Chapter Eighteen #2
His words and smile lifted her spirits. “I was thinking about all that happened this afternoon. The unanswered calls to Mallory, the visit to her mother’s home and then the business at the police department—and the blonde after that. We never went to Mallory’s house.”
“You’re right,” Ben agreed. “We called her former boyfriend, but we didn’t go to her home.”
“We have some time.” Brenda’s anticipation started to build.
“Should we see if she’s there? I’m sure the police will go to her address at some point, but I don’t see any reason we can’t go right now.
Maybe this whole thing is a mix-up.” Yeah right.
What it was, she fully understood, was another example of her trusting someone she shouldn’t have—like Scott.
“Let’s do it. Whether she’s there or not,” Ben suggested, “we can talk to neighbors. See what they have to say. Sometimes that’s the best way to find out who visits a person and what sort of activities go on at their residence.”
Brenda’s hopes lifted. “That’s a great idea.”
“Come on.” He nodded toward the door. “Let’s grab my equipment bag next door and head out.”
They locked up her place on the way out and walked through the cool night air to his.
The small historic home next to hers was nearly identical to her own.
Small, with creaky floors and imperfect plaster.
It was all those little quirks that gave these century-plus-old homes character and charm, in Brenda’s opinion.
Since Ben had only been staying in the house next to hers temporarily, there were no family photos on the walls or other personal items scattered about the decor.
There was just the man and the things he had brought in a suitcase, a duffel and one garment bag.
She walked through the house while he checked that he had everything they would need.
It took all of five minutes, but it was long enough for her to run her fingers along the sleeve of a navy sports jacket hanging in the closet of the room where he slept.
He wore long-sleeved Henley-type shirts with jeans and always a casual jacket.
Comfortable leather loafers completed his wardrobe.
She wondered if he dressed the same when he was off duty.
Or maybe this was his off-duty attire. Also in the closet was a pair of running shoes. The man was fit for sure.
“Ready?” he asked from the doorway of his bedroom.
He didn’t ask why she was there, he just smiled as if he were glad she was curious.
She was very curious, but measuring the man based on the contents of his bedroom just now was really about distracting herself from the reality that it had been more than twenty-four hours since she had spoken to her child.
Worse, she had no idea where Janey was. It was the most terrifying feeling of uncertainty and loss.
“Yes.” She pushed aside the emotion that wanted to paralyze her and left the room, followed him out of the house and to her garage, where his rental car was parked.
He took a moment to check it closely for any sort of explosive or tracking device.
He’d explained the need to her already, but she kept forgetting it had to be done.
She couldn’t keep a thought except for wanting to find her daughter.
It would take about ten or so minutes to drive to Mallory’s town house. Brenda desperately hoped they would find answers there.
Wouldn’t it be amazing if Janey and Mallory were at her place and her cell phone had died and all the questions Brenda had were nothing more than a misunderstanding?
She could dream.
Mallory Lawrence Residence
Four Mile Post Road
Huntsville, 6:50 p.m.
There were lights on in Mallory’s town house. She had the end unit so there was no neighbor on the right side. Light shone through the front window as well as those on the end. Was it possible that she was home?
Brenda’s heart rate accelerated as they followed the sidewalk to the front door.
The plant in the concrete flowerpot next to the door was dead.
The temperatures hadn’t gotten so cold this season.
More likely it had died from lack of water.
Mallory would be the first to say she wasn’t exactly a homebody, and she definitely lacked any semblance of a green thumb.
Her mother had probably planted it since her daughter would never be bothered with sprucing up the place.
Mothers did those kinds of things in hopes of making life simpler or just more colorful for their children, even grown-up ones.
Brenda couldn’t imagine ever considering Janey anything but her little girl.
She wanted to help her with her hair at her senior prom and her gown at her college graduation.
Worry knotted in her belly. She wanted to watch her little girl grow up and become an amazing person.
Ben knocked on the door and it swung inward. But not because someone opened it… Apparently it had not been fully closed.
Brenda looked from the now open door to him. “Should we go in?” That cold, thick sensation of fear had started to travel through her again. This could not be good.
“I’ll go first,” he said.
She nodded. He was the one with the gun after all. And she was terrified at the idea of what they might find.
He stepped into the narrow entryway. “Mallory?”
Brenda did the same, coming up next to him and calling out, “Mallory?” The quiet made the creeping sensation of anxiety ooze onto her skin. “Janey?”
Ben reached back and closed the door. He glanced at her. “Stay behind me.”
She nodded her understanding. Her throat was too tight to speak.
He walked beyond the short wall that separated the small entry from the living room.
Brenda was right behind him as they moved deeper into the space.
There was no one on the floor…no one lying across the sofa or in a chair.
All was perfectly tidy. They moved on toward the kitchen.
Brenda peered up to the second-floor landing as they passed the staircase.
Dark up there. Like the living room, the kitchen was neat and organized.
No dirty dishes in the sink. Nothing on the stove. Nobody about.
Ben walked to the refrigerator and looked inside. When he drew back, he said, “Milk, eggs, yogurt. The usual. Nothing expired.” He withdrew a small pizza box. “The receipt—” he tapped the white ticket taped to the box “—is from yesterday. Cheese pizza.”
“Janey was here then. Just yesterday.” The possibility made her chest fill with hope. “She loves cheese pizza.”
He smiled, gave her a nod. “She was.”
With renewed purpose, they did a quick check of the laundry closet and small patio out back, then headed for the stairs. The carpet on the stairs and in the second-floor hall kept their steps quiet.
“Mallory?” Ben called out again.
“Janey?” Brenda held her breath, wished she would hear her daughter say, Mommy?
The first bedroom on the left, overlooking the street out front, was the largest and appeared to have an attached bathroom.
From the door the room appeared clear. Tidy, like the rest of the house.
They headed to the other side toward the adjoining bathroom, but the body lying on the floor on that side of the bed stopped them.
Brenda drew up short, her breath catching in fear.
But the short dark hair told her it wasn’t Mallory. Thank God.
Moving closer, it was obviously a man. Gray peppered his dark hair. Ben crouched next to him and checked his pulse. His back was toward Brenda so she couldn’t see his face. It wasn’t Mallory’s former boyfriend. He had blond hair. Could it be her father? Worry twisted inside Brenda.
“It’s Cummings,” Ben said as he looked up to meet her gaze. “He’s been stabbed.”
Brenda’s hand went over her mouth. “What if he came here for Mallory and Janey?” If it was true that he worked for the cartel, he may have decided she was in the way…and that he wanted Janey for manipulating Brenda to do whatever he asked.
Her heart surged higher into her throat, and she rushed out of the room, uncertain of her ability to keep down whatever she’d eaten or drank last. Her gaze shifted to the door that led into the other room, and her knees nearly gave out.
What if Mallory and her child were in there? Tied up…possibly injured or…worse.
What if Mallory was the friend Cummings had been staying with?
He’d said he was staying with a friend that night he caught her and Ben in Scott’s house.
If that were the case, could it mean he and Mallory were working together?
How was that possible? Brenda had known Mallory for two years.
Surely that couldn’t be. There had to be some misunderstanding…
Maybe Mrs. Lawrence was growing senile and wrongfully thought the cabin had sold. Maybe…
Brenda had to see for herself what was in the only other room on this floor.
She forced one foot in front of the other until she reached the door, then she stalled. On the beige carpet next to the bed was a Barbie doll with purple hair. Blossom.
Her heart squeezed as she walked slowly across the room then bent down to pick up the doll.
She traced the pad of her thumb over the outfit…
the denim overalls and tie-dyed shirt Janey loved.
The angel necklace was looped around and around the doll.
If the cheese pizza wasn’t proof enough, this confirmed it. Janey had been here.
“I’m calling Detective Shelton.”
Brenda turned to where Ben waited at the door. She held up the doll. “Janey was here. This is her doll.”
Ben was across the room in three long strides. He pulled her into his arms and held her tight. “This is a good thing,” he murmured.
Brenda hadn’t realized she was crying until he hugged her. Then she couldn’t stop. She buried her face in his chest.
“She was here, Brenda,” he said softly, “not somewhere far away. She was here just yesterday, maybe even earlier today.” He drew back then and fixed his gaze on hers.
“There is no indication of a struggle or injury anywhere in this house. There’s only Cummings—if Mallory saw him as an enemy, she may have stabbed him to get away from him. To get Janey away from him.”
Brenda swiped at the tears sliding down her cheeks. Hurt and anger roared through her, but somehow she nodded her understanding. “If it’s okay, I want to search this room.”
“I’ll call Shelton, and then I’ll help you search the whole place.”
He made the call. Brenda was vaguely aware of his voice as she explored every inch of the small bedroom.
Under the bed. Between the mattress and box spring.
The closet. The drawers in the dresser. Beneath the heating and air-conditioning floor register and in the cavity that it covered.
There was nothing else of Janey’s in the room.
Nothing else at all. No extra bed linens.
No stored decor. Most people stored their rarely used items or out-of-season clothing in an extra closet. But there was nothing here.
Where in the world had Mallory taken Janey?