The Sour Cherry Surprise (19 page)

“I understand these numbers are a bit borderline.”

“They are
not
borderline, trooper. You may need to go on medication.”

“I hate pills. Is there no other alternative?”

The nurse looked her up and down before she said, “Have you thought about a different line of work?”

This was where Des’s head was when her cell phone rang. It was 5:30.

“You told me to call if I ever needed to tell you something or whatever….” It was Jen Beckwith, trying real hard not to sound upset.

“Absolutely, Jen. What’s up?”

“Probably nothing. I mean, maybe I’m just being paranoid.”

“Jen, what is it?”

“I think Molly has gone in the house.”

“What house?”

“Her
house.”

“I thought we all agreed that Molly was going to stay out of there.”

“We did. We absolutely did.”

“So how did …?”

“I was in the kitchen getting dinner started. My mom’s not home from work yet. So I’m rummaging around in the fridge, you know?” Jen’s words were tumbling out fast now. “And Molly calls out to me from the living room that she has to go fetch this copy of
To Kill a Mockingbird
she’s been reading. Like she has to return it tonight or it’ll be overdue. That girl is so anal about library fines. So what if a dumb library book is overdue one day? What does that cost, a whole nickel?”

“Jen, did she tell you that she’d left the book
in
the house?”

“No way. I’d never have let her go. I thought she meant she left it up in her tree house. She promised me she’d be right back. Only she’s been gone for half an hour now. Which is why I’m starting to worry.”

“Can you tell me if Clay and Hector are home?” Des asked, keeping her voice calm.

“Their van’s parked in the driveway. But I can’t say for sure whether they’re there. Maybe I
am
just being paranoid. The squirt could be chillin’ in her tree house. Or maybe she went out to Bella’s
to feed the kitties. Except her basketball’s still here, and she never travels any distance without it. She’s working on her left-hand dribble.”

“Jen, when is your mom due home?”

“Twenty minutes, maybe.”

“I’d like you to stay put until she arrives. Please don’t go over there by yourself. I’ll check things out from my end and call you back in a few minutes, okay?”

Des hung up and speed-dialed Bella to see if Molly had shown up out there. Got Bella’s machine. Oh, right, today was her yoga class at the senior center from 5:00 to 6:30. Then she and some of the other Q-tips usually went out for Chinese food together. So she wouldn’t be home until at least 8:00. Damn. Next Des tried Bitsy Peck, who thank God
was
home. Asked her to check the barn for Molly. Bitsy promised she would. Called Des back a few minutes later to say that there was no sign of the girl. Or anyone.

She tried Jen again. “Has Molly come back yet?”

“No …” Jen answered warily. “But Hector’s out on the porch now.”

“What’s he doing?”

“Just sitting there.”

“Is your mom home?”

“She just called to say she won’t be here until at least seven. Dr. Gardiner booked a last-minute appointment. Some old lady with back spasms.”

“Jen, I’ll be there in five minutes.”

“What should
I
do? I can’t sit here and twiddle my thumbs.”

“I was just coming to that part. Go outside and start shooting baskets in the driveway like nothing’s wrong. If Hector waves to you, wave back. And when I get there I want you to act like you were expecting me. Strictly a social call, got it?”

“Not really, but okay,” the girl replied hesitantly. “Des, should I be scared?”

“Be aware. Be prepared. Don’t ever be scared,” she said as she ended the call.

Even though she was terrified herself. Positive that Clay and Hector had taken Molly hostage. Which was precisely the unforeseen circumstance she’d worried about when Cavanaugh had insisted upon holding off for another day. He wanted to see what Clay and Hector’s next move would be. Well, they’d made it. Snatched up that little girl—because the opportunity had presented itself and because she was their last and best hope. They were staring at a murder charge. Sitting on a stash of meth. Surrounded by state troopers. And desperately in need of a bargaining chip. Now they had one.

Molly Procter’s life in exchange for their freedom.

Des knew perfectly well what she was supposed to do next: Call her troop commander and fill him in. But she stopped herself because once she did she’d set off a full-scale siege scenario. And she did not want that. Not yet. Not when she thought she knew how to pry Molly out of there. The higher-ups would never, ever let her make her play once word got out about this.

Dorset was her town. That made this her mess. So there would be no such phone call. Not yet.

She always kept a gym bag full of spare clothing in the trunk. Needed to for all of those times she got drenched or splattered on the job. She pulled over onto the shoulder of Route 9, fetched it and climbed into the back seat. Stripped off her uniform. Changed into a pink polo shirt, jeans and running shoes. Then got back behind the wheel and resumed driving.

They still had the barricade set up on Old Shore Road at the turnoff for Turkey Neck. She passed through that, then through
the second cordon where Turkey Neck met Sour Cherry. There was plenty of daylight left. Men were still out there combing the brush for the murder weapon.

“Thought I’d swing by to see how the little girl’s doing,” Des explained to the troopers on the barricades.

Which was fine by them. They didn’t question what the resident trooper was doing there. As for Grisky and crew, well, they might wonder. Maybe go cellular about this unscheduled visit of hers. But by the time everyone had talked to everyone else she would have made her play.

Jen was dutifully shooting jumpers in the driveway, her face scrunched even tighter than usual. Hector was sitting out on the porch watching the trim young blonde dribble and shoot, dribble and shoot. Des had no doubt whatsoever that he was picturing Jen doing these things entirely naked.

Des pulled into Jen’s driveway and got out, her unholstered Sig tucked into the rear waistband of her jeans, shirt untucked so as to conceal it. She waved hello to Hector, who raised a hand ever so slightly in response. Then she called out, “Hey, Jen, where’s my girl?” Keeping her manner relaxed and casual. She was off duty. Not someone to be concerned about. “We’re going to be late for the game.”

“Molly’s around … somewhere,” Jen responded guardedly, chewing on her lower lip. “Haven’t seen her in a while.”

“Better find her or we’ll miss the opening tip-off. Did she go home?” Des asked, nodding at Jen encouragingly.

“Maybe.”

“Super, I’ll grab her up.” Des crossed the lane and climbed the Procters’ porch steps, a big, friendly smile on her face. “Hey there, Hector. Could you tell Molly I’m here? I promised to take her to the basketball game tonight.”

Hector sat there glowering at her. “What basketball game, lady? Ain’t no basketball game now. It’s summer.”

“Which is when the girls come out to play.”

“What
girls?”

“The WNBA, Hector. Our very own Connecticut Sun are playing Charlotte tonight at the Mohegan Sun Arena. I’ve got courtside seats for Molly and me. Only we’re going to be late. Where is she? Is she inside?” Des swept past him, pushed open the front door and bounded inside, hearing his howl of protest behind her. “Hey, Molly, are you ready to rumble?” she hollered, the floorboards of the old farmhouse creaking underfoot as she crossed the living room to the kitchen. “Let’s go, girl! Molly …?”

Molly was seated there at the kitchen table with her library book. She looked wide-eyed and terrified but okay—all except for those fresh red finger marks around her upper arms and neck. One of the bastards had grabbed her and squeezed her tight. Seething, Des shot a look over at Clay, who sat across the table from Molly smoking a cigarette and acting as genial as can be. The very model of folksy charm.

“Why, it’s just the lady I was hoping to see,” he said, treating Des to a crinkly-eyed smile.

“Is that a fact?” she said, smiling right back at him.

“Sure is. See, I’ve got me a whole batch of gutter installations scheduled for up in western Massachusetts,” he explained, stubbing out his cigarette. “It means I’ll be away for the next month or so. Me and Hector both. What with Carolyn’s situation, I thought Molly and me better figure something out. We’ve grown real close these past few weeks, you know. So I was thinking if she wants to tag along we’d be more than happy to have her.”

“That’s very generous of you, Mr. Mundy,” Des said. “Molly, we’ll really have to scoot if we want to make the opening tip-off. You ready?”

Molly was too afraid to answer her. Or swallow. Or so much as blink. The girl was trembling with fear.

“What I was wondering,” Clay went on, “was how long it’ll be before they’ll let us leave town. Because I’m going to fall behind schedule. And I sure could use the money.”

“There’s a murder investigation underway, Mr. Mundy. And the Major Crime Squad may need your help in apprehending the perpetrators. That’s why they’ve asked everyone on the lane to stick around for the time being. You’ll want to talk to Lieutenant Rico Tedone regarding this matter. It’s his call. He may be cool with you splitting tomorrow morning. That’s really not my thing. I’m strictly about local neighborhood issues. Plus I’ve punched out for the day. But I’ll be happy to leave you his number.” Des reached for the pad and pencil on the table. “Molly, why don’t you go ahead and wait for me out in my ride? I’ll be out just as soon as I write down this information for Mr. Mundy.”

Molly’s eyes darted toward the living room doorway. But she didn’t move a muscle.

“Do you girls really have to rush off like this?” Clay protested.

“A promise is a promise,” Des said, grinning at him. “Hey, would you like to come with us? It shouldn’t be hard to scare up an extra ticket.”

Clay shook his head at her regretfully. “Lady, I have been nothing but cooperative, know that?” He fished another cigarette out of his pack, looking around the cluttered table for a match. “Me and Hector both.”

“And I appreciate it, Mr. Mundy.”

“Is that right?” Clay got up out of his chair and got a book of matches in the drawer next to the sink, lazily lighting his cigarette. He tossed the matches back in the drawer, then yanked a Glock semiautomatic out of there and pointed it right at her. “So why are you treating me like a fool?”

Across the table, Molly let out a gasp.

“Let’s just take it easy now.” Des kept her voice low. “You’re scaring the child. Please put the gun down.”

“Not until I get some straight answers.” Clay’s manner had hardened. No more easygoing charmer. That particular act had left the building. “They haven’t hauled me in for questioning yet. Now why is that? I’m the obvious suspect. Hell, I’ve got a big red X on my back. And yet a whole day’s gone by and nobody has reinterviewed me. Or Hector. Not so much as a single follow-up inquiry. No search of the premises, nothing. I find that mighty damned peculiar. Don’t you find that peculiar?”

“Mr. Mundy, if you’ve got a lost tricycle then I’m your girl. But I’m not involved in the investigation of Professor Procter’s death. Now why don’t you just put that gun down, okay?”

“They think they’ve got something on me, don’t they?”

“Sir, I’m afraid I’m not following you.”

“He
knows
, Trooper Des,” Molly spoke up, her voice soft and quavery. “That I told you I was supposed to stay out of the root cellar or else. I-I didn’t want to tell, honest. But he made me. I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.”

“Don’t be, Molly.” Des’s eyes never leaving that Glock. “You’re going to be fine. Everything’s fine. Isn’t that right, Mr. Mundy?”

“Let me spell a little something out for you, lady,” Clay responded coldly, his jaw clenched tight. “I’ve been on my own ever since my tight-ass stepfather kicked me out of the house when I was fourteen. I live by my wits. Play by my own rules. And not once has the law ever touched me. For damned sure not some village Barney Fife with tits such as yourself. I haven’t spent a single night in lockup my whole life. Not anywhere. And I never will. Small spaces
get
to me, okay? I’d sooner die than get locked up in some cage. I
will
die if I have to—and take a few of you with me for good measure. That’s a promise. But so far it’s never come to
that. Because I’m careful and smart and I know how to take care of business.”

“Your business being seamless gutters, I understand.”

“Don’t get cute with me,” he snarled. “Do you people actually think I don’t know when I’m under surveillance? I
always
know. I can smell you from a mile off. I’ll walk into a place, any place. For the sake of conversation, let’s say it’s McGee’s diner down Old Shore Road. Everybody looks up at me as I come through the door, checking me out. Everybody except for this one guy with muscles who’s sitting there over his coffee trying real hard
not
to look at me. That’s when I know it’s time to pick up and move on. Who thinks they’re on to me? Is it the FBI or the DEA? Tell me, damn it!”

“Sure, I can do that,” Des said. “If you’ll do something for me.”

“I’m the one holding the piece, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“And I’m the one who has the information you want.”

Clay narrowed his eyes at her shrewdly. “What do you want from me?”

“The truth about Professor Proctor’s death.”

“How would I know? I had nothing to do with it. I’m trying to keep a low profile here. You honestly think I’d murder a guy and bring the law down on me? I’d have to be pretty damned stupid.”

“Or just a hothead with a temper.”

“It wasn’t me who killed him.

“Liar mouth!” Molly cried out. “I
heard
you!”

Clay looked at her in annoyance. “What’s this now?”

“The night you beat up Daddy in the driveway. You said if you ever saw him around here again you’d
cut
him!”

“Well, I didn’t,” he insisted. “Wasn’t me.”