Deadly Intent (7 page)

Open-jawed, she stared at him. “You are a good detective, but you ain’t that good.”

Lemonade sprayed from his mouth as he laughed. When he stopped coughing, he smiled. “You’re right! I happened to drive past the board offices and saw your car. It didn’t take much to figure out why you were there.”

“You are sooooo bad.”

“So, what happened?”

“Nothing good. He suggested I enjoy another year off.”

“Well, dinner’s on me, then. You can even pick the restaurant.”

“I
am
picking the restaurant after that trick.”

“What can I say? It was too hard to resist. So, what are you doing?”

Holding up the drawing of the Victorian house, she said, “Trying to come to terms that the profiler said this wasn’t important. Or any of the other ones. I was so sure they were the key to finding him.”

“I know. Me, too.”

“I hate the thought of him being back with someone who threw him away.”

“It’s better than the alternative.”

She nodding—not even wanting to think about that.

“You aren’t thinking about playing detective again, are you?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Does the name ‘Ella Decker’ mean anything?”

“Well, I couldn’t sit by and do nothing when I was positive she was in trouble.”

“No, but you almost got yourself killed.”

“But I didn’t, thanks to you. Besides, I wouldn’t have any idea what to do in this case.”

“Good, I’d hate to think of you searching every town in Ohio with a street named Cedar.”

She stared at him. “What a wonderful idea, Paul. Why didn’t I think of it?”

“Not a good idea. It wasn’t a suggestion, at all.” He shook his head. “Not a good idea.”

She smiled at him with all the innocence she could muster. “Of course, it is. Really, it’s the only real lead we have.”

“It’s not a lead. The FBI told both of us that it wasn’t a lead.”

“Maybe they’re right, but they could be wrong. And it’s not like I have anything else to do with my time.”

“It’s too dangerous, Maven.” His voice had taken on a serious tone.

“What could be so dangerous? All I’d be doing is driving down streets looking at houses. People do it all the time. If I found anything, I’d call the authorities or you.”

He stared at her as if he couldn’t believe she’d asked such a question. “Things have a way of going haywire when you start checking into stuff that isn’t any of your business.”

“Not my business. I can’t believe you said that. Moses is my business.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, and you know it. The FBI is working on the case. They’re professionals. Let them do their job.”

“They might be professionals but as far as they’re concerned, the case is at a standstill.” She fluttered the drawing at him. “Remember, this means nothing. Besides, they don’t care about Moses.”

“They do care.”

“Maybe they do, but Moses is an abstract to them. They don’t know he loves extra syrup on his pancakes or that he likes to take naps in his circle because it makes him feel safe. They never saw the look of fear in his eyes replaced with a twinkle as he learned to trust…” Tears fell. She took a deep breath. “He trusted me. I can’t let him down. He is a precious little boy who needs my help.”

Concern was etched in Paul’s face. He placed his hand over hers. “No—”

“Don’t tell me to just get over it and move on with my life as if Moses had never been a part of it. I may not be his mother, but he’s the closest I ever came to having a child.” She swiped at the tears. Pain oozed from her heart. She attempted to pull her hand from his, but he held it tight. “I have tried to move on and forget about him, but God’s not cooperating. I can’t give up—not yet.”

“I was going to say he needs our help.” He loosened his grip, but she didn’t pull her hand away. “I just don’t want you doing it alone. We’ll do this together, Maven.”

Together? Paul was a good friend and a neighbor, but he wanted more. More than she was willing to give. The last thing she wanted was to give him false hope. “Paul, this is not your problem.”

“It’s not a problem, Maven. It’s what friends do for each other. It’s want I want to do for you—and for Moses.” He emphasized the word ”friends.” “I’ve grown to love him, too. Let me help. It will be safer. And besides I’m a detective, remember?”

“I won’t put myself in any danger. I promise.”

“Good. And I’ll be around just in case something goes wrong.”

“That’s really not necessary. If I happen to find a house similar to this one, I promise to call you and Trent. Then the two of you can do your cop thing.”

“I know you think you would do that, but in the heat of the moment we can sometimes make the wrong choice.”

“Time to eat. I’m hungry.” She stood to let him know the discussion was over.

“I have an idea.”

“What?”

“We’ll go together on the days I don’t work and look for this house on Cedar streets and roads all over the state. What do you say?”

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking. I’m volunteering to help a friend.”

He’d emphasized that word again. Having a friend with her would be nice—and much safer. “You don’t think I’m crazy?”

“I do not.” In a solemn tone, he said, “In fact, I’ll go on record saying I agree with you and not the FBI. I think those drawings are important.”

“What record?”

“Our record, right now, right here.”

“Well, you know that’s not much of a record. I thought you were going to call up Agent Snoddy or the profiler and tell them they are wrong.”

“I suppose I could do that, but why make them angry? After all, Jesus said ‘blessed are the peacemakers.’”

“You always have an answer to everything, don’t you?”

“I certainly try to. Now, where are we going for dinner?”

18

Maven stared at the computer monitor.

On a whim, she’d typed in the question—how many Cedar Streets are there in Ohio? One website said over 460. Another said over 1,000. Either way, it was more than she’d expected.

That was crazy. Why had she ever thought this was a good idea? And there was no reason to think Moses had even lived in Ohio. He could be anywhere.

Paul had kept his promise to her and for the past few weeks, the two of them drove to towns and cities searching for the gray Victorian house on Cedar Street. On their day trips, they’d managed to check out twelve streets that included the name Cedar. And of course, they found nothing even remotely resembling the drawing. Tomorrow would be their sixth day of searching. It was worse than searching for a needle in a haystack.

Paul was so sweet. He accompanied her on these wild goose chases without one complaint and he’d even managed to make the days fun. He hadn’t mentioned the word “date” again and for that, she was appreciative.

A friendship was all she needed.

The phone rang. Probably Paul. “Hello.”

“This is an automated call to remind you of your appointment with Dr. Young.”

Her neurologist. She’d completely forgotten her six-month checkup. She’d have to drive all the way to Cleveland just so he could tell her what she already knew.
We have to wait and see.
Maven sighed. It wasn’t the doctor’s fault. Maven had read enough literature to know that Bell’s palsy was very unpredictable. But she had to keep the appointment, because progress needed to be noted for her to return to her job next year.

Maven picked up the phone. “Paul?” She caught him on the first ring, a rarity when he was at work. “I have to go to Cleveland tomorrow for my checkup so I’m calling to cancel our driving around plans.”

“I’m investigating a home break-in and I have to visit pawn shops in the area to see if the stolen goods turn up, so I was going to call you later to cancel, too.” Paul was conciliatory. “We’ll start again the next day.”

~*~

After her appointment, in which the doctor stated he was pleased with her progress and would see her again in three months, Maven walked through the revolving door.

The sun was shining. The sky was powder blue and filled with white fluffy clouds. It was easy to appreciate God’s beauty on such a perfect day, especially with fall approaching. There wouldn’t be too many more days like this before winter.

Maven considered going out to lunch, but wasn’t familiar with the area so she decided to head home. As she navigated toward the highway, a red light interrupted her journey. Her gaze landed on the street sign.

Cedar Avenue.

Her heart skipped a few beats. As she continued south, she couldn’t get the sign out of her mind. She was so close, and it would be one less trip for Paul and her to make. And she was pretty sure Cedar would eventually take her back to a highway that would take her home.

But she had promised Paul she’d work with him for safety reasons. She pulled into a gas station. After pumping gas, she pulled out of the way to let the next customer in. She dialed Paul’s number and waited.

“Hey, Maven.”

“Hi. I’m sitting at a gas station and—”

“Are you having car trouble? I’ll come to get you.”

He was so sweet. If she wanted a relationship, he would be the man. “No. Nothing like that. I was driving down East 55
th
and I saw the sign for Cedar Avenue.”

“Oh. I see.”

“I didn’t want to break our promise to work together so that’s why I’m calling. Not to mention, you know the area better than I do. Cedar eventually goes to 271, right?”

“Right.”

“Well, what do you think? If I take the long way home and just do a simple drive-through, it’ll mean one less street we have to drive. Just to check for a Victorian house.”

“That’s a good idea. But nothing else, right?”

“Well, I might stop to eat lunch. I’m getting hungry.”

He laughed. “OK, I’ll see you later. And if you see anything suspicious, call me.”

“Yes, I will.” She hit the end button feeling much better. It was surprising how much she’d come to depend on Paul’s friendship in the past few weeks. And she enjoyed his company. He made her laugh.

Making a left turn, she headed back to Cedar Avenue and turned right. There weren’t many habitable houses in this area anymore. Most of them had been bought by the hospital and were awaiting the demolition crew. She drove up a hill and into another world.

Gone was the inner city blight. This was a thriving area. At first, it was businesses, but the longer she drove the more she began to see houses. Unfortunately, no Victorian homes, gray or otherwise.

When she reached Beachwood Mall, she pulled into the crowded parking lot to eat her long overdue lunch. After enjoying some sushi, she got back in her car ready to go home. On a whim, she typed the word ”Cedar” into the GPS.

Not only was there Cedar Avenue which she was on, there was also a Cedar Street and a Cedar Lane. They had no real idea where Moses had come from. It might have even been from another state. She supposed if she was going to abandon a child, she’d do it as far away from her home as possible.

I don’t understand, God, why You brought him into my life only to take him away just as quickly. Maybe it was to show me that I still can care about other people or something else. I don’t know what it was. Give me wisdom to learn what You wanted me to learn. And please, please, keep Moses safe wherever he is.
As a sense of peace descended, she wiped away the tears.

It was time to give up the search for an imaginary house that probably only existed in a comic book Moses had seen. It was time to let go and let God, as they say.

She called Paul but had to leave a message. “Just finished eating at Beachwood Mall. See you soon. There are two more streets with Cedar in them, I will do a quick drive-by to eliminate them from our search.” She’d tell him later that this would be her last search.

Cedar Street was not too far. A definite residential area, but no Victorian houses.

She punched in directions for Cedar Lane and let the GPS guide her across town and past the western suburbs. She eventually ended up at a lakeside community—cute and touristy. Even the name reminded visitors that they were near Lake Erie—Erieview Village. Just the sort of place that would have a street called Cedar Lane.

Main Street was filled with stores. Ice cream, crafts, and antiques dotted the different windows, and, of course, the ever-present T-shirt shops.

She’d never actually been here before. It looked like a great place to come for a vacation. After maneuvering through several side streets, she finally came to Cedar Lane. She turned on the street. Halfway down the block, she pulled over and stopped.

19

A quick glance down the street told Maven all she needed to know. There were no Victorian houses. She was in the midst of a trailer park. Oh, well. She’d checked it out.

And now, Moses was in God’s hands.

Maven drove, hoping to find a way that would lead her back to Main Street. Instead, the lane dead-ended into a park. A sign announced it as Cedar Lane Park.

Something, intuition, a whisper from God…made her pull in. She needed to stretch her legs, what better place than a park? She’d been driving for a while, and her back was stiff. A brisk walk would wake her up for the drive home. She half-walked, half-jogged on the bike path that wound around the perimeter.

Soon her breathing was ragged. She’d been so sad the past few weeks, she’d avoided her runs in the park with Lizzie because it reminded her of Moses and that awful day. She vowed to get back to her exercise routine.

The brisk walk had done her good, physically and emotionally. As she slowed down, Maven paid closer attention to her surroundings. The place looked familiar. But that was impossible, she’d never been to this park. And she was the only one here. Her watch told her the reason—time for supper.

Despite the daylight, the park was a bit spooky.

As she walked, her gaze took in the entire park. She froze, barely able to breathe.

Impossible.