Chapter Twenty
“Thanks for calling me back, Jake.” Dalton paced the floor of his apartment, phone pressed to his ear. “I know it’s late.”
“I’m still up,” Jake said. “What’s going on? You sound upset.”
“I’ve been digging around online, trying to find out more about Mitch Anders,” Dalton said.
“Why were you doing that?” Jake asked.
“Because I’m curious. Look, it doesn’t matter why.
I just wanted to tell you what I found out.
Not about Mitch, but about his father, Ed.
He goes by Ed Anders now, but I’m pretty sure his real name is Ned Solomon.
He’s from St. Louis, and he was arrested there for possession of child pornography.
He was also jailed for a while in St. Louis for interfering with a minor.
Does that mean he molested some kid? Am I telling you things you already know? ”
“Whoa,” Jake said. “Back up a little. Say all that again, and tell me why it’s got you so upset.”
Dalton repeated the information, and added, “Someone sent Mira Veronica letters accusing her of having something to do with the murder of a little boy, David Ketchum, in Santa Fe. Mira didn’t have anything to do with the crime, but I think Ed—or Ned—did.
He was living there at the time. He’s got a record that links him to crimes against children.
And he’s living here under another name at the same time someone has been attempting to abduct other kids. ”
“Ed’s a disabled old man,” Jake said.
“Is he? If he’s the same man I think he is, he’s only fifty-two. Maybe he’s only pretending to have trouble walking.”
“Okay. I agree this is worth looking into. But you still haven’t answered my original question. Why are you so upset now that you called me at this time of night?”
Dalton stopped pacing and took a deep breath. “I’m worried about Carter. He’s with Mira right now, at her apartment. I’ve been calling, but he doesn’t answer his phone.”
“Maybe he doesn’t want to be disturbed,” Jake said.
“Sure. That’s probably all it is. But I can’t shake the feeling something isn’t right.” There. He’d said it. All his life he’d denied he and Carter had any special bond just because they were twins. Yet here he was, feeling the closest thing he had known to terror and he couldn’t explain why.
“Hang on a minute, Dalton,” Jake said.
Silence. Dalton resumed pacing, one arm hugged across his body, nervous energy vibrating through him. Then Jake was back on the line. “Where does Mira live?” he asked.
Dalton gave him the address. “Could you ask the deputy on duty to drive by and make sure everything looks okay?” he asked. “I’d do it but Carter would kill me if he ever found out.”
“I’m headed over there now,” Jake said. “Sit tight and don’t go anywhere.”
Jake’s voice had a sharper edge to it that told Dalton this was about more than his story about Ed. “What’s going on?” he asked. “Is something wrong?”
“A call just came over the scanner. A man reported gunshots coming from one of the apartments in that complex.”
Sheriff’s deputies assembled in the parking lot next door to Mira’s apartment complex.
Jake had called the sheriff to report what Dalton had relayed to him.
“The neighbor is pretty sure the gunshots came from Mira’s apartment,” the sheriff told the assembled officers.
“We’ve identified the SUV belonging to Mitch Anders parked in the apartment lot, along with Carter Ames’s Jeep and Mira Veronica’s rental Chevrolet.
Mira and Carter aren’t answering their phones. Gage is trying to reach Mitch now.”
They turned to look at the sheriff’s brother, who had a phone pressed to his ear. “Hello, Mitch? This is Sergeant Gage Walker. I’m going to put you on speaker, okay? We need your help with a situation.”
“What kind of situation?” Mitch sounded dazed. Probably awakened from sleep. “What’s going on?”
“Where are you right now?” Gage asked.
“I’m at home. I was asleep.”
Travis nodded. “His ankle monitor indicates that’s right.”
“Is your dad there at the house with you?” Gage asked.
“I think so. What time is it…it’s after three in the morning. Dad’s asleep.”
“We need to talk to him. Could you wake him for me, please? It’s important.”
“Okay. Give me a sec.”
They waited, scarcely breathing. Soon, Mitch was back on the line, sounding more alert. “Dad’s not here,” he said. “His bed hasn’t been slept in.”
“Check the driveway,” Gage said. “Is his Jeep there?”
“What is this about?” Mitch asked.
“Just tell me if his Jeep is there.”
“His Jeep is there. But my SUV isn’t.”
“Is anything else missing, that you’re aware of?”
“No. What is going on? Is Dad in some kind of trouble?”
“Check his room again,” Gage said. “I need to know what he might have taken with him.”
“I can’t tell you anything. It’s not like he has much…wait a minute.”
“What is it?” Jake leaned forward, anticipating the answer.
“His walker is here. He doesn’t go anywhere without his walker. He can’t.”
“Are you sure about that?” Gage asked. “Is it possible your father isn’t as debilitated as he wants people to think?”
Silence.
“Mitch? Are you still there?”
“I’m still here. And I guess…yes, it’s possible my dad can get around better than he lets on.
I’ve suspected that for a while.” He sighed.
“I guess I don’t really know him that well.
He only got back in touch with me a few months ago.
I was trying to rebuild a relationship with him, but it hasn’t been easy. What’s this about, Gage?”
“Your father’s name isn’t really Ed Anders, is it?” Gage asked.
“No. It’s Ned Solomon.”
“Why go by Ed Anders?”
“He said he wanted us to have the same name. And he needed to make a fresh start.”
“Did you know he had a criminal record for indecency with a minor and possession of child pornography?”
More silence.
“Mitch? Were you aware of your father’s criminal history?”
“He told me he was in jail because he had hurt someone in a knife fight. He said it was a misunderstanding.”
“Not according to the information we’ve uncovered.”
“What else did he lie to me about?”
“Has your father ever said anything about Mira Veronica?”
“Mira? No. Why?”
“Does your father own a gun?”
“No. At least… I don’t think so. I’ve never seen him with a gun.”
“But you don’t go through his things.”
“No. When he moved in he asked me to respect his privacy. He said he would do the same for me.”
“Do you have a gun?”
“No.” The answer was firm. “Why all these questions? What has Dad done?”
“A neighbor reported shots fired in the apartment complex where Mira lives. She’s not answering her phone. Your SUV is in the parking lot.”
“I’m coming down there.”
“You need to stay out of this, Mitch.”
“Ed is my father. And Mira is my friend. If something is going on, maybe I can help. Maybe I can talk to him or something.”
“No. Stay where you are. We’ll contact you if we need you.” Gage ended the call. “Where is SWAT?” he asked.
“They’re on their way,” Travis said. He checked his phone. “They should be here in another twenty minutes or so.”
Jake looked toward the apartments. Most of them were dark and silent. But light glowed behind the curtains in Mira’s front windows. “We don’t even know if he’s in there,” Gage said. “And maybe Mira isn’t answering because she turned off her phone.”
In response, Travis keyed his microphone. “Ryker, what have you got?” he asked.
“The glass in the back window by the fire escape is busted out,” Ryker replied. “I climbed up there and tried to look in, but this side of the apartment is dark.”
“Get back on the ground and wait for instructions,” Travis said. He looked at Gage. “Sounds like someone climbed the fire escape and broke the window.” He frowned up at the apartment. “No bars on these windows.”
“Because everyone thinks living in a small town is safe,” Gage said. “And usually, they’re right.” He joined his brother and Jake in studying the apartment. “Maybe we should just go up and knock on the door.”
“And whoever fired those shots earlier shoots Mira—or us.” Travis shook his head. “We wait for SWAT.”
It was the smart thing to do, even if it wasn’t what any of them really wanted.
Carter couldn’t believe Ed had shot him. And now that his initial shock was wearing off, he couldn’t believe how much he hurt. He kept one hand clamped to the wound on the right side of his chest, sticky blood seeping through his fingers, and told himself he wasn’t going to pass out.
“What do you think you’re doing! He didn’t do anything to you!” Mira shouted at Ed, who turned his attention—and the barrel of the gun—toward her. She started toward him.
“Stop!” Ed ordered. “Don’t come any closer or I’ll shoot you, too.”
“You don’t think someone hasn’t heard those shots?” she asked. “You don’t think one of my neighbors hasn’t already called the sheriff? Are you trying to make things worse for yourself?”
“Shut up,” Ed said.
“You’ve done enough,” she said. “Leave us alone.”
Carter’s vision was getting hazy at the edges, but Mira sounded furious. He tried to call out to her, to tell her to calm down and not provoke Ed further. But his words emerged as a groan.
Ed turned toward him again, and lifted the gun. “No!” Mira shouted, and launched herself at the older man.
The gun went off again. Mira screamed. Carter struggled, but wasn’t strong enough to overcome the darkness.
Rage overcame Mira when she saw Ed prepare to shoot Carter again.
How dare this man think he could decide whether they lived or died.
She wasn’t going to let him get away with it.
Even as some small part of her brain shouted that she was being foolish, she lunged for him.
She put every bit of her strength behind the action, and shoved Ed to the floor.
The gun went off again, the bullet hitting a nearby table, splintering the wood.
Mira grappled for the gun, her nails digging into Ed’s wrist.