“It needs to be here so when I come home, I’ll have it.” He whispered, “I don’t want Meanie in there to steal it, if you know what I mean.”
Lindy chuckled. She loved this kid. “I know what you mean. Let’s go.” She steered him once again down the hallway.
Erin was waiting, but she still looked panicked. “Maybe the ATM. We could withdraw quite a bit before they figured it out.” She was mumbling as if nobody else were in the room. She looked up like she’d forgotten about them.
“I don’t have an ATM card to the company. Only to the personal.”
Suddenly Erin cackled, throwing her head back. It shot out of her mouth so fast, Conner actually jumped right to his mother’s side. “This is just great.”
“Erin, listen to me. You’ve got money. Leave us here. Just take my credit cards, take the ATM. Get as much as you can and get out of here. Run to wherever you’re going.”
“We’re going.” Her tone was cool again.
“Where?”
“I’m going to take you wherever I need to take you to make sure I get what I want.” She lowered her voice, stepped close to Lindy. “And let me assure you, I will get everything I want.”
* * *
Vance drove Joan’s sleek black Escalade out of the hotel parking garage, scanning his mirrors to see if he was being tailed. He wasn’t even sure if the police knew where he was. He was ordered not to leave the county. But he was never told not to go home.
It took him twenty minutes by highway to get to the condo. Traffic was sparse in the middle of the night. He opened the sunroof and let the cool night air drift into the car. The wind canceled out a lot of the other noise in his head.
But no matter what, he couldn’t clear his mind of images of Lindy and Conner. Squeezing around all the good memories, drifting like a snake through water, was the idea that those might be all he had left. He tried not to think about it. And then, when he could think of nothing else, he tried to reason that Erin was not a vicious killer. She’d slaughtered Karen and had executed Joe, but somehow he managed to convince himself that she wouldn’t do that to his family.
They had history. Some bad. A lot good. He had good memories of the fun times they shared on patrol, the pranks they played, the endless stories of how they Turner and Hooched their way through calls. If a cop didn’t have a billion funny stories, he should practically hang up his badge.
They had good stories. But frankly, they were all marred the day Erin couldn’t set down the bottle.
He wondered how she was faring with that. Was she passing out drunk? Was she driving around with them, drinking her way through stoplights?
He tried to breathe slowly. He needed to keep the stress down, but the dull ache that climbed up his skull reminded him he was not doing a good job.
When he arrived at the house, he drove by slowly, looking for anybody staking it out. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary except the yellow crime scene tape wrapped around anything that stood upright.
Bet the neighbors love that.
It was a stark reminder of how his life had fallen off a cliff.
He circled back around the block and pulled into the driveway, turning off his lights so he wouldn’t alert the neighbors that someone was there. He knew, by law, he had every right to be at his house, but he didn’t want to draw attention to it.
All the lights inside the condo were off. He took out his keys and unlocked the front door. The air conditioner was set cold, and the temperature change gave him pause. He quietly shut the front door behind him and wondered if he should turn on the lights.
Maybe not. The moon cast an eerie, cold light across the floor of the living room. As his eyes adjusted, he noticed a large cross spanning the carpet. He couldn’t take his eyes off it. He blinked, wondering if he was imagining it. It seemed like a sign. His gaze wandered upward, and he saw the window, its panes the source of the mysterious image.
A supernatural sign it was not. But still, he stepped delicately around the cross as he wandered toward the kitchen. He stood there for a long moment, wondering if he was truly going mad. Why was he here? Because he thought he heard a voice telling him to go? What was he, Moses now?
He was glad the ridiculousness was his own private misery. He already had a mother-in-law who thought he was half-crazy. He didn’t need people thinking he was hearing things.
But it had been so clear. Like someone had been standing right behind him.
Sometimes the bullet whizzing past his ear sounded real. Too real. And then glass shattering. So how could he know what was real and what wasn’t?
He leaned against the counter, held his head in his hands, rubbed his temples, tried to think. Where would Erin take them? What was her purpose for holding them?
Then he heard a noise.
31
Vance pulled his gun.
Bang. Like the sound of a door or a cabinet closing. It wasn’t loud, but in the silence of the dead house, it was enough to get his attention.
It sounded again. He turned, following it, stepping lightly, his gun guiding the way. He had a clear view of the living room and kitchen thanks to the moonlight. The hallway, though, was darker.
He listened. Again. It was coming from the back of the house. He wondered if he should check the bedrooms first, but the sound beckoned him. He turned the corner and aimed his gun toward the back door.
Everything seemed calm and quiet. He lowered his gun cautiously and focused on the noise, which led him directly to the door. It was slightly open, and the wind was catching the screen and then funneling through it to pull and push the wooden door against the frame.
Why would the back door be open?
A crime scene was typically locked down well. No police force wanted to be blamed for a burglary because they forgot to lock the doors when they left, assuming the doors were still on the hinges.
He slowly opened the door and pushed the screen outward, raising his gun again. The backyard was small and normally dark, thanks to a streetlight that had been out since they arrived. The moonlight glowed against the grass, though, and he could see fairly well. Everything looked in its place.
But the door hadn’t been closed, and that bothered him. The detective in him told him to pay attention to it. So he did. He walked out into the grass, eyed everything he could, tried to find another thing out of place.
He tried to use all his senses like Doug had taught him. He listened. He heard normal street traffic and the creaking, brushing sounds of the high-away limbs of the redwoods. He smelled only pine and freshly cut grass and the hint of salt from the ocean.
With a deep heaviness, he turned and walked back to the condo, thinking about the cross that was laid out before him. It had even seemed to point to the back door. But here he was again, with nothing to help him.
He trudged up the first of two steps that led to the small porch. His foot slipped slightly, as if he’d hit a lone piece of gravel. He stepped back and looked down. But it wasn’t gravel.
Stooping, he set his gun near a flowerpot and scooped the ring into his hand. He turned so he had the light of the moon beaming down onto it.
It was Lindy’s wedding ring.
Vance laughed out relief. This was it. The clue he needed. The back door. Her ring on the porch. She was trying to tell him she was still alive, that they’d been to the house. The crime scene folks would’ve found this had it been left earlier.
But when? How long ago?
Vance clasped it in his hand. The metal soothed him. He squeezed it and thanked God. It felt weird to thank God. He’d never done so, though he watched his son do it every time he ate a meal. Or even a snack. Vance would close his eyes, or at least pretend to out of respect, but mostly he was annoyed that he had to wait while his son performed the ritual.
But right now, he was sure he’d never been so thankful for something in his life. It was like a little seed of hope planted right in his heart.
And he realized something. The ring wa
sn’t cold as metal would become if it were sitting out through the night. It was still warm.
She’d been here recently.
If Lindy had left this clue, maybe she’d left others. He started to hurry up the steps, then looked back at the woods. Maybe he should try the woods. Maybe they went that way.
His indecision was interrupted.
“Freeze.”
* * *
Erin had rehandcuffed Lindy. She wasn’t sure why, but she hated that she couldn’t hold Conner’s hand as they plodded through some thick brush. She hadn’t been back here. The sign against the fence in their yard indicated it was private property and to keep out. From what she could tell, it was dense but not long, a patch of land preserved among all the development.
But walking through it at night, it seemed to go on forever.
Maybe it was because Erin appeared to be unraveling right before her eyes. She was talking to herself, spilling out her plan to the trees and bushes and dirt. She marched ahead, glancing back often to make sure they were behind her.
Lindy had already tripped twice and couldn’t brace herself for the fall very well. Her elbow was bleeding.
Conner was concerned about it, but Lindy played it off. “It makes me look tough, right?”
“You need a Band-Aid,” he said sternly.
“We’ll get one, sweetie. No worries. It doesn’t even hurt,” she lied.
For much of the walk, Conner was engrossed by the forest, staring straight up through the trees to get glimpses of the bright, starry night. Patches of moonlight guided their way. Lindy couldn’t imagine doing this without the moonlight. It was haunting and comforting all at once.
She played with her ring finger. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d taken her ring off. She slept with it. Showered with it. Gardened with it. She knew it was a long shot when she casually, quietly dropped it on the porch as they left. She also hadn’t pulled the door completely shut, and Erin had been so distracted by her money situation that she didn’t even notice.
Then she prayed that the ring would be found. If anyone could find it, it would be Vance. Once, before Conner was born, he’d found her contact on a stark white floor, and an earring back at a restaurant when she wasn’t even sure where she’d dropped it. He had an eye for detail and for things out of place. That’s what she loved about him and what sometimes drove her absolutely crazy.
Erin suddenly stopped talking. Midsentence. And it was just as alarming as all her babbling. Conner noticed and glanced at Lindy, who tried to convey to him through her expression to stay calm.
Then Erin stopped walking and they stopped too.
“What’s wrong?” Lindy asked.
She didn’t answer. She was looking up, just like Conner had been. Lindy did too, wondering what she was staring at. It was a beautiful sight as the wind danced through the tree limbs, tickling the leaves. The three of them stood there for a long moment, in the silence of Mother Nature.
Then Erin looked at Lindy. “I have my plan.”
Lindy tried to lock eyes with her. “Does it include letting us go?”
“You’re going to rob a bank.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“You’re crazy.”
“Not really. It’s the only plan that’s going to get me enough money to get out of here.”
“I won’t do it.”
“Really.” Her dark gaze set on Conner.
Lindy tried not to let it rattle her. Even through the darkness, she could see the desperation in Erin’s eyes. She was running out of time. She couldn’t take them very many places without their being recognized. But having Lindy rob the bank would certainly put a new twist on the investigation. It would distract the police long enough for Erin to get wherever she wanted to go.
Erin’s hard stare was back on Lindy. “You know what I’m going to say.”
“If you hurt him . . .”
“I know, I know. You’ll hunt me down and kill me. But will that be before or after his funeral?”
Lindy’s glare was cut short by her worry over what Conner was hearing. She looked at her son and it was obvious that he understood. The toys he’d brought from home were clutched tightly to his chest. He stared at Erin as if he finally realized how dangerous she really was. Before, she was just a woman who handcuffed his mom and brought them chicken tenders and let him watch cartoons.
Erin pulled Lindy closer to her. “I will do anything to keep from going to jail. Do you understand me? I’ll say it again. I have nothing to lose.”
Conner suddenly spoke. “God loves you, miss.”
“Conner, honey, shhh.”
“She needs to know this.” His eyes gleamed against the moonlight and shifted back to Erin. “And He forgives all sorts of things. You can’t do anything that He can’t forgive.”
“Conner, sweetie—”
“Let the kid talk,” Erin said, hands on her hips, looking down on Conner.
“I’ve been praying for you, you know,” Conner said, not backing down from her hard stare. “You’re a bad lady.”
With the speed of a snake strike, Erin slapped Conner across the cheek. The pop against his skin shot through the night’s darkness. Conner fell to the ground, his toys flying through the air and landing nearby.
Just as fast, Lindy pounced on Erin, knocking her down. With the full force of a mother’s rage, Lindy threw down a blow against her cheek with the sharpest part of her knuckles, but it was hampered by the cuffs. A burning pain shot through her hand as their bones clashed. A long line of blood trickled down Erin’s face, and her eyes widened with a madness that caught Lindy’s breath in her throat. With what seemed like one continuous move, Erin threw Lindy off her body, onto the ground, and drilled her knee into Lindy’s shoulder.
Erin yanked her head back by the hair. Her fist pushed hard into Lindy’s spine.
Lindy yelped. “Stop it . . .”
“Stop it? You want me to stop it? I should just kill you right now.”
“Stop!” Conner’s tiny voice was thin with fear. “Don’t hurt my mom.”
“Shut up, kid.”
“No! Don’t hurt her!”
Lindy tried to turn her head so she could get a glimpse of Erin. “Listen to me. He is getting ready to get hysterical. And he’s going to start screaming.”
“Not if I can help it,” she growled, pinning Lindy’s shoulder down even more.
Her eyes welled up from the fiery pain shooting through her back. “Erin, don’t do this. Please. He’s just a kid. He didn’t know what he was saying.”
“He knew exactly what he was saying.” Erin lifted her knee off Lindy’s back and gave a slight release to her shoulder. “And he’s right.”
Lindy lowered her head, her cheek set against sharp twigs and small rocks in the ground. Adrenaline caused her entire body to quiver as she waited to see what Erin would do. She was ready to tear her own limb out of the socket to keep Conner safe. And a mother could throw a gorilla off her back if she had to.
She couldn’t see Conner, but she could hear him crying nearby. She wanted to scream, Run! She was pretty sure a fast kid like Conner could beat Erin through the woods.
But not quite sure enough.
“I’ll do it,” Lindy said, clenching her teeth through the pain. “I’ll get you the money.”
Erin climbed off her. Her fingers clawed into Lindy’s arm as she grabbed her and hauled her to her feet.
Conner raced over to her. “Mom, I am so sorry.” He buried his face in her side. “I said a mean thing and then you got hurt.”
Lindy ran her fingers through his hair, stroking his little face. “No, it’s not your fault. It’s not your fault at all.” She eyed Erin, who was pressing the back of her hand against the cut on her cheek, then looked down to make sure Conner was all right. His left cheek looked like it was swelling a little bit. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Mom,” he said, but he was clutching her shirt so t
ightly, Lindy thought it might rip.
Erin gestured with her gun, which she’d pulled from her waistband. “Let’s go. And, little man, no more trouble from you. You don’t want your mom to get hurt, now do you?”
Conner quietly, submissively, gathered his toys. It broke Lindy’s heart.
They continued forward, and Lindy could only think about that ring and pray that Vance found it. Her finger felt naked without it, and she realized the power it symbolized. They were together, even though separated. And they’d stuck together even when everything fell apart.
He rescued her when she didn’t realize it. Everything they’d been through together had changed her. She saw clearly now. She understood his struggles, understood her own.
What she wouldn’t give for one more chance to say, “I love you.”
So she whispered it to Conner instead.
* * *
Vance slid the ring onto his pinkie and raised his hands slightly. The voice was male. And sounded somewhat young. His radio crackled. A cop.
“Officer, this is my house.”
“I’m going to need to see some identification.”
Vance turned slowly, lowered his hands as he watched the officer lower his gun. He glanced down, toward the flowerpot, to see if his firearm was visible as he handed over his wallet. He definitely didn’t have the papers to be carrying a gun. “I need to get a few things. Check on my property.” Vance looked hard at him, keeping the kid’s attention on him. “Which is my right.”
“Let’s step inside,” the officer said. He couldn’t have been more than twenty-five years old.
They walked through the back door and into the kitchen. Vance switched on a light. He wanted to see as much as possible, see if another clue had been left.
The officer took out his cell phone. “I’m going to call my supervisor. Just stay right here.”
Vance eyed everything, looking for anything that would point to them.
“Yeah, this is Carter. I’ve got a guy here, says he’s Vance Graegan. . . . Yeah, at the house. . . .”
Vance tuned the conversation out and focused. The closet door where Karen was found was still open. There was blood on the floor. The front door had been locked . . . Maybe Lindy had her keys, but it seemed more likely that they’d come and gone through the back. He hadn’t installed the new lock on the back door yet, and the old one would’ve been easy enough to pick.