Ruthless (31 page)

There. She’d gotten it all out without screwing up or sounding pushy.

More of that awkward staring and no responding. What was this woman’s problem?

“I think Chester likes me and I’m very pleased about that,” Lori added. Was Sherry not going to say anything? “Is… that an issue for you?”

“Chester is my son. Why would how he feels about Chet’s newest girlfriend matter to me?”

Wow. Talk about cutting deep. Stay cool. No cat fighting allowed. “I think I’m a little more than just his newest girlfriend. We’re fully committed to each other and we’re planning our future together.”

“Great. Anything else you want to enlighten me about? I’d like to enjoy a quiet Saturday morning with my family.”

The woman was really trying hard to piss her off. “So we don’t have a problem? You’re not upset with Chester liking me or anything related to my relationship with Chet?”

“Look, Lori.” The icy tone in Sherry’s voice warned the claws were fully extended now. “I couldn’t care less where your relationship with Chet is going. Who he
chooses to spend his time with is irrelevant to me. But Chester is our son. Chester may get a little attached to you but you’ll never be his mother. Why would I have a problem with a nonissue?”

Well, shit. “I told you I’m not trying to be his mother. I just want you
not
to feel threatened by the idea that he likes me.”

“Nothing about you threatens me.”

“Really? That’s not the way it looks from here.” Lori couldn’t help herself. She looked the woman up and down and let her own slender figure speak for itself. Sherry was a little short and frumpy—that was a place Lori would never have gone if the woman hadn’t pushed her there.

Sherry’s face reddened with her own fresh burst of anger. “So you and Chet are talking about your future, are you?”

“Yes, we are. We may buy a house later this year.” So there!

Sherry held up her left hand and wiggled her finger. “I don’t see a ring yet.”

“That’s only because I’ve been holding back,” Lori confessed with a big dramatic sigh. “But any reservations I had are behind me now. I’m absolutely ready for the next step. Kids, the white picket fence, the works.”

Maybe she’d overstated her confidence and readiness in a couple of areas, but what the hell.

“Kids?” Sherry echoed. “You and Chet want to have kids?”

“Chet loves Chester and he wants more children. We’ll be taking that step in time. Of course our children will never lessen Chester’s place in our lives. So don’t even try to throw that up. We would never hurt Chester.”

“I’m confident you won’t.” Sherry gloated as if she knew something Lori didn’t.

“What does that mean?”

“He hasn’t told you, has he?”

Lori’s composure started to slip. “Chet and I have no secrets.”

“Really? Did he tell you about the vasectomy he had after Chester was born? Sounds to me as if he might have kept that one tiny little detail from you.”

“What’re you talking about?” The woman was grasping at straws. Trying to make this about something Chet had done wrong rather than what she was doing.

Sherry made a scissoring motion with her fingers. “Snip, snip. A vasectomy. He’s shooting blanks. How does that play into your future plans for that white picket fence and kids?”

Lori did an about-face and walked as calmly as the waves of anger battering her would allow. She climbed into her Mustang and drove away.

This case was too important for her to be caught up in this kind of ridiculous pettiness.

Sherry had to be lying… Chet wouldn’t keep something like that from her.

Lori trusted him completely. She shared everything with him—her deepest, darkest secrets. He knew opening up like that had been really difficult for her.

He wouldn’t have kept secrets of his own.

Yet, on a level she was far from ready to acknowledge, she knew he had.

Birmingham Police Department, 11:15 a.m.

J
ess tacked the crime scene photos from Cagle’s basement across the bottom of the case board. She studied the faces of the little girls who had spent time in that playroom.

She’d gone back there this morning and read every word, studied every drawing the girls had made. It was clear he had kept the girls for months, perhaps the better part of the year between harvest moons.

Lastly, she tacked a photo of Cagle on the board. “Where the hell are you?”

Harper and Detective Roark, still on loan from Crimes Against Persons, were knocking on doors. Talking to Cagle’s neighbors again as well as his superiors at Alabama Power. How could no one know this man on a personal level?

“I got her!”

Jess turned to Lori, held her breath. “The daughter?”
She and Cook had been searching databases—some official, some not—and social networks.

“Lucy Cagle, born on September 20, forty years ago, in Cooper Green Mercy Hospital.”

But God only knew where the woman lived now. She could be anywhere.

“Hmm. That’s interesting,” Lori went on.

“Tell me it’s an address,” Jess said, hoping against hope.

“The night Lucy was born was a harvest moon.”

And the pieces began to fall into place.

“Shut the front door,” Cook piped up.

Certain that meant the young man had something with his search of social networks, Jess walked over to his desk. Lori was already moving around to Harper’s chair, since his desk was next to Cook’s.

Cook had his screen open to Facebook. “Meet Lucy Cagle Neely. Birthday September 20.” He held up his arms in victory like a boxer who’d just defeated his opponent.

“She has a son named Dennis.” Lori pointed to the boy’s image in Lucy’s friends box.

Cook clicked the son’s image. “Sophomore at Hoover High School. One sister, Brittany, who goes to the middle school. Go Buccaneers.”

Jess resisted the urge to tap her foot. She needed an address.
Now.
“Lori, check for Lucy Neely in the DMV database. Locate me a home address. Cook, see if you can drum up a phone number for any of the three.”

With anticipation burning in her veins, Jess returned to the case board and studied the images of the little girls there. “I will find you.
All
of you, ” she promised.

“Here we go!” Lori was on her feet reaching for her
purse. “You aren’t going to believe this, but the daughter lives on the same street as the Higginbothams.”

Dear God, he’d gone hunting on his own daughter’s street.

120 Boxwood Drive, Hoover, 12:45 p.m.

Two more BPD cruisers were at the scene by the time Jess and her posse showed up. She had new uniforms following her around today. Yesterday had apparently been too much for poor Officer Mitchell and his partner.

“Forensics is five minutes out,” Lori advised, as they emerged from her car. “I ordered a bus, just in case.”

Jess closed the door, vest on and weapon in hand. “Good thinking.” The daughter or her children could be injured. Having paramedics en route was a good move.

The neighborhood was quiet, thankfully with no one on the streets. With school about to start next week, families were enjoying the final weekend of freedom from the hectic schedule coming.

That was another thing about kids. When they were infants and toddlers, life pretty much revolved around the parents’ work schedule. But once school started, life changed for at least eighteen or so years. Car pools, homework, teachers’ meetings, volunteer activities, sports… her stomach roiled at the idea.

She might never be ready to be a parent.

Some people just weren’t made out of the right stuff. She hadn’t gotten that juggling gene working mothers required. She had no patience. What kid wanted a mother who had no time or patience for him or her?

That was exactly why her body needed to cooperate. As well as solving this case today, she wanted her period.

Once the uniforms were in place, Jess waited on one side of the front door. Lori assumed a position on the other side. Jess gave her a nod and she pounded on the door.

The silence inside the house didn’t jibe with the concept that two teenagers lived here.

Another firm round of knocking. “Ms. Neely, this is Detective Wells of the Birmingham Police Department. We need to speak with you, ma’am.”

One last knock and they were going in. No need to wait for the warrant. With Cagle missing and what they’d found in his home, exigent circumstances permitted entry without an inked warrant.

Two of the officers stepped up and took care of the door with the “big key.” The battering ram made quick work of getting into the house.

Uniforms poured in and spread out in the house. Jess was scarcely in the door when reports of “Clear!” started to fill the air.

No one was home.

Lori cancelled the bus.

Jess wandered through the bedrooms and noticed the beds were unmade. With the rest of the house in such perfect order, it seemed strange that even the mother’s bed was tousled as if she’d been roused from sleep.

A framed photo of Lucy with a man Jess suspected was the woman’s husband and her two children stood on the bedside table. She surveyed the pictures of the daughter, in various dance costumes, that lined the walls of her bedroom.

“Where are you?”

“Chief!”

Jess took one last look around and went in search of Lori.

“It’s one of those charging centers.” She pointed to the dock where two cell phones waited on the kitchen counter.

“There’s one missing.” With gloved hands, Jess checked the pink phone. “This is the daughter’s.”

“This one belongs to Lucy.” Lori turned the screen to Jess so she could see the phone’s wallpaper image—a photo of the kids.

“Definitely the mother’s,” Jess agreed.

“She has twelve missed calls and three voice mails. All from a contact listed as
hubster
.”

Jess moved closer to Lori as she attempted to play the voice mails from the husband. Thankfully there was no password required. A woman after her own heart. Jess hated passwords and codes. She could never remember what she’d selected.

The time and date stamp indicated the first message was left Thursday evening. A male voice filled the air. “Hey, baby, the first day of negotiations went well. I am pumped! Call me when you get home.”

The next came Friday morning. “Hey, where are you? You didn’t call me back last night. Today’s going to be a long one. I don’t know when I’ll get to call again. Text me or something. Love you. Hug the kids.”

The third had come at eleven last night. “Seriously, Lucy. What’s going on? You’re not answering your phone. The kids aren’t answering theirs. I need to hear from you. Love you. Hug the kids.”

The cell phone rang.

Jess jumped. Lori did the same.

“It’s the husband.” Lori looked to her for the go-ahead.

“Put it on speaker. Maybe he has some idea where Cagle would go and where his family is.”

Lori tapped the screen a couple of times.

“Lucy, Jesus Christ, you had me worried sick. Why haven’t you answered my calls?”

Informing a family member in this manner was never Jess’s first choice but they were desperate. There was no time to waste. “Mr. Neely?”

A moment of silence. “Who is this? Where’s my wife?”

“Mr. Neely, this is Deputy Chief Jess Harris of the Birmingham Police Department.”

“Oh my God. What’s happened? Where’s my wife? Are my children okay?”

“Mr. Neely, we don’t know where your family is. I’m in your home and there is no indication of foul play. But we need to find them. What I need is for you to stay calm and listen very carefully to my questions. Can you do that for me, sir?”

Stifled sobs echoed across the line. “Yes.” The word was too high-pitched and permeated with anguish.

“Where are you, sir?”

“I’m…” He cleared his throat. “I’m in Los Angeles. My company is merging with one here and I’ve… what’s happened to my wife… the kids? What’s going on?”