She Who Watches (5 page)

Mac couldn't help but think of his fiasco of an engagement to Linda, a woman who couldn't handle his crazy schedule—or lack of one. It took a special kind of woman to stay married to a cop for that many years. Frank had one of the best, and so did Kevin, as well as Mac's cousin, Eric O'Rourke, who'd moved from detective to lieutenant. Philly and Russ hadn't been so lucky in the love department. Both were divorced: Russ once and Philly—Mac couldn't remember—at least three times.

Thoughts of Linda, his ex-fiancée, brought back thoughts of the latest women in his life, Dana and Kristen. Not that he was dating both of them. Dana had declared herself off-limits. Kristen was . . . questionable. Would his tenuous relationship with the quirky medical examiner go anywhere? Right now they were trying to get together whenever their busy schedules allowed, which wasn't often.

Mac looked across the room and caught Kristen's gaze. She winked at him, indicating she'd see him later. Mac smiled back. With Kristen, he never knew what to expect. Tonight she had bleached blonde hair with black roots, the ends turned up in a style that looked like she'd been in a windstorm. She had on a black dress with a fragile-looking shawl draped over her shoulders. He dragged his gaze from her to the front of the room.

Kevin hugged Connie after providing the form letter to her from the governor's office. The time had come for the badge presentation, which was the one token all state troopers placed in high regard. Kevin presented Frank with his badge in a plaque shaped like the state of Oregon. Frank accepted the plaque with obvious gratitude, and he patiently posed for pictures.

Mac couldn't help but be sad, thinking of the hundreds of investigations the man had been involved with and the number of arrests he'd made. Frank had been in so many life-threatening situations, many of them worthy of a commendation. Now the memories would fade, and another officer would go his way after years of service. As he watched the proceedings, Mac thought about his own career, wondering about his own retirement someday. Would he even reach retirement? Would he have a wife to stand by him through the years and a family who loved him? He glanced across the room again, looking for Kristen, but her chair was empty. She'd probably been called out to a crime scene or to do an autopsy.

Disappointed, Mac tuned back into Frank's speech, where he thanked the department and his family. He joked about taking up golf and fly-fishing, but from the laughs he got, no one in the room could imagine Frank doing anything relaxing.

After Frank's speech, Kevin asked if anyone else in the room wanted to talk. A long cast of characters, mostly seasoned veterans, made their way to the microphone, telling childhood stories and funny memories. Finally, Philly ambled up to the front and took over the microphone. Russ, Mac, Kevin, and Dana groaned in mock protest.

“Thank you. Nice to see how much I'm appreciated around here.” Philly summoned Frank to the podium.

“Get it over with, Phil.” Frank rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, preparing himself for the king of roasts.

“Now, on the topic of Sergeant Frank Evans,” Philly began, “we've heard a lot of funny stories tonight. I didn't want the evening to end without him hearing a thing or two from the detectives who worked with him every day.” Philly grinned, and Frank groaned, obviously expecting the worst.

Philly cleared his throat and continued, “I just wanted to tell the family here tonight that we really depended on your husband and father to get us home safely each day. Frank is a man of integrity, a role model to me and the other guys in the back room. Guys . . . and gals.” He glanced at Dana as he corrected himself. “Frank is a stern guy, but he's fair. He's a man of character and one of the finest detectives this outfit ever had. Frank, I just want you and your family to know how we feel about you. Please accept this gift certificate; the whole office chipped in.” Philly handed Frank an envelope with a gift certificate to a local home improvement store and gave his boss and longtime friend a bear hug. They both got choked up, and Mac swallowed past the lump in his own throat. Mac wouldn't admit it, but he was a little disappointed that Philly had taken the high road.

“Thanks, Phil.” Frank patted Philly on the back. “You better quit hugging me now, or my wife's going to get the wrong idea.”

“You wish.” Philly laughed and shook Frank's hand. “Good luck, you old badger. I'll be right behind you.”

Frank remained at the podium while the crowd gave him a standing ovation. Then he turned to shake Kevin's hand before collecting his family and walking back into the crowd.

Kevin assumed his place behind the microphone once again to close the ceremony. “Thank you all for coming tonight. And on that note, Detectives McAllister and Bennett, please contact me ASAP.”

“What's up?” Mac asked as he and Dana came forward. “Are we on cleanup detail?”

“You might say that.” Kevin rubbed the back of his neck. “I was just wondering how your visit with the feds went.”

Dana and Mac brought him up to speed while they gathered their jackets and headed for their cars. “I don't think those guys are too happy about our being involved,” Mac said.

“I know they aren't. I got a call on the way over here from their supervisor. He wanted to know if our involvement was really necessary, and I told him it was. I offered our services, so be prepared to do some hands-on stuff.”

“Such as?” Dana stopped at Mac's car, her hand on the passenger side door handle.

“The usual. They'll be in charge, but you'll be able to do some interviews, follow up on the sex offender list, check on other such crimes to see if they might be related. Whatever you can do to stay on top of it. Don't let these guys intimidate you. If this turns into a murder investigation, you'll take over.”

“Whatever you say.” Mac paused. “You doing OK, Kev? You're looking a little pale.”

“I'm fine. Just tired. See you guys in the morning.”

Mac dropped off Dana at the parking compound at the office and then headed home. He was a little tired himself and still wasn't too happy having to work under the feds, but he told himself it wouldn't be all that much different from being support investigators under Philly and Russ.

Mac shoved aside his concerns about the case and thought about the changes Frank's retirement would bring to the department. Dynamics would change. Someone would get the coveted office that Kevin was vacating. Probably Dana, since she asked him about it, but if he could get into the office early enough tomorrow morning, maybe he still had a chance. After all, wasn't possession nine-tenths of the law?

FIVE

C
laire stayed in Portland for a long and excruciating week before heading home. She didn't want to leave, but she needed to pick up some items and take care of a few day-to-day details, like having her mail routed to Portland and her paper and garbage stopped. Though Scott insisted he'd be fine without her, she couldn't leave him alone with Chloe. Scott was a wonderful father, but he had a full-time job and little Chloe missed her mommy.

“I can stay, Scott, and it isn't a problem,” she'd told him that morning over breakfast. She worked as a freelance editor and was between projects, so living in Portland for a while would not be a problem.

Scott had looked at her without really seeing, his eyes glazed over with exhaustion and worry. He didn't argue—probably knew it wouldn't do any good.

Claire couldn't bear the thought of leaving him and Chloe on their own. She couldn't bear the thought of being in Seattle when the investigation into Sara's disappearance was going on here in Portland. Her parents were supportive of her staying in Portland as well. So it was settled. Two hours ago, she left Allysa with her parents and headed north, promising to return the next day.

“What happened to you, Sara?” She spoke aloud, maybe to keep herself company, maybe because she needed to ask the question. “Are you still alive?” Part of her refused to believe otherwise, but another part knew the odds were slim. They hadn't received a ransom note. So if this was a kidnapping, like the police thought, why hadn't the kidnappers contacted them?

A week. An entire week had gone by, and they still had nothing. All the FBI agents had done was interview the family, casting suspicious looks at each of them as though one of them had instigated the kidnapping.
The agents have to rule us out,
she reminded herself. They seemed to have done that.

Now they were focusing on the threats. She knew very little about those. Her father had called them political in nature and doubted they were connected, but they had to be investigated. When she'd pressed him, he told her that the FBI insisted he not tell anyone about the threats, including her.

“But if threats had been made against the family, why did they choose Sara over me?” Again she put voice to her thoughts, and they crowded around her, stifling the air and making it hard to breathe.

A chill folded over her. Maybe because Sara lived in Portland. Whoever took Sara might not be finished. Maybe the plan was to pick off members of the senator's family one at a time.

Claire swallowed hard and, with the sleeve of her sweatshirt jacket, brushed unbidden tears from her eyes.
Allysa.

She's safer with Mom and Dad than anywhere else.
Dad had people around all the time. In fact, Grant Stokely, her father's chief of staff, rarely let him out of his sight. Since Sara's disappearance, her father had opted for extra security for all of them. Yet, now, she had none.

She nearly went through the roof when her cell phone jangled its tinny “Ode to Joy” tune.

“Hello?”

“Claire, where are you?” Dad asked.

“Just coming up on South Center.”

“OK. I had Agent Miller contact the police up there. Should be an officer waiting for you at the house.”

She rolled her eyes, on one hand annoyed at his interference and on the other relieved that she wouldn't have to go home to an empty house alone. “Honestly, Dad, you didn't have to do that.”

“Yes, I did. Agent Miller agrees. Now you be careful.”

“I will,” she promised. “Anything new on the case?”

“Nothing.”

They talked for a few minutes, ringing off with her dad telling her they were taking Allysa out for Asian food. Claire wished she were going with them. She hadn't lived close to her parents since high school and couldn't wait to get away once she'd graduated. She hated the limelight, the reporters—the kind of life that went with being a politician's daughter. Now she wished she had stayed closer.

Her desire to leave home had driven her into the arms of a man ten years her senior. Just over eighteen and madly in love, she'd run away with him, gotten married in Vegas, and thought she'd live happily ever after. The marriage had gone sour after only a few months, when her husband started taking in strays of the two-legged variety.

Claire shook her head. Jeffrey was an idiot, thinking he could be unfaithful and get away with it. But that part of her life was over. Had been for a long time. The only good that had come out of her marriage was Allysa and the wisdom not to make the same mistake twice.

She had long envied Sara and the relationship she had with Scott. Sara had been the smart one, waiting to marry until she and Scott were both out of school. They'd waited two years after marrying to have Chloe.

Claire sighed, smiling at how much in love Sara and Scott were. She couldn't imagine life without Sara. Claire had been eleven when Sara's parents died. She had welcomed her “little sister” with open arms. Claire's parents had become Mom and Dad to Sara in an almost seamless transition.

Her ruminating stopped when she pulled into the driveway. The house was dark, and she pressed the garage door opener, which raised the door and turned on the lights. A car pulled in behind her, and a man stepped out. Thinking it was the police officer Agent Miller had sent, she pulled into the garage and stepped out of the car.

But it wasn't a police car, and the man wasn't wearing a uniform.

“Mrs. Montgomery?” The husky voice came out of a dark-skinned face. He brushed his jacket aside, and she noticed the holstered gun.

Her heart pounded as she forced herself to remain calm. “Y-yes.”

“I hope I didn't frighten you. I'm Agent Winslow. FBI.”

Claire's knees buckled. She leaned against the car for support. “Thanks for coming,” she managed to say.

The agent checked out the house before escorting her inside. “I'll be waiting in the car if you need any assistance.”

She frowned. “All night?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

She nodded. On one hand, she appreciated having the agent watch her house. On the other, Agent Winslow served as a stark reminder of just how much danger she and the rest of her family might be in.

SIX

Five weeks after Sara's disappearance . . .

R
uss paused to talk with Dana and Mac as he made his way to his cubicle. “How's that missing persons case coming along? The feds made any progress yet?”

Mac eyed Russ, wondering about his motivation for asking. Russ had been paying more attention to Dana than usual lately, and Mac had a feeling Detective Meyers was interested in more than the case.

“Nothing so far.” Dana didn't seem to notice. “Not a lick of evidence or anything to indicate she's still alive or that she's gone off on her own. There's been no movement on any of her accounts, no attempt to contact family or friends. And there's been no attempt by a possible abductor to demand a ransom for her return.”

“Not that we know of, anyway,” Mac added. “I have a feeling the feds aren't telling us everything and that they are cutting us in on just enough to say they're cooperating.”

“Wouldn't be surprised.” Russ straightened his tie. “Anything ever develop on the Native American involvement the press reported on a while back?”