Life in Death (3 page)

They all may have inadvertently contributed to Patience’s death. The thought made her stomach clench.
How could this have happened?

CHAPTER 3

“Frost. Call on line one.” The voice boomed overhead and interrupted Scott Frost mid-climb. He jumped off his truck, pushed up the sleeves on his dingy green work shirt and walked to the phone mounted on the wall, his face a scowl of irritation.

He grabbed the receiver. “Hello.”

“They found Patience,” his wife, Andrea, whispered.

Mammoth garbage trucks rumbled and shook the walls as they rolled out into the street for the day’s work, their giant bellies hungry for trash. Scott strained to hear his wife over the noise.

“I told you never to call me here.”

“Do you know what they did to her?” Her voice rose an octave.

"Hold it together.” He clenched his fist and resisted the impulse to smash it through the wall. “She’s the one who ran off.”

“She didn’t deserve that. Nobody deserves that.”

The phone slipped a bit in his sweaty hand. Tolerance had never been one of Scott's virtues, and what little he did have waned with each whiny word his wife uttered. “It’ll all be over soon, you know that.”

“They won’t let us out.”

He gnashed his teeth together until the noise in his head drowned out the roar of garbage trucks. The pumping of his heart escalated and Scott imagined he could feel his blood pressure rising.

“Damn it, Andrea, take a valium. These people are dangerous. They’ll kill us if we flake out.”

His wife—his weak, clingy wife—could get them both killed. The phone slipped from his right hand, and he switched it to his left, wiping the sweat onto his pant leg. The foul smell of stress damped his armpits and trickled down his balding head.

A doorbell rang on the other end of the line and Scott's heart jumped.

“Somebody’s here,” Andrea said.

“See who it is. I’ll hold on.”

He strained to hear.

Not a sound.

“Oh, God. I think it’s the police,” she whispered.

She was about to lose it again. Anger gurgled to the surface.

“Damn it. Be quiet. Don’t open the door.”

The phone clattered in his ear. “You didn’t just drop the goddamn phone, did you?”

No response. He heard a knock and assumed the police were still at the door.

“What the fuck?” Scott yelled.

“They saw me. I have to go.”

“Andrea, our lives depend on how you handle this. Do you hear me?”

***

Andrea hung up the phone and opened the door.

“Hello.” She pasted a smile onto her lips and hoped to God it looked sincere, relaxing with the appropriate mix of innocent concern and curiosity. At the very least she hoped for a not guilty look.

The two men who stood before her held up their badges. “I’m Detective Nicolet, and this is my partner, Detective Cobb. May we come in?”

“What’s this about?”

“Ma’am, we’d rather discuss this inside,” Detective Cobb said.

She held the door open and showed them into the living room, keeping the smile on with sheer will power and desperation. She nestled her bottom onto the overstuffed sofa. Detective Nicolet took a seat in one of the wingback chairs.

“May I use your bathroom?” Detective Cobb asked.

“Yes, down that hall, second door on the left.” The request jolted her heart into a nervous pitter patter she could swear the other cop heard, but she couldn't exactly refuse without raising suspicion.
Calm down, Andrea. You can do this. Deep breaths
. Thank God the foster kids weren’t home.

“What’s this about?” she asked again.

“You took care of Patience Dolo?”

“Yes.”

“She was found dead up at Taron Hills this morning.”

“Oh my God.” She put her hand to her mouth and feigned shock. Was that the right amount of surprise and horror? Each fraction of a second forced itself through her like a sharp blade as she monitored her reaction and the response of the too-observant Detective. “What happened to her?”

“We can’t go into specifics. Do you know anyone who would have wanted to hurt her?”

“No, but who knows who she came into contact with after she took off?”

“Excuse me, ma’am?”

The look of surprise on his face turned stoic in less than a breath, but she saw it. “You didn’t know she ran off?”

“When?”

“She’s been gone for a couple of weeks now. We called that social worker. What’s her name?” She paused. “Kari. But I never heard back from her.”

“Did you look for Patience?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“We wouldn’t have even known where to begin. Besides, we have other children to take care of.” The answers tumbled out of her without thought. The detective had taken control of the conversation and Andrew knew if she were to survive this she must regain it.

“Why didn’t you call the police?” The edge in his voice sent her back to defense mode.

Her heart raced.
Not good.
She needed to handle this better.

“We—we called Kari,” she said. “She’d be used to these kinds of situations, and we figured she could guide us. But she never called back.”

“So, after a day or two, why didn’t you check in again? Why not talk to her superior?”

“I don’t feel bad about how we handled this, Detective.” Should she show more remorse? Act more contrite? Would that make her look more guilty or innocent? Damn it, why couldn't Scott be here to handle this?

“How can you feel good about it?”

Andrea forced her spine to straighten. Scott wasn't here, so she had to be strong.

“You could have charges filed against you for reckless endangerment of a child.”

They’d be long gone before any charges were filed against them. She inwardly counted to ten to calm herself.

“We did the best we could, given the situation.”

He stared her down, but she refused to look away. His eyes bore into her, prying at her secrets and sins, but Andrea locked those doors tight and projected innocence and falsely accused victim.

The detective cleared his throat. A small victory for her.

He looked through his notes, though he didn't appear to be reading anything specific. “What can you tell us about Patience?”

“She was a trouble-maker. She caused a lot of problems in the house with the other kids. She got into a fight with another foster kid right before she ran off. I don’t know what happened, but it was a bad one. She bit him. I swear these kids act like wild animals sometimes.”

“Is that how you saw Patience—as an animal?”

She glared at him. He twisted her words. “No, of course not.”

Again, he stared hard at her.

“Was she allowed to see her father?”

“She didn’t want to. She had a lot of anger towards him.” Andrea picked some lint off the sofa and avoided eye contact. This time the detective claimed the victory.

“Do you know why?”

“No, I guessed because she’s in foster care. ”

“Did she have a friend in the house?”

“Anika was the only friend she had.”

“We need to talk to Anika and the other kids, your husband, too.”

“Why?” She wasn’t worried about Scott, just the foster kids. They had to be careful what they said and did or they’d all be dead.

“Patience Dolo was killed. We obviously need to talk to everyone. Is that a problem?”

“Oh, no, of course not.”

“What time will everyone be home?”

“About six.” She looked down the hall, then back at him. They'd been careful, covered their tracks. So why did her gut feel full of lead? “I think your partner is lost. Should I get him?”

“No, I’m sure he’ll be back shortly.”

***

While Nicolet talked to Andrea Frost, Cobb peeked in every room as he walked the hall. The house, while plain enough on the outside, told a different story on the inside: New furniture at every turn, high quality at that with a flat screen TV in nearly every room, including the bathrooms.

He made his way to the kitchen at the back of the house. It appeared to have been remodeled recently. They had state-of-the-art appliances and granite countertops. He could only imagine what the upstairs looked like.

He wondered how they kept a house this clean with six kids— well, five now.

His phone rang.

“Cobb.”

“You called.” David, his son, sighed into the phone. He hadn’t returned any of Cobb’s calls for over a year now, even after he’d left numerous messages.

“I’m done at the end of the year. I’ve finally had enough.” His chuckle was met with silence. He cleared his throat. “Can I come—"

“You’re a grandpa now. We had a baby girl last month and named her Charly Rose after Mom.”

“I’m a grandpa?" A deep sense of pride filled his soul. “Your mom would have made a terrific grandma.”

“Enough. I can’t do this.”

“Wait. C’mon, David. Give me a break."

“Like you did with Mom?”

That comment stung. His wife died of cancer a few years ago. He didn’t know how to handle her illness and couldn’t bear to see the disease ravage her mind and body, so he stayed away. He wasn’t even home when she died. David still hadn’t forgiven him for that, not that Cobb blamed him. He still hadn’t forgiven himself. Her death, and David’s absence from his life, left a deep void in him.

“Mattie asked me to call you, so I did, but I shouldn’t have. You were a terrible father and a worse husband. I won’t let you be a disappointment to little Charly Rose. Don’t call me again.”

A loud click ended the call.

“Fuck.” Cobb jammed his phone into his pocket, shoved his personal life back into the box where he kept it and focused on this case.

This house looked more like a model home than a house somebody actually lived in. The Frosts couldn’t afford to live this extravagantly on one salary, even with the extra income for the foster kids.

The Frosts were not who they appeared to be.

***

Cobb said as much to his partner as they walked back to their cars.

“Why do you say that?” Nicolet asked.

He recounted his survey of the home, ending on the flat screen televisions in the bathrooms.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. I don’t know how they got cash for this stuff, but I’m going to find out.”

“I didn’t get a good vibe from her. Most people in her situation would feel guilty about a child dying, even if they weren't at fault. But this woman went on the defensive. Red flags all the way. We definitely need to take a closer look at both of them.”

“Agreed.”

“Look, I have to take care of some personal business. I’ll meet you back at the precinct in a couple of hours.”

Cobb shrugged and got into his car. No surprise there. Nicolet insisted they drive two cars for a reason. No secret cops took care of their personal business on work time. Hell, he was glad Nicolet had somewhere to go.

Cobb rubbed his forehead. Shit. He needed a drink.

***

Cobb grabbed a parking spot right in front of his favorite bar. The dank mustiness of the room hit him full in the face when he opened the door. Beer, stale cigarettes and cheap perfume combined to create a unique and, to Cobb, welcoming aroma. A couple of the bar patrons greeted him. He grunted his acknowledgement of them and hunkered down in a seat at the bar.

“It’s the middle of the day. What the hell you doing here, Cobb?” Mickey smoothed back a wisp of her ginger blond hair, giving him a toothy grin and a wink.

“Hey, Mick, give me a beer.”

Mickey grabbed a mug and walked over to the tap to fill it. Cobb admired her backside as she went. He’d tried to hook up with her for years and finally gave up. She only dated younger men though they went through her like pigs through shit. They always took advantage of her and dumped her when the well ran dry. She needed to date men her own age, like him. At least he genuinely liked her and not just her ass, but that was pretty fine, too.

Still attractive, party life had taken a toll on Mickey’s looks, not that he minded. She never judged him, but took him as she found him, and he did the same for her.

“Here you go.” She put a beer in front of him. He took a swig—ice cold and delicious. He didn’t care what anyone said, beer had therapeutic properties.

“I can count on my hand the times you’ve come in here this early. Aren’t you scared somebody could report you?”

“Hell, no." He snorted. “Been on the force too damn long for that. And even if they did, who cares? I’m gone at the end of the year.”

“So, what brings you here then?”

“I’m here to celebrate. I’m a grandpa, Mick.” Tears welled up in his eyes. With anyone else, he would’ve forced them back, but not with Mickey. He could be himself with her.