Maternal Harbor (23 page)

Hesitant, but knowing Fiona was right, Teagan tiptoed by the babies and into the small bedroom.  The air smelled faintly of lilac over the heavier odors of old woolen blankets piled on a chest and worn leather boots stacked in a corner.  The wrought-iron bed rattled comfortably.  Teagan relaxed for the first time since she’d seen Erica run across the parking lot.  A blanket waved and settled over her.

“Is Bryan’s wife with him?”  Her question was a whisper.

“
Sleep now.”  Fiona left the room.

Erica Thorburn checked her list of addresses before driving through the open wrought iron gate of Elmore Estates.  The sign mounted on the arch confirmed a John Olson owned one of the condos.  If he sired Charlie, it wouldn’t take long to find out.  She called dispatch, said she’d be out of her squad car for a few minutes, parked near the end of the block, and walked along the modern salmon-colored complex.  A jaunty redwood deck, potted flowers, barbeques, and patio furniture decorated each of the glorified apartments.

Erica hated the look – too landscaped and too commercial.  She adjusted her holster and moved faster, silently counting off the numbers.  She rapped on 108.

The door opened.  “Yes?” asked a Caucasian male: thirty, five-foot, ten-inches, brown hair tied back, hazel eyes, on the thin side. 

“I’m looking for John Raymond Olson.”

The man licked his lips and glanced up and down the street.  “Why?”

Erica sniffed slightly   Repugnance almost turned her stomach.  This arrogant scumbag lacked any trait to be proud about and had the gall to worry about what the neighbors might think.  “I’m just checking on a missing child.”  She strained for a friendly cast to her voice. 

The muscles in John’s face relaxed.  “I don’t know anything about some lost kid.”

“It would help if I could come inside and ask a few simple questions.”

John shrugged.  “Well, okay, but you have to excuse the place.  I just got home from an assignment.”

Erica stepped inside the gloomy room.  The thick smell of a litter box overpowered the staleness of a closed-up apartment.  Ignoring the stink, she asked, “Do you know Teagan O’Riley?”

“
So?”

“
Your name is listed as the father of her child.”

The color drained from his face.  “Is something wrong?  Is Teagan all right?”

“
Are you the father?”  Erica stepped closer.

“
Yes.”  John backed up a little.

“
She’s wanted in the investigation of two missing babies.”

“
What does that have to do with me?”

Erica pulled her shoulders back enough to emphasize her uniform, right hand toying with her holster strap.  “Where is she?”

“How the hell do I know?  God, this is unbelievable.  I need to sit down.”  But, instead of falling into the nearest chair, he grew a little feisty.  “All she does is work.  She’s so wrapped up in selling fish she doesn’t have time for anyone.  Why would she take babies?”

“
I need to look around.”  Erica’s hand rode on her holster.

“
I ain’t hiding a damn thing, officer.”  He waved his arm in invitation.  Dirty dishes filled the sink, empty quick-meal boxes heaped the waste basket, and clothes were tossed across the furniture.  Three Angora cats lounged in different chairs.

Erica stopped searching at the bedroom from where the cat stench reeked.  She glanced back at him; he revolted her more than the room.  “What’s your occupation?”

“Photography.”

“
Have any pictures of your son or Teagan?”

John crossed to a heaped desk and shuffled through papers until he pulled several glossy prints from a folder.  He handed them over, glad to be rid of them.

Teagan stood on the bow of a trawler, wind fingering her red hair, dressed in Khakis, white T-shirt, and deck shoes.  Her face held the easy friendly smile Erica knew and hated.  The bitch trusts everyone but me, she thought.  “May I keep these?”

“
I never got the chance to photograph my son.  Damn that Teagan, I should’ve sued for custody.  What did she do to him?”

Unable to imagine this man the father of anything, Erica reined in a choice comment.  He seemed less hesitant at her presence, and she needed him worried, not angry.

“If you’re satisfied I don’t have any babies,” he said.  “I have film to develop.”

Erica blocked his way.  “I need a name.”

“Name of what?”

“
Don’t be dumb.  Someone knows where she is.  Who?”

Redness flushed up his neck, his lips thinned.  “Like I told you, she was too busy for friends or anybody else.”

“Better jog your memory.  You know someone.  Think hard, because it is your baby I’m trying to protect.” 

The flush drained from John’s face, leaving an unsightly pallor.  “Bryan Winslow was the only name she ever mentioned.”

“Address?”

“
Look officer, I have a deadline.”  His tone diminished from the angry clip to one of indifference.  When Erica didn’t move, he added, “Oklahoma, I think.  He was from here though.  She confessed they were college sweethearts.”

“
Confessed?”  Erica wanted to pounce on him and swat him round a bit, but what else he hid didn’t matter.  “Open the drapes and clean up this place.  Your cats deserve better.”  She handed him back the pictures he didn’t want, left the front door wide open, and strode away, rangy arms swinging, sleek hips moving, John Raymond Olson already forgotten.  The name which now concerned her was Bryan Winslow.

She grabbed the mic of her radio as soon as she slid behind the wheel of her squad car and called dispatch.  “Paula?  I need a check on a Bryan Winslow.  Local and Oklahoma.”

“Wait one.”

Erica drummed her deft fingers on her knees; impatient like a hunter quickening over a thickened scent, intensified.

“Unit 307,” Paula finally said.

“
Yes.”  Erica controlled a scream one more time.

“
No warrants for anyone by that name in either Washington or Oklahoma.  But I’ve been watching for reports of a woman and babies like you asked.  Something just came across the wire.  Could be what you’re looking for.”

Erica gripped the steering wheel.  “Go ahead.”

“A strange-acting woman with three babies was reported at an Idaho rest stop on I-90.  Another report states a postal worker was concerned about three babies in a car with Washington plates.”

“
Where?”

“
Kalispell, Montana.”

“
I owe you double, Paula.”  Erica switched off the radio.

“
Iska, did you hear that?  The bitch ran to Montana.”

Erica chewed on her bottom lip.  Where did the Winslow character fit in?  Or did he?  The first impulse was to drive east to Montana as quickly as possible, but she squelched that urgent need.  Better to check out the Winslow family first and pop an address for this old boyfriend.  Relief eased her taut muscles.  For the first time, she felt closer to the boys.  Derek will be pleased.

She drove away from the ritzy neighborhood toward downtown, patrolling Darvus and issuing a few speeding tickets to turn in at the end of her shift.  Slowly, she worked Ballard Bridge, and then into the heart of Seattle to the office of Vital Statistics.

The efficient stats clerk behind the counter, said, “A Bryan Winslow was born in 1971 in King County.”

“Parents?”

“
Bryan, Sr. and Joyce, maiden name, Kerry.  Address was NW 67th Street.”

“
Ballard area.”  Erica wrote in the address in her flip top pad.  “Do you have a phone book?”  Quickly she flipped to “W” and ran her finger down.  Bryan Winslow.  The address matched.  “See, computers haven’t replaced good old police work.”  She left the woman smiling and hurried to the elevator.

The Winslows lived on a classy street lined with two-story Colonials.  The big Dutch at the end of the block would be it.  Erica moistened her lips as the entrance became visible behind massive rhododendrons.  In the shadow of the shrubs, a dark-haired woman was talking with a tall man in a jacket and slacks.  Who?  Detective Lutavosky!  Instantly, Erica ducked her head and kept driving.  She rounded a corner and headed back to the West Precinct, chuckling with Iska.  The good detective would find the boys, bring them back, and place them in a nice secure foster home.  She’d visit Levi, Jimmy, and Charlie as soon as they arrived.

“Iska, they’ll be so glad to see me.”

And now would certainly be a good time to return Lute’s call.

Iska is so smart, Erica thought and dialed homicide.  She left a message.  Savoring the deliciousness of the unexpected bonus, she radioed dispatch.  “Unit 307 reporting on duty.”

“
Personal injury assault at West McGraw and 8th.”

“
En route.”  Erica flipped on her overhead light bar.  She resisted the urge to turn on the siren and settled for blue and red reflections bouncing off windows to share her happy relief.

Blood pooled across the stairs.  Teagan averted her eyes from Doretta’s dead face and lifted one foot to step over.  She tripped, falling, the babies spilling, the blood smearing.  Teagan bolted upright.  The bed rattled, and she knew it was Fiona’s.

After her heart rate slowed, she wiped her forehead.  The bedroom seemed darker, the afternoon stolen by sleep and horrible images.  Her breasts sagged heavy with milk, hips still ached like they were trying to find where they belonged after bearing the stress from pregnancy and the fourteen hour drive.  Her stomach rumbled from hunger.

The boys?

Teagan rolled from the bed and hurried into the living area.  Near the stove, Fiona sat on a blanket with Jimmy, Levi, and Charlie.  Each wore only a diaper and t-shirt; their legs and arms waving, they chewed busily on pacifiers.

The lines in Fiona’s face appeared softer, pleasure lit her faded eyes.  She glanced up.  “I fed Levi and Jimmy a bottle, but Charlie wants to nurse.”

Teagan lifted her son, cuddled him near her heart and sat down in the rocker.  The feel of him was so necessary now; the pressure of his tiny head against her chest, his tugging on her nipple, his very breath was part of her.  Tears brimmed in her eyes at the thought of leaving him with Fiona.  “You are my life,” she whispered and stroked the side of his head while he nursed.

Fiona pushed herself up onto her feet.  “After I plopped on the floor with those babies, I wondered if I’d ever get up again.  But by golly, I did.  In fact, I feel downright young.  Takes babies to do that.”  She steadied herself and limped to the counter.  “I made a roast beef sandwich to tide you over until Bryan and TJ return.”

At the mention of Bryan’s name, Teagan closed her eyes and prepared her mind.  “TJ is his wife?”

Fiona snorted.  “Hardly.  TJ is the boy I mentioned.  Bryan is divorced.”

Divorced?  Bryan free?  Joy arced.  No, Teagan thought, it means nothing.  He’ll never forgive my desertion and I cannot forgive his marriage.  Can I?

“
I’m sorry it didn’t work out for him.”  She murmured and meant it.

“
Don’t be.  He claims he returned to these mountains to recover, but he already knows there’s no cure for what ails him.”

“
Meaning?”

“
He avoids any mention of his years in Oklahoma.  Wants to winter here and fight the elements.  I figure he’ll do just about anything to avoid returning to Seattle and facing you.”

Not wanting to hear more, Teagan said, “It’s over between us, has been for a long time.”  Her cheeks warmed as Fiona studied her. 

“You ready to tell me about the murdering cop?”

Teagan told about meeting Pai, Doretta, and Erica at the Swanberg Clinic.  She went into detail about how they were single moms, and how they bonded out of mutual need.  Her voice broke several times, but she controlled her emotions and led Fiona through the deaths of her friends.  “Erica Thorburn was desperate for a son, even bragged about using a rugged northeasterner’s sperm.  I should’ve known she was crazy, but didn’t until her son was stillborn.  It’s unbelievable, and there’s no proof, but it’s true that she wants ours boys.  I saw her chase Doretta into my building and then I had to step across my friend’s dead body to escape with the babies.  I can’t return Jimmy to his father or Levi to his grandmother until, somehow, I can prove she killed their mothers.”

“You ran with these babies?  You could be in trouble for that.”

“
They’d be in Erica’s hands if I hadn’t.  I promised to care for them if anything happ--” Teagan stumbled on the word.  “And it did.”

“
Have any idea what you’re going to do?”

“
Convince Detective Lutavosky.  He’s the only one I dare contact.”  Teagan waited for Fiona to say something, but the frail woman remained quiet, her expression unchanged, this wasn’t the worst thing she’d ever heard.

Fiona finally shook her head.  “It’s beyond me how a medical facility could artificially fertilize such an unstable person.  You need to contact that detective and Bryan will help.”

Teagan breathed again.  “Where is he?”

“
Up river with TJ.  Should be back before dark.

Teagan listened to the clock ticking.  Her emotions ran a scale from secret relief about Bryan’s divorce, to feelings of uselessness in the face of their years apart – the years her stubbornness caused.  She could finally admit it.  Her determination to own her business resulted in the rift with Bryan.  Why had it been so important?

“Would you mind if I walk to the river?” she asked.

Fiona smiled softly.  “There’s an extra jacket by the door.”

For the briefest moment, Teagan considered not taking Charlie, but leaving him and returning to Seattle would come too soon.  She wrapped him snugly into a double receiving blanket.

“
Better zip him inside the jacket,” Fiona said.  “It’s colder outside than a witch’s tit.”

Teagan should act shocked by the comment, but it was so mild compared to wharf talk that she grinned.  “That’s an icy image.  But I’m thinking colder, like the old salt that fell into the Bering Sea and blessed a shark for taking only his legs and leaving him his frozen privates.”

“You believe that?”

“
As much as I believe in cold-chested witches.”

Fiona cackled.  “Go on with ya.”

Teagan tucked Charlie inside the front of the jacket and pulled the zipper as ordered.  Charlie was completely submerged in down-filled comfort.

The trail lay to the east.  Her breath clouding before her, she crossed the yard and strolled into the forest.  Weak sunlight highlighted the evergreen treetops and shown against golden birch leaves, but pockets of evening shadows darkened along the trunks and underbrush – a world caught between light and dark, like she was.  The black threat of Erica steeped through every thought, settled and refused to leave.

The sound of the rushing river carried through the branches.  Teagan deeply inhaled the fresh smell of water churning against boulders.  When the river broke into view, she stopped to let the environment speak.  The clear air, sheltering trees, and fast-flowing water were so unsoiled by the evilness that threatened the boys, that it seemed unreal.

Using the flat tops of large rocks as stepping stones, she crossed to the very edge and saw nothing except the current coming from the north.  She climbed on a huge stone and perched.  The pristine water flowed, unceasingly bumping against the boulders; the resulting eddies swirled over and over.  Pink cliffs bordered the east side of the river in vast upward formations.  Somewhere behind them, Bryan was delayed.  Why?

Her neck tightened from watching so intently upstream.  She turned and purposely studied downstream.  On the opposite bank, something was moving in the shadows near a bend in the river.  “Charlie, it’s a boat.  Looks like it’s snagged.”

Teagan hopped from stone to stone along the rocky shoreline until she came level with a twelve-foot aluminum fishing boat swaying with the current like a fish on a line.  The name Winslow was painted on the hull.

“It’s Bryan’s!”  She dashed for the opening of the trail and plunged into the darkness of the trees.  Her right foot slipped on a root.  Her ankle twisted, pain shot through it, she stumbled, but caught her balance, keeping Charlie snug against her chest.  Cursing, she limped for the cabin.

“
I saw your boat caught on some snags across the river.  It was empty!  Bryan must’ve capsized.”

Fiona sat up straight in her chair.  “Calm down.  Let’s think a minute.  He said he was going up stream.  He wanted to hike into Quartz Lake.  The boat must’ve come loose.”

“Oh God.”

“
One thing for sure, they’ll have to swim the river to hike home.  They’ll be freezing.  Drive up the road.  You’ll find them.”

Teagan rushed for the door.

“Just a minute,” Fiona said.  “Give me Charlie and take the wool blankets.  Hurry.  Hurry.”

Bryan stared at the spot on the river bank where TJ had tied the fishing boat to what was left of a driftwood log.  “I should’ve checked the knot.”  He cursed his negligence.

TJ stood beside him like a lost puppy.  “I tied it good.”

Aggravation crowded Bryan.  “It didn’t just fly away.”

TJ’s chin jutted higher.  “Maybe someone stole it.”

Bryan jabbed his thumb at dun-colored rock cliffs which rose sharply behind them.  “You really think some idiot climbed down from those or swam across the river to steal our boat?”

“I’m telling ya it didn’t come loose by itself.”  TJ’s forehead furled deeper.  “What’s the big deal?  Call for help.”

Bryan pulled his cell phone from his jacket pocket and checked the message window.  No signal.  “Sorry, we’re on our own.”  His breath fogged between them.  It was cold and getting colder, same as the shadows were getting longer with the setting sun.  He should’ve started down the mountain earlier.

“Gawking at the river ain’t going to change things,” TJ muttered.  “What are we going to do?”

“
Swim across.  Think you can handle that current?”

“
Me and my brother used to paddled around in the stock ponds, but never anything fast moving.”

At last, a mention of a family member.  All day, TJ artfully dodged all questions about his personal life.  “Brother?”

“I’m a twin,” TJ said flatly and kicked at the river-washed log.  His foot bounced off the solid wood.  “If we broke a big chunk from this tree, I could float across.”

“
You carry a chainsaw in your hip pocket?”

TJ continued kicking the log in different places; the thuds sounded solid, not at all hollow.

Bryan shook his head in disbelief.  “You actually think you can split that log?”

“
Beats standing around waiting for the river to part.”

Bryan chuckled.  “We’ll find an easier crossing.”  He rapidly crossed to a shale ledge and scrambled upwards without a backward glance. 

TJ struggled to keep up.  “Aren’t we going the wrong way?  Cabin’s that-a-away.”

“
South of here the river cuts too close to the cliffs.  Farther north, it widens and the current isn’t so swift.”  Bryan spotted a deer trail on the far side of a narrow trough filled with knee-high quack grass and clover.  Dry seed pods and nettles whipped against his pant legs and stuck to the fabric as he plowed through.  After he gained the trail, he quickened his pace.

In the twilight, with the sounds of the river on one side and the silent mountain on the other, Bryan’s failed marriage seemed far away.  The only real worries were his grandmother’s health and TJ’s unknown crime; and those were beyond control.  All he could do was to help both the best he could.  A peace descended, one like after a tough decision has been fought through and an agreement made.

Night deepened before the river finally widened and the trail led back to the bank.  Bryan jumped down to the river bed and picked his way across on the shadowy rocks to the edge where they would wade into the frigid steel-colored water.  Illuminated by a harvest moon, a screeching nighthawk soared among the trees on the far bank; fish splashed in the shallows.

TJ pushed past Bryan and stood at the edge of a glacier fed river, looking scared as hell.  He should be.

Bryan asked, “Before we swim across, you want to tell me what you did?”

“
You think I did something?”

“
You ran from the police.”

“
I’m not a criminal.  I just didn’t want to talk to them.”

“
You can’t expect me to believe you jumped over a bank and ran just to avoid conversation.”

TJ waded in ankle deep.  “You own any secrets I can write on your tombstone if you drown?”

“Take off your jacket.  It’ll weigh you down.”

TJ tossed it on the rocks.  “Anything else or are we going to do this?”

Bryan shed his coat and splashed into the river.  Icy liquid filled his boots and seeped around his toes.  The underwater rocks were slimy and his boot heels slipped against them.  The current pulled at his pant legs and threatened to knock him over.

TJ struggled to keep his footing as the water inched up to their thighs.

“Move fast,” Bryan ordered.  “It’s easier to keep your balance.”

The water reached waist high.  “That’s it!”  TJ tried to turn around, floundered and fell.

Bryan hauled him upright.  “You wanna drown?”

“
I can’t make it.”  TJ’s teeth chattered and he shook violently.

“
You can!”  Bryan gripped TJ’s arm and propelled him forward until the water rose to their arm pits.  “Now paddle like hell!”  The current swept them downstream.  With a wad of TJ’s shirt knotted in his hand, Bryan guided them out into deep water, working for the shallows on the far side.  TJ paddled furiously, his nose barely above water.  Finally, their feet touched bottom, and they splashed from the river.  Their breath froze above them.  Wet, heavy clothes stuck to their skin.