Speed Trap (8 page)

Once he had the Ford running, he'd headed home at top
speed. The last thing he'd wanted was to cancel this visit or show up late and maybe lose his chance to get his son.

He ignored Mandy's comment about his haggard appearance. “So how does this
home visit
go down?”

“Miss Compton will answer that for you.”

“Do you come along on all her visits?”

“Frequently. Believe it or not, there are people who don't like social workers.”

“And you think I'm one of them.”

“Did I say that?”

He folded his arms over his chest. “Why are you really here?”

“I want to be satisfied that you can provide a good home for Colin.”

“Isn't that Miss Compton's job?”

“
I
want to be satisfied.”

He glanced around. “I'm not much of a housekeeper.”

She wandered from the entryway into the kitchen. “I don't see any blatant health violations.”

He tried to view his place through her eyes. The vinyl flooring was old, but it was clean. Wiley made sure every crumb that hit the floor was taken care of. The cabinets were simple pine, but scarred with years of use. The countertops were chipped and stained. Duct tape on one corner held a loose section of edging in place.

He said, “It's not fancy, but it's been good enough for me and the dog.”

The question now—would the social worker think it was good enough for his son?

Once again, he tried not to get his hopes up.

Mandy walked toward the rear of the room. Garrett shoved his hands in his pockets and kept his gaze away from the door that led upstairs.

She glanced at him and a subtle change came over her features. His heart hammered in his throat. Did she know he was hiding something?

Another knock signaled the arrival of Miss Compton. Garrett had to turn his back on Mandy to answer it. It was one of the hardest things he'd done in a long time.

Briefcase in hand, the little woman smiled as she greeted him. “Good morning, Mr. Bowen. How are you?”

“Fine.” His mouth was dry as August dust.

She seemed to know it. “Please don't be nervous.”

Easy for her to say. He managed a smile. “Why don't we step into the living room?”

“Thank you.” She walked in and took a seat on his sofa.

Garrett looked over his shoulder just as Mandy started to open the bathroom door. “No, don't do that!”

His warning came too late. Wiley, freed from his temporary holding cell, paused only long enough to sniff Mandy's boot before making a beeline for the living room. Garrett tried to intercept him, but the dog evaded capture and launched himself into Miss Compton's lap.

She pushed ineffectively at the excited animal trying to lick her face. “Oh, no! Bad dog! Get down!”

Garrett rushed to her aid. “Wiley, heel!”

With one last doggy kiss for his new, if reluctant friend, Wiley scrambled off the couch and dropped to his haunches beside Garrett, looking utterly pleased with himself and waiting for praise.

“I'm sorry about that, Miss Compton. He's not used to company.”

Mandy entered the room, looking sheepish. “I didn't realize he'd been shut in the room when I opened the door.”

Bending down, Garrett scooped up his pet. “He'll settle down in a minute.”

Miss Compton brushed at the dog hairs on her black dress. “As I told you at the hospital, I prefer you keep him shut up or outside while I'm here.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Garrett shot Mandy a reproachful look.

 

Spreading her hands wide, Mandy muttered, “Sorry,” as Garrett walked by.

How was she to know he had his pooch locked up? And for good reason it seemed. She'd seen a look of growing concern on his face when she approached the rear door. It was in her nature to assume he had something to hide.

So what if this time she'd been wrong. It didn't happen often.

Miss Compton finished plucking lingering bits of fur from her suit, removed a pad of paper from her briefcase and began jotting notes.

When Garrett returned, minus the dog, he took a seat in the wingback chair beside the sofa. Leaning forward, he braced his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together. “Wiley won't be a problem with Colin.”

He looked like a man waiting for the ax to fall.

Mandy hadn't considered how hard this had to be for him, having strangers judging his fitness to be a father. She'd been concerned only with Colin's welfare. In spite of her effort to remain impartial, her compassion for Garrett began to grow.

Miss Compton cleared her throat. “I hope you're right. Let's begin by my asking you a few questions.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

Mandy listened to Miss Compton quiz Garrett on his readiness to assume care of his son and formed a few opinions of her own. Garrett never relaxed, never offered more than he was asked, but he answered everything with a readiness that proved he'd given a lot of thought to what having a child in his home would mean.

After Miss Compton finished with her inquiries, she went over the needs Colin would have and what programs were available to help low-income families. Garrett listened intently, asking few questions of his own.

While Miss Compton was talking about health care, Mandy used the time to study Garrett's home. The living room was sparsely furnished with a blue floral-print sofa and fake bamboo end tables. The chair he sat in was dark blue, oversized and masculine in style. It was the only piece in the room that seemed to fit his personality. Perhaps Judy had furnished the rest of the room.

Glancing around, Mandy was struck by the lack of family photos and knickknacks in the room. It was almost spartan. Not very homey, but not the worst place she'd seen kids being raised.

When Miss Compton finished her interview, she withdrew another folder from her case and opened it. “If it is all right with you, Mr. Bowen, I'd like to take a quick tour of your home.”

“Okay. What would you like to see?” He didn't rise.

Miss Compton smiled encouragingly. “For starters, where will Colin sleep?”

“I figured I'd put a crib in here for him.”

“In here?” She looked around.

“Yes, ma'am.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “My bedroom is through that door. I thought, until the boy was older, I should keep him close by so I could hear him at night.”

“That's good thinking, Mr. Bowen. May I see your kitchen? You'll want to make sure all your cleaning supplies and chemicals are kept out of reach. I have a pamphlet here on childproofing the house.”

He rose slowly to his feet and led the way to the kitchen. “I'm gonna get that countertop fixed soon.”

“That's fine.” The social worker moved toward the bathroom door.

Garrett started forward. “I shut Wiley in there again.”

She took a step back. “I see. I'll take your word for it that you have adequate bathroom facilities. Where do these doors lead?”

Garrett stepped forward and opened the one on the left. “This is the basement. Not much down there but my washer and an old workbench. I reckon I'll need to get a lock on this door before Colin gets big enough to go exploring.”

“Yes.” She turned around. “And this door?”

He didn't answer. His body tensed. His eyes darted to Mandy and back to Miss Compton. He pushed his hands deep in his pockets.

“That leads to the upstairs,” he said in a rush. “I only use that part of the house for storage.”

Mandy glanced at the ceiling. “You use the whole upper level for storage?”

“Just one room. The others are empty. I'll fix it up before Colin gets old enough to need his own room.”

“Mind if I take a look?” Mandy asked.

A shuttered look slipped over his face. “The door sticks. I've been meaning to plane it down.”

That wasn't permission. Mandy chafed at the fact that she couldn't search any farther without a warrant. Why didn't he just invite them to explore? Because he was hiding something. Mandy didn't think it was his bad housekeeping.

“Are we about done?” Garrett asked.

“Are you in a hurry to get rid of us?” Mandy countered.

“Judy's funeral is this afternoon. I need to leave soon if I'm going to make it.”

Wincing inwardly, Mandy tried not to show it. Wiley
began barking from his place of confinement. Garrett looked at Miss Compton. “That means he needs to go out.”

She grimaced. “I believe I have everything I need.”

“Don't you want to see the upstairs?” Mandy turned the knob hoping to urge Miss Compton in that direction.

She was doomed to disappointment. Miss Compton glanced at her watch. “I see no reason to view unused storage rooms. Mr. Bowen has adequate space in the house. It's in good repair. I'm satisfied. I really must be going. I have a long drive ahead of me.”

Turning to Garrett, the social worker held out her hand. “You'll hear from my office officially in a day or two, but I see no reason why Colin can't be released into your care when he's able to leave the hospital.”

A genuine smile cracked his features for the first time. His whole body relaxed as he gripped her hand. “That's great.”

Mandy wasn't sure she was ready to accept Garrett Bowen at face value. Outwardly everything seemed okay. Her gut told her there was more to the man than met the eye.

Unfortunately, it didn't tell her how she was going to discover the rest of the story.

The crackle of her radio was followed by Donna's voice. “Sheriff, are you free?”

“Yes, Donna, what's up?”

“We got a call about a fertilizer theft out on Range Road.”

Not another one. “That's on the other side of the county from me right now. Where's Ken?”

“That's just it, Sheriff. I can't locate him.”

T
wo hours after getting the call that Ken Holt was missing, Mandy faced her errant officer as he shifted nervously from foot to foot in front of her desk. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife. His personnel file lay open before her.

She laced her fingers together and prayed for wisdom. “You have a decision to make, Ken.”

“I'm sorry. I had a personal thing come up that I needed to take care of right away. I should have called to let you know, but I thought it would only take a couple of minutes.”

Mandy ignored his rambling excuse and started again. “You have a decision to make, Ken. Either you're going to be part of this department and conduct yourself accordingly, or you're going to be looking for work elsewhere.”

“I know I messed up, but I'm a good officer.”

“I used to think so until you started showing up late for work. Your paperwork has gotten sloppy, and now going off the clock without telling anyone where you are, that's not acceptable.”

“I said I was sorry.”

Closing the file, she rubbed her forehead. “Sorry isn't good enough, Ken. I need your assurance that when I call for backup, I'm going to get it.”

“You have it,” he insisted quickly.

Opening the bottom drawer of her desk, she searched for and found the form she needed and began to fill it out. “This reprimand constitutes your first written warning, Ken. It will remain part of your permanent record.”

“Is that necessary?”

She looked up sharply. “Yes, it is.”

His gaze shifted to the floor. “Of course.”

“Your pay will be docked for the time you were unavailable, plus you'll pick up an additional shift this weekend. If your personal problem is something you need to talk about, I'm here to listen. If you need time off, tell me now, and we can work something out.”

“It's nothing I can't handle.”

She allowed concern to soften her voice. “All right. I'll take your word for it, but if you need help, all you have to do is ask.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

She finished filling in the details on her paper, then turned it around and slid it across the desk toward him. “You'll have to read this and then sign it. It states we've talked about the following issues.”

He scrawled his name, dropped the pen on her desk and then straightened and stared directly ahead. “Will that be all?”

She nodded knowing she couldn't do anything to help until he was ready to talk about what was wrong. He turned abruptly and left the room.

Slipping the signed form inside his file, she couldn't help wishing Ken felt he could confide in her.

“You were kinda rough on him,” Fred said, walking in uninvited.

“He's a big boy.”

“We can't afford to lose him.”

“What we can't afford, Fred, is an officer who isn't dependable.”

“Because he hit a rough patch is no reason to threaten him with termination. We can't all be as by-the-book as you are.”

“You're skating near the edge, Fred. I know you didn't think I deserved this job, but I'm your boss for another two years.”

“The people of this county didn't elect you. The only reason you got the job was because the mayor decided we needed new blood in the department. Things were going okay before you came.”

Mandy felt her control slipping away and she didn't like the sensation. She shouldn't be at odds with her staff. Ken obviously didn't feel he could confide in her. Fred, for all his faults, had more years on the force than she'd been alive and he didn't think she could handle the job.

What is this about, God? What are you trying to tell me?

Rising, Mandy came around to the front of her desk. Crossing her arms, she settled her hip against it. “Let's not quarrel, Fred. You have a point. Crime is up and I can't get a handle on it.”

“Don't try to placate me.”

“I'm not. I'm telling you I need your help. You've lived in Timber Wells a long time and I've been here less than a year, but we both have the best interest of this community at heart.”

The scowl stayed on his face. “If that's true, you'll lay off Ken.”

 

Donna came in as Fred walked out. She glanced from his ramrod straight back to Mandy. “What's up with him?”

“You'll have to ask him. What do you need, Donna?”

“I found the file you were looking for. The one about the
murder that Judy Bowen supposedly witnessed in Kansas City.”

Mandy reached for it eagerly. “It's about time.”

“Someone had misfiled it, but it wasn't me. Unlike some people who work here, I know how to put things in alphabetical order.”

Mandy frowned as she opened the folder. “Is this it? Is this all they sent? This is only the responding officer's report. Where are the forensic reports, the witness interviews?”

“Maybe there weren't any.”

“I don't believe that for a minute. It was a homicide. There has to be more.”

Donna threw up her hands. “I'll check around. Maybe the rest of it got misplaced, too. It's bad enough I have to do my own work. Now I've got to double check everyone else's.”

“Let me know when you find it. If you don't, have K.C. fax it all again.”

Ten minutes later, Mandy's intercom came on. Donna said, “Sheriff, line one is Agent Riley of the KBI.”

Mandy leaned forward in her seat and pressed the button. “Hey, Jed. Tell me something good.”

“Sorry. I'm not going to be of help this time. No DNA, no prints on your meth lab timer.”

“Of course not,” she muttered as she clenched her teeth in frustration.

She was back to square one.

 

Garrett lifted the carrier from its car seat base and slipped it over his arm. He allowed himself a weary smile as he walked toward the house. Two days after the social worker's visit, his son was home.

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the ranch yard. Pigeons swooped across the darkening sky through the
open hayloft doors to land on the beams inside the old barn. Their gentle cooing mixed with the whispering of the wind, the bawling of cows in the pasture and the rising tide of cicada songs in the long grass.

It was the time of day Garrett loved best. It was good that this was the way his son should first see the ranch.

He glanced down at Colin. Of course, he was sleeping and didn't see anything, but someday Garrett would tell him the story of how he arrived—in a secondhand car seat—in a used beat-up truck—on the prettiest evening of the year.

Wiley padded down from the front porch to meet them. The dog sniffed the air and began dancing in excited circles around Garrett's boots.

At the porch steps, Garrett sat down with the carrier in his lap. “Be easy, Wiley.”

Wiley, his body quivering with barely contained eagerness, crept forward until his nose touched the baby sleeping in the infant seat. His tongue flicked out for a quick lick before Garrett could stop him.

Garrett pushed the dog's muzzle aside. “No, don't be kissing the baby. That's a firm new rule. There'll be no bending it.”

Wiley sat back on his haunches and tipped his head to one side as he regarded the new arrival.

“This is Colin,” Garrett said. “You're gonna have to help me keep an eye on him.”

How pathetic was that? Asking a dog for parenting assistance.

Garrett would have laughed if the whole thing didn't scare him half to death. Now that he had Colin to himself, he was tempted to drive back to the hospital and return the kid for a refund. Surely there was someone better suited to raising a baby than he was.

Maybe there was, but in his heart, Garrett knew he needed his son more than anyone in the world. There was no way he was giving up a part of himself.

“Besides, the medical center would probably keep the money I paid on your bill, anyway.” Garrett lifted the infant seat and carried his son into the house.

“This is it. This is home. I know it's not much to look at, but it'll be something special one day. We gonna do it together.”

In the corner of the living room, a large cardboard box rested against the wall. Garrett hadn't had time to put the new crib together before he left for the hospital that morning. Hopefully, the crib would go together quickly and he'd have his son sleeping snuggly in it in no time.

He deposited the carrier on the sofa. Colin began to whimper. Wiley whined and barked at the sound. Garrett checked his watch. It wasn't time for a feeding. Colin had a bottle before leaving the hospital only twenty minutes earlier.

Lifting the baby out of his seat, Garrett raised him to his shoulder and bounced him as he patted his back. “What's wrong, little buddy?”

He tried to recall what the nurses had told him about crying. “Hungry, messy pants, tired, sick.”

The first two were easy enough to fix, but would he be able to tell if Colin was sick and not just fussy?

Garrett laid a hand on the baby's forehead. He felt hot, but too hot? What was too hot for a baby?

Somewhere he had information about taking a temperature. The nurse had provided pages of printed instructions. He must have left them in the truck.

He returned Colin to his infant seat, but that made his crying skyrocket in volume. Wiley jumped onto the sofa beside the baby and began whining.

Red-faced with flailing arms and kicking feet, Colin Bowen was making his displeasure known in no uncertain terms.

“I'll be back in a second, I promise.” Hurrying to the truck, Garrett returned with the pamphlets and quickly found the one on baby health and temperature taking. By the time Garrett managed to find a thermometer and get Colin undressed enough to put it under his arm, his nerves were about shot from the noise level.

To Garrett's relief, his son's temp was normal, but he continued to cry. Picking him up again didn't help. Garrett paced the floor with him, feeling more inadequate than he'd ever felt in his life.

 

Mandy heard the baby crying the minute she killed the engine and opened the truck door. Lights blazed from every window on the ground floor of Garrett's house.

It had been a long day, but she had to know that Colin was doing okay before she called it a night. From what she could hear, he wasn't.

Mandy quickly climbed the porch steps. If Garrett was mistreating that child, she'd haul Colin out of his custody in a heartbeat.

At the front door, she raised her fist to knock, but stopped when she caught sight of Garrett through the bay window.

He had Colin up to his shoulder as he walked back and forth across the living room bouncing the baby. At the look of exhaustion on the man's face, her anger faded. Apparently, Colin was breaking in his father the hard way.

She knocked, then knocked a second time when it was clear Garrett couldn't hear her over the crying. Finally, she opened the door and walked inside.

Wiley was huddled under the kitchen table with his head on his paws, a look of confusion on his face. Mandy walked
through the archway that connected the kitchen to where Garrett was pacing. When his gaze lit on her, all she saw was relief. He didn't even question why she was in his house.

“He won't stop crying. I've done everything. I've fed him. I've changed him. I've been holding him for two hours. Why won't he stop crying?”

Crossing the room, Mandy took the baby from him. Garrett sank into a chair beside the pieces of unassembled crib with a look of total dejection on his face.

Colin repeatedly rubbed his tear-stained face against her shoulder as he continued to cry. She said, “I think he's just tired.”

“That makes two of us. I can't get his bed put together because every time I put him back in his infant seat, he starts screaming again.”

“Then put a blanket on the floor for him.” She gestured toward a fleece throw on the corner of the sofa.

“I can do that?” His uncertain tone made her grin.

“Of course.”

Rising wearily, he spread the coverlet on the floor. Kneeling, Mandy laid Colin in the center. Still fussing, the baby worked himself into his favorite position. Mandy patted his back until his crying gave way to occasional sobs. Before long, he was sound asleep.

Garrett stared at her, a look of awe on his face. “I don't believe it.”

“It's a new place, new faces. He was exhausted, but he didn't want to give in.”

Sinking onto the sofa, Garrett rested his elbows on his knees. “How do you know so much about kids?”

“I babysat for everyone on our block when I was in high school. The Pritchards, the O'Brians, the Dixons had four kids under four. I made three bucks an hour and learned you
don't give kids anything with sugar before you send them to bed and that sometimes they just need to cry themselves to sleep.”