Chapter 5
CHAPTER 5
A short time later. KPD Downtown Precinct
“Of course, I’m licensed to carry a gun,” Danni said crossly, watching the nurse practitioner clean the gash on Patrick’s forehead. “I’m a cop’s daughter, for heaven’s sake. And I have a license to carry a concealed weapon.”
Patrick had refused to let her, or Father Ryan called an ambulance. And since she’d never learned how to drive a straight shift, they had to call a cab, with Father Ryan insisting he should pay the fare. The downtown precinct, Patrick reminded her had an excellent in-house clinic that could take care of him right away instead of waiting for hours at the ER for treatment of a non-life-threatening injury.
Though truth be told, his head, nose and shoulder hurt like hell. Father Ryan, a fan of police procedure TV shows, had donned latex gloves, picked up the hypodermic and placed it in a plastic sandwich bag. While enroute to the station, Patrick texted Hank Patterson to tell him what happened and Danni texted Grant Miller, who met them in the precinct lobby and took the bag to the lab while Danni and Patrick went to the clinic.
Now, she watched as the NP applied butterfly strips to Patrick’s forehead. “Are you sure he doesn’t need stiches?” she asked him.
“Any deeper and he would,” the man said cheerfully. “And his nose will probably hurt for a few days until the swelling goes down. You really should have a CT scan of your head, Lieutenant. Just in case.”
“No,” Patrick said flatly. “No ER.”
“Then you must come from a long line of hard-headed men,” the NP retorted. “‘Cause you’re probably going to have a hell of a headache later.”
“I’ll survive,” Patrick muttered. “OTC meds and coffee will do the trick. Are we finished?”
“Yes, sir.” There was no mistaking the man’s sarcasm as he stepped back from the examining table. “I’d recommend rest tonight but I think I’m wasting my time in suggesting it.”
“Damn right.” Patrick looked at Danni, who inwardly winced at the sight of his battered face. “Let’s go talk to Miller,” he said.
“Captain Haggerty wants to see us as well,” Danni told him, picking up her purse.
“The more the merrier,” he called over his shoulder, and she hurried to catch up with him as if she didn’t know the way to ‘the captain’s’ office very well. Except for adding updated technology, every captain of the Knoxville Police Department she’d known all her life had used the same office and made very few changes.
They found Grant Miller and the precinct sketch artist already in Captain Haggerty’s office. Miller introduced Patrick to Haggerty and the artist. After declining an offer of something to drink, Danni and he gave accounts of what happened in front of the church, and then what Christine Everett told them. Finally, they supplied descriptions of the flower-seller–a tall, white male, over twenty-one with no obvious tattoos, and wearing a knit skull cap, black short coat, jeans and a heavy, probably fake beard–to the sketch artist. When she’d finished, Danni agreed the sketch resembled the man, and with a silent nod, the artist left, and Haggerty exhaled her frustration.
“If we’d known what Christine Everett saw twelve days ago, we might have found others to corroborate her story,” she said grimly. “I have a good mind to arrest her for withholding information about a missing child.”
“She really did seem terrified of her husband.” At any other time, Danni would have felt some kind of sympathy for Mrs. Everett. “I’m sure you’ve met women like that, Captain. They’re so scared of what their husbands might do to them, they’ll do whatever they’re told just to keep from being abused, physically or otherwise.”
“Then her husband is just as guilty as she is,” Captain Haggerty retorted. “I should arrest them both to teach them a lesson.”
“At least her concern for her own grandchild lessened her fear enough to finally tell you what she saw,” Miller put in. “But there are probably hundreds, if not thousands of four door black Honda Civics in Knoxville and in the surrounding areas. Without a license plate number, we’re dead in the water.”
“I’ll send a couple of detectives to talk to Everett,” Haggerty said. “Put the fear of God, or at least KPD in him for withholding information from our investigation. What is it, Danni?”
No. It can’t be. It simply can’t. A thought began to form in Danni’s mind, sending a wave of icy panic over her, chilling her skin and stilling her voice. No. It was too terrible to even think about.
But what if…
“Captain Haggerty,” Danni began, “What if you don’t say anything to Mr. Everett just yet? This may sound crazy, but what if he’s involved in Sara’s vanishing and that’s why he didn’t want his wife to say anything? If you talk to him, and he is involved, wouldn’t that scare him? It might double his effort to keep what he knows hidden. And I don’t think Mrs. Everett will tell him she met with us and Father Ryan. She was so scared of her husband finding out, she was crying when she left the church.”
“She didn’t have to say he was.” Patrick’s cobalt-hued eyes darkened nearly to black, and an old sorrow stared back at Danni. “But think about what she did say, and what Father Ryan told us. Everett hardly lets her out of the house to go to Mass. For a devout Catholic, that’s scary. She mentioned how mad Everett would be if she talked to us. Worst, not letting her talk to the police about possibly seeing Sara willingly get into the back of that car. And don’t tell me you didn’t notice the bruising under her make-up. I don’t know if you noticed it, but she was limping when Father Ryan took her back to her driver, who’s spying on her for Everett. That kind of control is abuse.”
Again, the controlled, flat tone, the absence of any expression.
“It has all the earmarks of an abused wife,” Patrick’s voice took on a dangerous edge. “Defy your husband and get knocked around. Doesn’t matter if you’re poor or how much money you have–did you notice her outfit, Danni? –that doesn’t protect you from a spouse’s violence. And if Everett is a VP at LBM, he’s probably rolling in money.”
He shut his eyes and Danni wondered how he’d gained his knowledge. She’d learned over the years in covering court cases involving domestic violence, that victims of domestic abuse were often too ashamed to report it, blaming themselves for it. Had Patrick known someone, cared for someone in Mrs. Everett’s situation, a woman who even with all her wealth, truly had no place to go, not even for help?
The tension in the room was building to the point where Danni could feel it pulsing in the air. Then, Patrick sighed, opened his eyes and his posture relaxed against the back of the chair.
“Sorry, Captain Haggerty,” he said. “If one of your officers talks to Mrs. Everett again, could a female officer be assigned to do it? I’m sure if you gave her Elaine Prescott’s number at Families United, Elaine would be more than happy to talk to her.”
“We can do that, Lieutenant,” Haggerty promised. “What were you saying, Danni?”
“Well, we’ve learned that Franklin Everett and Ed Turner live on the same block, just a few houses apart,” Danni said. “I didn’t know that until today and I’ve known where Ed and Sara have lived for years. And now we know both men work for La Belle Monde . What if–”
The light in both Captain Haggerty and Grant Miller’s eyes suggested their thoughts were headed in the same direction as Danni’s. Seated beside her, Patrick’s eyes were narrowed in thought.
“We’ll recanvas the neighborhood without talking to Franklin Everett just yet and ask if anyone else saw anything that day, like a car they didn’t recognize as belonging there,” Haggerty announced. “We can keep a couple of squad cars in the neighborhood for the next few days too. Maybe they’ll feel safer and approach us with something they think they know.”
“And we can double check how many of them have children living with them or grandchildren who visit,” Miller added. “After this fall’s kidnappings, people are on edge enough as it is. We need to be seen as a presence to keep kids safe, at least in Sara’s neighborhood.”
“And Sara Turner is so very young,” Patrick said tightly, and Danni wondered if the pain stamped on his face was from his present physical injury or an old, emotional one. The kind that leaves invisible scars that can still hurt years later.
Like how I feel sometimes when I remember when my mother took off and left me and dad all those years ago, Danni thought. Some things never really go away.
“We’ll get that set-in motion by the end of the day,” Haggerty decided. “Anything else?”
“Captain, have you decided what you’re going to tell the rest of the force about Leo Anderson’s death?” Danni asked. “Somehow it seems wrong to keep them in the dark, especially since it’s murder. And what if the media starts asking questions about it?”
“We’ll certainly tell the rest of the force but have them keep it in house,” Captain Haggerty said grimly. “The more ‘boots on the ground’ to listen to street gossip about what people are saying the better. Miller, get in touch with your snitches and CIs to see what they’ve heard. Offer money if necessary. I want whoever killed Leo Anderson found and found soon. You will of course, continue to help Brotherhood Protectors as and when they need you.”
“Yes ma’am.” Miller’s hard tone would have sliced through granite. “And the media?
“For now, since Leo was well-known, we’ll announce that Lieutenant Leo Anderson died from a heart attack,” the captain said. “That he had health problems–which he did, according to his physical exam–and his death is a great loss to the department. If the bastards who killed him think we believe that, then let’s hope they’ll get stupid and arrogant and show their hand.”
“And a memorial service?” Danni asked.
Haggerty sighed. “HR tells me they’re having trouble finding his brothers to tell them of his death but Danni, you’re listed as his emergency contact. Can you help with that?”
“I can,” Danni said. “Things have been so crazy I’d forgotten about them. According to Leo, their work with Doctors without Borders took them to Mozambique last month. I have their information and that of the officials at the American Embassy at home. I’ll send it to you later today. But Leo said the Internet in the remote regions they serve can be spotty at times if we try to reach them directly.”
“Then I’ll reach out to the embassy,” Haggerty agreed. “Thank you for helping to take care of that. If that’s all, I think Lieutenant Danton should get some rest.”
“And the CSI crew is finished going over your car, Danni,” Miller put in. “No prints other than yours, no other little surprises left behind and standard permanent marker ink on the note. Nothing special about the paper around the rock. Since you filed a claim with the insurance company yesterday, it’s ready to be towed to the garage of your choice.”
“Thanks, Sergeant Miller.” Danni gave him the courtesy of his rank. “Captain Haggerty, do you know anything about something called the Larsen case?”
“The which?” Frowning, the captain removed her reading glasses from the end of her nose and put them in her uniform’s breast pocket.
“The Larsen case,” Danni repeated. “Right before he died, Leo asked me if my father had ever mentioned it to me.” At Haggerty’s frown, she hastily added, “Dad almost never talked about work, but I could tell when a case was really bothering him. If I asked him about it, all he would say was, ‘It’s a tough one, alright’ but nothing more. Of course, since he worked Vice, all his cases would be disturbing.”
Haggerty features relaxed. “Your dad wasn’t the kind to tell tales out of school,” she agreed. “I don’t remember ever hearing about that case, but I’ll look and see what I can find.”
“Just out of curiosity, are cold case files digitized?” Patrick asked, his voice now calm and steady.
“Most of them, yes,” Haggerty said thoughtfully. “If I can’t find an electronic file on it, I’ll have records search for it. There may be old paper files, but I doubt it. Did Leo say it was a cold case?”
“No,” Danni said, shaking her head. “Just asked if Dad ever mentioned it.”
The phone on Haggerty’s desk buzzed and she picked up the receiver and greeted the caller. She listened for a minute and her features tightened again. “Let me put you on speaker,” she said. “The intended victim is sitting here with me.
She hit a button on the phone and said, “Go ahead, Clancey.” Regarding the others she said, “Phillip Clancey is a senior analyst in our lab.”
“The contents of the syringe Sergeant Miller brought us was a combination of snake venom, probably from a cobra or maybe one of the deadlier snakes found in Australia, and cyanide, enough to kill a good-sized man almost instantly,” Clancey’s voice proclaimed. “Would that describe the intended?”
“Try a woman who stands around five foot seven and probably weighs just enough to donate blood,” Patrick called out.
Danni made a face. “I weigh more than that,” she responded. “And I’ll weigh even more if I keep eating your cooking.”
For the first time in hours, Patrick smiled. “You think?” he replied.
“Thank you, Clancey,” Haggerty said and returned the receiver to its cradle. Sitting back, she folded her hands at her waist and silently regarded Danni.
“The same combination that killed Leo Anderson,” she said at last. “It’s beginning to look like you were always the intended target, Danni.”
“I think,” Miller said, “We need to have an officer drive the two of you back to your car. What is it, Lieutenant Danton?”
Patrick looked up from his phone. “Text from the BP member who is joining us for the duration of the mission. He said he can pick us up here and take us back to the church.” Glancing at Danni, he added, “I told Hank Patterson where we would be. The new guy will meet us outside in five minutes. Is there anything else you need to discuss with Captain Haggarty?”
A pain-filled weariness stained his face as he slid the phone into his coat pocket and Danni could only guess how crappy he must feel. What he probably needed was a hot shower, a good meal and a stiff drink.
“I think that’s all,” she said. “Will you let us know if you hear anything about Sara from the tipline?”
“Absolutely,” the captain said as they all stood. “And please text me the contact info for Leo’s family when you find it. Good to have met you, Lieutenant Dalton.”
“My pleasure, ma’am.” He inclined his head and, putting his hand in the crook of Danni’s arm, steered her toward the door, falling into step to follow Miller into the hallway. His hand’s warmth radiated through Danni’s coat sleeve, and she marveled at how strong yet light his touch was.
“Call if you need me,” Miller told them when they reached the front doors. “I have other cases and I may not be able to get away but call me.”
“Do you know yet who will be appointed to take over Sara’s case now that Leo is–”
The word “dead” stayed in her throat, as if saying it would make the reality of the situation only that more final.
“I don’t know,” Miller admitted. “But I’ll call you when I hear anything.”
She nodded and Patrick opened the doors. A blast of cold air hit them, and she shivered. Uniformed officers and men and women she guessed were plain-clothes detectives were gathered about the area, talking together or showing notes. Lowering her voice and knowing he would know exactly what she was saying, she asked, “do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really,” he said.
“Do you know what the new BP member looks like?” she asked.
“He sent his picture with his text,” Partrick told her. “What was all that about Sara’s grandfather and Everett?”
“I don’t know,” Danni said, releasing a long sigh. “But my dad always said, ‘there are no coincidences.’ Two men who both work at La Belle Monde living on the same street where one has a missing granddaughter and one who has a wife who saw that granddaughter willingly get into car? What are the odds of that?”
“It’s a wealthy part of town, isn’t it?” Patrick asked. “Lots of Belle Monde’s upper-level employees might live in a five-block radius just like there could be a lot of doctors and lawyers and other high-income types living there as well.”
“You don’t think it’s a coincidence?”
“Let’s just say I’m playing what my sister called the DA.”
“District attorney?” The cold wind was adding a pleasing color to Danni’s cheeks and making her curls dance around her shoulders.
“Devil’s advocate,” Patrick corrected. “Arguing the other side to see all possibilities. Eliminate the impossible to leave the probable and all that.”
Curiosity brightened her eyes. “You have a sister?” she asked.
“I did,” Patrick said, clipping off the words. “And right now, I think there’s a good possibility we’ll freeze to death if–”
“Lieutenant Patrick Dalton?”
They turned to see a slender, black-haired man of medium height exiting what looked like an old black-and-white police cruiser without any identifying marks on the doors.
“That would be me,” Patrick acknowledged, and the man closed the car door, locked it and came forward.
“Sergeant Kristopher Brower, US Army, retired,” he said, holding out his hand. “Hank Patterson sent me.”
“Good to have you on board, Brower,” Patrick greeted. He pointed at Danni and said, “This is Danni Blake, our assignment.”
“Ma’am.” Kristopher Brower nodded at her. Then his gaze widened as it took in Patrick’s battered and bandaged face but whatever he was thinking, he kept to himself.
“Is that your car?” Danni pointed at the black and white vehicle. “Is it what I think it is?”
“Yes ma’am,” Kristopher said politely. “My cop grandfather bought it at a police auction to give to me for high school graduation but only after the identifying markers were taken off the doors. Lots of miles on the old girl but she drives like a top. It was in storage when I was overseas with the Army and I’m hoping to add some miles of my own. I hope you don’t mind riding in it?”
His courtly manner made Danni smile, but beside her, Patrick shifted impatiently. “It’s been a freaky kind of day, Brower, and Danni doesn’t need to be standing out in the open, even if we are in front of the precinct.” He gestured at his forehead and added, “We left my car at the church for obvious reasons.”
Kristopher’s pleasantly neutral expression shifted to one of serious concern. “Absolutely,” he said. “Not good to drive after a thump on the head. Come with me. I had it outfitted for safety, so no worries about us not getting us anywhere in one piece.”
“Do you know where the Safehouse is?” Patrick asked as they followed Kristopher to the black and white.
“Already been there to stow my gear and have directions back on my phone.” Kristopher unlocked the doors for them. When they were inside, he looked at them in the rear-view mirror. “No offense, Lieutenant, but you look like hell,” he said. “Are you sure you don’t need to see a doctor?”
“It’s Patrick, Kristopher.” Pain pounding behind his eyes, Patrick shut them and said, “Just take us back to St. Nicholas, okay?”
“Right you are,” Kristopher agreed, starting the engine. Its whispering purr was barely audible as he pulled away from the curb and headed back to the church. Patrick settled back, feeling the engine’s hum through the seats as exhaustion settled into his bones. Beside him, Danni was still, and he was grateful for that. He’d done a piss-poor job of taking care of her today. If he’d insisted that she not stop to buy flowers, that vendor never would have had the chance to try to kill her.
Because killing Danni was exactly what that bastard had tried to do. To hell with his own injury.
And damn, if he hadn’t let it slip that he’d had a sister once. Bringing up his personal life and his long-gone niece was not something he needed or wanted to do. Danni had enough to worry about and he had enough to do with keeping her safe.
But as they reached St. Nicholas, and approached Patrick’s LTD, he let out a bellow of rage. They’d barely come to a stop when he was out of Kristopher’s vehicle and dashing to his own.
“Good Lord,” Danni whispered, coming to stand beside him. Behind them, Kristopher let out a long, low whistle. Someone had smashed out all the LTD’s windows, littering the street with shards and chunks of glass. Inside, the seats were slashed and they, along with the floor mats, were covered in bright red paint.
“Wow,” Danni finally said. “Guess we should have let Grant Miller have one of his colleagues drive us back here after all.”