Cache a Predator Read online

The officers had cleared the office to go to their respective posts. His parents had gone to the hospital for Dad’s treatment, but his mother had begged him to come to the house in an hour for lunch. He’d promised he would.

  The door to the precinct opened, and Chief entered carrying a coffee and a bag—probably a scone from the coffee shop.

  Brett glanced up at him and lifted his hand. “Chief, can I talk to you a minute?”

  “Sure.” He waved him toward his office as he continued down the hallway.

  Brett picked up his notes and stood, but he had to wait a second for the room to quit spinning before he could continue down the hallway. His fatigue made him dizzy.

  “Sit down, Reed. How are you holding up?”

  Brett shrugged.

  Chief opened the bag with the scone and took a bite. He sipped the coffee, wincing like it was too hot.

  “I appreciate everything the force is doing.”

  Chief shook his head. “This never should have happened. I should have intervened when CPS placed Quinn in a foster home, but my hands were tied. Policies are policies to them.” He swung a hand into his fist. “It’s easy to look back now and think I should have done things differently.”

  “It’s not your fault.” Brett paused and shifted in his seat. “You’ve lived in this county your whole life, right?”

  Chief nodded.

  “How did you know Levi Samuel?”

  The chief’s face turned red. “The asshole.” He squirmed and his chair squeaked. “We go way back.” He looked out the window as if lost in thought, then turned back to Brett.

  “What do you know about him? He wasn’t a registered sex offender, but did he have any enemies?” Brett blinked his burning eyes, focusing on staying alert, sleep wanting to take over.

  “He killed his wife, but I couldn’t prove it. Most people liked him. I’m the only one who had a grudge against him that I know of. At one point, when I was much younger, I wanted to kill the guy.”

  Brett had never heard the chief talk about anyone this way, and if the chief disliked the guy, he must have been a dirtbag.

  “I was the one who found Rebecca, his wife.”

  He said her name with the tenderness of a lover.

  “I was the first one there after she fell down the stairs. After she died. She was even more beautiful in death.”

  Brett forgot about feeling tired.

  “Her old man didn’t deserve her.” He balled the scone bag into a tiny ball, smashing it with ferocity, and flung it into his wastebasket.

  “How do you know he killed her?”

  “We couldn’t find evidence to nail his ass, but I hated her old man and the way he treated her. I wanted to lock him up for life. And those kids. I’ll never forget the way they stood over their mother, the pain in their eyes. And the fear.” He took a sip of his coffee. “Her old man hated me too.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I was in love with his wife, and he knew it.”

  Brett’s mouth gaped open. The bad-ass chief in love?

  The chief stood, sauntered to the door, and gave it a kick with his foot. Not a hard one—just with enough force to close it.

  He continued. “Rebecca and I grew up around here. Our parents were close friends, and everyone thought we’d be together one day. But when we left for separate colleges, we dated other people. I didn’t want to tie her down. I thought she wanted to date a bit, but she later told me she only dated other guys because she thought that’s what I wanted.

  “We kept in touch in college, and then one day, just before Thanksgiving, in our senior year, she called and asked me to meet her. She said she really needed to talk to me.”

  The chief paused and stared out the window again as if going back in time.

  Brett rarely saw the chief’s personal side. He couldn’t picture the chief with a woman. He’d never been married and worked 24/7.

  “I’ll never forget that day or the way she looked. She wore a royal-blue blouse and a yellow scarf around her neck. Her strawberry-colored hair bounced on her shoulders. She was always so full of life. We met at Charlie’s Restaurant because I insisted. It had been her favorite place to eat when we dated.

  “When she walked into the restaurant she glowed, but something looked different. Something in her eyes had changed. No one else would have noticed, but I did.

  “When we embraced, I didn’t think she was going to let me go, and I didn’t care. I didn’t want her to. I held her so close I could smell the coconut scent of her shampoo. She felt perfect in my arms. I thought, this is the woman I want to marry. Why have I been dating all those other girls?

  “But when she pulled away, and I saw the tears in her eyes, I knew. Something was wrong.

  “She told me. The SOB had raped her. She was pregnant. Her parents were pushing her to marry him. They thought it was the best thing for the child. I asked her what she thought was the best thing. She said she didn’t know. What did I think? I said, ‘Don’t throw your life away on someone who raped you.’

  “She said, ‘But maybe I led him on.’”

  The chief shook his head before he continued. “I said, ‘No! If you said no, he should have listened. He was wrong. Don’t marry him. Marry me instead. I’ll take care of you and the baby. You know that.’

  “She cried harder then and took my hand and thanked me. But she said he’d never go for it. She knew he wouldn’t want me raising his child. They’d talked about me before. He hated me before he’d ever met me. Besides, she said, it would never work. If she lived with me and his child, she’d have to live with the constant memory that she’d been unfaithful to me.

  “But I said, ‘You weren’t unfaithful to me. He raped you. Don’t you see? There’s a difference. If he raped you, then he’ll hit you too.’

  “She turned away then, hid her face. I said, ‘He’s hit you, hasn’t he?’ She couldn’t look at me so I knew the answer. I flew in a rage. I wanted to kill him. I told her, ‘Don’t go back to him. I’ll talk to him.’ I thought it would be easier on her if I told him to back off.”

  The chief returned to his chair and sighed. “She made me promise I wouldn’t confront him.

  “Then one day I dressed up in nice trousers and a button-down shirt and went to talk to her parents. I begged them to let her marry me instead. I wanted them to help her see the danger in what she was going to do. But they were weak. They said it was her decision. They didn’t want to decide for her. It was her life. They didn’t want to influence her decision and live to regret it. There was nothing I could do. So they got married.”

  The chief swiveled his chair toward the corner of his desk and opened a drawer. He pulled out a small photo frame. Inside was a photo of a woman, but it was too far away and too small for Brett to see. He waited while the chief continued.

  He stared at the photo. “After she married him I’d see her in town, at church, at the fair—when we least expected it. She’d smile at me, and I’d have to keep walking because it enraged me to see her with that SOB. She tried to hide the bruises, but it didn’t take X-ray vision to see them. At one point her mother came to me saying they should have listened to me that day. They knew she was unhappy.

  “About six months before she died, we started secretly seeing one another. But I think he found out. That’s when he knocked her down the stairs—after he drugged her. The coroner ruled her death an accident due to overdose. He said she’d fallen down the stairs as a result of taking too many sleeping pills. She never took sleeping pills. The SOB staged the whole thing. She’d told me she was going to the attorney’s the next day to sign the divorce papers, that her parents had agreed. The jerk must have found out.” He clenched and unclenched his fists and finally turned, meeting Brett’s eyes.

  “I never knew. I’m sorry.” How sad. Brett saw a totally different side to the chief—a romantic one. Why did tragedy so often follow love?

  The room grew silent except for the phones ringing on the other side of the
door.

  The chief sighed. “I could never prove what he’d done to her.” He pressed his fingers into his eyes. “When I spotted his name on the deceased list, it was a jolt. He’d finally died and gotten away with all the rotten things he’d done in his life.” He shook his head and added, “Who knows how messed up his kids must be. They must be relieved the guy’s dead too.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Sarah cancelled her appointments for the day. She couldn’t concentrate, and she didn’t want to go to her office and see the sofa where Quinn had sat, swinging her legs and playing with the dolls.

  Racked with guilt, she’d begged Clay to let her be a part of the search team since she knew the ins and out of geocaching, but he said the best thing to do was stay home. They didn’t want civilians getting in the way.

  She turned on the television and watched the news coverage of the press release. It gave her the opportunity to stare at Brett and observe him openly. A sigh escaped from her lips. Why did he cause her heart to flutter?

  His bloodshot eyes drooped as he begged the community to help find Quinn. Every time he spoke of her, his eyes lit up like bolts of lightning.

  How would Sarah feel if he looked at her that way? She’d never had that. Ever. Is that what attracted her to him? Maybe it was that and the way he wasn’t afraid to show his emotions. Maybe it was because she saw the love he was capable of giving.

  He fought for Quinn, showing his true character. She’d seen Brett through Quinn’s eyes too, and the love she had for him, but seeing his pain now on TV made her ache for him.

  She wished her father would have loved her that way. The bastard. It was better if she didn’t think about him. For years, thinking about him as dead had helped her cope.

  As she watched Brett on the television, she noticed how his blue uniform made his eyes appear a deeper shade. How one of his curls fell onto his forehead. She wanted to reach up and sweep it off his brow. She shuddered. What would it feel like to touch him? To be touched by him?

  His dog stared up at him like he was the sun and the moon, another sign of Brett’s loyalty and a measure of his character. Dogs seemed to know when their masters were kind.

  Would she ever find a man like him? She turned the TV off and checked her watch. If she kept busy it would help pass the time, keep her thoughts from straying.

  Maybe she’d go riding. Enjoying the farm’s scenery and the warm sunshine of a summer day would do her good.

  As she headed into the barn, her cell phone rang. She pulled it out of her pocket and glanced at the screen. Her heartbeat quickened. Brett’s name appeared. She answered.

  “Are you any good at profiling people?” His voice cracked.

  The poor guy. She heard the tiredness in his voice. “You don’t believe in saying hello, do you?”

  He didn’t respond right away. “I mean, you see all types, right? I need someone who can help me find this guy.”

  “I think I could help, maybe reveal something you haven’t thought about.” She could hear phones ringing and people talking in the background. He must be at the precinct. When he didn’t say anything, she added, “I’m home right now. I took the day off. I wanted to help in some way, but Clay said to stay out of the way. I could meet you at the station, or my office, if you’d prefer. Would that work?”

  “Actually, I need to get out of here, and no offense, but I don’t want to go to your office. Uh, the last time I was there Quinn was too. I don’t think I could handle that. Do you mind if I come to your home instead?”

  “Okay, sure.” She gave him her address. He started to say something, but he paused, or was he getting another call? Maybe he was simply writing down the address. “Brett?”

  “Uh, thank you for saying what you said today. It meant a lot. I needed to hear someone say the accident wasn’t my fault. Even though I know it wasn’t, it still felt good to hear someone say the words.” He cleared his throat.

  “You’re welcome. I meant what I said.”

  “I’m headed to my parents’ home for lunch, then I’ll be over. It’ll probably be a few hours before I’m there.” He paused. “If … that’s okay, that is.”

  “No problem. I’ll probably be in the barn, so park around back.”

  After Sarah disconnected her phone, she continued her trek to the barn. Beauty’s head hung out of her stall window, and she whinnied as Sarah approached.

  “I’ve missed you too.” Sarah continued into the barn and headed to the tack room. She reached for the halter and went to Beauty’s stall. After she moved the horse to the cross ties, she reached for the brush caddy and placed it off to the side. As she slipped her hand in the curry comb, she thought of Quinn. Would she ever get the chance to ride Beauty? She hoped so. Sarah pictured her on top of the horse, with Brett watching, and she smiled.

  What would it be like to have a child and lose her? She couldn’t imagine. While growing up, she’d always been overly protective of her little brother—as best she could. And when she thought their father was harming him, she was incensed. She’d probably be the same way with her own child.

  Would she have a family someday? Was that too farfetched to imagine? She longed for a husband like Brett who would love her the way he loved Quinn. Was she crazy for thinking about Brett? Yes. She barely knew him. But she couldn’t help wondering if marriage was a possibility for her. She was definitely softening to the idea.

  Beauty whinnied as if she approved.

  #

  Brett sat at his office desk after most of the staff had gone to lunch and stared at the address Sarah had given him. It was Levi Samuel’s address. How could that be? Was Sarah’s father the same man the chief loathed, the man who’d killed his wife, the man who died two weeks ago and was buried in the mausoleum?

  Why hadn’t Sarah told him her father died recently? Was her father a part of her past she didn’t want to talk about because he’d abused her too? What had she said about him?

  Shoot, he didn’t really know much about her, did he?

  He did know that Sarah’s last name wasn’t Samuel. Had she been married before? Maybe she still was. His heart somersaulted. He didn’t want to believe that. And besides, he’d never seen a ring on her finger.

  His mind whirled with crazy thoughts. What if Levi was the man missing his piece? Was Sarah the whacker? No, he couldn’t wrap his mind around that thought, because then she’d have kidnapped Quinn and that was preposterous. But maybe, just maybe, she knew something that could help him find Quinn.

  He gazed at his watch, realizing it was time to meet his parents for lunch. He stood to go, waiting for the vertigo to subside, before leaving the precinct. Max stood and followed him to the car, then hopped into the backseat.

  Brett headed north toward his old neighborhood, the one he’d grown up in. It had been six years since he’d traveled those roads. He turned down Oak Blvd., one block from his house, remembering the first time he’d driven down the street with his father. Brett had been fifteen—before he’d gotten his driver’s permit. His father had tossed him the keys to his Lincoln and said, “Let’s go.”

  Brett had felt a surge of power, confidence, and pride that his father thought he was ready and capable of driving a car. He sighed.

  Now, more than fifteen years later, the streets looked strange, older, worn, and dirty.

  He parked the car at the curb in front of the house. The house looked older than he’d remembered too. He climbed out of the car and opened the back door for Max, who bounded up the sidewalk, sniffed a few bushes, did his doggie thing, and headed for the front door like he knew who lived there. The manicured lawn looked smaller, and the concrete stairs and porch darker.

  Nothing ever lasted.

  The front door screen was open. His mom’s typical classical music blared from the radio. The scent of bacon, fresh coffee, and his mother’s sweet rolls seeped out of the house. She’d probably been up all night making the rolls, kneading them and waiting for them to rise. Whene
ver she couldn’t sleep, she baked. Had she and Dad skipped his chemo on account of him?

  She greeted him and Max at the door. “Come in, come in.”

  He hugged her, staying in her arms a little longer than usual, loving how warm and safe she felt.

  She wiped her tears with the bottom of her apron. “Any word on Quinn yet?”

  Brett held his tears in. “Nothing. Life can’t get much worse, can it?”

  She held his hand and led him into the house. Had the foyer always been so dark and small? When he was a boy, it used to feel as large as an amusement park. He glanced at the little closet under the stairs as they passed it, remembering how he’d spent days there playing with his miniature dinosaurs, pretending he was in a cave or a forest, or sometimes a jungle.

  His father entered from his study off the kitchen. Brett locked eyes with his, waiting to assess his father’s actions. The man smiled, approaching Brett without any hesitation, and wrapped his arms around him in a tight hug. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  Brett said, “Me too.” He bit his lip, working at keeping his composure. “Didn’t you go for chemo today?”

  His father shook his head. “We needed to be here for you.” Max’s tail swished across the floor. His father bent to rub the dog around his ears.

  Brett said, “Thanks.”

  His mother took Brett’s hand again and led him to the kitchen. “Come and sit down. You need to eat.” Her eyes were damp again.

  A bright-yellow kitchen welcomed him. “You changed the color in here. It’s bright, cheerful. I need that right now.” He sank into his chair—the one he’d always sat in growing up, between his mother and his father. After his mom placed the food on the table, she reached for his hand and bowed her head. His father reached over for his other hand.

  As always, his mother led the prayer. “Dear Lord, bless this food and our family. We pray that Quinn will be found soon, unharmed. We pray that Ali will live and find her way. Love her as you always have. Please give Brett the strength to cope and stay strong in his faith to know that you are by his side. Amen.”