stared into the darkness and wondered which lit window in the multifloored hospital belonged to the boy.

How could this happen? How could there have been a child in the house and he hadn’t known? He hadn’t seen any toys. There’d been a room filled with odd things like a funny-looking hammock swing hanging from the ceiling, some mats on the floor and a computer in the corner. He’d thought it was some kind of weird exercise room. It never dawned on him that there might be a kid in the house.

Passing headlights illuminated the inside of his vehicle. He ducked down and his heart surged with a rush of adrenaline. The risk he might get caught was like a natural high. Who needed drugs?

He did. Too often and too many.

He cursed himself for his stupidity. He shouldn’t be in this situation. He should have taken care of everything at once.

Why hadn’t he seen the kid?

He slammed his hand on the steering wheel.

Then a glimmer of hope filled his mind. If he hadn’t seen the kid, maybe the kid hadn’t seen him, either.

It was all over the news that there was something wrong with the kid. He had problems talking or something. So he probably couldn’t tell anyone about him, anyway.

But could he afford to take the chance?

No.

He had no choice. He had to find out what that boy had seen before the boy had a chance to tell anyone else.