A Grave Peril Page 6

  Before driving to Seattle to look for the eight-year-old girl, I pulled up the email I’d received from the mother. It was a sad case. The dad had a history of abusing both the mother and his little girl. When mom left him, she got a protective order and he was denied visitation. The order hadn’t stopped him from sending abusive and threatening messages. One day eight-year-old Maryanne went missing from the playground at her daycare. The dad claimed to be at work at the time and a coworker initially covered for him. By the time the alibi fell apart a couple days later, police discovered evidence that Maryanne had been killed in her father’s car probably immediately after he abducted her from the daycare. Dad was taken into custody, but his daughter’s body was nowhere to be found and he wasn’t talking.

  It had been a couple weeks and police had done a huge search of the area, including nearby Interlaken Park, but no sign of Maryanne. The mom said that the dad liked to walk the park and she felt strongly that her daughter’s body would be found there. Mom and a large group of volunteers had trudged through the thick brush daily without luck. The police didn’t have the resources to search the entire city or even the neighborhood daily, but they’d certainly led a number of exhaustive searches of their own.

  This morning I’d sent the mom an email asking for more information, but I hadn’t told her I’d take the case. If I did find Maryanne, this was going to be a freebie. I knew it the moment I read the last line in the mom’s email: What kind of monster kills his own flesh and blood?

  I knew exactly the kind of monsters who killed their own. The same demons had raised me. If it hadn’t been for luck and desperation, I could’ve had the same fate as Maryanne, and my body was a roadmap of scars that proved that point.

  As I took I-5 south to Seattle, my head was a minefield of quicksand thoughts that threatened to drag me under, but I fought back. Blasting over my speakers were positive and uplifting Ted Talks followed by healing meditations that I knew by heart. I said the words out loud, pushing out dark thoughts and trying desperately to replace them with good.

  Maryanne’s mother had provided the address of her ex-husband and I drove to the street only to find it still clogged with lookie-loos, those curious about a murderer living in such a normal house in this affluent area. From his house I drove the few blocks to the park where Mom suspected her daughter might be.

  I pulled my dowsing rods from my pack and rested them on my lap as I drove into the park on East Interlaken Boulevard. Large cedars towered over the park road, blocking out the sun, and thick vines and shrubbery encroached on the paved drive. I’d taken Wookie for a run through the park a few times when we were living in Garrett’s condo, so I had a good feel for the area. Although it was in the middle of bustling Capitol Hill, it was also over fifty acres of heavily wooded trails thick with dense brush. A great oasis to take you away from the busy city. Lots of trails and paths that were great for joggers, bikers and walkers. And a good dumping ground for the body of a little girl.

  Although I was driving the park now, I knew Maryanne was bound to be off the trails and obviously not in an area frequented by a lot of traffic or else she would’ve been found by now. I had hoped for some kind of tremor in my dowsing rods as I drove to give me an idea of where to start my search, but the copper rods remained motionless in my lap. I drove through and around the park another time waiting for a tremble or a quiver in my rods to indicate I was nearby but they remained motionless.

  Finally, I parked near the Nineteenth Avenue entrance and took one of the less used trails. I encountered a dog walker who looked at me and my dowsing rods curiously but that was the only activity on the trail. Of course there was an excellent chance Maryanne’s mother was wrong and her body wasn’t here. Maybe Daddy drove her out of town. Even though this park was densely treed, it was still risky to drag a body through a park in the middle of town.

  “C’mon, little girl, if you’re here give me a sign,” I murmured as I stepped off the worn path and into the dense forest.

  After traipsing off trails and through scratchy bushes I gave up and returned to my car an hour later. I turned up the air-conditioning, pointing the vents on my face to cool me off, and drank some water. I decided I’d done enough walking at this end. Before heading home I’d drive around to a different side of the park and maybe do some off-the-path walking from there. With my rods once more on my lap I circled the park but, again, there was no movement to indicate Maryanne was close.

  I circled onto East Boston Terrace and became blocked in traffic only a little way down the road. The park was on one side and stately houses were on the other. One of the houses was undergoing construction, and the road was narrowed to one lane of alternating traffic because of heavy machinery blocking part of the street. A flag person held up a stop sign ahead, so I put the Jeep in park and sat patiently.

  Drumming my fingers on the steering wheel, I thought about Maryanne’s short life and how my own could’ve ended at the same age. Only my body wouldn’t have been dumped in a forested park. I would’ve been buried somewhere on the farm.

  I was breathing deeply and rhythmically to clear my head when the guy in the car behind me leaned on his horn and broke my spiritual concentration. The flag lady had changed her sign from Stop to Slow and was waving it at me.

  “Okay, don’t get your panties in a bunch, everyone. I’m going.”

  I put the Jeep in Drive and eased forward. I’d driven only a few yards past the flag person when the dowsing rods in my lap trembled. I glanced down and, just as I reached the driveway of the house undergoing renovations, the rods swung to the left, away from Interlaken Park.

  I slammed on my brakes and received another horn blast from the vehicle behind me. Resisting the urge to show him my middle finger, I pulled over to the side of the road and parked directly in front of the driveway. The car behind me accelerated past at a high speed just to show me his displeasure, but I didn’t care. I was already climbing out of my Jeep with my rods held out in front of me.

  The copper divining rods pulled me unswervingly onto the driveway of the house under construction and directed me right up to a massive, overflowing construction dumpster.

  “Damn, Maryanne. Your daddy tossed you out like trash.” I reached and placed a hand against the rusted metal. “I’m so sorry, little one. You didn’t deserve this.”

  Chapter Five

  When the police arrived, one of the officers shimmied up the side of the dumpster and over the side to confirm what I already knew. Buried deep in the large container filled with renovation rubble was a black canvas bag containing the bloodied and broken remains of a little girl.

  I was off to the side waiting for someone to take my statement when one of the construction crew came over to complain to a cop next to me. He didn’t want to lose a day’s pay and shut down their work site. The man reeked of alcohol and a thinly veiled attempt to cover the odor with chewing gum.

  God, I want a drink.

  The thought was vehement and the craving for booze was like a starving animal clawing inside my belly. By the time I’d told the officers everything I knew, I only wanted to leave. I needed to get home and not stop to buy any liquor along the way. I did not call Maryanne’s mother. I’d let the police do that. I just wanted to go home to Garrett and my loyal dog and annoying cat.

  I pulled away from the curb and asked the Jeep’s hands-free call system to call Garrett. The call went immediately to voicemail.

  “Dammit.”

  I just remembered about his lost phone. I tried the landline at home, but it rang a few times before it too went to voicemail. If Garrett wasn’t still sleeping, he was probably out replacing his phone. I thought about his banged-up face that he explained as an apprehension that got out of control, and my hands tightened on the steering wheel. Suddenly I wanted to be home just to look at his face and know he was okay. Normally I liked calling or texting him when I found a body. Ju
st knowing he was my support system helped ground me.

  “You’re fine. You’re good,” I told myself.

  Traffic was bad. I wanted a strong coffee to cover my need for a stiff drink but I didn’t want to stop so I just focused on driving.

  My heart sank when I pulled into my driveway nearly ninety minutes later. Garrett’s car was gone. No doubt he was already at the store replacing his phone. I assured myself he wouldn’t be gone long. As I stuck my key in the front door lock, I heard Preston’s voice.

  “Garrett forgot something when he went out.”

  I rolled my eyes hard and then turned with a smile pasted on my face that quickly faltered.

  “Wookie?”

  Preston had Wookie by the collar and released him. The dog lumbered happily over to me and licked my hand.

  “What...how?” I was shaking my head as I gave the dog a pat.

  “I guess he let him out in the backyard before he went out, and forgot the fence was coming down.”

  I’d forgotten to tell Garrett about the fence coming down today but then my face scrunched up and I slowly shook my head.

  “He wouldn’t just let Wookie out and forget him outside.”

  “Don’t know what happened then.” Preston shrugged.

  “Thanks so much for making sure he was okay,” I said, offering a genuine smile this time. “I’d hate to have him get loose in the neighborhood. He’s used to being on a farm.”

  “No problem.”

  “Thanks again.” Anxious to get inside now, I opened the door and hustled Wookie in and gave Preston another thank you as I closed the door behind me.

  Almost immediately Wookie headed toward the family room and I noticed the patio door was open at least a foot.

  “Wookie, stop!” I shouted and, reluctantly, the dog sat and looked over his shoulder at me. He would’ve walked right back outside and joined the workers who were taking down the fence. I’m sure they would be thrilled to once again have an enthusiastic, hundred-thirty-pound Rottweiler join them.

  I walked over, closed and locked the patio door and then frantically looked around. Fluffy was sitting in the kitchen sink, just his head visible while he gave me a derisive glare. At least the cat was still inside. Wookie accompanied me as I did a quick check of the rest of the house. The blankets were tossed aside as if Garrett had just recently climbed out of the covers. The clothes he’d come home in were in a crumpled heap next to his hamper, which was also uncharacteristic. Neither of us were slobs but I was the messier one. I walked down the hall to the den and found paperwork strewn across his previously clean desktop but there was no sign of Garrett and no sign we’d had a break-in.

  “So weird...”

  I checked the counter for a note but there was nothing saying “Gone to the store. Be right back” in his serious, hard scribble. The note I’d left him lay where I’d placed it, with the pen beside it. Maybe Preston was right, and Garrett was so distracted he let Wookie out and then forgot him outside when he left the house.

  If I was talking about anyone else, that would be a definite possibility, but this was FBI agent Garrett Pierce we were talking about here. The same man who was known to pitch a fit if I took Wookie for a walk down the street and forgot to set the house alarm. He’d left a back door to the house wide open.

  “Maybe that pounding his face took scrambled his brain.” I said it as a joke but my voice in the quiet house held no humor.

  I was beginning to think he’d had some kind of emergency that caused him to bolt out of the house without even remembering Wookie outside or pausing to leave me a note. The scenario scared the crap out of me and I felt panic creeping a cold finger up my spine.

  I kept checking my phone, hoping Garrett had his new phone and sent me a message, but none arrived. Every time there was a notification of an email or message from Tracey I jumped. After a couple hours I was debating calling the police or trying to see if I could reach anyone working with him at the Bureau. He’d mentioned recently a change in coworkers. I wouldn’t even know who to ask for at the Seattle office. A half dozen times I picked up my phone to make a call and just as many times I put it back down. With no sign of a break-in, nobody was going to jump up and down to declare Garrett Pierce missing just because he’d left the house without leaving his girlfriend a note.

  “You’re all worked up for nothing.” Wookie came over and nudged my hand with his head. “Right, boy?”

  I put my headphones in and walked around the house humming to myself and blasting uplifting music. I finished cleaning out my winter clothes and replacing them with summer stuff. Then I scrubbed every inch of the bathroom until it shone. I was tired and hungry when I returned to the kitchen. I was also beginning to get a little ticked off with Garrett. Between the worry, the anger began to bubble. There’s no excuse for not leaving a note. I mean it takes less than a couple seconds!

  I made myself a peanut butter sandwich, glanced at the clock on my phone and realized I’d been home for nearly five hours.

  As I was cursing the lack of messages from Garrett, the phone rang in my hand and it was Tracey.

  “Sorry. I can’t talk,” I told her.

  “I’m thinking of going back to green,” she said, ignoring my statement. “What do you think?”

  “Green? As in green hair?” I dragged a hand through my own bleached locks. “Seriously. I don’t care.”

  “You don’t have to be snippy.” Her voice was hurt.

  “Look, Garrett’s missing and I’m a wreck.”

  “Missing? As in missing missing or late coming home from work? Have you called the police? Do you want me to come over and help you look for him?”

  “He’s not a misplaced sock,” I snapped. Then exhaled slowly. “Sorry. Oh God, I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if I’m worrying for nothing or if something is really wrong. He’s been acting so weird and—” I stopped short and a relieved gasp burst from my lips. “Never mind. He’s home.”

  I burst into a wide grin at the sight of his car pulling up the driveway.

  “Great! Go give that man shit for scaring you,” Tracey said. “That is so not cool!”

  I grunted something about calling her back later and then disconnected the call.

  Garrett walked in through the side door. I was prepared to wrap my arms around his neck and cover him with kisses while also giving him hell for scaring me. But he had his phone pressed to his ear and the fury in his voice stopped me cold.

  “You owe me!” he shouted into the phone as he slammed the door shut behind him. “And when I get there, you’d better have the information I need.”

  He stabbed the off button and jammed the phone into his jeans before glancing up and seeming startled to see me.

  “I was worried.” I tried unsuccessfully to keep the reproach out of my voice. “I went to Seattle and found the body of a girl and, when I got back, the neighbor brought Wookie over. The back door was wide open and—”

  “I let him out and then got an important call. Guess I was distracted. Sorry.” He moved to walk past me, and I put a hand on his arm to stop him.

  “And you didn’t leave me a note or call me? You’ve been gone hours. Is everything okay?”

  He sighed and then pulled me into a brief hug. “You’re right. I should’ve called or at least left you a note. Sorry, sweetheart. It’s just this case.” He kissed the top of my head and then walked toward the bedroom and I followed him.

  “The one involving your brother-in-law? Is everything okay? I mean, obviously it’s not by the sound of that phone call, but is Sid okay?”

  At first, he didn’t reply other than to open our closet, take out a duffel bag and begin jamming clothes in it. I thought briefly about the emerald ring in the box above his head. I needed to check to see if it belonged to his deceased wife and, if not, I needed to ask him about his intenti
ons. Of course, now was definitely not the time to bring it up but, eventually, we needed to have a conversation about it if it was intended for me.

  Garrett looked over at me while he grabbed a light jacket off a hanger and stuffed it into the bag. “Sid is in over his head with some bad people.” He brought the bag out of the closet and went to the dresser. “I’m going to try and help him out.”

  “Sure. He’s your, um, family. You owe it to him to help. I can see that.”

  “I don’t owe it to him.” Garrett opened a drawer and grabbed a handful of T-shirts. “I owe it to Faith.”

  The mention of his dead wife’s name again hit me in that tender spot of my heart and seemed to suck the air out of my lungs.

  “Oh. Um. I get that.” I swallowed and then nodded vigorously. “Of course, I do.” I watched as he continued to pack. “I take it that helping Sid means you’re going away?” I frowned as he grabbed spare socks and boxers and stuffed them into the bag. “And for longer than one night?”

  “I don’t know how long I’ll be. I’m hoping it’ll be only a day or two at most but I’m not sure. I’ve gotta put this case to rest and—” He looked up at me and frowned. “And I can’t do it from here.”

  Wookie came into the room and walked over to rest with his head on top of Garrett’s bag.

  “I’m not the only one who misses you when you’re gone.” I was trying to lighten things up because I’d never seen him this tense.

  “Don’t.” Garrett’s face suddenly twisted into an angry snarl and he pointed a finger at me. “I can’t handle you making me feel guilty right now on top of everything else!”

  My jaw dropped as he picked up his bag and rushed past me down the hall toward his office. I started to follow, ready to heatedly protest and ramp his biting words into a full-fledged fight but, instead, I snapped my mouth shut and willed myself to remain calm. This was about the case. He was stressed. It was not about me. Although it sure as hell felt personal.