Safe and Sound (10 page)

Wilcox took the paper and read it. Healy waited patiently. He handed it back, looking subdued. “Now,” Healy said sweetly, “where can I find Ms. Jones?”

Keller waited in the hall until Healy exited from another interrogation room. Marie was behind her. She didn’t look at Keller. They were followed by the two FBI agents, who looked ready to explode. Healy put one arm around Marie’s shoulders, another around Keller’s. “Now,” she said, “let’s go.” They walked toward the doors of the Sheriff’s Department. “Brace yourselves,” she said in a low voice. “The press is here.”

“Fuck,” Keller muttered.

“Don’t be too pissed off,” Healy said, “They have their uses. It’s part of the reason we were able to get the writ. Longtry hates bad publicity.” They were approaching the glass doors. Keller could see the crowd milling around outside. “Eyes front,” Healy said. “Don’t make eye contact, and for God’s sake don’t say anything.”

Walking through the glass doors was like being suddenly caught in a breaking wave. There was a roar of questions being shouted and a rapid-fire barrage of lights exploding. Keller put his head down and pushed his way through as questions were hurled at him from both sides.

“What do you know about the soldier found dead this morning?”

“Is it true his body was mutilated?”

“Are you a suspect in the murder?”

“Are you free on bail?”

Then, out of the crowd, Keller heard his name being called. “Mr. Keller! Mr. Keller!” He jerked his head up in shock. The crowd parted slightly as reporters in the crush turned to look at the person who seemed to know more than they.

A petite Asian woman with short, perfectly coiffed hair pushed her way through the crowd, trailed by her cameraman.

“Oh, shit,” Marie said.

“Mr. Keller, Grace Tranh from Fox Investigative Reports,” the woman said crisply, sticking out her microphone as the cameraman raised his lens to fix on them. “Can you tell us what your connection is with the murder of the Special Forces soldier found dead this morning?”

The noise of the reporters subsided. No one else had known that the dead man was with Special Forces.

“No comment,” Keller said through clenched teeth. He tried to push forward, but she stood her ground.

“Are you a suspect because of your involvement in the hostage crisis in Wilmington a few months ago?” Tranh persisted.

“No comment,” Keller said again, and pushed past her.

“You know each other?” Tammy Healy asked.

“You could say that,” Keller grunted. They made their way to Healy’s Ford Expedition parked at the curb. Healy took the driver’s seat. Keller turned to Marie. “Front or back?” he asked.

Marie still didn’t look at him. “I don’t care.”

“Marie!”

She looked at him. Her blue eyes were flat and dead.

“Jack,” she said, “I’m not going to talk about this here, okay? Not here, and not now.” She savagely yanked the back door open and got in. Keller climbed into the front. Healy had already started the vehicle and was moving forward, the crowd of reporters parting reluctantly. They pulled onto the highway and headed for Wilmington.

“Thanks for getting us out of there,” Keller said.

“Thank Scott McCaskill,” she said. “He’s the one who knows all that criminal stuff. I’m a family lawyer. I couldn’t figure out how to get a habeas writ if you held a gun to my head. I just came down to deliver it because Scott was tied up.”

“You sure acted like you knew what you were doing,” Keller said. “You learn that from Scott?”

She laughed. “No, Jack, bluffing he learned from me.” She gave a little secret grin. “Among other things.” Keller glanced back at Marie. She was staring vacantly out the window. He caught Healy glancing at her in the rearview mirror. “How you doing back there, Marie?”

“Fine,” Marie said distantly.

Keller took a deep breath. “Ms. Healy—”

“Tammy,” she said.

“Tammy,” Keller said, “the FBI made a couple of accusations back there, some accusations you need to know about.”

“Anything they can back up?” Healy said calmly.

“Not with anything real, no. But there are a couple of photographs.”

“Jack,” Marie said.

“She needs to know, Marie.”

“I assume this has something to do with the tension between you two.”

“Yeah,” Keller said. “They think I was involved with Carly Fedder.”

She didn’t react. “Go on.”

“I ran into Fedder a few nights ago downtown. She was drunk. I gave her a ride home.”

“Ah.”

“The Feebies were tailing me at the time, or maybe it was her. Anyway, they took a picture of her making a pass at me.” He looked back at Marie. “I turned it down. But the picture—”

“You turned her down?” Healy said.

“Yeah.”

They had pulled up to a stop sign. Healy looked him up and down. Then she grinned again. “No wonder my client’s so pissed off.” She spoke over her shoulder to Marie as they pulled away from the sign. “I know it’s none of my business, hon,” she told Marie, “but I tend to believe him. I heard Carly Fedder the day after. And if there’s one thing I know, it’s the voice of a woman scorned.”

Keller looked back again. Marie was still looking out the window, not responding. They drove like that for a few minutes. Finally, Keller said, “So what do we do now?”

“We don’t do anything,” said Healy. “Lundgren’s dead and the child is missing. It’s a law enforcement matter now. Let them handle it.”

“Those idiots?” Keller said. “They act like they’ve forgotten the kid’s even alive.”

“Jack,” Healy said, “she probably isn’t. And if she’s in the hands of whoever did that to David Lundgren…it might be better if she isn’t.” No one said anything after that. They pulled up in front of the restored Victorian that housed Healy’s offices. As they got out of the car, Keller turned to Marie. “Marie…,” he began.

“Jack,” she said wearily, “I don’t want to talk now. I’m exhausted. I just want to go home and be with my son.”

She walked away toward her car without looking back.

Keller stood and watched her go. Healy came and stood beside him.

“Just let her rest, Keller,” she said. “She’ll come around.”

“And if she doesn’t?” Keller asked.

“Then look me up,” she said. “I’m in the book.” At Keller’s look, her smile vanished. “Joking,” she said. “Sorry.”

Keller looked over her shoulder. “They’re back,” he said.

She glanced behind her. A nondescript rental car was parked across the street. “Those same people that were tailing you the other night?” she said.

He shook his head. “Different car. And this is only one person.” As he spoke the car started up and began pulling away. Keller caught a glimpse of a lean, hard face below a military-style short haircut. Then the car was gone.

“Jesus,” Healy said. “What the hell are they trying to accomplish?”

“I don’t think that was the FBI,” he said. “That guy looked military.”

“Wonderful,” Healy said. “I’ll call Wilcox tomorrow and let him know if he keeps harassing me, he’ll be hearing from the judge again. And that includes harassing my people.”

Keller cocked an eyebrow at her. “Your people?”

She grinned. “We’re all in this together, Jack,” she said. “One big happy family.”

***

When the brown-haired woman’s car pulled away, DeGroot had to make a choice. Stay with the lawyer or follow the employee. When the blond man had
noticed his presence, the choice was made. The traffic impeded her enough so that he was able to catch up. He followed her until she turned into a quiet residential neighborhood. The traffic there was lighter, and DeGroot feared she’d notice him, so he broke off and turned the other way.

After a short interval he headed back. It took about a half hour, but he eventually spotted the car parked in a driveway. There was a mailbox at the end of the driveway, marked “M. Jones.” There was a scattering of children’s toys in the front yard. He made a mental note of the address. He felt a lifting of the gloom that had clamped down on him earlier. He thought about the plaque he had seen in the clerk’s office: When God closes a door, sometimes he opens a window. It had been a long time since he believed in God. But he did have to admit, new opportunities seemed to be opening up every moment. He slowed for a moment to observe the place, his experienced eye checking for routes of ingress and egress. It was then that he noticed the police car coming down the street, followed by a large pickup truck. He slowed for a moment, watching as the vehicles pulled in to the driveway of the house he had just been watching. Then he accelerated away.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

When Keller pulled up to the house, he wasn’t able to park in the driveway. There was no room. There was a red, new-looking pickup parked in the second space, and a police car parked behind it, its rear end partially in the street. Keller parked on the street across from the house and got out slowly. He could hear the sound of raised voices as he approached the open door. A uniformed patrolman came out. He looked unhappy. He was followed by a man, in blue jeans and a red T-shirt, who was holding Ben in his arms. The boy was silent, but his eyes were wide and he had his thumb stuck in his mouth. Keller couldn’t remember ever seeing Ben suck his thumb before. Marie came last. Her eyes were red and tears streaked her cheeks.

Keller stopped. “What’s going on?” he said.

The man holding Ben looked over at Keller. His eyes hardened. He was short and broad. He wore his dark hair in a short military-style brush cut. His face was square, with a slight dimple in the chin.

“This ain’t none o’ your business,” he said.

“Who the fuck are you?” Keller demanded.

“Easy, sir,” the officer interjected.

“I’ll take it easy when I find out—”

“No, sir,” the officer said, reaching down to the container of Mace on his belt. “You’ll take it easy now. Back up, and leave this—”

“I got a court order,” the man broke in, to the annoyance of the officer. “So you just back off.” He carried Ben to the truck and opened the door. There was a car seat in the back of the King Cab.

Keller looked at Marie. She was watching the man strap her son into the car seat. She looked shattered.

“Marie?” he said.

Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. She tried to speak, but choked on the words. The man finished tightening the belts and closed the door. He turned to Keller.

“You must be the guy she’s been fucking,” he said. “Take her back inside for a quick one. That usually makes her forget about our son.”

Keller started for him, but the officer interposed himself firmly. “Get in the truck, Mr. Forrest,” he said over his shoulder. He turned back to Keller. “And you, sir,” he said, “you just—”

Keller ignored him. He turned away and went to Marie, who was standing on the porch. He tried to take her in his arms, but she shook her head. “Not here,” she said. “Not now.” She stumbled back through the door. Keller heard the truck’s engine start as he followed her.

There was a thick sheaf of papers lying on the table next to the door. The page on top was yellow and bore the title “Civil Summons.” Bold black letters announced that “a civil action has been commenced against you.” The sound of Marie’s weeping came from the bedroom. He wanted to go to her, but the way she had pushed him away made him stop. He thumbed through the papers instead.
Through the fog of legalese, phrases snarled out at him. “Unstable lifestyle.” “Association with violent individuals.” “Immediate and imminent risk to the minor child of abuse and neglect.” The final page was a “Temporary Emergency Custody Order” giving custody of “the minor child” to his natural father, Carson Treadwell Forrest. A hearing was set for the following Monday. Keller went into the bedroom. Marie was facedown on the bed, her head resting on her arms.

He sat down on the bed next to her. He reached out and stroked her hair gently. “I’m sorry,” was all he could think of to say.

She rolled over and sat up. “I can’t believe it,” she said. “He never did anything but threaten before.” She shook her head, her grief turning to anger. “I can’t believe he’d lie like that, though.”

“It’s not all lies,” Keller said.

“What do you mean?” she said, her face hardening.

“What he said about me,” Keller said. “He’s right. I haven’t brought you anything but trouble since we met.”

She smiled a little then. “Well, I wouldn’t say that’s all you’ve brought me.”

He stood up. “Thanks,” he said, “but you know I’m right. I get into bad situations. And I drag you into them. And one of these days, Ben’s going to get dragged into it, too.”

“Jack,” she said, “bad stuff happens to people. That’s not going to stop happening if you leave. It’s not going to make us any safer.”

“Maybe,” he said, “but at least I won’t be the one dragging the bad stuff to your doorstep.”

“So you’re walking out?” she demanded. “When I need you the most?”

“You need Ben more than you need me,” he said. “And if I’m around, you probably won’t get him back.” He walked to the door.