WHERE'S MY SON? (6 page)

Benny was exhausted from the effort of remembering.
His attacker looked at him a minute longer, put down the hammer, and turned to walk away.

“Hey
…where…you…going? You can't leave me…like this!”

He turned
and put a gun to Benny's head. “You’re right.”

He pulled the trigger.

*******

Michael left the ranch and headed east to his home in San Antonio.
He didn't think he’d been seen, but he wasn't taking any chances. Parking in the garage, he went in and packed a bag. After loading it into the car, he sat down at the computer, and searched ‘St. Luke's Missouri.’

There were only two hospitals
. One in St. Louis and the other in Springfield. The one in Springfield, in the southwest corner of the state, was closer. It was the logical place to go first.

He stood up and lo
oked around. Figuring it was the last time he would see his home, he looked around until he spotted the picture of Tammy, sitting next to a gold cross, on the mantle.

He took it down,
stared at it for a long time, and finally decided to take it. If he got the chance, he would show it to their son. He left the cross where it was.

Shutting the door behind him, he climbed into his car and raised the garage door.
The sun had started to go down, but it was still stiflingly hot. His sunglasses took the edge off the glare and hid the determination in his eyes.

He turned the car north
, toward Missouri.

*******

Detective Strong was sitting at his desk when his partner, Vanessa Layne, came into the squad room. Standing five-foot-ten, thin, with large, blue eyes and straight, black hair that fell to the middle of her back, she was very attractive.

They
’d worked together on the street as beat cops, but she’d made detective ahead of him. She was good, real good, and Jason liked working cases with her.

“Hey
, JD.” She sometimes called him by his initials. Jason's middle name was David, and JD had stuck since the academy.

“Hey
, Vanessa. How's it going?”

“Good. Just ran into Dan Carpenter
. You remember him, out in Hondo?”

Jason lo
oked up from his paperwork. “Yeah, think so. Why?”

“He was telling me about a case they have out there. Torture-
murder.” She sat on the edge of his desk. “Victim was a local named Benny Carter. Brutal stuff.”

A
bell went off in Jason's head.

Benny Carter. Where ha
ve I heard that name?

A chill ran up his spine as he recalled the conversation with Michael Barton.
“They got any leads?”

“Tire tracks,
some rope left behind, and a shell casing.”

“Motive?”

Vanessa got up to answer the ringing phone on her desk. “No, nothing apparently stolen. Looks almost like a hit.”

While
Vanessa answered her phone, Jason called Michael. No answer. He left a voicemail.

N
ext, he called Michael's work. They hadn’t seen or heard from him in several days. Jason waved at Vanessa and headed for his car.

He needed to g
et to Michael's Barton’s house now.

Chapter
6

Springfield, Missouri, was seven hundred miles and roughly twelve hours away, according to the directions Michael had found online. He drove all night and arrived in the Branson area just as the sun came up. Branson was a tourist town about thirty minutes south of Springfield, and he’d decided staying there would make him less likely to stand out.

He found a small motel and checked in.
Worn out from the drive, he fell on the bed and slept until nearly three o’clock in the afternoon.

After getting up and showering, he went to
get something to eat. A Denny’s, just two blocks from the motel, looked good, and after ordering, he asked his waitress Starla, if she could give him directions.

“Sure, hon. Where ya
goin’?”

“St. Luke’s
Hospital in Springfield.”

“It’ll be easier if I
show you on a map.”

She
left to put in his order, and came back with his coffee and a local map, the route highlighted. Within the hour, he was on his way to St. Luke's Hospital.

He found it easily enough
, and parked near the front door. A modest, beige building with three floors, it screamed drab. A wing appeared to have been added for medical offices, also beige. Even most of the shrubbery was beige.

The inside was no brighter
, with gray walls, white tile floors, and black handrails. The recent trend of cheery hospital colors had not yet reached St. Luke's.

Michael made his way across the lobby to a half-circle desk with a
candy striper behind it. She seemed out of place with her surroundings. Short blonde hair, hazel eyes, and a big, bright smile, her nametag said Britney. “Hello. May I help you?”

“I hope so,
” Michael smiled down at her and gestured toward her uniform. “I didn't know candy stripers were still around.”

She appeared slightly embarrassed and made a face.
“There aren't many, but St. Luke's is big on tradition, so we still wear the outfit.”

“Well
, if I may say so, it looks great on you,” Michael looked around the lobby, searching while he spoke. “Say, I'm trying to find someone, maybe you know her.”

“I'll help if I can.”

“My niece and her husband had a child here and their nurse was terrific to them. I can't remember her name, but since I was in town, I thought I'd look her up and thank her.”

“Oh, how nice.
What can you tell me about her?”

“Well, as I remember, my niece said she was very short, less than five feet, red hair. Seems like she mentioned a tattoo, maybe a tiger.”

“Oh, sure,” Britney said, her face lighting up. “That's Susan Turnbull!”

“Susan Turnbull,” Michael repeated. “Where do I find her?”

“She's a nurse in OB. It's
on the third floor.”

“
Okay, great. Which elevator should I take?”

“Wou
ld you like me to call and find out if she’s here?”

“Sure, that would be super.”

Michael leaned on the desk, while the girl with ‘Britney’ on her nametag called up to the third floor.

He tried to lo
ok casual, but his mind was racing. He couldn't believe his luck. Finding the woman in a big hospital, such as the one in St. Louis, would have been very difficult.

“
Okay, I'll tell him.” Britney said, and hung up.

“She's already gone for the day. They said she works again tomorrow
.”

“
Dang it!” Michael blurted out, and then quickly gathered himself. “I'm sorry, it's just that I'm leaving town tonight.”

Michael paused for a moment, lo
oking as if he was deciding what to do next. “Maybe I can catch her on my way back through. Thanks so much for your help.”

“Not at all.”

He smiled and said goodbye.

“Goodbye
,” said the girl with ‘Britney’ on her nametag.

*******

It took Jason the better part of an hour to get to Michael’s house on other side of town. He parked across the street, got out, and went up to the garage door. He had to step over several old newspapers lying strewn across the driveway.

He
put his hands around his eyes and peered through the garage door glass. The car was gone. Jason rang the bell, not expecting an answer.

The detective went around the side of the house and through the alley gate.
Going up to the sliding glass door, he again cupped his hands around his face, trying to see in. Nothing seemed disturbed, and the living room appeared as the detective remembered it.

Jason went back around front and got on his radio.

“Dispatch, this is Strong.”

“Go ahead, D
etective.”

“I need a black and white to help with a wellness check.”

He gave them the address, and five minutes later, a patrol car pulled up. They used a pry tool to force the front door.

“Michael?
Michael, it's Jason. You here?”

Jason moved into the living room while the
uniformed officer went toward the kitchen.

“Kitchen
, clear.”

“Living room
, clear.” Jason called back.

The officer moved upstairs while Jason lo
oked around the living room. The power was still on and the computer came to life when Jason touched the keyboard.

“U
pstairs, clear.”

“Thank you.”

Jason sat down and opened the history. The last item was a search for ‘St. Luke’s Missouri.’ It showed one in Springfield and one in St Louis. He copied down the search results.

Moving around the house, Jason lo
oked for other clues as to where he might find Michael. Upstairs, he found an open closet. Several dresser drawers were open with clothes hanging out. It was clear Michael had left in a hurry. Jason went back downstairs and outside, locking the door behind him.

Once back in his car,
he called Detective Dan Carpenter in Hondo.

“Hondo
Police Department.”

“Detective Carpenter, please.”

After several minutes, Dan Carpenter came on.

“Detective Carpenter
.”

“Dan,
this is Jason Strong, San Antonio P.D.”

“Jason,
long time. How are you?”

“Good
, Dan, thanks. You?”

“Fine.
I ran into Vanessa Layne earlier today.”

Jason's voice turned serious.
“That’s what Vanessa said. She mentioned you were telling her about a torture-murder case.”

“
Yeah, that's right. Gruesome stuff.”

“She said the victim’s name is Benny Carter.”

“That’s right. That name ring a bell?”

Jason needed to be careful.
“Do you remember the kidnapping case of the Barton baby, maybe ten years ago?”

“
Sure. Why?”

“Well, the name Benny Carter came up in that investigation. Nothing serious, but
I’m just curious what happened to him.”

Jason could hear Dan reach over and open a file folder.
“Let me see. He had a blow to the back of his head. It looked like he'd been surprised from behind, and tied to a tree. He had a cut face and a broken kneecap. A gunshot to the forehead killed him.”

“Been able to come up with a motive?”

“Not yet. Nothing from the scene gave us a direction. You got anything from that old case that might help?”

“Don't think so. He wasn't a suspect, just a name I remembered.”

“Well, if something comes to mind, give me a yell.”

“You know I will
. Thanks, Dan.”

“Sure, anytime.” Dan hung up.

Jason opened his laptop, pulled up a record search and entered Benny Carter's name.

His record began
at age eighteen. If he had a juvenile record, it was locked. The rap sheet was long and extended out several years, ending with time upstate for car theft. He'd kept his nose clean, except for a DWI, since getting out ten years ago. Jason didn't like the coincidence.

Benny
Carter was released from prison just six months before the Barton baby was kidnapped. Nothing in his record indicated Benny was capable of something on that scale, but someone wanted him dead, and Jason's gut told him Michael was that someone.

He started the car. It
was time to face the lieutenant.

*******

Michael didn't know when Susan Turnbull's shift started, so he was up early and parked near the employee parking lot by five-forty-five the next morning. The sky was overcast, and a spitting rain would start and stop every few minutes. He finally saw her about an hour after he arrived.

Short with red hair, she had apparently traded in the van Benny had described for a bright red
, Mazda Miata. She got out, opened an umbrella, and headed quickly for the entrance.

Michael
, already out and almost to the hospital door, turned abruptly as if he'd forgotten something, and walked back toward the nurse. As they passed, he glanced at her nametag.

Susan Turnbu
ll, that’s her.

He continued to his car.
He would be back later.

*******

Jason Strong knew what he had to do. He didn't like it, but there was no choice.

He knocked on the glass surround
ing Lieutenant John Patton's office, and though he was on the phone, the lieutenant waved him in. Jason shut the door and sat down.

John Patton
was a big man. He worked out every morning, including his days off, and it showed. Every muscle was controlled and toned.

The same could not be said for his
eyebrows and moustache. The eyebrows were bushy and unruly, and his teeth surprised you when he smiled, suddenly appearing from beneath the long moustache.

The call ended and he lo
oked at Jason. “So, JD, what's on your mind?”

“John, this conversation needs to be off the record.”

The lieutenant’s eyebrows knit together, forming an untrimmed hedge. “Okay, off the record. What's up?”

Jason went on to describe the situation, including the call from Michael. When he was done, the lieutenant leaned back in his chair and studied Jason.
“What do you propose?”

“I want permission to go to St. Luke
’s, first the one in Springfield, and if necessary, the one in St. Louis. I want to find Michael Barton and make sure I’m wrong about my suspicion. But John, I think it’s too strong a coincidence, and we need to check it out.”

“Alright, I'll go along
with it. You check in with me every day. If I think it's a waste, I'll pull the plug, and you come back. Agreed?”

Jason nodded
.

“
And JD, there's still the issue of the improper record search. When this is over, we'll have to deal with it.”

“Yes
, sir. Thanks.”

*******

Michael was waiting when Susan got off work. The spitting rain had given way to a full-blown downpour, and she had her umbrella up again. When she pulled out of the parking lot, Michael slid into traffic behind her. The rain made him harder to spot, and he was able to stay well within range.

After maybe ten minutes, she turned and drove into an older subdivision on the north side of town.
She stopped in front of a modest, single-story, ranch-style home with bright yellow paint, green shutters, and a green roof.