Desperate Choices (13 page)

“No,” Tommy replied. “I won’t be satisfied until I’m home and you’re in jail—or dead, whichever comes first.”

Steven unloaded the food from the trolley, placing it on the table they used for their meals. He rolled it out the door and onto the grass beyond. Turning back, he stepped up to Becca’s chair. Throughout this entire exchange, she’d refused to say another word to him.

“Honey, I know you’re mad. You don’t understand what’s happening right now, but you will. I promise you will. Just give it some time, okay?”

“I’ll understand?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “You promised to take care of me after the accident. Told me you’d fixed up a place where I could be by myself. I get here and you’re holding somebody hostage or whatever. Then, I watch you kill somebody. I told myself over and over that you’d just hurt him, that he was going to be okay, but that’s a lie, isn’t it?” She slapped the arm of her chair. “He’s dead. Tommy’s a prisoner. I’m pretty much in my own private hell. You know what, Uncle Steven? You can just kiss my butt. I don’t believe a word you say anymore.”

Whipping her chair around, she started to wheel away from him, but was brought up short by Tommy’s chain. Before she could even say the words, Tommy lifted it out of her path. With an angry glare over her shoulder toward her uncle, she rolled away from them both.

***

Through all this, Steven’s eyes narrowed into slits, his mind whirling. His niece hated him right now and understandably so. But watching the interaction between Tommy and Becca, he smiled inside, knowing the bond he’d hoped for was forming, cementing them together in a camaraderie of shared experience.

He prayed it would be enough to withstand what was to come. It was his only hope.

The Freeman home was an unassuming dwelling close to the outskirts of Metairie, but still within New Orleans proper. A small white house, it showed signs of wear, peeling paint. A cracked sidewalk led to the front door. The yard was surrounded by a chain-link fence that went right up to the city sidewalk, bordered by a patch of weathered grass at the curb.

Two cars were parked at the house, one on the street and another older vehicle in the driveway inside the fence. The hood of this car was raised and a man worked diligently beneath it, changing the oil.

Max parked his truck and he and Theresa walked up to the fence, stopping at the latched gate.

“Excuse me.” Max’s voice broke into the silence. “Is this the Freeman residence?”

The man straightened under the hood to stare at them. “Yep. I’m Frank Freeman, can I help you?” He wiped the oil stains from his hands on a dirty orange cloth as he walked toward the gate.

“Mr. Freeman, my name’s Max Lamoreaux. This is Theresa Crawford. I’m a private investigator, looking into the disappearance of a young man.” Max watched as the older man’s posture stiffened. He hurried on. “I understand from the police that your son didn’t come home last night. I wondered if we might talk for a few minutes?”

“You working with the police, Mr. Lamoreaux?” He eyed Max up and down, gauging him. Obviously he passed inspection, because Mr. Freeman reached over and unlatched the gate. It slid open with a faint squeak.

“Used to be a cop,” Max answered, sidestepping the question without actually lying.

“Worked Homicide several years before I went out on my own.”

They walked up the rough sidewalk, and climbed the two steps that led to the front porch. Mr. Freeman motioned for them to have a seat on an old metal glider, big enough to hold Theresa and him if they sat close.

“My son, Jacob, didn’t come home last night. Not like him to stay out without leaving word, so his ma got worried. Wouldn’t rest until we went to the police. Talked with the Metairie cops, then with the New Orleans cops.” He gave it the southern pronunciation “N’awlins.” He pulled out the orange rag he’d used earlier and wiped at his hands again. Watching him, Max felt it was more a nervous habit rather than trying to get any actual dirt off his hands. He understood that. It gave the man something to do while he talked.

“Cops said he ain’t been missing long enough to start an official-like search. Said they’d put the word out on the streets, maybe talk with some of Jacob’s friends.” He eyed Max again, his eyes narrowed. “That why you’re here? Cops send you?”

“No, Mr. Freeman. As I said, I’m investigating the disappearance of another young man, the same age as your son. I’d like to ask you a couple of questions, if you wouldn’t mind.”

The screen door leading into the house opened, and a petite, middle-aged blonde woman stepped onto the porch. Her eyes were red-rimmed, as though she had been crying. Max assumed this was the mother. She looked like the type who’d call the police if her baby was missing.

“Frank, what’s going on?” She looked at Max and Theresa seated on the glider. Max rose to his feet quickly. “Are you from the police department? Have you found my Jacob?” She raced forward, grasping her husband’s hand in hers, her eyes never leaving Max. Her expression filled with hope.

“Naw, honey, they ain’t from the cops. Mr. Lamoreaux and Ms. Crawford here are private investigators.” Max didn’t correct him, but he heard Theresa’s quickly disguised, inelegant snort rapidly turn into a cough.

“They’s working on the case of a different missing kid. Mr. Lamoreaux heard from the police about Jacob being missing, and he wanted to ask us a couple of questions.”

“Another missing boy?” Suspicion laced her statement. “What’s this got to do with my Jacob?”

“Ma’am, we’re not sure there is anything connecting the two cases at all. I just wanted to get additional information from you, if it’s not too much trouble. Maybe while working the case I’m on, I might be able to get some information about your son, as well.”

“Of course. I’m sorry. I’m just so worried about my boy. It’s just not like him to do this, be gone overnight without telling anybody.”

She gestured toward the car parked in the drive, continuing, “Told the police if he was gonna run off, he sure wouldn’t leave his car here, now would he? That boy loves that car, always tinkering with it. Needs a new starter right now.” She started weeping again.

“I’d been saving up for weeks, I was getting it for him for Christmas.” Sobbing, she leaned against her husband’s chest, and his arms went around her, pulling her close.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Freeman.” From the corner of his eye, Max caught movement behind the screened door, inside the house. He could make out a little girl, who looked to be about eight or nine years old. He noted Theresa saw her, too. Without a word he watched Theresa stand and walk over to Mrs. Freeman, and whisper something in her ear. With a nod, Mrs. Freeman pointed and whispered something back to her.
Good girl,
he thought,
she’s going to go talk to the kid.

***

Theresa moved quietly into the house, taking in the spotless interior. The woman kept a clean home. The furniture reflected the same care-worn appearance as the exterior, but it was spic-and-span. Following the directions she’d received outside, she walked down the hall to the bathroom, again noting that it was well cared for. They obviously loved their home and did the best they could to maintain it, making ends meet on a limited income.

Thinking she’d stayed in the bathroom just long enough to avoid looking suspicious, Theresa cracked opened the door quietly and slipped through it. From the corner of her eye, she saw a figure whip past the opening of the hall and dart around the corner.

Moving slowly so as not to frighten her, she glanced at the photos along the wall of two children, a boy and a much younger girl, both towheaded with sparkling blue eyes. They appeared so happy in those pictures, with the blissful unawareness of childhood, not a care in the world.

Keeping her eyes focused on the pictures, making inane cooing, appreciative noises, she spotted the girl’s blond head peeking around the corner before whisking back out of sight.

Taking a few steps farther toward the living room, she called out, her voice barely above a whisper, “Hello. I’m Theresa. What’s your name?”

For endless moments only silence greeted her. Hearing a scuffing sound, she turned and saw the girl standing in an opening that obviously led to the kitchen.

“I’m Molly. Whatcha doing here?”

“Hi, Molly. My friend Max and I came to talk to your mom and dad.” Taking a step forward, she stopped when Molly stepped backward into the kitchen. She really didn’t want to spook the child.

“I was looking at the pictures in the hallway. Is that you?” Molly nodded her head shyly, her lips turning up at the edges in a bashful smile.

“My goodness, you’ve really grown up to be a pretty young lady, haven’t you? Must be those gorgeous blue eyes of yours. I always wanted blue eyes when I was growing up, but I got stuck with these old green cat eyes.”

Molly took a step forward, trying to get a better look at her eyes.

“Is the boy in the pictures your brother Jacob?” she asked. Molly nodded her head, but remained silent.

“Max and I heard he didn’t come home last night. That’s why we came to talk to your folks. We’re looking for somebody else, and we thought maybe we could look for him at the same time.”

Molly looked so sad it nearly broke Theresa’s heart. “I’m scared for Jacob,” Molly whispered. “He promised me he’d be home before dark, and he always keeps his promises.”

Theresa held open her arms, and Molly hesitated only a moment before launching herself into her embrace. Her tiny frame shook with her hiccupping sobs.

“He made me promise not to tell Momma and Papa where he was going yesterday. Did I do wrong? It was a promise, and you’re always supposed to keep your promises. That’s what Jacob always told me.” Her voice caught, breaking into a squeak at the end.

Theresa’s heartbeat sped up. Maybe this was it. She had that feeling she got when something was about to happen, that subtle psychic tingle which meant she was on the right track.

“Molly, do you know where Jacob went yesterday?” At Molly’s nod, she forged ahead cautiously. She had to be very careful not to scare the girl. She was already so upset. “Can you tell me, honey? Maybe Max and I can go get him and bring him back home. And your parents would be so proud of you for helping to find him. I promise you they won’t be mad that you broke a promise. Jacob won’t be mad, either. Sometimes promises have to be broken, when it means helping somebody else. Please, Molly, talk to me. Where did Jacob go yesterday?”

Her lower lip quivered, but Molly met her gaze straight on. “’Cause it’s getting real close to Christmas, Jacob wanted to get some money. To buy some really good presents this year. He was gonna go look for a job yesterday. After school. He wanted to get Momma and Papa something really special. He was going to buy me a new bicycle.”

“Did he say where he was going to look for a job, Molly?”

“Nope. He said after school he was going to start asking places, checking at some of the stores. He said lots of places hire extra people—’cause of the Christmas shopping.”

A myriad thoughts swirled through Theresa’s mind. It all sounded so innocent, yet something was missing. Some vital clue, a piece to the puzzle wasn’t there. It eluded her grasp, floating in the ephemeral plane. So close and yet so far.

“Molly, I think you’re a very brave girl, but I need you to be really strong right now. Okay?” Molly took a deep breath and nodded her head. Reaching down, Theresa held out a hand, and Molly slid her little fingers into hers, grasping it tightly, trustingly. Together they walked to the front door, to tell the Freemans and Max just where Jacob had been the day before.

***

Molly’s parents cried harder when she finished telling her tale. Frank Freeman rubbed the back of his work-worn hand over his face, swiping at the tears.

“That boy, doing something like that. It’s just like him, you know? Mature beyond his years, always has been. I hadn’t been out to the shed in back, so I didn’t notice his bicycle was gone. Darn fool kid.” His voice broke, and he turned away, trying to rein in his emotions.

Max wanted to pace, but the confines of the porch left no room for it. He stuck his hands into his pockets, rolling coins around, a meager thing, but it helped. He waited until the parents had regained their composure.

“Mrs. Freeman, we’ll keep an eye out for your son, ask around some. It’d help if you have a current picture we could show people.” She hurried back into the house. From the corner of his eye, he watched Theresa sitting on the glider, talking softly with the girl. He was so proud of her. She’d gotten the baby sister talking as smooth as silk. Max turned toward Mr. Freeman.

“I’ll check around some of the local stores, fast-food places, see if anybody remembers seeing Jacob. I’ll let you know as soon as I find out anything.”

“Mr. Lamoreaux, I can’t afford to hire you to look for my boy. I’m strong, though, an’ I can do just about any physical work you need. I’ll work off any debt real quick.”

“Don’t worry about money, that’s not important. Your son’s what matters.” Knowing the man’s pride would be hurt at outright charity though, he added, “We’ll work something out once we find Jacob.”

Mrs. Freeman came bustling back out the door, a framed photograph in her hands. Looking down at it, she touched the image before handing the photo to Max.

“Will this do? It was taken a few months ago, his school picture. We buy them every year.”

“Yes, ma’am, this will do fine. I’ll give you a call as soon as I have any information.”

They walked down the cracked sidewalk and back out to the street where the truck was parked. Once inside, Max took the picture and looked at it closely. It was a typical high-school class photo. Jacob had shaggy blond hair, cut shorter on the sides and left longer on top, and big blue eyes. He smiled cheerfully out from the photo, full of life, a mischievous gleam shining through his expression.

Handing the photo over to Theresa, he stuck the key in the ignition and turned on the engine. At Theresa’s sudden indrawn breath he turned to face her.

“Oh, God, no.” He watched the blood drain from her face, leaving her frighteningly pale.

“I knew when I saw the pictures in the house…but he looked much younger in those. He’s the boy from my dream. The one who told me we had to find Tommy.” Her eyes rose to meet his. “Max, Jacob Freeman is dead.”