The Green Children: A Sycamore Moon Novel (Sycamore Moon Series Book 3) (21 page)

 

 

 

 

Maxim slalomed between the police cruisers and Fire Rescue vehicles. He didn't slow down until it was too late, and his front left wheel skipped onto the curb. He grumbled and threw his Audi into park, leaping from the car without bothering to shut it off.

The front yard of Olivia's house was not as serene as it normally was. First responders crowded the perfectly manicured lawn. The lush grass, the trimmed hedges, the old-world charm—it was still there, but now it had twisted into an ironic, dark parody of itself. Hitchens, Cole, and Stokes were there, but his fellow officers wore grim masks.

The group centered around the grand fountain next to the walkway. Barney Hitchens saw Maxim approach first. He didn't bother saying anything.

"Out of my way," barked the detective, brushing past a poor EMT who was standing around with his hands in his pockets.

The bubbling water and bright blue paint didn't appear so magical anymore. Not with the soaking wet body of Annabelle Hayes lying on the brick next to it.

Somebody had pulled the girl out of the water, but it was too late. Her skin wasn't as blue as the paint in the fountain, but it was eerily similar. She wore a white fluffy dress that was a little too small for her. It was something a little kid might wear when they played princess. Her bare toenails and fingernails were painted bright red, and she wore no makeup except for matching lipstick. Her eyes were still open, their glassiness and her dress giving the eerie impression of a doll.

"Damn it!" screamed Maxim, flipping away and taking in the scene.

Olivia sat on the porch with a blanket over her shoulders. A paramedic attended to her, holding an oxygen mask to her mouth. She made no noise, as if her tears and voice had long evaporated. Dark lines of eyeliner ran down her cheeks and Maxim recalled the same lines on Annabelle's face when she'd been found. Except Olivia's eyes were red with grief, staring into nothing, unaware of those around her. Annabelle hadn't appeared to be crying.

The water.

Maxim spun around and surveyed the fountain floor. The streams of water from the upper level splashed below and agitated the pool, making it hard to see.

"Why is this still on?" he asked, addressing but not facing the sergeant. "Can someone please shut this fucking fountain off?"

Sergeant Hitchens motioned for Cole to take care of it and stepped closer to Maxim so he could speak in a low voice. "The mother found her, dragged her out, and called it in. By the time we got here—"

Maxim waved Hitchens away. He didn't want to hear it. He didn't want to hear anything except answers. He'd saved this girl. Annabelle had already been safe. This wasn't supposed to happen.

The detective circled the base of the fountain and examined the inside edge. Eventually, the water flow stopped and he got a clearer picture of the floor. Besides a few copper pennies, he didn't see anything out of the ordinary.

At the far end he found an intake filter. Maxim ran his hands into the crevice and scraped the surface. Nothing had been sucked against the grate. It was operating as normal. By the time he returned to his starting position, nothing had come up as suspicious.

Maxim finally faced the body again and thought a long moment. Hitchens had silently followed a few paces behind the detective the entire time. "Who did what with Annabelle?" Maxim asked him.

Hitchens grunted. "Oh, it's okay for me to talk now? You're not gonna snap at me again?"

"I'm not in the mood for this shit, Barney."

"Son, you better slow your roll. We all understand how upset you are, but don't take it out on us."

Maxim gritted his teeth. He almost told the sergeant off but noticed Cole walking by. Maxim intercepted him instead.

"Cole, tell me who touched Annabelle after Olivia pulled her from the water."

The officer shrugged. "Stokes got here first. Pulled the mother away and initiated CPR. Fire Rescue was next and took over. They pronounced her ten minutes ago. Since then the sergeant ordered everyone away."

Maxim nodded. Hitchens had done the right thing, and it would've been easy enough for him to say as much. The detective looked to the grumbling sergeant and frowned. "Can we please get Olivia inside?"

Hitchens grumbled. "She didn't want—"

"I don't care what she wants. This is a crime scene now. Either she gets on the truck and taken to the clinic or she goes inside."

The two men stared at each other for a moment before the sergeant scowled and stormed away. Maxim kneeled by the dead girl and put his hands to his face.

This was his fault. He'd known something was going on—was going to happen—but he'd been unable to crack Annabelle.

After a minute, he opened his eyes and made sure Olivia was inside. He donned a pair of black nitrile gloves. Then he swallowed hard, lifted Annabelle's dress, and peeked under. He let the cloth fall and nodded. The girl was still wearing underwear.

He took a quick peek in her mouth. Nothing was there, and the emergency responders would've cleared the passage. He checked for bruising on her arms and along her neck and shoulders. He didn't see any. His gut was that this was a suicide. Annabelle's behavior of late only reinforced that idea.

Maxim couldn't believe it, but he felt a tear come to his eye. He'd seen this kind of thing before, but this one hurt. A shadow crossed over him and he figured Hitchens had come back for round two. The detective spun around, ready to uppercut, and saw a man with wire-rimmed glasses standing over him.

"Dr. Medina," said Maxim.

The part-time Sanctuary medical examiner didn't take his eyes off Annabelle. He wordlessly shook his head.

Maxim drew away, not wanting to expose his emotions. "I'll let you get to it, Doctor." He marched to the porch and inside.

Olivia Hayes was on the couch. The paramedic was packing up the oxygen tank, about to leave, but Maxim was too impatient.

"Give us some privacy," he demanded.

When they were alone, Maxim sat down next to the grief-stricken mother.

"She's not my daughter," murmured Olivia.

A crack lined Maxim's forehead. "What?"

Olivia lifted her head. Her eyes were swollen, but dry. They even betrayed a glimmer of hope. "Annabelle is still alive," she whispered. "Ever since she came back from Sycamore, she wasn't the real Annabelle. That...
thing
outside isn't my daughter."

Maxim lost some steam. He didn't remember what he was going to say. "That's... crazy," was all he could think of. He realized how insensitive it was to say after it came out.

Olivia shook her head firmly. "No. It's not. They want you to think it is. They want to make
you
the crazy one, but it's all just tricks. Shine a light on it and reveal the truth." She scooted closer to him. "That's what I need you for. You can find her, Maxim. I
need
you to find her for me."

Maxim collapsed back into the couch. He'd been angry at Olivia. He remembered that now. He was going to chew her out for letting this happen. It beat blaming himself, anyway. But hearing what came out of her mouth doubled the sick feeling in his stomach. The anger had been good. It focused him. Without it, he felt lost again.

Olivia put a hand on Maxim's chest and he gasped for air.

"This has been so hard," she admitted. Maxim knew it was a hard confession for a woman like her to make. She put her weary face into his shoulder. "I need your help."

Maxim's voice cracked. "I tried."

Olivia swung her leg around and straddled his lap, facing him. He could feel her hot breath on his neck. He could feel his blood stirring.

"What are you doing?"

She grabbed the sides of his head. "I need you to believe me, Maxim."

Olivia smiled, a bit too emphatically. Her face pleaded for him to give, if only an ounce. For him to validate her hope.

"Olivia..."

She leaned in and pressed her cheek to his. In a whisper, lips tickling his ear, she said, "I need
you
, Maxim."

Her toned thighs tightened and she gyrated her hips over his. He could imagine her tanned legs through the thin clothing. A light whimper escaped her lips as she pressed against him.

"Olivia!"

Maxim swept the woman to the side none too delicately and jumped to his feet uncomfortably.

"I can't believe you!" he boomed.

She went limp. Her voice came weakly but she was unashamed. "I can't do this alone."

Maxim became nauseous now. Part of it was directed at himself as the thought of Olivia on top of him still turned him on. But he felt something else. The rage that he fostered against himself, against her. It boiled up again. His neck and ears burned and he couldn't take it anymore.

"Your daughter is lying dead in the front yard, Olivia! This is real! This happened!"

"Dwyer!"

Maxim spun to see Hitchens in the doorway. If the detective had thought the sergeant was angry before, he didn't know how to describe what he was now.

"Why don't you come outside, Detective," said the sergeant. It came out as an order, not a question, even though Hitchens didn't outrank him.

The mother sobbed into a handheld cushion and Maxim's resolve cracked. Every step he took was wrong, each journey only leading farther from the destination. The detective was still upset, but he realized he'd been wrong to release his pent-up anger. Olivia's only child had just been taken from her. He put his hand to his head again, unsure of his next move.

"It's not her who drowned," said Olivia quietly. "My baby wouldn't kill herself. My baby wouldn't run away."

Barney Hitchens swallowed his next words and looked from her to the detective. He didn't know what to say either. Maxim straightened his jacket. He knew he couldn't help anymore and started to leave the room.

"She never liked swimming," said the mother. "Annabelle never played in the fountain or the pool before. She never even liked baths."

The detective stopped. Last he'd seen Annabelle alive, she wasn't exactly taking a bath either. But she'd overflowed the tub and the sink. Her motive hadn't been apparent.

"Do you have a pool?" he asked.

Olivia Hayes nodded, still facing the floor. "A small one, indoors, with the spa. I had to lock the room because I caught her in there with her clothes on. I thought she was going to overflow it like the bathroom."

Maxim almost fell backward. His mind raced. Louise Radford had filled her pool in after her daughter had acted strangely. In the woods, Annabelle had been found wet, with running makeup. It didn't make sense at the time. But it did now, in a strange, compelling way.

Without a word to either of them, Maxim marched out the front door and towards his car. He dialed his friend, the other best hope for Hazel Cunningham, and was relieved to get an answer.

"Diego," he said, "it's the water. They go to the water."

 

 

 

 

Diego parked his bike on the sidewalk at the Williams Ranger District building. He left his gold helmet on the seat and unzipped his leather jacket. It was getting hot again.

He entered the building and immediately saw Maxim and a park ranger huddled over the reception counter. They were referencing points on an unfolded paper map.

"Find anything?" he asked them.

"Who's this?" asked the ranger.

Maxim appeared excited to get things started. "Ranger Dan Briggs, Diego de la Torre."

Diego offered his hand at the hasty introduction. Dan clasped it a bit too tightly.

"What department are you with?" he asked.

"He's not," cut in Maxim. "He's a civilian."

The ranger's eyes widened. "You're a private investigator?"

Diego dismissed the question. "Not really."

"Well, who do you work for then?"

"Actually, I'm kind of in between jobs right now."

Maxim rolled his eyes at the news. He was probably afraid Diego would fall back into his outlaw ways. Still, it was those tendencies that had broken this case.

"He's a good tracker," explained Maxim. "Used to do domestic service for the Commissioned Corps. He's been looking for Hazel nonstop since she's gone missing and we could use an extra pair of eyes."

Dan Briggs frowned. "It's just that we can't be liable if you get hurt."

"I can take care of myself," assured the biker.

"Ranger," maintained Maxim, "I understand your concerns. But he's been invaluable. If anything goes south, you could say he's with me."

"Besides," Diego added, "I was here first." He didn't know what Dan's involvement here was, but he wouldn't get cut out of this. The ranger seemed to pick up on that fact and waved the point off.

"Fine then. Just let us handle anything official," said Dan. Diego glared at him. Law enforcement had been a real pain lately. He decided to let it slide and changed the subject.

"So what's this you said about the water?"

Maxim's face lit up. "I expanded my search parameters and isolated a few more incidents of missing children. In some cases the kids returned or were found, just like Annabelle. In others, they disappeared for good, like..." The detective stopped short of saying Hazel, but they both knew what he'd implied.

"She hasn't disappeared for good yet," insisted Diego.

Maxim cleared his throat. "I didn't say that."

"Bullshit you didn't."

"Look," said Maxim firmly. "I know we can still find her, okay?"

The biker huffed. "So that was just a slip of your sensitivity training, huh? Or have you become just another jaded cop like the rest of them?"

"You're wrong," asserted Maxim.

Diego didn't let up. "You know, if you always think the worst will happen, you'll never be able to stop it."

The detective wordlessly stared at the map. Diego noticed something on the man's face that he'd seen before. What was it?

Ranger Briggs butted in. "Hey, asshole, that's some way to talk to your friend after what just happened. He's supposed to be investigating a dead girl but instead he's over here, trying to find one still alive."

The outlaw's tongue caught in his throat. He'd sworn he was about to punch the ranger in the face until he processed what was said. Diego turned to Maxim. "What dead girl?"

Dan answered again. "The one he rescued from the forest at the beginning of the week. He just fished her out of her rich family's fountain. Right in front of mommy."

"Annabelle Hayes?"

Maxim winced at the sound of the girl's name. That's when Diego recognized the expression in his friend's face. Pain. He'd seen it before when Maxim had lost his wife. Accusing the man of not taking his job seriously had been off base. The proof of that was evident in Maxim's eyes.

"I didn't mean—"

"We don't have time for this," said the detective. "I was only comparing Hazel to the others to build a profile. Some of the kids returned unharmed. Some were never recovered. One boy was found drowned."

Diego caught on. "The same as Annabelle."

"Exactly. Even the kids who got home had strange predilections for water. And it's not only afterward. When I first found Annabelle, her clothes were damp and her makeup was streaked."

The biker weighed the information. "I thought the police searched the lakes and reservoirs already."

"We did," said Maxim. "Several times. And again looking for Red. Briggs said the old man could only hide out near water. But you remember the Paradise Killings a couple years back?"

Diego could never forget. "The bodies were stuffed in barrels and dropped into Paradise Tank."

"Which was in the middle of nowhere. Arizona's rife with water tanks like that. Most of them are little used or abandoned."

The ranger cocked his head. "Many of them aren't even on maps," he added.

"Okay," said Diego. "But like you said. They're all over the place. How do we know which to check?"

Maxim shook his head. "We don't. But look at this." The detective planted his finger on the map. "Because Annabelle was recovered west of Sanctuary, most of our follow-up searches were north of the Interstate. Besides that, the Quiet Pines campgrounds are on the north border of the 40 anyway. Most of us assumed Hazel couldn't have crossed without being noticed or picked up."

Diego chewed his lip and stared at the bumping horizontal line that bisected Sycamore. Interstate 40 was a natural wall, but it hadn't completely prevented the police from looking elsewhere. "I helped with a search party on the south side, but I admit the effort wasn't as exhaustive as the north. That's why I was down there yesterday."

"And those were good instincts," said Maxim. "The more I think about it, it makes sense. The forest is thicker south of Williams. Another girl from town went missing and wandered back along the tracks. Echo Canyon is outside town, south of the Interstate. That's where Red ran off to. If there's a place for Hazel to have slipped through our fingers, it's down there. Especially if she's trying to get back to Williams."

Briggs grunted. "It's been long enough for her to have walked from Quiet Pines to Williams twenty times already."

Diego had figured the same thing before. "Maybe she's lost."

Maxim's suggestion was darker. "Maybe she's trapped."

The three men contemplated the grim possibilities.

"Here's the thing," said Maxim. "I have task force investigators running down leads in other states. I have deputies canvassing the park. Briggs has rangers doing the same. With the new focus around the area of the grave site, something might turn up. But, we're starting all over again. It can take days. Hazel—"

"She doesn't have days," finished Diego.

The ranger checked the national parks map and picked a location south of Williams. "How about this? Dogtown Reservoir?"

The biker shook his head. "We can't just make arbitrary guesses. When I found the bones, I wasn't randomly wandering around. I was—" Diego stopped, aware that Briggs would laugh off anything he said.

"There's something else," inferred Maxim.

"Yes. The symbols in the forest. Celtic crosses carved into the barks of trees." The outlaw drew the glyph over the map with his finger.

"My ass," chimed the ranger. "Inconsiderate vandals are marking their territory in public parks these days. You heard about that graffiti at Joshua Tree?"

"Forget about that. You've seen these symbols?"

"Sure," said Briggs. "Around Echo Canyon, and the grave site, like you said. The markings have been spreading."

"Where?"

"Hold on a minute," said Maxim. "What's the deal with the symbols?"

Diego lowered his voice. "They scratch them in the trees to warn each other about Red. The glyphs are something they leave behind. It shows where they've been."

Maxim rubbed the scruff on his neck. "If we're looking for water
and
Celtic crosses, that has to narrow our search quite a bit."

"Exactly," said the biker, turning to Ranger Briggs. "If you've seen these markings close to water tanks in the area, you've got to let us know."

The ranger seemed to have questions but considered his request all the same. Briggs finally put an index finger on Echo Canyon and a thumb on Williams. Then he dragged both away and converged them together over the area where he'd seen the symbols. "That's it," he said, tapping in the middle of a sea of green. "Wounded Ranger Tank."

Diego swallowed as he checked the map. "But there's nothing there."

"Sure there is," said Dan. "It's just not marked. That's how small it is. It's dry most of the time. That's why I'd forgotten about it. But with the downpours we've been having lately—"

"That's it," echoed Diego. "I can feel it."

Maxim eyed him carefully, perhaps feeling the same thing.