Almost Dead (26 page)

His father was right about one thing, though, Jack reminded himself: Tanya was a capable nanny. Cissy’s problem with her had been because of a personality clash. It had nothing to do with her love and care for B.J.

But he sure as hell wished she’d get back here.

When another fifteen minutes had elapsed and the first fat drops of rain hit the ground, Jack was through waiting. He grabbed his coat and headed determinedly for the door. Before he could fold himself into his Jeep, Cissy’s car turned into the drive and pulled into the garage. Jack turned back her way, reaching her as she was climbing from the car.

“Is Beej in your car?” she asked.

“No.”

“You left him in the house?”

The rain suddenly poured down in a torrent, pounding on the pavement, bouncing like silver pellets. Jack squeezed inside the garage beside Cissy, and they both watched the sudden flood as he explained, “Beej is at the park with Tanya.”

“Tanya?”

“My father stopped by, and Tanya came for her check. Dad wanted to have a talk with me, and she offered to take him to the park, so I let her. I was just going to find them.”

“How long have they been gone? Hopefully she got him back in her car before this rain started.” Cissy grabbed her purse, then glanced at the rain some more. “I’ll come with you.”

“Maybe you should stay in case she comes back.”

“The park’s not that far. If we miss her, she’ll wait.”

They hurried to Jack’s car, getting soaked as they ran. “So, what did your dad want to talk about? Swamp land in Florida?”

“Basically,” Jack said.

Cissy heard the resignation in his voice as they climbed into his Jeep. He knew as well as she did that his father was a five-star flake.

The unmarked police car rounded the corner as they got in Jack’s Jeep. Both Cissy and Jack glanced at it as they traveled the short distance to the park. There was no sign of Tanya’s car.

They circled the park, peering through the silvery rain that blew in front of them in waving curtains. There was no one about. The parking lots were empty, the place deserted with the advent of the rain.

“Could they have gone to a different park?” Jack asked.

“That would be a first. Tanya takes the path of least resistance. This one’s closest. Can I use your cell?” Jack handed it over, and Cissy dialed Tanya’s cell phone number from memory. It rang several times, and then Tanya’s voice said to leave a message. Cissy hung up and called her a second time, hoping Tanya might respond to the urgency of a second call on the heels of the first. But again, Cissy heard her message. At the end of the beep, she said, “Tanya, it’s Cissy. I know B.J.’s with you, but it’s raining cats and dogs. Can you bring him back? Jack and I are looking for you, but you’re not at the park. Thanks for taking him, but we’ve got things to do. We really need him back. Soon.”

She hung up, tamping down a growing panic.

Jack’s expression was grim. “Want me to take you back to the house?”

“I can’t imagine where they are.” She pressed her knuckles to her lips. “She should have come back as soon as it started raining. Beej should be home.”

“Isn’t there a park about five blocks up? It has more swings.”

“Yes…” Cissy’s breath felt like it was trapped in her lungs.

“We’ll go there,” Jack said, shooting her a concerned glance. “Tanya’s taking good care of him. Maybe they went for ice cream or something.”

Cissy didn’t say anything. She should never have allowed Tanya to be B.J.’s nanny, should never have listened to Jonathan. The man was no judge of character. Far from it! He was the worst. A flim-flam man. A womanizer. He probably
had
been involved with Tanya!

And now her son was missing!

She fought back a tide of paranoia.
Don’t panic
.
Don’t freak out.
Tanya wasn’t perfect, but she loved Beej. That had never been in question.

“How’d it go with the lawyers?” Jack asked.

She understood his attempt to keep her from flipping into a full-blown panic, but it only deepened her anxiety. “It was fine. Uncle Nick’s the executor, but we knew that already. There they are!”

Through the rain Cissy could see a woman carrying a toddler wrapped in a dark coat, hurrying down the sidewalk alongside the other park.

“That’s not B.J.’s coat,” Cissy realized, her spurt of relief fading quickly.

“And that’s not Tanya.”

Jack wheeled the Jeep around and back to the house. Before the vehicle was in park, Cissy sprang out and flew into their home.

No B.J. No Tanya.

“Where else would Tanya take him?” he asked her.

“Nowhere else. Well, wait…maybe her apartment?” Cissy ran out the door of the house.

“You have the address?”

She rattled it off, and Jack turned the Jeep around. Tanya lived past the airport. It wasn’t all that far, but it felt like the traffic was purposely keeping them from their destination.

It was enough to send Cissy into overdrive. She wanted to scream at the delays.

“Come on…come on…”

They drove in silence for a few miles: Jack negotiating traffic, Cissy trying to keep herself calm. Finally, she admitted in a small voice, “It makes no sense. Tanya wouldn’t take Beej to her place. Why would she? The only time they ever went there was because Tanya had to get extra clothes because she was going on a last-minute date.”

“Where else do you want to look?”

“No, no. Keep going. We’ve got to get there. I don’t know! I just want my son. I want him to be okay.”

“He’s gonna be fine.”

“How do you know?” She was on the verge of hysteria.

“He’s with Tanya. She’s taking care of him.” Jack said the words like a mantra.

They screeched to a halt near her apartment complex. Cissy scanned the parking lot. “There’s Tanya’s car!” There wasn’t another space to be had in the lot, so Jack circled, looking for a parking place. Rain battered the windshield, pouring so hard it was like driving through a car wash. “Damn this weather,” he muttered.

“Just let me out!” Cissy had her fingers wrapped around the door handle.

“Just a sec.”

“Please, Jack…” Her teeth were chattering.

“Take it easy, Ciss. We’ll find him.”

Jack squeezed the Jeep into a lined No Parking zone. “Screw ’em,” he said, yanking on the brake. Cissy threw open her door. “I’ll go,” he told her. “You stay—”

“No way!” She practically ran across the street to the dun-colored complex, a boxy monstrosity that had to have been built in the late sixties or early seventies, evading the newer, more stringent city planning restrictions.

Rain poured over her, dousing her in a flood. She ran toward the wrought-iron gate that led to the inner courtyard. The gate had originally been on an automatic lock requiring a visitor to ring to be buzzed in, but that lock was broken and looked to have been for quite some time.

Cissy shoved her way through, and Jack was right behind her. She hurried to Tanya’s door and twisted the knob. Locked.

“Tanya!” Cissy beat on the door with all her strength. “Are you there? Tanya! Open up!”

She waited a moment, holding her breath. Then Jack pounded his fists on the door panels as well, yelling even louder, “Tanya! It’s Jack and Cissy. Are you okay? We tried calling.”

They heard the sound of a window scrape open to their left. “Hey,” a disgruntled female voice called from one apartment over. “You trying to wake the dead? I work graveyard. Gimme a break.”

“My nanny lives here. She’s got my son,” Cissy said rapidly. “We can’t reach her. I’m scared to death something’s happened.”

“Keep your shirt on. I’ve got an extra key. Tanya and I swapped in case…something happened. I guess this is something.”

Cissy was on one foot and the other. She wanted to scream for the other woman to hurry. Jack stood like a sentinel by the door, arms crossed, expression taut.

Finally, a woman in her thirties opened her door, running a hand through tousled hair and squinting at Cissy and Jack. “It must be raining like the devil.”

“Please…” Cissy said.

“Okay, okay. You look harmless enough.” She gave Jack the once-over and self-consciously smoothed her robe. Rather than give them the key, she twisted open Tanya’s lock.

Cissy rushed inside, but Jack was even faster. Before she could react, he suddenly crushed her face to his chest. “Get out,” he ordered the neighbor. “It’s a crime scene.”

“What?” Cissy gasped. She wrenched herself free and shoved Jack aside, fear surging through her veins.
Crime scene?
“B.J.?” she whispered brokenly.

But there was no sign of her son.

Instead, in the center of the room, lying faceup on the floor, was Tanya.

The dark, ominous circle of a bullet hole sat between her surprised eyes.

“Where’s B.J.?” Cissy cried, her heart racing, feeling as if she might faint. Oh God, oh God, oh God! He had to be here. Had to. She stared at Tanya’s body, the blood oozing from the black hole in her forehead, the sightless eyes staring toward the ceiling of her bare apartment.

“Oh Lord…” the neighbor woman said, backing away as Cissy raced through the rooms, searching, her gaze scraping every nook and cranny of the tidy, one-bedroom apartment.

He had to be here. He
had
to!

“Call 9-1-1,” Jack ordered the retreating neighbor.

“Beej,” Cissy called, desperation creeping into her voice as an old cuckoo clock on the mantel ticked loudly. She hurried down the short hallway a second time, opening the bedroom closet door. Finding nothing, she dropped to her knees and peered beneath the bed skirt. Suitcases and a plastic tub of summer clothes were hidden there, but no baby.

She whispered, “Beej, where are you?”

What if he wasn’t here?

There were only so many places he could hide.

What if…Oh God…She hated to think it, but what if the person who’d shot Tanya had B.J.? She couldn’t think that way. Not yet. Pushing herself to her feet, she dashed into the minuscule bath. Heart thudding, half afraid that she might find his little lifeless body on the cold porcelain, she threw back the shower curtain, nearly ripping the plastic from its metal hooks.

“I’m looking outside,” Jack’s voice reached her.

Aside from a visible rust stain, the tub was empty. Cissy nearly sank to her knees. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or worried. She just wanted her child.

Please, please, please keep him safe. Let me find him,
she silently prayed, returning to the kitchen, keeping her eyes averted from Tanya’s body. Through the open sliding-glass door, she spied Jack outside in the small courtyard, where a rusting barbecue and pots of last year’s dead flowers had been stored. Rain poured down. But there was no child.

She swallowed back her fear. Whoever had killed Tanya wouldn’t take Beej. Wouldn’t hurt him. That made no sense.

Or did it?

A chill as dark as midnight touched her soul.

Jaw tight, skin stretched taut over his face, Jack walked back inside and shook his head. “I checked her car. Unlocked. Nothing.”

“He has to be here,” she said as if to convince herself. “He has to.” Willing her child to appear, she threw open a pantry door. Brooms, cleaning supplies, towels, and a few canned goods filled the shelves.

Jack’s hands grabbed hold of her shoulders as she stared into the empty pantry. “He’s not here.”

Her knees nearly gave way. “Oh no,” she whispered, disbelieving.

Cissy’s entire world spun. How had she let her son get caught up in this horrendous nightmare? How could she have let him be in jeopardy? If anything happened to Beej…Oh God, she couldn’t think that way. Wouldn’t. “We have to find him!” Where? Oh Lord, where was he? She couldn’t breathe, could barely hear over the panicked beat of her heart.

Jack pulled her against him and whispered into her ear, “We’ll find him, Ciss. I promise.”

Anger and frustration filled her. “How could you let B.J. go with Tanya?” Cissy demanded, rounding on Jack, ready to strike at anything, to accuse anyone.

He flinched. “Don’t go there, Cissy. Not now.”

“But I warned you. I told you she was…was…”

“You said you trusted her,” he reminded, throwing her own words back at her, and she knew he was right.

“Oh,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I’m just so scared. So damned scared for Beej.” Her insides turned to water, but she knew that Jack was right. B.J. was missing, most likely in the clutches of whoever had murdered Tanya. Horrible scenarios of her frightened child—in pain, in fear, lost and lonely—streaked through her brain. He would be looking for her, and she wouldn’t be there. Tears rained from her eyes. Cold, certain fear crawled through her as Jack steered her into the living room.

“We’ll find him. He’ll be safe. You have to trust that, Cissy. Okay?”

She nodded, willing herself to be strong.

“Did you call the police?” Jack demanded, glaring at the neighbor, who’d returned.

“I…” She shook her head.

“Oh for Christ’s sake!” Jack retrieved his cell, punching out numbers.

Cissy glanced down at Tanya’s body sprawled across the rug, blood pooling beneath her. It was the second body she’d seen this past month. So much like Gran’s. Cissy’s stomach revolted, and she retched, barely able to keep the contents of her stomach down. Acid burned up her throat. What had happened here? Why had Tanya stolen their child and ended up dead? This didn’t make any sense.

Marla…She’s behind this…. You know it. She’s a psycho.

A new fear crawled through her veins.

Marla wouldn’t hurt B.J. Not her own grandson….

But you think she killed Gran, don’t you?

And Rory, her own brother?

What about Cherise?

Why would she stop there?

Why not murder Tanya and B.J. too?

“No!” she said, denying the evil thoughts.

Jack, cell phone to his ear, snapped back to attention. “What?” he said, but before she could answer, she heard a voice coming from his cell phone. The 9-1-1 operator.

Jack’s blue eyes were as sober as she’d ever seen them. He stared at her but spoke into the receiver. “This is Jack Holt. I need to report a murder. A woman is dead, and a child is missing. The victim is Tanya Watson; she’s our nanny. She’s dead in her apartment. It looks like she’s been shot and…and she had my, our, son, Bryan Jack Holt. He’s missing. What? The address?” He looked at Cissy, who dully recited it, and Jack repeated it for the officer, then added, “Send an ambulance and help. We need help…Oh…wait…” He looked through the doorway to the parking lot, where a car was wheeling over the apron and into an empty slot.

Cissy recognized the unmarked police car and the men inside as the officers who had been watching her house and following her.

“They’re here,” Jack said and hung up as the two men flew out of the car, weapons drawn, their faces masks of determination.

The rain was finally diminishing as a tall Latino man with clipped hair and a weathered face yelled “Everyone out!” as he walked to the open door. “Now! Oh Jesus.” He squatted next to the body and felt for a pulse, then looked up and shook his head as his partner approached. “Dead. Call it in, and we’ll seal off the area. Start talking to the neighbors, see who heard what. Then phone Paterno.”

“Already on the phone,” the other, heavier-set detective said, clicking a cell to his ear.

“Our son is missing,” Jack said. “He was here with Tanya, and we can’t find him.”

“You’ve searched?”

Jack nodded.

“You need to get out of the apartment…. Please wait on the porch.”

“But he’s not here,” Cissy cut in. “We checked. We have to find him.”

“I’ll look again, but you have to leave. This is a crime scene.” He was motioning with his hand to Cissy and Jack. “In just a minute we’ll get your statements—yeah!” he said into the phone as he walked into the room. “O’Riley.” He gave his badge number, then said, “Detective Perez and I are here at what looks like a homicide. Dead female. We’re first on the scene. We were following Cissy and Jack Holt.” He glanced up at Jack, who lingered near the doorway. “Victim’s name?”

“Tanya Watson,” Jack supplied again, his expression grim, lips blade thin, muscle working in his jaw. “Our nanny. I already called it in.”

O’Riley nodded.

Propped against the exterior wall of the unit, Cissy tried to think clearly, to get a grip on herself though she wanted to fall into a billion pieces. She couldn’t let herself. She didn’t have time. She had to save her son. But from what? From whom?

The detective grunted. “Tanya Watson is dead…. What? I don’t know all the details. We just arrived on the scene. The Holts say their kid is missing, that he was with the victim.” O’Riley turned back to Cissy and Jack, peering at them over the top of wire-rimmed glasses, and Jack nodded. “Yeah, that’s right,” he said to Paterno. “Okay, we’ve got it covered, but we need more manpower, not just for the investigation but for the search. Okay.”

He hit a button, said to Jack and Cissy, “More units are on their way. Just give me another minute.” He punched out another number and had another conversation, similar to the first.

The scream of sirens split the air. For the first time, Cissy noticed that neighbors were peeking out windows or standing in doorways as more emergency vehicles screamed up the street.

Everything seemed surreal, just slightly out of focus.

A jet rumbled overhead, taking off from the airport not far away.

O’Riley said into the phone, “When the unit gets here, we’ll start with the neighbors and scene…Will do.” He clicked off his phone and said to Cissy, Jack, and Tanya’s neighbor, “We’re gonna want statements from all of you and all the neighbors. You live next door?” he asked the neighbor, who identified herself as Corinne Glenn.

“Yes.”

“You heard the gunshot?”

“No…Well, maybe. I’m not sure.”

“How’s that?” O’Riley asked.

Cissy couldn’t believe it. Everyone was standing here, under the overhang of the porch, asking questions while someone had stolen her child. “Aren’t you going to look for my son? We have to start now! We have to find him! We…we can’t stand here and discuss this. Whoever took him is getting away. Don’t you see? Whoever killed Tanya—” Her voice cracked. “Whoever did that, who shot her, they…they took B.J. They took my baby!” Her voice rose steadily, and she was gasping, hyperventilating, barely noticing that a police cruiser had arrived and cops in uniform were setting up tape and barricades around the scene. More sirens. More cop cars. An ambulance, siren shrieking, screeched into the lot.

O’Riley nodded, eyes concerned behind his glasses. “That’s what we’re trying to do, Mrs. Holt. But we need some information. If you’ll just be patient—”

“Be patient? Are you crazy? We don’t have time for patience. Who knows where he is, what’s happening to him!” She fought back tears, fought too against the urge to fall completely apart. Frantic, she looked from the cop to her husband. “Jack, tell them!”

“Minutes may count,” Jack said grimly.

“We’re aware, sir. As soon as we secure this scene, we’ll start going door to door. Believe me, Mr. and Mrs. Holt, we want to find your child.”

The crime-scene investigators trooped in, carrying kits into Tanya’s apartment, the place she’d called home. Cissy’s heart went out to the girl. But why had Tanya taken Beej away from the house? Why had she kidnapped her baby? More investigators arrived, more officers swarming the scene of the crime, uniformed men keeping the growing crowd of the curious at bay. Cissy felt the seconds of her life ticking away. To her horror, a news van arrived, parking at an odd angle on the street. To the media, this was news. This. Her worst nightmare. “Please,” she whispered.

“Detective Paterno is on his way,” Perez said.

O’Riley said, “Now, Ms. Glenn. Did you hear a gunshot?”

“I heard something. A loud pop. I was sleeping. I work graveyard. Thought it was a car backfiring or something on TV. I didn’t realize…” Her gaze slid into the open apartment door, where Tanya lay on the green carpet. “…I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t see a baby?”

The woman swung her head side to side.

While O’Riley walked into the apartment again, Perez asked, “Did you notice anything or anyone else? A person? A car?”

“Nothing.”

Cissy felt Jack’s arm around her.

“Which vehicle belongs to the victim?”

“That one. The Subaru.” Jack pointed to the car parked in its spot.

“Yes, that’s it…but…” Cissy stared at the car. “Tanya always has B.J.’s car seat in the back. I’ve never seen the car without it. And I didn’t see it in the apartment.”

“It was in her car when she picked up B.J. this afternoon,” Jack confirmed.

“You think the killer bothered with a car seat?” O’Riley questioned.

“Someone did. Someone who took my baby,” she said.

He looked skeptical. It sounded insane. A person killing Tanya, then bothering with the car seat to kidnap B.J.

Cissy thought she was going to die. She was shaking, trembling, tears running down her face. Where was he? Precious, precious baby?
Dear God, please, keep him safe!

“We’re gonna need a picture of your son.”

“I’ve got one,” Jack said, slipping his wallet out of his back pocket. A smiling picture of B.J., taken at Christmas, filled the plastic compartment. He pulled it out and handed it to O’Riley.

Cissy’s heart shredded all over again.

Who would do this to her child? And why, oh God, why?

Her knees buckled, and Jack caught her, held her tight, helping her stand upright. In a far, frightened corner of her mind, she wondered if she would ever see her son again. Fear crippled her. She was paralyzed with despair.

A killer had her son.

“Son of a bitch,” Paterno said, snapping his cell phone shut and grabbing his shoulder holster off the back of his chair. “Son of a goddamned, friggin’ bitch.” He snagged his jacket from a hook and stormed to Quinn’s desk.

“What are you swearing about?” she asked as she pulled her jacket off the back of her chair. “The Cahill case?”

“The nanny was killed, and the kid is missing.”

“What kid?”

“Cissy’s Holt’s son.” He was striding out of the squad room, heading for the street, Quinn on his heels.

“Wait a minute! What happened?”

“I don’t know the whole story yet. O’Riley just called. He and Perez had the Holt duty, and somehow the nanny and kid slipped away. Man, I didn’t see this coming,” he said, kicking himself as he pushed open the door to what was left of the day. Sunlight was fading fast, dusk chasing through the city, clouds on the horizon.

“I’ll drive,” Quinn said, and he didn’t argue. Her car was more agile in cutting through rush-hour traffic. She slammed the police light on the top of the car, then slid behind the wheel. He climbed into the passenger seat of the Jetta and had barely buckled his seat belt when she gunned the car out of the lot and onto the street. “We’re heading south,” he said. “It went down at the nanny’s, Tanya Watson’s, apartment, on the other side of the airport. Let’s see, I wrote down the address.” He looked at the piece of paper he’d torn from the tablet on his desk and told it to her. “Around Burlingame.”