Thirty Detective Walter Duncan
Thirty
Detective Walter Duncan
The tires squeal as I slam to a stop in front of Preston’s house. I jump out of my Tahoe and rush to the front door and start pounding. I need to find Liv. She isn’t answering her cell. I’m worried. Worried sick.
This whole idea is wrong. Not possible. I can’t fathom how to explain it, and yet I know there is no other reasonable explanation.
It was Liv’s blood found with Fanning’s in his damned kitchen. Liv is the young girl who helped Mario Sanchez, a skinny ten-year-old kid, escape that bastard. Liv is the mystery child that Andrea Donnelly thought was Fanning’s daughter.
My heart breaks for her. I cannot imagine what this is going to do to her. My God, what she has been through.
A sob catches in my throat. The idea of what that bastard likely did to her tears me apart. I don’t understand how it all came about or what role the Newhouses played in this mess, but I know I have to help her. I have to make this okay somehow, no matter what it takes.
The rattle of the lock and the swing of the door opening send renewed tension through my muscles. Preston stares at me. “If you’re looking for Liv, she’s not here.”
“Do you know where she is?”
“She left in a hurry.” He steps back, leaving the door open.
It’s not until then that I notice the box cutter in his hand. A frown nags at my brow. The stack of boxes I helped Liv move from her place still stands to one side in the entry hall. Preston zips the box cutter along the taped edges of the box closest to him and starts prowling through it.
Since he left the door open, I take it as an invitation. I don’t have time for him to find his manners. “Are you saying you haven’t seen her today?”
“Look”—he glances at me—“you’re with her more than I am.
Haven’t you noticed that something is wrong?
” He puts the potential weapon aside and reaches for the flaps of the box.
“I woke up in bed with a woman covered in mud from the waist down. She said she was at some crime scene last night and got muddy. Was she?”
I’m not going to try to explain. I wonder whether he knows she’s carrying his child. The urge to shake the shit out of him is nearly overpowering. Instead, I take a breath and follow my cop instincts. “What exactly did she say when she was leaving?”
“She said there was something she had to do and that she would tell me everything as soon as she could.” He shakes his head. “I have no idea what’s going on.”
The sheen of emotion in his eyes, his voice, tells me he means it. So maybe I was wrong about him. Maybe he isn’t a total asshole.
I take another deep breath. “Okay. How long ago did she leave?”
I figure she’s at the farm. Whatever is happening, it’s rooted there.
“Maybe two, two and a half, hours ago.” He pauses and looks at the grandfather clock in the corner.
“It’s eleven now. I got up at seven thirty.
Saw the mud and freaked out. She showered and left.
I’m pretty sure she was out of here by eight thirty, maybe quarter of nine.
” He shakes his head again. “I honestly don’t know what to do.
I told her I’d be waiting for her. That I could help if she would just talk to me. ”
The claws of worry dig deeper. “She probably went to the farm?”
He nods. “She’s been going there a lot lately. I’m not sure she wants to be here anymore.” He reaches into the box and pulls out an object. A frown scrunches his face. “What is this?”
He holds up a ragged old teddy bear.
Another knot twists in my gut. It’s hers . . . “We should go now,” I urge. “Olivia is in trouble.”
A lot more trouble than either of us know.
Driving like a crazy man, it takes the longest twenty-five minutes of my life to reach the farm.
Liv’s car is there. So are three Williamson County Sheriff’s Office cruisers and an ambulance.
The tight band around my chest loosens a fraction.
Preston and I are out of the Tahoe before it quits rocking.
I check her car. Her wallet and cell phone are on the console.
I frown at the mud. Preston was right. Mud on the floorboard and some in the driver’s seat.
He’s already through the front door of the house, calling her name.
I rush in behind him and do the same.
The house is dead silent.
Preston turns to me, and I say, “The barn.”
We head outside. I spot a uniform coming out of the barn. That’s when I start running. Preston is right beside me.
I reach the barn, my chest wheezing, pain radiating through me like an electrical current.
Two paramedics are coming out with a gurney. Fanning, the scumbag, is strapped on it, bellowing about how she tried to kill him.
My face twists with disgust. What goes around, comes around, you piece of shit.
“Olivia!”
Preston sees her before I do and is running toward her. Uniforms are spread out inside the barn, going over the place.
That’s when I realize I’ve been holding my breath.
The air pours into my aching lungs as I walk toward Liv and Preston, who is holding her tight against him.
I want to grab her and hug her, to promise her everything will be all right, but it won’t be.
Not for a while. At the moment, the reassurance she needs has to come from Preston. Everything else will have to wait.
I will do whatever necessary to find a way to protect her from all the official stuff.
I muster up a calm face and join the two of them. “You okay?”
She nods. “I will be eventually.”
The thousand knots in my gut loosen a little.
She looks to her fiancé then. “There’s so much I have to tell you.”
He hugs her again. “We’re going to be fine,” he promises, his voice breaking.
Liv’s right. She will be, and I’ll do all in my power to help make that happen. Sounds like Preston intends to do his part as well.
We’re all, I realize, going to be okay.