Читать книгу Once a Family - Tara Quinn Taylor - Страница 12

CHAPTER FOUR

SANTA RAQUEL, CALIFORNIA, had to be heaven on earth. Sedona, who’d been born and raised in the quaint coastal town, sat on her deck Tuesday evening, sipping a glass of wine, munching on Havarti, grape jelly and French bread, while she watched the waves come in. Again and again. Washing to shore. Going back out to sea. Only to return again.

They were steady. Assured. Reliable. Sometimes they were angry and plowed onto the beach with the force of a minibulldozer. Other times they were calm, almost sleepy, sliding quietly up on the sand and dissipating with hardly a trace left behind. But, always, they were there.

Like the love her parents shared. With each other. And with her and her brother, Grady, a pediatrician in Scottsdale, Arizona.

She didn’t know what she’d do without her older brother in the background of her life. He was her best friend. Her confidant.

She couldn’t imagine being afraid of him....

Sedona sipped. Bit off a piece of cheese and then breathed, pulling the salty tang of air deep into her lungs. Washing away the day’s impurities from her bloodstream as the ocean’s energy erased twelve hours’ worth of tension, blanketing her in peace. When she felt a little more relaxed, she’d go in and change out of the navy suit she’d worn to work that day. Slide into some workout clothes and take a walk on the beach.

Grady had called the night before. Her older brother’s wife was expecting their second child. A man who’d dedicated his life to caring for children, Grady had clearly found his own piece of heaven when his son, two-year-old Cameron, had been born. And now he’d have heaven times two.

Sedona was happy for him. She liked to hope that he’d found a bit of heaven in his wife, Brooke, as well. She just didn’t see it.

The flap of the doggy door sounded behind her, and Sedona waited for Ellie—short for Elizabeth Bennet from the Jane Austen novel—to appear. The rescued, seven-pound poochin had to knock a few times before she trusted the entry and exit way Sedona had had installed for her. Every time she went in or out. Heavy plastic whooshed against metal framing again. And then Ellie made her appearance on the wooden decked balcony, stopping about a foot short of Sedona and staring at her. The little miss didn’t make a sound. Didn’t scratch at her or jump up. She just stared.

“You could just take yourself, you know,” Sedona told her, setting her glass of wine down on the round glass-topped wicker table next to her as she scooped up her apricot-colored family member and carried her down the three steps to the small patch of fenced-in grass she’d had planted the week after she’d adopted her Japanese Chin/poodle mix.

Ellie had been a couple of months old then. Sedona had been visiting Grady and had attended a barbecue with him and Brooke in a little town called Shelter Valley, Arizona. She’d heard about the animal rescue organization being run out of the local vet’s office and had asked to see the current rescues.

And had fallen in love with Ellie on sight. The little girl held herself with dignity even after spending the first eight weeks of her life locked in a windowless shed with so many other puppies there hadn’t been enough floor space for them to live without lying on top of one another.

Even now, three years later, Ellie didn’t travel far alone. She completed her business a short distance away and came right back, jumping a couple of feet off the ground to bounce off Sedona’s hip.

Catching her in midair, Sedona thought about a walk on the beach. And noticed the Richardsons outside with their four-year-old son. The private stretch of beach behind her small house was shared by four other homes. And tonight she felt more like finishing her glass of wine than socializing.

Besides, Joshua, the Richardsons’ son, liked to run after Ellie. His parents thought he was playing with the little dog. To Sedona, who admittedly coddled her little girl, the activity seemed more like torment.

Margie Richardson saw her and waved. Still holding Ellie, Sedona knew she was going to have to go say hello. And could feel the tension beginning to seep back into her bones.

She took one step and her phone rang.

From the table. On her deck. Next to her glass of wine.

“Saved by the bell,” she said softly to Ellie as she waved once more in the Richardsons’ general direction and hurried up the stairs to grab her phone.

“I hate to disturb you again, Sedona, but you said to call immediately if there was any break in the Talia Malone situation.” Lila McDaniels did not sound calm.

“I did and I meant it. What’s up?” Switching mental gears in a blink, Sedona set Ellie inside the French doors leading to her living area and, with her phone held between her shoulder and her ear, grabbed the glass of wine and plate of cheese and headed indoors.

“Lynn Duncan just left Maddie’s. She called right afterward to tell me that Talia looks like a girl she’d seen a picture of on the news a little while ago. She’s a missing person. And if it’s the same girl, her name’s not Talia. It’s Tatum.”

“Can you wait for me to get there before you do anything?”

“Of course.”

Wine down the drain, Sedona dumped the remainder of the cheese and bread into the trash and, making certain that Ellie was in her bed, grabbed her keys and was out the door.

“She’s safe here.”

“Exactly.” The old Ford Thunderbird started up first try and Sedona was on her way. “If she’s been reported missing, the police might return her to her family. With no bruising, no reports or evidence of previous abuse it might be that the most we can hope for is the assignation of a caseworker for follow-up....”

Her mind was racing. With the laws. And the ways to use those laws to protect her young client.

“I can’t not report her. Not now that I know who she is. She might be just what they suspect, a runaway. I can’t risk the lives of my residents if I get embroiled in a lawsuit.”

“I know. I’m not suggesting that you should. Just let me talk to Tatum. And then I’ll call the police myself.”

Good thing she’d only had a couple of sips of wine. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

TANNER WASN’T ABOUT to just go home and wait. He wasn’t a sit-by-the-phone type of guy. But the law enforcement representative he’d spoken with, a no-nonsense dispatcher who’d taken his report immediately at the neighborhood station when he’d stopped in, said an officer would meet him at his house.

While the calm and efficient manner of the phone representative had reassured him, the urgency with which the department was acting set his anxiety levels soaring again.

He’d pulled Tatum’s recent school photo out of his wallet and handed it over. He’d emailed some photos from his phone while he’d been standing in the station. He’d already given a list of the social media sites she used, complete with usernames and passwords, explaining that he’d made her share them with him as a condition of her right to go on the sites.

And while he’d nodded, expressing his thanks for the officers’ help, they’d scared the shit out of him.

They’d assured him that an Endangered Missing Advisory would be issued immediately.

Endangered missing?

The words conjured up all kinds of horrible images. He couldn’t allow them to take root.

He wasn’t going to lose Tatum. He couldn’t lose her. He’d loved the others—Talia and Thomas—still loved them. He’d taken good care of them. He’d give his life for any of his siblings.

But Tatum...she was more daughter than sibling to him. He’d sacrificed everything for her.

And she was going to be okay. They’d find her. There’d be some reasonable explanation for her absence. Just because he couldn’t come up with it didn’t mean it wasn’t there.

She’d be home, sleeping in her own bed that night, or, at the very latest, tomorrow. And life would go on. Just like normal. Things would be fine.

She’d take her SAT test in October. Outscore her older brother. And the sky would be her only limit.

Because she was sweet baby Tatum....

A tan-colored four-door sedan was parked in his driveway as Tanner pulled in, barely getting the truck into park before jumping from the seat. He didn’t recognize the car, but if someone had brought Tatum home to him...

A couple got out of the car—one male, one female, both in dark suits. Both pulled badges from their pockets as they approached.

Detectives Morris and Brown, they introduced themselves.

“We’d like to take a look around your sister’s room,” the older of the two, the female, Morris, said. “According to our report this is the last place she was seen, is that correct?”

“Yes.”

They entered the house. Tanner stood in front of the cockeyed pillow in the living room, finding it incredible that it was only that morning that he’d tossed the stupid thing. Unbelievable that something so horrific could have occurred while the pillow just sat there as if nothing had happened all day.

“We’ll need the names of everyone she knows or has had anything to do with now or in the past.”

Calmly standing, while the detectives sat down uninvited, disturbing his pillow, Tanner listed every name he could remember. A total of nine.

There should have been more. A lot more.

But he’d been busy growing grapes and couldn’t remember.

“You can check her Facebook page,” he said, relieved when he came up with the idea. “Everyone she knows or has ever known is on there.”

“We’ve already got someone doing that,” Brown said. Tanner nodded. What else did a guy do when everything that mattered to him was on the line and he stood there completely helpless?

“Does she have any enemies?”

“Not that I know of.” Did Morris just frown at him? Okay, so maybe he’d been a bit preoccupied lately, but it was only so that he could make enough money to send Tatum to college if she didn’t get the scholarship she was hoping for.

He’d had to spend a sizable chunk of savings the previous year to buy Talia out of her marriage to a man who’d been pimping her out to powerful acquaintances for profit. In fact, Tanner had bought her “services” from the man for an extended vacation, which had actually been time she’d spent in a safe house while she got help to divorce the man.

After which she’d returned to exotic dancing.

But the detectives didn’t need to hear any of that.

“What about family?” Morris asked. She wasn’t writing any of this down.

“No one in our family would hurt Tatum. We all adore her. She’s the baby.” He and Thomas and Talia fought sometimes. They didn’t always agree on life choices. But they’d never once disagreed about Tatum. That baby girl had been their only joy when they should all have been having the time of their lives.

So could Tatum be with Talia?

“Who is ‘we all’?” One of Morris’s very thin brows rose. Her tone of voice had changed. And for the first time Tanner realized that he might be a suspect.

The detectives weren’t just there to help him find Tatum. They were there to investigate him.

Here he was ready to piss himself or puke he was so worried, and they thought he’d done something to Tatum?

* * *

“I’M SORRY, MR. MALONE, I know this is difficult, but we have to ask, were you and Tatum having problems?”

Brown had stayed with Tanner in the living room while Morris went up to Tatum’s room to look around. And now she’d returned to grill him some more. No telling what she’d found in his sister’s things.

Lord knew he wasn’t her favorite person anymore.

“Yes, we were,” he said now, hands in his pockets as he stood in his living room facing the two detectives sitting side by side on his couch. “But I didn’t hurt her. I was out in the vineyard all day. I can show you the fresh-cut clippings to prove it.”

“But you don’t have an alibi?”

“No, I do not.” He wasn’t going to lie. There was no point. But... “Put someone on me, look into every aspect of my life. But please, don’t stop looking for my sister while you do so. I am not your man and if you waste time focusing solely on me, God knows what will...”

No. He couldn’t go there. He’d had enough heartache to last him a lifetime and could not borrow more.

“You said you two had trouble....” Morris’s tone had softened, though not perceptibly.

“About two months ago Tatum met this rich kid, Del Harcourt, at a party. He’s spoiled and selfish and I’m pretty sure he hit her. She had a bruise on her arm, a bad one.”

“You saw the bruise?” Brown’s eyes widened.

“Not at first. She kept her arm covered. But I grabbed her once—” which sounded bad “—and she flinched. I made her show me her arm. The bruise was faded, almost gone, but it was from a fist, I’m sure of it. She insists she walked into an old furniture spindle in the barn.”

“And that’s the trouble you’ve had? You didn’t believe her about a bruise?”

Tanner didn’t like the way Morris was studying him. But he wanted Tatum found. At whatever risk to him.

“Two days ago I threw the punk out of my house and told Tatum she was not to see or speak with him again. And I took away her smartphone.”

He felt a cold knot of fear as something else occurred to him. It should have been his first thought. Would have been if Tatum hadn’t been so crazy about the asshole.

“There is someone,” he said, his mind coldly calculating. “The woman who gave birth to us...” He couldn’t bring himself to say mother. “Last we knew, her name was Tammy Malone, but it changed frequently. She’s usually high, homeless and spreading her legs, and once tried to sell my other sister for a fix. Usually I wouldn’t expect Tatum to have anything to do with her, but now that she’s mad at me... Anyway, if Tammy sees money for herself in having Tatum, she might try to work her.”

“Is she in the area?”

“I have no idea. Not recently that I know of.”

“How long has it been since you’ve heard from her?”

Last time she’d come begging for money. “A year, maybe two.” He didn’t mark his calendar with things he preferred to forget.

“Has she been in touch with Tatum in the past?”

“Not since she was five.” It couldn’t be Tammy. Pray God it wasn’t Tammy. Tatum was at a vulnerable age. And partially because of him, Talia was out of her life and...

“Did you sue her for custody of Tatum?”

“No. She signed her and my other two siblings over willingly.” To avoid a jail sentence.

It was a long shot. In ten years, Tammy had never contacted Tatum. There was no reason to panic.

“I see here that Tatum has an old flip phone with no texting capability.” Morris looked down at the clipboard on her lap.

“That’s right. It was an old one of mine. I called my provider and changed her line over temporarily. She has no data plan at all. For a month. She lied to me. I can’t tolerate that.” Tatum had too much free time, too much lack of supervision, to allow for lying. He had to be able to trust her. “But I couldn’t just take her phone away,” he added. “It’s not safe for a young girl to be at school without a phone these days.”

“Smartphones have tracking apps on them.” Brown looked apologetic as he explained the dilemma Tanner had unknowingly caused.

“Her number goes immediately to voice mail,” Tanner told them.

Morris pulled a charger from the black leather satchel she wore on her shoulder. “I found this in her room,” she said as Tanner recognized the charger for his old phone. And took hope.

Until another thought chased that one.

“She wasn’t planning to be gone long.” He voiced his first thought. And then, more slowly, his second. “Which makes her disappearance look more like she didn’t leave of her own accord.”

“You said her purse is missing.”

“Yes.”

“Was there anything else missing?”

“No. Not even her retainer case.” Tatum was always careful to store the expensive mouthpiece carefully. Her straight teeth meant a lot to her.

Obviously she’d been planning to return home that evening. So...he just had to be patient. Wait. She’d show up.

And have one hell of a lot of explaining to do.

“We’re going to need to take something personal of hers,” Brown said as the two detectives stood. “A toothbrush. Or hairbrush...”

For DNA. Tanner watched television on occasion. He knew why they were asking.

And handed over a couple of items from Tatum’s bathroom drawer without saying another word.