Vanished (11 page)

Mason told him.

“This info look accurate?”

Mason scanned the screen. Name, address, DOB, birth city, and state. “Yeah.”

Tom rattled the keyboard a bit more. “Okay, let’s get the slaps first.” He took Mason’s hand and laid all four fingers on the lighted pad while he watched the fingers appear on the screen.

How many times had Mason watched this done? Usually he and Ray stood back and silently smirked. There was a bit of vulnerability to getting prints taken, no matter what the reason. It was psychological. And he’d tried to make people feel as guilty as possible while they were scanned. Now it was his turn.

Next Tom took one of Mason’s hands and carefully rolled each finger across the pad, watching for the computer to give him a thumbs-up on the quality of each scan. He took Mason’s other hand and started to roll. The first finger slipped. Tom repositioned the finger, and it slipped again. “Your hand is too sweaty. Try wiping it on your pants.”

Sheesh.

Mason brushed his hand on his jeans. Sweaty was right. Christ. You’d think he was a terrified perp.

“Happens to everyone,” Tom muttered. He rapidly rolled the rest of Mason’s fingers and nodded at the screen in satisfaction. “Looks good.”

“You gonna run them against the prints found at the Josie Mueller scene now?”

“Uh . . . not at the moment.” Tom sprayed the lighted pad and wiped it with a soft cloth. “I’ll wait until that request comes down the chain.” He avoided Mason’s gaze.

Mason watched him for a split second longer. Clearly, Tom didn’t want to run a comparison while Mason was standing beside him. No problem. His prints weren’t going to match anyway. He didn’t need to be here to see it. He’d head upstairs, tell Schefte that he was done with prints, and ask to look at the calendar on his computer to see for himself when he’d last visited Josie Mueller.

“Thanks, Tom. See you around.” Mason grabbed his hat and strode out of the lab. He skipped the elevator and took the stairs. His usual move when he needed to be alone to think. He jogged up the metallic-sounding steps.

His card hadn’t worked in the security slider.

Tom wouldn’t run the print comparison in front of him.

Schefte had pulled his computer.

He had a few questions for Schefte. When he reached his floor, he hit the stairwell door and sped down the hall to the big room where he and Ray had a corner for their desks. Several other pairs of Major Crimes detectives shared the room. For a brief second, heartburn stung his upper gut as he thought about facing his peers.
I’ve got nothing to hide.

Maybe they were pulling a practical joke on him.

Mason stopped, sheer relief flowing over him like a cool breeze. Why hadn’t he thought that before? A smile fought to cross his face. It made perfect sense. What better way to get him riled up than to make him think—

No. They wouldn’t do that to him when there was a kid missing in his family.

Possible answers to the questions surrounding Josie’s murder were slowly being crossed off his mental checklist. His buddies weren’t playing a gag on him. That left human error in the evidence collection and . . .

Mason couldn’t fathom the last possibility on his list. This wasn’t a movie; he wasn’t being framed for a murder. That didn’t happen in real life.

Impossible. Or was it?

Feet suddenly heavy, he pushed open the door to what he’d always thought of as the corral. Six Major Crimes detective teams worked in adjoining cubicles along the edges of the big room. In the center of the room was a stack of cabinets with a coffee pot, crappy sink, and a fridge.

No one was at their desk in the corral. That wasn’t unusual, especially for a Saturday afternoon. He glanced over at Morales and Hunsinger’s corner of the room. Their desks were relatively neat. Where were they at on Josie’s murder? Were they out pursuing leads or watching their kids play soccer?

Mason walked over to his desk. His monitor was present, but the tower under his desk was gone. He closed his eyes for a second. So much for hoping it wasn’t true. Somebody was after his ass. But who? And why?

He walked around and stood in front of Ray’s monitor. Ray still had a tower. His heart pounded in his ears as he touched Ray’s mouse and his screen sprang to life. Mason stared at the log-in page to get into the Oregon State Police’s system.

Will my log-in work? Or has that been deactivated, too?

Mason sat heavily in Ray’s chair and tapped on the keyboard. Sweat dripped down his back as he typed in Ray’s user name and password. He eyed Ray’s email program. What could he find there? Had Ray passed on everything he’d been told regarding the suspicions around Josie’s case? Or had everyone kept their mouths shut around Ray, knowing his friendship with Mason ran deep?

Was he violating that friendship?

Simply typing in Ray’s information created a record he had no ability to erase.

Shit.

Mason logged out and immediately felt better.

What about Hunsinger’s email?
That’s where he could find out what was going on with Josie’s case. He’d learned Hunsinger’s log-in during a case last year. Maybe he still had it somewhere.

Mason heard the door open behind him and popped up out of Ray’s chair, moving to the far end of the cabinets to get a view of who’d come in the door.

“Hey, Callahan. Tom told me you’d been in here.”

His immediate supervisor Denny Schefte was a silver-haired long-distance runner with a black mustache that belonged in a porn flick. Mason liked the man. He’d always found him to be a straight shooter and brutally honest and fair. All high marks in Mason’s book.

“Prints are done. That should clear up anything from Josie’s murder,” Mason stated. He studied Denny’s gaze, searching for a sign that this misunderstanding was about to vanish. “I’d like to look at my calendar. My computer available somewhere?”

Schefte shifted his weight. “No, it’s still being looked at.”

“Did you look to see when I last went by Josie’s? I put every meeting with my CIs on my calendar.”

“I did. You logged a visit on September fifteenth.”

He’d been right. September. “It was a scorcher that day. She didn’t have air. I knew that was the last time I was there.”

“How come you actually went to her place? That’s not SOP.”

Sweat sprouted in Mason’s armpits. “Usually, I didn’t. We typically met down the street at a Starbucks. That time she had forgotten something, so I walked back to her place with her.”

Schefte looked him straight in the eye. “Were you fucking her?”

“Jesus Christ, Denny! God, no. I don’t do that shit. And wouldn’t ever even consider it! Especially with a . . .” He dropped the sentence. He’d been about to say hooker. But Josie deserved better than that. She’d been a good kid. She’d just had hard times and made bad decisions.

“I wasn’t fucking her. Never even crossed my mind.” He held Schefte’s gaze.

He was on trial.

“It’s okay if you did, Callahan. It wouldn’t be the first time someone fooled around with a CI. It’s not against the law to have sex.”

Disgust filled his chest. Not only was Schefte playing mind games, he was trying to cheapen Mason’s character. “Fuck you, Denny. I didn’t sleep with Josie. I’ve never slept with an informant or a witness or even fucking considered it.
You
know me better than that. Don’t play games with my head.” His vision tunneled until Schefte’s face was the only visible thing in the room. “If you’ve got something to tell me, say it. Don’t try to manipulate me to confess to something I never did.”

Schefte was silent.

Mason’s anger burned away, ice-cold fear taking its place. “What’s going on?” he whispered to his boss. The silence in the room was almost painful in its enormity. Something had happened. “What did they find now?”

Schefte took a deep breath. “You’re a good cop. You always have been, and I consider you a friend. I’ve known you a long time, and I like to believe I know your depth of character. You’re a bit old-fashioned, Mason. But that’s you. You get pissed at the things that are wrong in this world, and you work hard to fix them. Most things are black and white to you.”

“Damn right.” The room seemed to spin. Mason blinked, keeping his focus on Schefte.

His supervisor looked away, sorrow flashing across his face. When he looked back, determination had hardened his gaze. “After your new scans today, your prints still match. And they’re also on the bat used to murder Josie. I’m gonna ask for your weapon and badge. You’re on administrative leave.”

Mason couldn’t breathe.

It wasn’t erroneous evidence collection.

Someone was deliberately framing him.

Who?

12

34 HOURS MISSING

Mason sat on the steps to his porch. His ass was one degree from freezing on the cold concrete, but the chill felt good. He needed to feel something. Since he’d turned over his gun and badge to Schefte and walked out of the police building, he’d been numb. The icy air was welcome. Right now he wanted to go inside and sleep for ten days. As long as he sat in the crispy-cool weather, he wouldn’t succumb to the part of his brain that screamed for him to hit something.

His prints were on the bat that killed Josie.

Impossible.

His brain couldn’t move beyond those two thoughts. They warred inside his head. Even though he’d been sitting motionless, the exhaustion sweeping his body made him feel like he’d run a marathon. Or two.

He ached to get drunk. Or run. Or drive for several hours. He could be at the coast in ninety minutes and run on the beach. The ocean always calmed him. Now that he was on administrative leave, no one cared what he did or where he went.

No one.

A wet nose touched his hand.

“Hey, boy.” Mason rubbed the dog’s head, and its tongue flopped out the side of its mouth in joy. He’d noticed the food bowl was empty when he’d arrived. He’d promptly filled it and peered inside the solid-sided crate he’d borrowed from a neighbor. The old outdoor furniture cushion he’d placed inside showed a thin coating of black hair. The dog must have approved of the sleeping space. Mason pulled out the cushion and whacked it on the porch rail to loosen the hair, then placed it neatly back in the crate.

The dog seemed chipper despite sleeping outside in such cold weather, Mason thought. He could hear his father’s voice when a very young Mason worried about the cows and sheep sleeping outside: “That’s why God gave them fur coats.”

He ran his fingers through the dog’s fur. It was awfully thick. And that crate was probably the warmest place the dog had slept in weeks. He should have rigged up a bed for the dog sooner.

But he’d wanted the dog to return to its home. The argument for it being a stray was growing stronger and stronger. Maybe he should take it in to a vet and get it scanned for a chip.

Maybe a young boy was missing his dog.

Jake had begged for a dog for years, but neither Mason nor Robin had seen themselves as dog people.

Mason frowned, a memory of Jake hovering just at the edge of his consciousness. Had Jake tried to bring home a dog?
No.
It was a memory of Jake playing baseball and a dog running around the infield. One of the dads had caught the dog, and it didn’t have a collar. Jake had begged Mason to bring the dog home with them. He must have been about ten. The batter’s helmet was big and loose on his head, and the bat looked like a caveman’s club next to his bony arms.

Mason had refused, and Jake hadn’t spoken to him for the rest of the day.

Mason scratched the dog’s ears, and the dog rested its chin on his knee, staring at him in adoration. He felt his antidog stance slowly crumbling to pieces. So far, this mutt hadn’t been any extra work. He seemed self-reliant. Just needed some food and shelter. And definitely a checkup.

Maybe he’d let the vet decide. If there was no implanted chip, then Mason would keep him.

His phone vibrated. Ray.

Mason stared at the screen.
You’ve got to talk to him.

The last thing he wanted to do was talk to a human. Right now, the dog was ideal company.

“Hey.” Mason’s manners wouldn’t let him ignore the call.

“Mason. Where are you?”

The dog huffed at the sound of Ray’s voice.

“Was that a dog? Are you at home?” Ray asked.

“Yeah, I’m outside.”

“Why? It’s freezing.”

“I’m just checking on the dog. Then I’m headed back to Jake’s.” Real life was slapping him in the face. As much as he wanted to run away to the coast, he had a responsibility to his son and his extended family to see them through their tragedy. Henley missing made his personal problems the equivalent of chewed gum on the bottom of his boot.

“Schefte said he talked to you,” Ray started.

“Say what you mean. He didn’t talk to me. He took my fucking gun and badge.”

“I was getting to that.”

Mason bit his tongue. Ray didn’t deserve his anger. “Fuck, sorry.”

“Yeah, I know.” Ray was silent for a moment. “Jill wants to know if you’ll come over for dinner.”

“Hell, no. You think I want Jill’s sad eyes staring at me all evening? Besides, I need to be at Jake’s. That’s what I’m supposed to be doing.”

“They’ll get it straightened out, Mason.”

“I know I didn’t beat Josie’s head in with a bat. But for some reason, I’m feeling as guilty as I would if I had done it. Schefte talks to me like I let down every person in blue, when the fact is, I didn’t do it!”

“I know you didn’t do it,” Ray stated.

“Shit. Hearing you say that makes me feel guilty, too. What the hell is wrong with me?” Mason scratched the dog’s chest, wanting to toss the animal in the back of his vehicle and take him to the beach. What kind of pansy was he that he wanted to run away with a dog?

“Someone is messing with things. Schefte told me you had new prints done and they still matched. That means someone planted your prints in Josie’s apartment. And I suspect that will be the person who killed Josie. Who would have your prints?”

“Any OSP employee,” Mason stated. “Any server at any restaurant I’ve ever eaten at. Take your pick. With some simple supplies, it’s pretty easy to pick up and transfer prints.”

“Okay. Let’s look at this a different way. Who did you piss off that wants some payback?”

“Over twenty years of perps. Robin’s divorce attorney. The jerk who cut me off on the interstate today, who I honked my horn at.”

“Shit. So half the state. What’d you do to Robin’s attorney?”

Mason snorted. “I don’t remember. I may have called him a money-hungry asswipe for dragging out the process. For an amicable divorce, it cost a hell of a lot and went on forever.”

“You’re being targeted for something.”

Mason thought on that for a long second. “But why? What’s the gain? I’m not going to go to prison for something I didn’t do.”

“No, but you’re gonna look really bad until it’s all sorted out. Wait until the press gets a hold of this.”

Mason groaned. “I don’t need this right now.”

“I’m going to start looking over Morales’s shoulder on Josie’s case and asking some questions. Something is very wrong there.”

“What’ve Morales and Hunsinger been saying in the office?”

“Not a word. But I’ve been swamped, so I haven’t seen them for more than thirty seconds. I’m kinda enjoying working with Makitalo on his cases. He’s quiet and mellow.”

“Fuck you.”

“And Makitalo doesn’t swear at me. Go see your son. Tell him to stay strong for his sister. How are the rest of them handling it?”

“Shitty.”

“As to be expected. Any developments?”

Mason gave him a brief rundown on the minivan and ransom note.

“A note? So there’s going to be some action downtown tonight?”

“We’ll see. I don’t think anything will come of it. I firmly believe it’s some sick person trying to make a buck.”

“What’s the FBI think?” Ray asked.

“They’re looking at everything. These are the two biggest leads we’ve had, and they’re throwing everything they’ve got at them. If they think the ransom note is a joke, I’m not hearing that from them. They know better than to blow it off. You can bet there will be some heavily armed agents surrounding that bench tonight. I pity the guy who tries to take on the FBI when they’re hunting a child abductor.”

“I asked around about Special Agent McLane. She’s got a good rep. I found one guy who’d dealt with her on an earlier case. He sang her praises. Said she got him everything he needed before he even knew he needed it. She’s smart as a whip and down-to-earth.”

“Yeah, she seems okay,” Mason admitted.

“Just okay?”

“She appears very sharp. She communicates well with the women and Jake. They’re all relieved to have her in the house, and she seems to genuinely care about everyone involved.” Mason remembered the look on Ava’s face as she’d rushed in with the news of the ransom note. She’d been flushed from the cold, her eyes sparkling from the excitement of the new lead. For a split second, he’d been simultaneously terrified that she had horrendous news and electrified by her female appeal. The adrenaline had lit her up in a way that’d struck him deep in his chest.

Mason felt peculiar about the attraction at such an inappropriate time. Work and relationships were kept far apart in Mason’s life. He’d watched too many pairs of cops heat it up and then explode in the aftermath. The job and one’s personal life were best kept worlds apart.

He missed a question from Ray, caught up in his Ava distraction. “What?”

“I asked what they found out about Lilian’s ex with the sexual predator history?”

“I’ll find out the results of their interview today. I’ll let you know.”

Mason signed off the call. It’d felt good to hear Ray’s vote of confidence. He’d never been in a position where a bunch of red arrows pointed directly at him. He knew he was innocent, so why was everything going to hell in his life?

Who had it in for him?

He’d watched Mason leave the police building, and through his binoculars from his hidden perch a hundred yards away, he’d seen how deflated the man was.

Glee swept through him.
Suffer. You deserve every moment.

Mason Callahan was going to lose his job and every ounce of credibility. Wait until the newspapers picked up the story of the dirty cop. A man who brutalized and then murdered his confidential informant.

It’d been incredibly easy to hook the whore on meth. He’d supplied it for free for several weeks until she’d started seeking him out to get more. It’d been fascinating to watch her spiral into addiction.

He’d worked so hard to place the dominos, and now they were tipping over in perfect unison. At the end was Callahan’s sanity.

Served him right.

Three hours to go.

Ava had run to the grocery store with Robin. The woman had wanted to get out of the house, but didn’t know what to do. The last thing they needed was groceries. The house had been swamped with food from neighbors and friends. But Robin needed to bake. It gave her something to do and kept her from going crazy, so Ava supported her.

They’d taken Ava’s vehicle after sneaking Robin into the car and hiding her in the backseat. The media and cameras had watched them pass and ignored them as she drove off. She’d blown out a deep breath.

At the store, Robin loaded up on flour, sugar, butter, and chocolate. Ava grabbed yogurt and bottled water. Robin was distracted in the store, unable to focus on her short list.

“Don’t look at people. Just get what you need, and we’ll get out of here,” Ava instructed.

“It doesn’t feel normal,” Robin said, steering the cart down the wide aisle. “Everything feels off-balance and too bright. Why is this one little trip exhausting me?”

Ava knew she didn’t mean the brightness of the fluorescent lights in the store. “It’s the waiting. The waiting is getting to you. Every nerve in your body is on high alert and braced for a phone call or word from the police. It’s sapping your energy. And your calm.”

Robin nodded. “Exactly. I just want it to be over. I miss my little girls. I want Kindy and Kylie to come home,” she said softly. “It’s so hard that I can’t hug them when I need to.”

“You’ve talked with them, right?”

“Yes, they’re having a wonderful time at my parents’. It’s like a vacation for them.”

“And they haven’t asked any questions about the agents keeping an eye on the home?” Ava asked.

“No. They haven’t said anything to me. I doubt they’d notice. They’re simply too young. My parents are grateful the agents are there. I miss my mom, too.”

“They don’t have to stay away. It’s good to have family around you right now.”

“I know, but I don’t want the girls to be affected. They’re keeping them away from the news. They’d immediately pick up on the stress at our house.” She paused. “We’ll tell them when we need to.” Her expression closed off as she mentioned breaking bad news to her daughters.