Read Splintered Online

Authors: Kelly Miller

Tags: #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Thrillers & Suspense, #Crime, #Kidnapping, #Suspense, #Crime Fiction, #Thrillers

Splintered (9 page)

BOOK: Splintered
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All day, Maddy basked in the warmth of newfound attention. Girls stopped her at her locker to tell her how glad they were she broke free from the kidnappers. Boys offered high-fives and pats on the back. Maddy soaked it all in. The attention seeped down into the darkest recesses inside her until it finally reached the empty hole left by her dad walking out.

(16)
DETECTIVE TERRANCE WALLACE

Detective Wallace picked up the newspaper and reread the short, three-paragraph article about Maddy Eastin’s attempted abduction.

“Have we gotten any leads from the public?” Corporal Rhodes asked as he leaned against Wallace’s cubicle.

“Besides a couple of women turning in their no-good baby daddies? No. But there is one guy I want to look into more. Yesterday, I interviewed the Eastins’ neighbor who lives across the street from the bus stop. He employs a housekeeper who gets a ride to work with her brother. Guess what he drives?”

“A shitty-ass van?”

“Yep. The brother, Franco Alvarez, doesn’t resemble the eyewitness sketch much, but he does need some serious dental work.”

“Guess you made the right choice not to include the picture in the paper.”

Wallace hoped his streak of bad luck had finally ended. “I ran Alvarez through the system, found out he has a record. He did time for assault. A bar brawl that barely left a scratch on him but laid the other guy up in the hospital. The guy also has a sexual battery charge against him, though charges were dropped after his girlfriend refused to testify.”

“Looks like Alvarez has a bit of a temper.”

Wallace nodded. “But nothing in his file indicates he has a predilection for young girls.”

“Could be he just hasn’t been caught with his pants down. So what’s your plan?”

“Alvarez is a mechanic. I’m going to show up at his work and rattle his cage. Find out if he has an alibi.” He knew suspects hated cops hanging around their place of employment. It made them antsy, unprepared, and prone to saying stupid things.

“This guy must be a piss-poor mechanic if Maddy Eastin’s account of his vehicle is correct.” Rhodes moved his hand around to his lower back and began kneading the muscles on his right side. “Where does he work? I want to make sure I avoid the place.”

“It’s over on—”

Just then Wallace’s phone speaker crackled to life and the receptionist’s voice boomed, “Detective Wallace, you have a visitor.”

Rhodes nodded toward his office. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll catch up later.”

Wallace pushed the intercom button on his phone. “Betty, do you know what it’s in regard to?”

“That attempted abduction case you’re working.”

“Thanks. I’ll be right out.”

Wallace groaned, wondering who it would be this time—the “concerned citizen” with her list of plate numbers of all the bad elements cruising around the neighborhood? Or maybe his favorite, the local psychic Madam Zora, who couldn’t be any more of a cliché if she tried? Every few months the woman read an article in the newspaper and would stop by to “lend her assistance.” Somehow every one of her visions involved water—not much of a stretch considering the Hillsborough River cut through the heart of Temple Terrace and Tampa Bay was only ten miles away.

Wallace opened the door to the lobby. A man paced near the elevator. He wore neatly pressed khakis and a short-sleeve polo shirt with a logo advertising a business Wallace didn’t recognize. The man’s graying hair was pulled back into a ponytail at the base of his neck. He had a plastic DVD case firmly gripped in his left hand.

“Hi, I’m Detective Terrance Wallace.” He extended his hand and firmly pumped the man’s in greeting. “I understand you have information on one of my cases.”

“Yes.” The man nodded, looking back over his shoulder at the empty waiting room.

“Well, Mr.—?”

“Gleason. Paul Gleason.”

“Why don’t you follow me, Mr. Gleason? We can sit and talk. Coffee?”

“No thanks. I’ve probably had enough today.”

Wallace couldn’t argue. The guy was a ball of nervous energy, constantly tapping the plastic case against his leg. A clinking noise sounded every time Gleason made contact with the pocket of his pants, most likely from hitting his keys.

Wallace scooted out one of the chairs surrounding a large oval table in the middle of the office. He motioned for Gleason to sit. It was loud in this open room, with detectives working in their cubicles around them, but Wallace thought Gleason might feel uncomfortable in an interrogation room. As skittish as the man was, he figured this would be the lesser of two evils.

“What can I help you with today?” Wallace plastered on his most inviting smile.

“I didn’t stop the paper. So I thought what the hell, might as well read them and get caught up on what’s been going on.” Gleason spoke in a rush of words. “Read Sunday and Monday’s paper on Tuesday, but didn’t read Tuesday’s paper until this morning.”

“Wait a minute. Slow down. Why don’t you start at the beginning, Mr. Gleason?”

“Right.” The man took a deep breath. “On Sunday, I drove up to Tallahassee to celebrate my mom’s eightieth birthday. I only planned on staying the day, but then I enjoyed the party a little too much and had to stay over. When I was in the shower Monday morning, mom fell. What a nightmare that was. Anyway, the doctor says she’s fine. I eventually got home Tuesday afternoon. It was actually a fortunate series of events that led me to discovering it.”

Trying to hide his exasperation, Wallace said, “Discovered
what
?”

“I normally stop the newspaper from being delivered to my house whenever I’m going to be out of town. Got robbed not too long ago, and don’t want to make my place an easy target. Yet, when I got home from my mom’s house, three newspapers were stacked in my driveway. Got lucky. No burglars this time. Anyway, I finally got to Tuesday’s paper this morning and read about the attempted abduction right at my corner. I’m at 8004 Filbert Lane.”

Wallace remembered knocking on the man’s front door, hoping he’d witnessed the event. Neither Officer Santos nor Detective Wallace had been able to track him down for a statement. “But how can you help, Mr. Gleason? You weren’t even home when it happened.”


I
didn’t see anything, but my camera did.” Gleason’s anxiety faded away, and he grinned like he was ready to be pinned with a hero’s medal. He placed the plastic case on top of the table. Wallace could see a silver DVD inside.

“Told you I got robbed, man. Cops never found out who it was, so I installed a security system. Didn’t want to be unprepared if they made a return visit. I can’t afford to move, but I can surely scrape together enough cash to buy a little peace of mind.”

“Can I have this?”

“Sure. It’s a copy anyhow.” Gleason fiddled with a tiny hoop hanging from his earlobe. He looked like an aged hippie with a white-collar job.

Wallace walked over to some video equipment set up in the corner of the room. He turned on the TV and inserted the DVD into the player. When he looked over his shoulder, he found Gleason standing right behind him.

“I appreciate you bringing this in, Mr. Gleason. Many folks in your situation would have kept quiet, not wanting to get involved.”

“I didn’t want an innocent man accused of a crime he didn’t commit.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just watch the footage, man.”

Wallace hit the “Play” button on the remote control. His eyes grew large as he watched the scene unfold in front of him. All the while, Gleason babbled on about how he’d once been interrogated in connection with a convenience store robbery. The cops had wanted to pin the crime on him. They’d sweated him out for six hours. As Wallace watched Maddy Eastin frantically try to flag down the bus driver, he thought about how glad he was that he hadn’t interviewed Gleason in the interrogation room after all. The guy probably would have stroked out. Then Wallace might have missed out on this lead. Wallace smiled as he heard the tap of the dominos as they started to fall.

(17)
EMMA PARKER

Emma Parker opened the door to her downtown Tampa condo. The smell of tomatoes simmering on the stove wafted out to greet her. She could set her watch by her boyfriend’s schedule. At 6:05 p.m., the pasta water would be bubbling. Beef tips on Mondays. Chicken cacciatore on Wednesdays. All the other evenings belonged to Emma. Not because she enjoyed cooking, but because Ben Jacobs only knew how to prepare two meals. If Emma had to guess, she would say she’d eaten the same chicken dish thirty-two times over the last eight months since they’d been living together.

Subtle hints of recipe magazines left lying on the couch hadn’t been enough to entice him to expand his culinary horizons. Eventually, she knew she’d have to tell him the hard truth. Either that or suffer the same two meals each week for the next twenty years.

“You’re home early.” Ben stopped chopping onions and stretched out a cheek so Emma could kiss it.

She planted an exaggerated smooch on him and then moved over to the sink to turn on the faucet. “Why are you so stubborn? You’d rather cry than admit you need running water?”

“Just showing you my sensitive side, babe.” Ben looked at her, batting his eyes demurely. He looked goofy with mock tears running down his face. She couldn’t help but chuckle. That was the thing she found most attractive about Ben—his sense of humor. No matter what the situation, she could always count on him for a laugh. Emma snagged a slice of red pepper that had yet to be added to the big pot. Her hand barely missed a swat.

Ben nodded his head toward the table. “I’ve got wine.”

“There is a God.”

“Rough day at work?”

Emma poured the deep red liquid into two glasses, filling hers three-quarters full. She walked back to the counter and set Ben’s beside him. “Not so much work; I’m wrestling with a another kind of problem.”

“Tell me.”

“I got a call from Lily Eastin, Maddy’s mother.”

“You mean the woe-is-me whine bag? What’s it been, three years?”

“Four.” Emma and Ben had started dating after the best friend explosion, so he’d never met Lily but he knew the stories, both good and bad. A couple of times he’d asked to come along to lunch with Maddy, but Emma always made up one excuse after another until Ben finally got the hint. She felt guilty for not including him in that part of her life, but for some reason she was uncomfortable with the thought that Maddy might talk to Lily about Ben.

“Maddy was almost abducted on her way to school Monday morning.”

“You’re kidding me.” Ben put his spoon down and wiped his hands on the towel resting over his shoulder. “Is she okay?”

Emma nodded. “Lily called me and completely broke down. She told me Maddy got away, but the Temple Terrace police haven’t found the guy yet.” She gave Ben the rest of the details, what few she knew, and added, “Lily said the girl’s a complete mess. Understandable, but it’s not helping that Maddy won’t talk. Lily thought I might have a better chance at getting her to open up.” She sighed. “You know I love Maddy and I want to be there for her, but it’s . . . complicated.”

“I know it is, babe, but think about it. Things must be pretty bad for Maddy if Lily swallowed her pride and called after so many years.”

Emma took a sip of the wine she’d been swishing around in her glass and watched him turn back toward the stove to test the doneness of a hot spaghetti noodle. His gray army shirt was stretched across his broad chest. Muscular arms peeked out from beneath the sleeves. Even without a shirt announcing his profession, his haircut screamed “military.” The high-and-tight was also cut shorter than usual these days—the thinning brown hair on top of his head looked better when it was kept trimmed.

Ben shrugged his shoulders. “But what do I know? If this is causing you so much heartache, maybe you should cut them both out of your life.” He stopped stirring the sauce and looked at Emma. “Or you could send Lily a text. Something like, ‘Roses are red, violets are blue, you’re a whiny bitch, don’t you get it, we’re through’?”

Emma looked up at Ben, her mouth open. She was surprised by his callousness. Then she saw the grin spreading across his face.

“Oh, you!” Emma put down her wine glass and lunged at him, tickling him in the ribs. With a dripping spoon in one hand and a spatula in the other, he was defenseless against her attack. Ben finally called uncle and Emma sprinted toward the bedroom before he could retaliate.

She stood in front of her dresser, absently picking out a pair of pajamas and wondering if she could completely shut Maddy out of her life. Her heart answered by flooding her brain with memories of when doctors had diagnosed Maddy with SVT (supraventricular tachycardia).

Every night for two weeks straight, Emma had visited them in the hospital after work only to find Lily an emotional wreck. Lily would forego showering and eating during the day, afraid if she left the room Maddy would cry and there’d be no one there to comfort her. The nurses were stretched too thin, and Lily had no family to help. Her dad had already passed, and she had no siblings. Her mother was holed up in bed with a slipped disc, giving Lily grief for not taking care of her like a good daughter should. Tom wasn’t much help either since he kept traveling for work in an attempt to keep up with their already-mounting medical bills. Although Emma suspected staying busy was more of a coping mechanism for him so he could avoid dealing with the situation.

Several times, Emma found Lily hunched over the hospital bed, silently crying. She looked so bone tired it seemed too much effort to make noise while she wept. Lily said she couldn’t sleep at night, what with nurses constantly checking Maddy’s vital signs, the incessant beeping of the machines, and every peep the baby made sending her into full alert. Emma pitched in where she could, spending her early evenings at the hospital to give Lily a few hours to catch up on meals, bathing, or sleep, depending on what she needed most.

The moments when Emma was alone with Maddy, rocking the three-week old baby in her arms, she felt completely at peace. Emma would close her eyes so she wouldn’t have to see all the tubes and patches attached to the infant, then simply sit back and soak up the closeness. She’d never spent much time around children, had focused more on their shortcomings than the happiness they could bring. She’d always told herself she’d didn’t want to be a mom, that she didn’t have what it took. So on those long nights, Emma convinced herself this just might be enough for her. That loving Maddy could fill the times when those uncontrollable yearnings for motherhood would threaten to overwhelm her.

BOOK: Splintered
9.67Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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