Maternal Harbor (25 page)

He gazed long into her glistening eyes.  They held steady, exploring his until he realized she meant their love.  His confusion shed like a cocoon.  He did love her, not the memory of them together.  He loved her, problems and all.  She could have ten babies and it meant only ten more parts of her.  “Teagan, we’ll do this together, figure it out.  First, I want you to sit down and let me check that ankle.  I noticed a limp you’re trying to hide.”

Her cheeks flushed.  “I stumbled on a root.”

“
Better let him, Teagan.”  Fiona shuffled by and latched onto TJ’s arm.  “And we’ll check the boys.”  She shoved him ahead of her into the bedroom.

“
Sit,” Bryan said firmly and crossed to a shelf for the first-aid kit.  He knelt and unlaced Teagan’s shoe.  He eased it from her foot and slipped the sock down around her toes.  She sat stiffly, her calf rigid.  Her foot jerked when he enclosed his fingers around her ankle, jerked again when he ran his fingers up her Achilles tendon.  “You really did a number on it.  You’re swollen and bruised.” 

She winced while he massaged the muscle.  Slowly she relaxed and responded to the gentle pressure of his hands.  He kept his eyes lowered, not wanting her to see how the feel of her skin burned his fingertips and fueled his desire.

“Bryan,” she whispered.

He glanced up and she saw.  She bent to him and his lips found hers.  Tenderly, they kissed.  She broke first, and he groaned at the parting.

“Bryan, you have to let me go.  Fiona cannot care for the babies.”

Silently he taped her ankle, pulled her sock back up, and retied her shoe.  When he looked up again, a tear fell from her cheek onto his.

She rose and, at the door, turned back.  “Take care of my Charlie.”  Her voice cracked.

He wanted to hug her, keep her from going.  He stuck his hands in his pockets and let her step out onto the porch.  “Do you trust
me
?” he asked.

“
I don’t know.”

“
At least you’re honest about it now.  I know you can only see one way to protect your son, but there are other ways.  I’m coming with you.”

“
And what about Fiona and the babies?”

“
We’ll go to town and bring back someone to help.”

“
Don’t you get it?  Any word by anyone to any cop, and the boys will be back where Erica can get to them.  I can’t trust a stranger.”

“
And I can’t let you go alone.”  He watched the tension on her face ease, and she seemed to stand straighter.

Teagan pointed at the door.  “Get a jacket.”

“I’ll be just a minute.”  Bryan stepped inside.

His grandmother was again in her chair and TJ was lounging on the couch.

Bryan grabbed his jacket.  “I’m going to town and bring back help, and then I’m going with Teagan.”

Fiona cleared her throat.  “We’ll be fine.  TJ will help me.”

Bryan was not sure TJ should even peek at the boys, let alone help.  “I-”

The Jeep’s engine roared.

Bryan dashed outside.  Up the road, the taillights bounced rapidly, then disappeared.

She’d left again.  And this was far more foolhardy than her stubborn insistence to work on a salmon trawler.

Fiona stood beside him and slid her hand through the crook of his arm.

“
Teagan,” he muttered, “has the hardest head of anyone I know.  Now, I have to catch up with her.  If I leave now I can–“

“
What you can’t do is leave me out here without transportation.  Wait till morning and drop us off at my place.  You can catch the morning flight to Seattle and cut her off.  She’s safe until she gets to the city.”

Ensconced in his cubical on the fifth floor of the Public Safety Building, Detective Lutavosky waited hours for the relentless cogs of the Seattle Police Department to grind against Teagan O’Riley.  Finally, the phone rang with the message he’d been waiting for.  “That’s it,” Lute said, hanging up.  “The local sheriff has Fiona Winslow’s address and the arrest warrant for Teagan.  If she’s in Montana, it won’t be long.” 

Hal was perched on the edge of a nearby desk, sipping coffee, his mouth puckering with each bitter slurp.  “I knew it.  She’s probably tucked away in some backcountry forest with a bunch of freakin’ survivalists.”

Lute twisted his shoulder and listened for the pop of his neck, but the tense cord didn’t budge.  He should be satisfied, yet disquiet stiffened his tendons.  And he wanted to wipe the smug look from Hal’s face.  Lute tipped back in his chair and tossed his pencil on the desk.  It rolled across the surface and clattered to the floor.  In the quiet that followed, he muttered, “I’m missing something.”

“How in the hell can you miss something that doesn’t exist?”  Hal exhaled and lowered his voice.  “It’s another one of those cases where a so-called solid citizen pulls some hare-brained scheme, and nobody believes they could do it.  Teagan O’Riley ran.  She crossed state lines with kidnapped children.  The captain should inform the FBI.”

“
Both mothers gave Teagan permission to care for their babies.”

“
Only from the Sanders woman.”

“
Teagan was babysitting Levi until his mother got off work.  We know what happened to Doretta. 
Why
is the question?”  Lute pulled his note pad from his pocket and flipped the pages again.  His eyes blurred.  He rubbed them and glanced at his watch.  After midnight.  “I’m going home and grab some shut-eye.  Won’t be any news for awhile.”

Hal picked the pencil off the floor, plunked it on the desk, and followed Lute to the elevator.  “Did you ever talk to Thorburn?”

Lute pushed the down button.  “Still playing phone tag.”  It almost seemed like Erica was avoiding him.

On rain-soaked Third Avenue, passing autos sloshed through puddles, spraying wakes on the curb.  Couples hurried for their vehicles, either holding hands up for protection or under umbrellas.  A group of drenched teenagers clustered by the intersection, the boys looking macho, brave in the elements.

Lute ignored them and passed through the pedestrians to the parking garage.  Cool raindrops washed his face.  Wet but refreshed, he fired the engine of his Dodge Viper and rolled out into the street.  His uneasy mind ran like a camcorder over the two murder scenes and his talks with Teagan.  He grabbed a half empty bag of popcorn from between the bucket seats.  He munched a few kernels.  They tasted stale and dry.  “Damn,” he muttered and picked up the mic to his high-band radio.  When dispatch answered, he asked, “Is Sergeant Thorburn on duty?”  He waited a brief moment.

“
Negative.”

Lute dialed her home phone, listened to six rings and left another message.

After changing lanes, he pressed a little harder through traffic until his radio crackled again.  Now what?  He should’ve told them he was off for the rest of the night.  “I’ll be right over.”  Swearing, he spun onto Fourth Avenue and sped to Virginia Street.  In a matter of minutes, he arrived at the West Precinct.

The desk sergeant nodded at a man on a bench.  “He’s pretty unhappy.  Had a hard time getting him to sit still.”

Unshaven, rumpled, and bleary-eyed, Duffy Sanders appeared ready for a street brawl.  “I was told to talk with a homicide detective named Lutavosky,” he said as Lute approached.

Lute held out his hand.  “That’s me.  Come on.  I’ll buy coffee.”

Duffy rose and shook hands.

Lute towered over him, but the strength in the grip of the sandy-haired sailor equalized them.  Tattoos marked the man’s tanned muscular forearms and a gold chain with a St. Michael cross dangled from his neck.  His faded jeans, T-shirt, and windbreaker appeared slept in.  Without comment, he walked beside Lute to the vending machine.  Hot, stale brew gushed into paper cups.

Lute took both cups and led the way to an empty room.  After they were seated, Lute said, “I’m sorry about your wife.”

Duffy set his cup on the table and stared at it.  “I can’t believe murder.  And my son is missing?”  His question was more of a statement.

“I’m sure he is with Teagan O’Riley.  Do you know her?”

“
We met a couple of times.  My wife liked her and wanted her to care for our son if something happened.”

“
When did your wife tell you this?”

“
After Jimmy was born.  Where is Teagan?”

“
The closest thing we have to a lead is an old boyfriend’s grandmother in Montana.  I’m waiting to hear back on that.”

“
How long?”

“
Can’t be hurried.  This is what I know.  Miss O’Riley called 911 and reported your wife missing and your son was with her.  In the meantime, I answered a homicide call at your residence and learned of Teagan’s report.  I went to see her.  She was babysitting Jimmy while your wife went home for some overnight things.  Why was Pai afraid to stay alone?”

“
I was halfway around the world.”  Duffy slapped the table, then his hand relaxed and he took a swig of the bitter brew.  “God, this is unbelievable.”

“
When was the last time you talked with your wife?”

“
Like I told you, right after Jimmy was born.  She seemed okay, even said how well she felt.  Seems strange now.  Like she was saying something only to keep me from worrying.”  Duffy’s face crumpled for a moment, and then his jaw stiffened.  “I never should’ve left her alone.  You said she was frightened.  Of what?”

“
I don’t know that either.”

“
Oh
goody
.”  Duffy rubbed his forehead.  “Just when are you going to know?”

Lute admired Duffy’s word choice.  He knew the salty vocabulary of sailors was held in check only by a respect for authority.  “Go home and get some shut eye.  I’ll notify you as soon as Teagan is apprehended.  After that, it’s only a matter of hours before we fly someone over to bring the babies home.”

“I want to go.”

A grief-stricken man charging the Montana authorities was not something Lute cared to explain to the captain.  “It’s better for a caseworker from CPS to go.”

“My son isn’t a case.  He’s mine.”

“
Everything will go more smoothly if you let us do our job.”

“
I’ll wait right here.”  Duffy crossed his brawny arms and slumped.  It would take someone a lot bigger than Lute to budge him.

“
That’s fine,” Lute said, “but it’s not a problem to call your place.  I’m going home for awhile.”

“
I can’t.”

“
Suit yourself.”  At the door, Lute glanced back.  “I’ll drop you by a hotel.”

Duffy didn’t want to, but rose and followed Lute outside.

Thirty minutes later, Lute parked his car in the garage at home.  In the beam from his headlights, he saw a new Honda lawn mower sitting where his ancient Lawn Boy should be.

He slid from behind the wheel and went to inspect it.  Shiny and clean, not yet soiled from dust and grass.  He plopped on a nearby bench and closed his eyes.  He had hated telling Duffy Sanders about his murdered wife and missing baby.

Cassie opened the door and crossed the cement to stand beside him.  Her hand touched his shoulder and she pulled his head against her bosom.  “Hard day?”

“
A sailor with a murdered wife and missing baby arrived at West Precinct from overseas.”  Lute waited for Cassie to say comforting words, but she only held him.

“
Thanks for the mower,” he said.

“
I didn’t buy it.  Dad did.”

“
Your father?”

“
Peace offering.”

“
He buys a lawnmower for the man who wasn’t good enough for his daughter?”

Cassie laughed.  “And why not?”

Lute joined her laughter.  Arm in arm they went inside.

For half the night, nothing satisfied the babies.  Bryan spent hours trying to sooth one or another or all three.  At 3:00 A.M., they finally quieted and silence pervaded the cabin, a stillness like none other, a calm that could be broken with the slightest noise.  He silently banned Fiona to her chair in the other room.  After she slipped away, he carefully crawled into bed and drifted into battle-weary sleep.

Polar air swept across the Canadian border and blustered down the North Fork Canyon as first light invaded the darkness.  The drastic drop in temperature captured Bryan’s uncovered shoulder.  The woodstove needed stoking, but he pulled the quilt higher, and escaped back under its warmth.  His eyes drooped again, and Teagan’s image in the tin bathtub wavered.  His mind captured the memory same as it did every morning in the wee hours.

Headlights flashed against the four-pane bedroom window.  She’s back!  Bryan’s foot tangled in the sheet.  Another set of headlights played on the window, and then a third.  Shaking free from the heavy quilt, he grabbed his jeans and checked through the window.  Police vehicles?

“Shit.”  Bryan yanked on his pants, visualizing Teagan in a car wreck.  In his rush for the door, he bumped against the couch, but TJ’s snoring didn’t miss a beat.

Fiona struggled upright in her chair.  “What?”  She sounded dusty, like she needed water.

“Cops.”  Bryan hurried outside.

Three officers approached across a narrow strip separating their vehicles from the porch.  Their footsteps crunched against frozen ground, their breath steamed before them.  A middle-aged, trim man stopped at the foot of the porch steps.  His stern, elongated face was all business.  “I’m Sheriff Volker.  This is Deputy Harris and I believe you’ve already met trooper Garvey.”

“Paid him forty dollars for speeding.  What’s this about?”

“
We have an arrest warrant for a Teagan O’Riley.  Are we going to have a problem serving it?”  Volker’s words cut through the sharp air.

Damn, just like he thought.  He tried to tell her to go to the cops, and now here they were, just like he knew they would be.  Why was she so stubborn?  “She’s gone.”  What else could he say?

Volker pointed at the frost-covered car in the yard.  “The license plates on that Buick match the one in our report.”

Trying to cover up was useless.  “Come in out of the cold.”  Bryan held the door open.  The sheriff and trooper stepped inside, but the deputy motioned for Bryan to go in ahead of him.

Bryan obeyed and crossed to stand beside Fiona who had remained in her chair, bolt upright and frowning as if the demons of hell just entered her domain.  Mitzi stiffened on her lap, her yapping deepened to growls.

Standing by the couch, TJ zipped his jeans.

Patrolman Garvey moved closer to the boy.  “This is the knucklehead that jumped the guardrail and disappeared into the trees.  I’d like to know why.”  He aimed his next comment right smack at Bryan.  “And why he is with Mr. Winslow again.”

TJ reached for a boot and stuffed his foot inside.

“What’s your name?”  The sheriff asked firmly.

TJ jabbed on the other boot.

“Name,” Volker’s voice hardened.

Bryan answered for the damned fool kid.  “Terence Jonathan Cavalier.  Goes by TJ.”

Volker nodded at Garvey.  “Run it.”

Garvey didn’t move, “Mr. Winslow has a rifle.”

Instantly, Volker’s hand rode the handle of his weapon.  “Where’s the rifle?”

“
Teagan left for Seattle around midnight.  I gave it to her for protection.”  Under the circumstances that sounded dumb even to Bryan.

The sheriff’s brows knotted.  “According to the arrest warrant she’s wanted for questioning in a murder and possible abduction.  And you gave her a rifle?”

“I kept it over by that cabinet.  You can check the rest of the place, but we have no weapons here.”

Jimmy’s sudden cry echoed from the bedroom, followed by Levi and Charlie’s husky squalls.

Fiona rose, spilling Mitzi onto the floor.  She tightened the belt on her pink chenille robe.  “This is ridiculous.  Teagan’s keeping those babies from the clutches of a berserk policewoman and we’re keeping ‘em safe while she proves it to a detective by the name of Luta . . . something.”  The cries intensified.  “Are you going to handcuff me or let me tend them?”

A light twitch curled the corners of Volker’s lips, but his serious demeanor remained intact.  “Go with her,” he said to the deputy.  “And check the  room for weapons.”

Fiona stately stepped past the sheriff, muttering, “This is insane.”

Bryan’s thoughts exactly.  The sheriff considered him some kind of criminal, while Teagan chased a rogue cop.  He was caught in an insanity that must play out; there was no stopping it except total cooperation with the authorities, then and only then could he be of any use to Teagan or his grandmother.

Garvey brought more cold air back inside.  “Oklahoma has a warrant out for Mr. Cavalier.  He’s wanted for questioning in a school shooting.”

Everything bottomed out for Bryan.  The kid he tried to dislike, but somehow couldn’t, was involved in the most heinous crime possible, kids shooting kids.  Numbly, he stood by as Volker yanked his cuffs, TJ dodged the sheriff and bolted for the door, Volker snatched the kid’s arm, threw him to the floor, stuck a knee in his back and slapped one of the cuffs into place; the light click of the lock sounded like a gunshot.

The babies bawled and Fiona murmured in the bedroom.

Garvey helped Volker force the other wrist back, twisting it until they clamped the cuff into place.

TJ kicked several times then lay still.

Breathing heavily, Volker stood.  “That was dumb.  You just added a resisting arrest charge to your other problems.”  He reached down and pulled TJ’s front pockets inside out.  Loose change and a pocketknife rattled to the floor.  Next, he removed a wallet from the back pocket.  “Anything in your socks or shorts?”

TJ shook his head.

Volker checked anyway, then hauled the boy to his feet and shoved him towards the door.  Garvey grabbed TJ by the back of his belt and escorted him outside to the cruiser.

Bryan lifted his jacket from a hook by the door and stepped out onto the porch beside Volker.  “You were damned rough with him.”  Why did he say that when all he wanted to do was grill the knucklehead until every question was answered truthfully?

“
I suppose it looks that way,” Volker said.  “But he provoked the situation.  We use whatever force is necessary.”

Unassisted, TJ slid into the backseat and relaxed.  His eyes met Bryan’s.  They simmered with something other than a docile prisoner.  The trooper read him his rights in a firm, impartial way and closed the door.

“Is there any information about what happened?”  Bryan asked.

“
According to the report, his twin brother and two others shot up a high school in Oklahoma.”  Garvey’s jaw tightened.  “Six students died.”

“
Better finish that weapons check,” Volker said, and the trooper quickly disappeared through the door.

“
I’m going inside too.  Grandma needs--”

“
Stay put!”  The sheriff snapped; he exhaled loudly.  “I have a felony warrant for a woman involved with taking infants and now a school shooting?  What the hell is going on?”

The crying babies answered.

Volker pointed to the steps.  “Mr. Winslow, take a seat while I talk with Mr. Cavalier.”  Scowling worse than an overworked schoolteacher, he left Bryan on the porch, crossed the few steps to the cruiser, and opened the door.  The interior light flicked on.  He leaned down eye level with TJ.  “You’re under arrest on charges in Oklahoma.  Do you understand?”

“
I didn’t do anything.”

“
It’ll go a lot easier if you tell me what happened.”

TJ pressed his lips together and stared at the floorboard.

Hard put to remain seated, Bryan wanted to jump up, drag the boy from the backseat, and choke him.  “You’d better talk,” he said harshly.

“
I had no part of it,” TJ yelled back.  “I left before . . .”   He clamped his mouth shut and his eyes remained downcast, like something might show that must not.

A dreadful feeling wormed up from Bryan’s bowels.  Was TJ playing the innocent?  The opposite of the truth?  The thought was abhorrent.  “Sheriff, I don’t know what he’s done.  I gave him a ride, then a place to stay.”

Bryan reeled from the thought of harboring anyone involved with a school shooting.  Was that the hidden letter?  He suddenly recalled hearing the name Cavalier on the radio the morning he left Oklahoma.  He should’ve known.  “Sheriff, in the time I’ve spent with TJ, I’ve never seen any sign he could be involved in a shooting.”

“
You wouldn’t be the first to be fooled by this generation.”

Garvey returned from inside.  “The place is free of weapons.  I’ll go ahead and transport the fugitive.”  The cruiser eased through the ruts in the driveway.  Only the outline of TJ’s head showed through its rear window.

“What will happen to him?”  Bryan asked.

“
We’ll hold him for extradition.  Mr. Cavalier is Oklahoma’s problem.”

“
Is there something I can do to help?”

“
I’m afraid you have problems of your own.  I have to take you and your grandmother in for questioning.”

“
The babies were left in Teagan’s care.  We’re only helping.”  Bryan sat on the cold porch step with his shoulders back and met Volker’s eyes, refusing to slump like he needed to.  Hiding in a hole would be better.  How had he gotten into a mess like this?  He was a simple guy who just needed solitude.

Volker studied him for a moment.  “Even if I believe you, I have to take you in.  Those babies belong in Washington with their families.”

“That’s the whole point.  Their mother’s are dead.  They were killed by a police officer.”

“
Child Protection in Seattle will make sure they are where they belong.”

“
My grandmother has cancer.”

“
This keeps getting harder, doesn’t it?  We’ll see that she’s taken care of.”

“
I need to call a lawyer.”

“
I’ll give you a few names at the station.”

Fiona strutted through the cabin door dressed in many layers of black and carrying Mitzi.  “Douglas Sheigman is the best I know,” she announced.  “Of course
he’s
the
only
one I know, but he handles
all
my criminal affairs.”  She zinged a scowl at the sheriff.  “You expect that deputy to carry three babies in infant seats or are you going to help?”

“
Grandma, it’ll be all right.”

She harrumphed and trooped down the steps like she was leading a parade.  The deputy carried two infant seats with Levi and Jimmy bundled warmly inside.  He loaded them into the backseat and strapped them securely.

Bryan stood.  “There is one more baby and they need bottles.”  The absurdity of the situation struck him and all he could do was let it happen.  He put three bottles on the stove to warm while Volker carried Charlie from the bedroom.

“
I need a shirt and boots,” Bryan said.

Volker nodded and waited by the door.

Bryan finished dressing, grabbed the bottles from the pan of hot water, took one last look around the cabin, and turned off the generator.  The dead bolt snapped shut.  The routine act of leaving the cabin was so normal, he mourned for its shattered safety.

He helped Fiona into the deputy’s car and handed the bottles inside to her.

“Stop with the long face,” she said.  “This beats a deathbed any old day.”

Bryan winked at her.  “I was going to bring you pine cones and spring water.”

“There’s time.”

His grip on the open car door tightened.  “Teagan was afraid the babies would be easy prey in custody.  I didn’t keep them safe even for one day.”  His grandmother patted his forearm, and he closed the door.  The deputy backed around and drove away.  A few raucous caws from circling ravens attacked the silence of early morning and freed Bryan’s numb disbelief enough for him to mutter.  “I hate to leave the Buick.”

Sheriff Volker nodded.  “Don’t have to.  Just don’t do anything stupid.  By the way, what is Teagan driving?”

Dread clamped the back of Bryan’s neck.  “My Jeep.”

“License number?”

Bryan recited a number−his ex-wife’s car number.  He owed Teagan that much.