Chapter 15
CHAPTER 15
“Hey sweetie, wake up.” Patrick gently shook Danni’s shoulder. “You need to get up and eat something.” She looked so peaceful, he hated to wake her. But Kristopher had figured something out and wanted to share with them as soon as possible.
“Mmmph,” Danni murmured. “What time is it?”
“Almost five,” Patrick told her. “You’ve been asleep almost since you finished giving Sergeant Miller your statement.”
He had brought her back to the Safehouse after leaving the museum and they’d done a Facetime meet with Miller so she could give her statement about what happened, and then insisted she take a nap. In the time Patrick had known Danni Blake, he’d seen her worried, cross and relaxed, but never terrified.
But this time the killer nearly succeeded. Terrified made sense. And Grant Miller was adamant about Danni staying at the Safehouse.
“I don’t know if I would go anywhere this weekend, Danni,” he advised. “I don’t mean to scare you, any more than you already have been, but three attacks in one week? Someone is damn serious about putting you out of commission.”
“I am scared,” Danni had retorted. “But I’m angry too at not being able to move about to find Sara. It’s not that I want to go anywhere, but that I can’t.”
Now she opened sleep heavy eyes and gave him an equally sleepy smile. “What’s for dinner?”
“Beef stew, cornbread and a green salad. C’mon.”
He helped her to sit up and then to stand. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he led her to the dining table already set with their meal. Kristopher kept them entertained with stories about a set of dogs he’d had growing up–he’d seen some similar ones today–named Holmes and Watson. Sweetest dogs ever but not terribly smart. Patrick watched some of the tension and weariness vanish from Danni’s face and was relieved to hear her laugh. Maybe she would get through the night without too much trouble.
After dinner, they went to the living room and waited while Kristopher briefly excused himself to return with a giant rolling whiteboard, filled with large, neat printing.
“While you two have been rushing to and fro, I’ve been doing some research,” he said, pointing at the board. “I’ve been trying to put all this together in a logical way and using a fine point marker helps me sort things out instead of tapping at a keyboard.”
“Eye-hand movement helps learning,” Danni said. “Or so I’ve been told.”
“Exactly,” Kristopher agreed. “So, these are the facts as we know them. He went to the board, marker in hand and began.
“Danni begins writin g Where Are the Children two weeks before Sara Turner vanishes. Sara vanished the Monday after Thanksgiving, last seen by the now deceased Mrs. Everett, who may or may not have died from fall related injuries. We know she was the last person to see Sara and that was getting into a black four door Honda Accord. Robin Masters was also seen getting into the same kind of car by a neighbor. We can ask Miller if that neighbor has been cleared of suspicion or in danger like Mrs. Everett.”
“You’ve been busy,” Danni said.
“Danni starts getting threatening e-mails after the second article is published,” Kristopher continued. “Leo Anderson gets them as well. IT at KPD is still trying to figure out the source as it came to Leo’s e-mail address at work. Danni, your e-mail address at Excelsior is publicly known. Did you ever get any at UT?”
“No,” Danni said. “And I’ve checked every day because I would have to let them know.”
“OK,” Kristopher acknowledged. “On Monday of this week–hard to believe it’s only been six days–Leo Anderson is killed in Danni’s place. Sorry, Danni, but you told me that’s Captain Haggerty’s theory. But that attack outside St. Nicholas and the one earlier today were definitely for you. Another little girl, Robin Masters has gone missing and like Robin is ten years old, both of them about to turn eleven. A known assassin was murdered and his body left at Talbot Park earlier this week as well. Connection? No proof but my gut tells me they’re all connected.
“This is getting weirder by the minute,” Patrick pronounced.
“Maybe,” Kristopher said. “But Danni, I think you’re the key. Someone thinks you know something important enough to kill you. The question is, what do you think you know and when did you know it? And it’s got to be something recent because none of this had started until you wrote those articles. What’s the connection?”
“I have no idea,” Danni admitted. “But I like the way you’ve laid it out. It’s been like so many loose threads we’re trying to gather.”
Kristopher made a short bow. “Thanks. Another point. Both Sara and Robin have family members who work at La Belle Monde. I don’t think that’s a coincidence.
“As of this minute, neither do I.” Patrick frowned and pointed at the board. “All this time, we’ve been thinking it had to be The Cadre who snatched the girls, but what if it’s not?”
A recent memory occurred to him, and dread shot up his spine. “Danni,” he said slowly. “That day in the captain’s office, you started to say something when you were talking about Ed Turner. Were you thinking he had Sara snatched?”
“I d-did,” Danni stammered. “But why in the world.”
“To sell her?” Kristopher offered.
“Sell?” Patrick choked out. “His ten-year-old-granddaughter?”
“Think of your last case,” Kristopher urged. “Trafficked teens for sex. What if The Cadre wants younger ones this time? With all the pedophile websites hiding on the Dark Web, there are all kinds of opportunities to buy and sell kids. Maybe Ed Turner reached to someone like The Cadre to sell Sara? I don’t want to know why but I can think of a reason.”
“Hank Patterson told me you were good,” Patrick praised. “He just didn’t tell me at what. Is there a reason other than sex to sell girls that age?”
Kristopher’s smile held no trace of humor. “Let me tell you a little about my family,” he began. “My mom is an OB-GYN MD who treats a lot of young girls in underserved communities and has delivered more than her share of babies for teenage moms. My dad is a Ph.D. Sociologist studying rural cultures, especially their youth. He wrote a book few years ago on the phenomenon of around the world men taking child brides. It’s in more places than you would think, including America, and in some places the younger the better. As young as nine years old who can become mamas as young as eleven or twelve.”
Horror brought Danni into an upright position from where she’d been snuggled against Patrick’s shoulder. “Kristopher,” she gasped. “Are you saying Sara and Robin were sold to be breeders? Dear God, it sounds like something out of The Handmaid’s Tale.”
He shrugged. “I’m just putting together some facts to make a theory.”
“But how would this fit into Leo Anderson being killed?” Patrick asked. “Even if the target was always Danni…”
“Was Leo helping with Sara’s case?” Kristopher asked.
“He volunteered to do it,” Danni said sadly. “He usually worked Major Crimes. Cases involving children is Special Crimes. I think he wanted to help because he knew Sara was my goddaughter.”
“Could Leo have gone looking at old case files about missing kids?”
“Oh my God.” Danni covered her eyes. “Maybe it was the Larsen Case he asked me about right before he died and if my father ever mentioned it. But that doesn’t make any sense either. Dad worked in Vice, not Special Crimes and Leo has always worked in Major Crimes. It doesn’t make any sense.”
“It did to someone,” Patrick said softly. “Someone knew Leo was looking at the old files and for some reason, The Larsen case got his attention. They suspected he found something and erased the file.”
Danni pointed at the board again and a growing anger started a tremor in her voice. “And Sara and Robin got into that black Honda because there was someone inside it that they knew. Someone they trusted. Mrs. M. and I both would have skinned Sara alive if she got into a car with a stranger, and she knew it.”
“Danni, I know you’ve had a hell of a day, and I hope this doesn’t make you sick, but I’m going to show you one more thing.
He reached up to flip the wipe board to its other side. Someone had sketched a large map of Tennessee, divided into its three regions. In Eastern Tennessee, there were numbers listed in certain areas and color photos of young girls.
“After the news broke about Robin Masters, I started to wonder how many other girls her and Sara’s age were missing across the state,” he said. “Then I broke it down into just Eastern Tennessee.
“Those twelve photos are of all the girls that have vanished in the past twelve months with their birthdates and dates they went missing. Do you see anything that grabs your attention?”
Danni went to examine the board close up. “They were all within two months of their eleventh birthday,” she said. “I must be more tired than I realized. What does that signify?”
“My OB-GYN mom says a lot of girls are starting to get their periods as young as eleven these days.” Kristopher came to stand beside her. “If these girls were snatched to become breeders, then we’re looking at a very sick bunch of people. Is it The Cadre? We know what they do, so maybe. Is it someone within La Belle Monde working with The Cadre? Maybe. I sent all this to Miller and Captain Haggerty to see if there’s anything they can do with it.”
Danni threw her arms around him and pressed her face against his shoulder. He was far leaner than Patrick but she could still feel a strength there.
“Thank you,” she said. “You’re right. It’s creepy. It’s sick, but it makes sense.”
“Anything to help,” Kristopher said. “And now, I’m going to go clean up what we left behind.”
He ambled to the kitchen with the ease of man who had just spent a pleasant evening among friends and not one who had laid out a theory of brutality against children.
“Wow,” Danni said, watching him go. “We’ve been so busy that I’d never thought about sitting down and putting everything we’ve learned in some kind of order.”
Patrick came to stand beside her. “What do you think we need to do next?”
“Tomorrow is Sunday,” she said. “I hate to interrupt Sergeant Miller’s Sabbath or Captain Haggerty’s–”
“Let’s give them until noon,” Patrick suggested. “If we’ve not heard from them, we’ll do a follow up call. They may have taken this info and run with it, but I hope they’re getting some rest. Like you need to do.”
“I’m fine,” she said hurriedly. “That beef stew really relaxed me. And that cornbread is the best I’ve ever tasted. Did you learn to do that at La Varenne?”
“No, from my grandmother,” he said. “Who was from Kentucky.”
She yawned and a wave of weariness washed over her. “Goodness, but I’m suddenly tired. That glass of wine made me sleepy. Did you put any in the stew?”
Eyes twinkling, he said, “A good cook never reveals his secrets. But here’s a teaser for you. The question should be how much wine did I put in the stew?”
“I guess,” she murmured. “G ‘night.”
She padded toward the hall and then stopped and looked down at her bare feet. Bare feet! Wheeling about, she said, “Patrick Danton! Did you take off my shoes and socks?”
“Well, yeah.” He shrugged. “You were dead on your feet–if you’ll pardon the expression–when we finished talking to Grant Miller. I had to help you to bed but didn’t think you wanted to nap wearing your shoes and socks.”
She considered this and wondered just how much wine he’d poured into the stew. “I sometimes wear socks when I take a nap,” she said.
“I’ll try to remember that next time.” His promise was soft, curling around her spine. “And it was just one cup of red wine, I promise.”
“Okay,” she agreed and shuffled towards the hall. “G ’night.”
In her room, she stripped off her clothes and kicked them aside. And even though it was cold outside, she chose a light-weight cotton gown that came to her knees. She barely remembered brushing her teeth and washing her face but soon she was crawling into bed and shutting off the bedside lamp.
Sleep came hard and fast and despite everything she knew about sleep cycles, would later swear she hit stage III first, so badly did her body crave it.
But stage IV was hard on its heels, her brain bouncing like a bunny and dreams chasing each other like dervishes. They became more frantic as they approached her, faces eerily frozen and masklike. She ran as fast as she could, heading toward the distant cliff, but they seized her and dragged her to the cliff’s edge to throw her over and–”
“NO!” The scream ripped from her throat, and she fumbled for the lamp switch just as the door pushed inward and Patrick stumbled into the room.
“Where are they?” Danni cried. “Where are they?”
“No one here but you and me, Danni-girl.” Through the terror fog clouding her brain she could see he was wearing a robe. Slowly, like one approaching a terrified animal, he came forward. “Is it ok if I sit on the edge of the bed?”
“Y-yes.” She watched him as he cautiously sat; his eyes focused on her face. Drawing in a deep breath, she held and then expelled it, feeling her heart slow and her brain settle into some kind of calm. “I think I’m alright now.”
“Sure? That must have been a hell of a nightmare.”
“Yeah,” she admitted. “I guess I should have expected it. How did you get here so quickly? Your room is a few feet away at the very least.”
Incredibly, he blushed. “I-ah-I was sleeping outside your door,” he admitted. “I thought this might happen and after what happened today, I didn’t want for you to be alone too long.”
“I’d rather not be alone.” Are you crazy, Danni Blake? Think about what you’re saying!
“Do you want me to stay? Are you asking me to say?” His whispered question caressed her ears.
“Do you want to stay?”
“Very much,” he said. “I think the bed is big enough for two.”
He took off his robe and draped it across the bed while she moved over. He came to stretch out beside her and turn off the lamp and she carefully nestled against him, breathing in his T-shirt’s clean scent. “I’m not hurting your shoulder, am I?”
“It’s the other one,” he said, stroking her hair. “Do you want to ask me anything?”
She inched up so she could kiss him. “One thing does come to mind.”
“What’s that?”
“Don’t you think we’re wearing too many clothes?”
Lovers, even experienced ones, should approach each new encounter slowly and with respect, savoring the exploration of this new, uncharted territory. And since they had nothing in the world but time, time to savor and explore, that’s what they did. And much later, blissfully tired and relishing the satisfaction they had given and received, they slept folded together, with only peaceful, restful dreams.