Chapter Forty
Jake
The Next Day
I sit across from Chief Carter’s desk, resting my ankle on the opposite knee. “We’re no closer today than we’ve been since the baby was found. I’ve questioned Mackenzie twice, and she continues to deny that the baby is hers.”
Chief Carter leans forward and rests his hands on his desk. “And you believe her?”
“No. At least not completely. Obviously, I’ve not lived here since I graduated, so I don’t have as good of a pulse on the town as you do, but I know her stepbrother, and he’s a fucking bully. If she is the mother, I understand why she’d want him nowhere near the child.”
“That’s my take on the situation as well.” Chief Carter leans back into his seat, causing it to squeak.
The scent of coffee wafts through the room even though the door is closed. That’s one thing that isn’t different from a city police station–we’re all fueled by coffee or some other caffeine substitute.
“We’re a safe haven state, but with the mother not dropping off the baby, and no proof of who wrote the note, we’re obligated to investigate the abandonment to ensure the baby isn’t stolen.”
My insides shudder at the possibility. “If the mother is out there missing her baby….” I trail off. The enormity of the situation remains a giant shitshow hanging around the office like an albatross.
“Of course, from the angle we’re able to see, we can’t guarantee it was this boy who left the baby either because all that’s visible is a portion of his face.”
Okay, the likelihood that either or both those things are true is slim but in the court of law, all he needs is slim to keep us from putting the necessary pressure on him to get some answers.
“We also only have two numbers from the license plate.”
“He denied he was even in Brookhaven that day when I contacted him. Claimed to know nothing about the situation.” Chief Carter’s jaw clenches as he inhales. “The baby is detoxing from drugs, but she’s doing fine.”
“Meth?” I was afraid of that.
“Yes, meth and pills. Thankfully, no opiates.”
My hands ball into fists. “That’s one reason the mother doesn’t want to come forward. She’s not going to want charged with endangering.”
“Yes. I hate that we’re touched by those types of things, but even small towns aren’t exempt from the mess that drugs bring.” Chief Carter lifts a discarded pen from his desk and absently taps the end on the wooden structure.
“I can contact him again.” I drop my foot down to the floor. “Maybe he’s ready to tell the truth.”
“Go on.” He waves his hand toward the door. “Give him a call. Actually, he might break easier in person. Why don’t you drive into the city and talk to him face to face. You won’t have any authority to arrest him so if he says something incriminating, call for local backup.”
“On it.” My heart pangs at the thought of the baby lying in the hospital with no family to claim it. No mother worrying about how her drug use left her baby in withdrawal. I’ll never understand it.
*****
Thirty Minutes Later
I shove the gearshift of my police cruiser into park and survey the dilapidated two-story home.
The steps to the front porch are partially rotted with boards hanging down, exposing a gaping hole to the space under the porch.
A large brown and white dog sticks its head out from the dark recesses and howls.
So much for the element of surprise.
In the driveway, there’s a junked out two-door car and a four-door sedan with the two matching numbers to the plate seen in the surveillance feed.
As I navigate the sidewalk, the dog jumps out from under the steps. Shit. My heart races in my chest as I raise my hands, palms facing outward and stop in mid-step. “Hey boy, I’m not here to hurt you.” I keep my voice low and soft to signal my lack of threat.
The dog sits on its haunches and throws its head back, howling a continuous tune that has the closest neighbor shoving a curtain back and staring out the window. When they see my uniform and patrol car, the curtain slams back shut.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand. This is not the welcoming part of town.
When the front door yanks opens, a white-haired man wearing a dingy undershirt and a frown that covers his face. He walks onto the porch with a decided limp on the left side. “We don’t want any trouble.”
“Sir, my name is Jake Thompson from the Brookhaven Police Department.”
“You don’t have any jurisdiction here in Kansas City. What’re you doing here?”
The dog lurches forward and yelps when it reaches the end of its chain. The loud yowl is followed by the animal creeping back a step without breaking its attention from me as if it hopes I don’t notice the limit to his territory.
When he snarls and his white canines flash in the afternoon sunshine, I’m under no illusion that if the dog was able to get away it wouldn’t be on top of me growling and biting.
“Dex, shut the fuck up!” the man screams at the dog who lowers to a sitting position and wrinkles its lip. Two houses down, another dog barks in answer to Dex’s. Dex? He looks like a Dexter. A nice canine serial killer.
“I’m here to speak with Lucas Hays. That’s all I want. I’m not here to arrest him or anything. I just have a few questions I want to ask him.”
The man’s chest puffs out as he tips his chin upward and glares with beady, glassy eyes. “What do you want with my grandson?”
“His vehicle was seen dropping off an abandoned infant at the police station in Brookhaven.” Yes, it’s a bit of an exaggeration, but if the grandfather knows what happened, I’m hoping to get a reaction from him.
“I did no such thing.” The door behind the man bursts open where Lucas was apparently eavesdropping. He brushes past his grandfather and pins me with a stare that only the foolish or the young can get away with.
The kid’s wearing low slung jeans with holes in the knees and a faded black T-shirt.
He looks older than his driver’s license photo which was taken last year.
Living in his neighborhood isn’t an easy life.
“I was not parked at the police station in Brookhaven, and I told the Chief the same thing when he called.”
“You’re bordering on harassment here.” His grandfather crosses his arms over his chest, covering his stained white T-shirt and accentuating his beer gut.
His feet are spread wide, making him look tough even though he’s wearing black jogging shorts, white socks pulled up to his calves, and fake crocs.
There’s a jagged scar running down his cheek indicating that he’s lived an even rougher life than his grandson.
“I’m just asking questions. The vehicle in question was the same make and model as yours–”
“I was not at the police station.” Heat creeps up his face as his anger takes over. “I don’t know who told you it was, but they’re lying.” He clutches his grandfather’s upper arm. “Grandfather, you’ve got to believe me.”
“I do, son.” The man’s eyes are soft as he pats his grandson’s hand. Luckily, the dog stopped its incessant barking and laid down by the grandfather’s feet.
The next-door neighbor window-watcher slides the curtain back out of the way, exposing a bare arm, but I can’t make anything else out.
“Do you think we can go inside for a minute?” A car backfires down the street.
“You can say whatever you have to say out here. I don’t invite no cops inside my house. I’m not about to get set up like that by no fucking cop.” At the sharp tone of Lucas’s voice, the dog starts in again.
“Fine.” I raise my hands in surrender as the window-watcher’s front door slams open, causing it to bang against the patchwork-colored siding.
“Everything okay over there?” The bare-chested man with prison ink covered arms and a red welted scab across his collarbone strides to one of the poles holding up the porch roof and leans against it.
“Yes, man.” The grandfather waves his hand dismissively at him. “We’re good. The pig is about to leave. He has no business here.”
It’s time to go before anything goes bad. “Listen, I only have a couple of questions. As I said, someone dropped off a baby at the police station–”
“I wasn’t parked at the police station.” The young kid frowns while sticking out his chin. “And isn’t this a safe haven state, anyway?”
“Yes, it is, but we don’t know who the mother is so we can’t verify that she gave the baby up willingly. Someone could’ve stolen the baby from the mother and taken it to the police.”
“Why would someone do that? That’s stupid. Of course, the mother would know. Didn’t you find a note?”
“Son, shut up.” The grandfather’s face is red with anger as he grabs his grandson’s arm and drags him behind him. “We’ve answered enough of your questions. You should leave.”
The fact that he’s been adamant he didn’t park at the police station and knows that there was a note is evidence that he was the one who dropped off the baby. Not evidence that I can take to court, but enough to let us know, we’re on the right track.
But we still don’t know who the mother is. It could be someone from this neighborhood just as easily as Mackenzie Whitlock. And without knowing who the baby belongs to; we can’t verify that the child is free for adoption.
“I think it would be better if Lucas answered the rest of my questions.”
“Do you have a search warrant?” Nosy neighbor pipes up with his barrel chest and curled fists. Clearly, the man has gone toe to toe with the police on more than one occasion.
“No, you know I don’t.” I stiffen my spine while continuing to keep my knees loosened as the neighbor shoves off the pole and marches toward his front steps.
There’s no point in sticking around. I won’t get anything else out of them today. They’ve closed ranks and unless I arrest him, which I don’t have enough evidence or jurisdiction to do, I’m pissing in the wind.
I’ve seen this look on bulled up suspects in the past. The same dumb look that leads to fifteen-year sentences rather than a five-year sentence if the suspect would’ve budged.
The baby is safe and in the hospital. And there’ve not been any calls in the surrounding areas for a missing infant. So, we’ll fight another day.