Random Acts (16 page)

“I could take you.” Danielle glanced down at all the crafts and cashbox sitting on the table. “But we’d have to pack up.”

Ava huffed in frustration. “It will take too long. The hayride stops soon.”

“I don’t know what to tell you. Do you think Bunny is almost done showing houses?”

“No,” Ava said, with a resignation reserved for people twice her age. “She takes forever.” She craned her neck to search for her father in the crowd.

“Maybe he’ll make it,” Danielle murmured as she picked up the knitting needles, but she had suddenly lost interest in the project. Her eyes scanned the crowd. Nervous energy had her tapping her foot. Where was Patrick?

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ava yanking on the yarn. “I heard Bunny arguing with Dad when you first came to visit. She didn’t think it was a good idea if I hung out with you. I don’t understand why. You’re really nice.”

Danielle lowered her knitting. “Your grandma means well.”

“But you
are
so nice.”

Ava’s comment made her heart swell. “You seem surprised.”

“I heard Bunny say you were bad news.”

Danielle shook her head. “I was when I was a teenager.”

Ava’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

Danielle pointed at Ava. “Don’t get any ideas. Your dad is a police officer, remember?”

A look of dejection settled on the child’s face.

Danielle squeezed Ava’s knee. “I made a lot of bad decisions when I was a kid because I didn’t have any positive role models in my life. Until Gram.”

Ava drew her brows together.

“Don’t look so serious.” Danielle tweaked Ava’s nose to lighten the mood. “But you have lots of positive people in your life and I expect you to make lots of good decisions. Promise?”

Ava’s face brightened.

“Hey, Ava,” a girl about Ava’s age with black hair twirled in a messy bun called out. “You going on the hayride?”

Ava flicked a glance toward the parking lot. Danielle’s stomach tightened. “I’m supposed to wait for my dad.”

“But the last wagon is loading now.” The girl lifted her palms.

“I can’t leave all this stuff. And my dad’s not here.” Red splotches blossomed on Ava’s porcelain skin. Tears threatened in the corners of her eyes. Danielle’s heart was breaking.

Danielle stood and offered her hand. “Hello, I’m Danielle Carson.”

“Hello, I’m Kayla. Ava and I are in the fifth grade together.” The young girl looked her in the eye and shook her hand.

Danielle was pleasantly surprised by the girl’s manners. “Kayla, who is going with you on the hayride?”

Kayla gestured over to a teenager, an older version of the girl standing in front of her, who smiled and waved. “My sister’s with me.” She had the typical teenage uniform that Danielle had seen over and over today. Blue jeans, a fleece jacket, fuzzy boots and a cell phone pressed to her ear.

Danielle fought an internal battle. Patrick was extremely protective of his daughter. But all Ava wanted to do was go on a hayride on the path winding through the woods separating the church and the school grounds.

Danielle gestured to the older girl. She smiled, flipped her phone shut and walked over. “Hello,” she said, “can Ava go with us on the hayride?”

“Are you going with them?”

The girl tipped her head and smiled. “Sure.”

“She thinks the man driving the wagon is cute,” Kayla said, waggling her eyebrows. Her older sister gave Kayla a playful nudge with her hip.

“Listen, I’ll take them if you want to stay at the booth,” the sister offered. Watching the two young sisters interact made Danielle wistful.

Ava grabbed Kayla’s hand and jumped up and down, anticipating Danielle’s agreement.

“You’ll stay with them?” Danielle asked, the last of her resolve evaporating.

“Absolutely,” Kayla’s sister said.

Danielle turned to Ava. “Okay, I’ll start packing up the booth. You guys come back here as soon as you’re done.”

Ava’s head bobbed, her green eyes glistening with excitement. “I’ll come right back as soon as the ride is over.”

“Okay. Go have fun.”

The two girls ran off toward the hayride, their hands clutched and their arms swinging between them. A yearning tugged at Danielle’s soul. She didn’t know if she felt envy, regret or simply pure longing for something she’d never had. A childhood.

Sitting in his office at the police station, something niggled at the back of Patrick’s brain, but he couldn’t put a finger on it. He didn’t believe in hunches. He put faith in his God-given talents to figure out the pieces of the puzzle. He had swung by Billy Farr’s house, knowing he wasn’t there. He had hoped to get some information from his girlfriend, Debbie, but either she truly didn’t know anything about Billy’s drug activities or she was too afraid to talk.

Tapping his pen on the desk, he mentally sorted through all the data. He had gone through the report on Jenny’s failed attempt at making a drug buy and the accident report filed by Chief Parker yet again. He could probably recite them both by heart. How did Billy Farr play into this? Was his girlfriend covering for him? Why did Jenny leave the house after he’d made sure she got safely home? Closing his eyes, he leaned back and clasped his hands behind his neck. It didn’t add up.

“Sleeping on the job?”

Startled, Patrick opened his eyes to find Chief Parker standing in the doorway. Dressed in jeans and a paint-stained sweatshirt, he dragged his hand through his hair.

“Doing some work on the house?”

“Does it ever end? I finished painting the exterior and now it’s time to paint the interior.” Chief Parker’s frown accentuated the deep lines marring his face. “I was heading home from the hardware store and I saw your vehicle in the lot.”

“This case bothers me.” He tapped his pencil on the file in front of him.

Chief Parker furrowed his brow. “We’ll get Billy Farr. He’ll screw up eventually.” He stepped into the small office and rested a hip on the edge of the desk. He dragged the top sheet of the accident report toward him and flipped it around to read it. He paused for a second as if thinking. “We’ll get him.”

Chief Parker lifted his finger as if he had remembered something. “Jenny’s cell phone was a dead end.”

Patrick narrowed his eyes. “Really? The tech gave it back to you?”

“Beauty of being the boss. I put a rush on it.”

Patrick scratched his head. “No late-night texts or phone calls inviting her to go out?”

“Unfortunately not. A few calls from Jimmy’s number, but he already told us he tried to reach her when he was on his fishing trip.” He tipped his head toward his office. “Let me go get it. You can return it to Jenny.”

Chief Parker retrieved the cell phone from his office and handed it to Patrick. “What was the password?”

Chief Parker hitched his shoulder. “Don’t know. It’s no longer password protected though.”

Patrick clicked a few buttons on the phone. He looked up to find his boss watching him. “No texts the day she was attacked.”

“Seems that way.”

“Isn’t that strange?”

Chief Parker frowned. “Nothing surprises me anymore.”

“Okay.” Patrick mulled over the new piece of information. “Let’s see what we do have. We sent this young girl out on a mission to buy drugs and a few hours later she’s beaten to within an inch of her life.” He ran a hand across his chin.

“Then she ends up in a motor-vehicle accident,” Chief Parker said, staring off in the middle distance. He had a knack for solving some of the toughest cases. He was methodical. Ordered. Liked everything in its place. Probably why he got to where he was today.

“Perhaps Jenny was attacked at home and bolted from the house.” His boss ran through a possible scenario, “And in her hurry, she forgot her shoes. Maybe she was being chased. Lost control of the car.”

“We canvassed all the neighbors.” Patrick tried to poke holes in the chief’s theory. “One neighbor mentioned a barking dog, but she didn’t see anything.”

Chief Parker turned on his heel and moved toward the door. “It’s a remote area. It’s dark. A pretty treacherous place to drive off the road. That barking dog saved her life. If the neighbor hadn’t called it in, Danielle would be planning a funeral now.”

A knot twisted Patrick’s insides.

Chief Parker pushed off the corner of the desk and turned around. “What if she wasn’t driving? What if she was already unconscious and Billy staged the car accident? Wanted to hide the fact she was beaten up?”

Patrick glanced down at the paper in front of him.
What if…?
It was an intriguing thought.

Chief Parker strummed his fingers on the top of the credenza. “You’ll figure it out.” He gave his fingers a final tap “I’m going home.” His boss tossed a glance over his shoulder and his tone lightened. “I’m surprised you’re not at the fall festival.”

A jolt shot through Patrick’s system. He jumped to his feet. He tossed the pencil on top of the papers. He shook his head. “I promised Ava I’d be there by five.” He glanced at the clock in the bullpen area that housed a mix of clerks, officers and dispatchers.
Six fifteen
.

“Well, my friend—” Chief Parker clapped Patrick on the shoulder as he squeezed by, “—you’re going to be a little late.”

“Lock my office, please, Chief,” Patrick hollered over his shoulder as he headed toward the door.

“Lucky for me you’re married to your job. And Patrick…”

Patrick hesitated, his palm on the push bar of the glass door, itching to get on the road.

“Make sure you keep me in the loop. I got a call from Debbie Jones. Told me you were out at Billy’s place.”

“Just trying to turn over as many leads as I can.”

“Be careful. Billy Farr is a dangerous man. The last thing we want to do is tip him off that Jenny Carson is working for us.”

Chapter Twelve

Patrick turned into the busy church parking lot at exactly 6:23. He jammed the gearshift into park and jumped out of his vehicle. He scooted around the sawhorse blocking traffic from the driveway now lined with crafts booths. He didn’t like to take advantage of his police-officer status, but he figured this was an emergency, even if only in his daughter’s eyes.

“Hello, Officer Kingsley.”

Patrick tipped his hat at a young woman. “Have a nice day at the festival?” he asked.

“Gorgeous day. God always seems to bless us with good weather.”

Patrick smiled and continued maneuvering through the crowd. The scent of chili, candied apples and fried dough made his stomach growl. He loved this time of year. When Lisa was alive, from the time Ava was a baby, he’d strap her on his back and they’d go hiking and admire the fall leaves.

A yearning tugged at his soul. He rarely took time for that now. Too busy with work. Or maybe he avoided the things both he and Lisa had enjoyed, fearing it would be too painful. But it wasn’t fair to deprive Ava of things she had once shared with her mother. It would be like giving her a little piece of her mom back.

When he finally got to Ava’s booth, Danielle was standing with her back to him, packing up the booth. He paused a moment, taking her in. She was far from the tomboy he had known as a teen. Although she was dressed casually in jeans, she had an air of sophistication. Her deep-blue knit shirt, her coordinating blazer and leather boots were probably purchased at some high-end boutique in Atlanta. It made him wonder, not for the first time, about her life there. Would she ever consider making a change?

First things first, buddy. You’ll have to get her to forgive you first.

Apparently sensing him, she turned on her heel. A small smile played on her lips. “How long have you been standing there?”

He arched a brow. “Just walked up.”

Danielle went back to packing up the merchandise. “You should be proud of your daughter. She sold most of the items she made.” She tapped the box next to her. “Only a few items left.” She laughed, her blue eyes flashing brightly in the setting sun. Something he refused to acknowledge hit him square in the heart.

He mentally gave himself a shake. “Sorry I’m late.” The little frown Ava made when she was disappointed flashed through his mind. “Is Ava mad?”

Danielle folded the flaps down on the cardboard box and leaned her elbows on it, meeting his gaze. “Of course she was disappointed. What little girl doesn’t want to spend more time with her dad?” A certain coolness laced her words.

Intended or not, her words sliced him to the core. Patrick tipped his head, hoping his visor would shield his eyes.

Danielle approached him and placed her hand on the forearm of one of his crossed arms. The heat of her touch radiated through him. Meeting her gaze, he expected to find reproach. Instead her eyes were soft with compassion. “I’m sorry. I should learn to keep my mouth shut.”

He covered her hand with his and squeezed. “You didn’t tell me anything I haven’t told myself.”
A million times
.

“Don’t beat yourself up.” Danielle pulled her hand free and leaned back against the table, bracing her arms behind her. “I know you’re working hard on Jenny’s case. You’re committed to your job.” She lifted her shoulders, then let them drop. “Even if I don’t agree with your tactics—” she obviously meant using Jenny as a drug informant, “—I understand you have a job to do.”