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That was about the last remark Julian expected from his dad, and it took him aback. Finally, he was able to laugh. “No, Pop. I like women just fine. I’m picky, that’s all. I’m holding out for someone like Mom.”
“That’ll take a lot of looking. Your mother is one in a million. Oh, I know she gets upset with me. But she’s a peach. And I’m a damn lucky man.”
“Yep, but Mom’s worried you’re mistaken about the Hackett girl. Another reprimand could lose you your pension. Is that the way to repay Mom’s love and loyalty?”
“Well, now. Why not just come right out and call me a doddering buttinsky?”
“It’s not that, Pop. I want you to think about the risks and proceed with caution.”
“I am. I haven’t called the FBI or the missing kids hotline.”
“Good. I’ve got two weeks off. My time is yours on this. The girl on the card, Sophie Patton…she’s been missing over a year. Trails go cold. Just…don’t get antsy.”
“As long as they don’t look like they’re packing up. School’s out soon. The NCMEC folks told me last time that people running with stolen kids don’t usually stay in one spot longer than a school year. I asked Hackett once why his daughter wasn’t in school with her brothers. He said at least three times in the space of a minute that she’s only four. She looks older to me.”
“When’s school out?”
“Two weeks.”
THE NEXT DAY Julian felt even more pressure to turn up something useful on Lee Hackett. Both of his brothers and their wives had expressed their concern about his father’s meddling at dinner the previous evening. Tag and Raine had declared Sam was nuts. Josh and Dawn asked Julian to put a stop to what they were sure spelled disaster. And the four of them were dead certain he was way off base.
Julian ended his deliveries at the Hacketts’. They had a package with their bundle of mail, a box addressed to Toby Roberts. The return address was a Mrs. Leland Carter of Macks Creek, Missouri. Toby, Julian recalled, had been friendly, the boy who said Lee Hackett wasn’t his and Gavin’s real dad.
Julian could’ve squished the package into the mailbox, but decided to take the opportunity to knock on the door. This afternoon it was evident there were children playing in the backyard. Julian heard a ball bounce on cement. He rang the doorbell and caught a glimpse of the blond girl as she swept back the curtain, then scampered out of sight.
A few seconds passed. Suddenly Gavin opened the door. He snatched the package and slammed the door in Julian’s face just as Lee Hackett turned in to the driveway. The man parked in the garage, leaped from his van and eyed Julian warily. “Whatcha want?”
“Just delivering a package that was too big for your mailbox.” Julian walked down the steps, repeating the lie about his dad’s twisted knee.
Hackett’s dark eyes flashed to Julian’s bike. “Great Ducati Monster,” he exclaimed.
Happy his strategy was working, Julian rattled off its stats. Hackett followed Julian to the street and knelt beside the bike, running a work-worn hand over the chrome exhaust. The man knew his motorcycles, Julian decided by the time Hackett excused himself to return to his house.
Julian was fastening his helmet strap when the side door of the house flew open and the blond girl launched herself into Hackett’s arms. Caught off guard, Julian fumbled for his phone. He managed to snap a few shots, hoping that at least one would be good. He took one last picture as Hackett picked up the girl and swung her up and around like an airplane. Hackett grinned at his daughter and tossed Julian a quick wave before going into the house. He looked like any dad happy to be home with his kids after a hard day’s work.
Julian could barely contain his excitement as he rode to his folks’ house to download his pictures. When he finally made it, Julian wanted to rip them out of the printer. “Pop, come here,” he called, setting the first photo on the desk. “Does this girl look like she’s being held against her will?” There was pure joy in the child’s wide smile and in the way she clasped her dad’s face between her hands.
Sam came in from the living room, and had to agree with his son’s assessment. “Yeah. But wouldn’t that be the case if he’s a noncustodial parent? And it doesn’t make him less guilty of a crime. Son, I swear I’d rip this card up if I could be sure that girl isn’t Sophie Patton. Imagine if you were her mom. Hell, what if your mother and I had divorced and the court gave you to her, but I waltzed in and whisked you away? Wouldn’t she be sick about it?”
Julian slid the pictures into a file folder he’d started on Hackett. “Mom would go after you with a shotgun.” They shared a chuckle before Julian sobered. “My inquiry on Sophie’s custodial parent came in from Doug, my P. I. contact. Her mother, Garnet, teaches English at an Anchorage high school. Has for more than five years.”
“Doesn’t prove anything. Maybe she can’t afford to chase after her girl.”
“Hmm. You know, I met a cop from Anchorage a few years back at a domestic violence seminar. Larry Adams. We hit it off,’ cause we’re both outdoor types. He said Alaska has great fishing. Maybe I’ll phone him…see what he can tell me about the old case.”
Beth Cavenaugh walked in on the men and heard her son’s last comment. “Won’t another police officer wonder why you’re asking questions, Julian? Perhaps you ought to fly up there to fish, and poke around by yourself.”
“It’s way out of my jurisdiction. But I’ll see what I can do. Pop, would you promise to let this go until I get back?”
“I’ll do you one better. I’ll pay for your flight if your mom can find a reasonable fare.”
THE NEXT DAY, Julian flew over some incredible terrain he wished he could explore on his bike. The landscape was dotted with sparkling lakes and rivers. When the plane landed, Julian picked up a few brochures at the airport, almost forgetting this was more than a fishing trip.
He rented a Jeep and loaded his duffel and a case with his rod and reel. Before he’d left Georgia, he’d phoned Larry Adams, who offered his spare bedroom, but also said he was working odd hours undercover. Julian didn’t mind at all—it gave him reason to find a motel near Garnet Patton’s school. Being on his own also meant he had freedom to snoop. The men had agreed to meet whenever Larry found time to hoist a beer and shoot a little pool.
Julian had done some checking before leaving Georgia and had learned that the school where Ms. Patton taught was in session from August to mid-May. He’d have to work fast. He had no idea how the woman spent her summers. Maybe she taught summer school. But there was every possibility she’d leave Anchorage. He would if his kid had been stolen. He’d be combing the country every chance he got.
As a detective, Julian had played many roles. One of the more effective was posing as a reporter. He checked in to his motel, dug out a battered black notebook and drove to the school. The motel clerk had told him school let out at three.
He got there a little after and found a mass exodus of kids and cars leaving the fenced lot. “Hey,” he called to several young men horsing around outside the front gate. “If a guy wanted to write an article on some of the more interesting teachers in your school, who might you suggest?”
“Whaddya mean by interesting?” asked the boy closest to Julian.
Julian opened his notebook. “I’m thinking along the lines of a human-interest story. Any of your teachers have stuff going on in their lives that would play to reader sympathy?”
The boys bandied about names, then settled on two—Mrs. Morrison and Ms. Patton. Bingo!
“You could go to the office and see one of the school secretaries if you want to talk to them. Mrs. Morrison, our science teacher, her husband got mauled real bad by a bear. It’s been all over the paper for weeks. Haven’t you seen it? He’s probably gonna die. Mrs. Morrison’s got a leave of absence.”
Julian whistled sympathetically. “I agree, her story’s probably been done enough. What’s with… Ms. Patton, isn’t that the other name you gave me?”
The boy, clearly the leader of the group, pointed behind Julian. “There she goes now to her car. And there’s Ms. Cox, one of the secretaries. You can probably catch her. Ms. Patton’s real sad because her stupid ex-husband snatched their kid a year or so ago. Their pictures were plastered all over town. Cops questioned everybody, but poof…the kid and her dad were gone.”
Julian’s gaze tracked the woman to an old Toyota. She was a surprise. Model-thin, she wore a conservative navy suit. Her longer-than-shoulder-length blond hair was combed back from a pale, oval face and clipped smoothly at her nape.
She stopped and checked all around before unlocking her car. Apparently satisfied no danger lurked nearby, she tossed her purse and bulging briefcase onto the passenger seat, then slid in the driver’s side.
Murmuring his thanks to the helpful teens, Julian went in search of the secretary, Ms. Cox, even as Ms. Patton started her engine and drove off. He intercepted the secretary before she could leave the school grounds. Julian fed her the reporter story, and turned on the charm as he asked her about doing a feature on her colleague.
“You should probably talk to Garnet. I know she thinks no one cares about her case anymore. But at the same time, the publicity brought her a lot of unwanted attention. You know, from crazies.”
Julian scribbled in his book while pumping the woman about the abduction. “They were always an odd couple,” she ventured. “Dale changed after he lost his job on the pipeline. He put on weight and let his hair get bushy. He also grew a scruffy beard and mustache. I heard he hung out with bikers. Oh, I probably shouldn’t have said that. You won’t print that, will you?” She looked worriedly up through her lashes.
Julian found the mention of bikers very interesting. He wanted to probe deeper, but the secretary began nervously edging away. He thanked her for her help, his mind stuck on Lee Hackett. Except for the biker connection, the two men didn’t seem alike. Hackett wasn’t a big man. “Don’t worry. I’ll consider our conversation off the record,” he said with another disarming smile.
“Good. You really should talk to Garnet. Or her teacher friends. They’re all in the hectic final days of classes. Oh, but earlier today I heard some of them planning to go to happy hour Friday at the Silver Springs Lounge. To celebrate turning in their grades. Garnet said she might go.”
Julian tucked his notebook in his pocket. He wasn’t at all sure he wanted to confront Garnet Patton. But just in case, he drove past the Silver Springs Lounge on his way back to the motel. It was an upscale establishment, and dark enough inside to allow for anonymous observations.
Eager to try out one of the local streams, Julian thought he’d get up early and fish Thursday morning. And maybe he’d spend the afternoon talking with Ms. Patton’s neighbors. Maybe he wouldn’t need a face-to-face meeting. Although he was curious to see how a woman with a missing daughter handled a night out on the town. Somehow, Julian didn’t think too highly of the mother of a missing daughter who went about her life as if everything was status quo.
CHAPTER TWO
JULIAN RELAXED BY a lazy river. Before the morning mist evaporated he’d caught two rainbow trout. Beauties he was sorry to release. Hungry for fish, he stopped for a burger instead at a biker bar he passed on his way back to the motel. Inside, he struck up conversation with a cold-eyed bruiser seated at the counter. “Julian Cavenaugh, North Alaska Tribune,” he said, inventing a paper. “I’m considering a follow-up on the Dale Patton story. Ever heard of him?”
“Yeah. But why would anyone want to stir that up again?”
Julian bit into his burger and licked the juice that trickled down his thumb. “I’m curious how Patton managed to slip away, even though there must’ve been posters and stuff all over the state.”
“So Dale’s slippery. End of story. Find a new one, pal.” Several tough guys in the room laughed. The bruiser took a last slug from his beer, tossed money on the counter, hitched up his pants and left. At least five others followed him out.
Hearing the roar of bike engines from out front, Julian tried asking his waitress, but she didn’t know Patton. She attempted to flirt, but Julian wasn’t interested. He left his burger, paid his bill and returned to the motel to shower and change. He decided to try his luck with Garnet Patton’s neighbors.
The first woman who answered his knock was treated to Julian’s best smile. The fact that he petted the woman’s fussy dog won him an audience with Anna Winkleman, senior citizen. “I’m writing a follow-up story on the missing Patton child,” Julian fibbed after introducing himself and showing her his false credentials.
“No doubt you’ve given accounts in the past, but I wondered if you’d mind talking about it again.”
“Mercy, I’m grateful her case hasn’t been forgotten. Poor Garnet’s exhausted herself and spent every cent she doesn’t absolutely need to live on, trying to find her precious baby. She’s so discouraged. Is it possible to find Sophie after so long?”
Still petting the pooch, Julian considered how to answer. “Anything is possible,” he finally said. “Mrs. Winkleman, how well did you know Dale Patton? Is he the type who could’ve hurt his daughter to spite his ex? She did file for the divorce, correct?”
“She did. But Garnet moved here after the kidnapping. I never met Dale. All I really know about him is hearsay. Rumor is that he got in with a bunch of no-good bikers who drank and caroused. Other people say he took Sophie on his motorcycle when she was a toddler. He bought her a helmet, but still…I say Garnet did the right thing divorcing him.”
“Was his taking their daughter for bike rides a big reason for the divorce?”
Anna looked blank. “I’m not sure. I believe it had some bearing on her seeking sole custody. But who can blame her? She said that about a month before she petitioned family court for sole custody, one of Dale’s biker friends was struck and killed by a logging truck. It was obviously not appropriate for a child to be on one of those things. Then, a few days after the judge’s ruling, before Garnet was able to get copies of the new court order to the school, Dale showed up at the preschool on his motorcycle and took off with Sophie.”
Julian jotted notes in his book. “Thanks, you’ve been very helpful. I’d like to talk to some of Ms. Patton’s other friends. Can you suggest anyone?”
“Her friends in this building, you mean? Well, there’s Hazel Webber downstairs, and John Carlyle, who lives next door to Garnet. However, I saw John leave to walk his dog. He has a rat terrier he takes up the street to the park. He’ll probably be at a picnic table playing checkers with his cronies.”
Giving Anna’s dog a last pat, Julian went downstairs to find the Webber unit. He hit a roadblock with the white-haired matron who opened the door. She gazed haughtily down her nose at him. “I don’t talk to nosy strangers, young man,” she said before slamming her door.
Julian crossed her off his list and left in search of Mr. Carlyle and his rat terrier. He found them two blocks from the complex. Julian stopped, mumbled his name and said, “I hope, sir, that you won at checkers.” He dived straight into his request for information on Garnet, hastily adding that Anna Winkleman had steered him this way.
“That busybody. Why can’t you get what you need from your paper’s archives? Ah, because you’re no reporter. Sonny, I’d say you look more like a cop.” Squinting, the old fellow studied Julian carefully. “Yes or no?”
Embarrassed at being found by the perceptive old man, Julian winced. Quickly, he showed him his badge, careful to explain that his role was strictly unofficial. “I’m just a cop who hates cold cases,” he said, feeling guilty nevertheless. “Sometimes a fresh take on old information can lead to apprehensions,” he added. That was true, and so was his next comment. “Some people feel intimidated by cops and are more comfortable talking to reporters.”
“Huh, well, some cops lack basic people skills. Not saying that applies to you, young fella. Now, I never met Dale Patton, Garnet moved in next to me after the kidnapping. But my checkers partner knew him. He swears Dale loved that baby, too. Swede, that’s my checkers buddy, lives on the other side of the park where the Pattons used to live. According to him, Dale felt shut out by Garnet’s friends. They didn’t think he was good enough for her. Swede said Dale dropped out of high school and came here from Washington State to work on the pipeline. A lot of young men did. When the jobs petered out, most went home. That’s not easy for a married man, especially if his wife has a good job. Mind you, Swede’s never said Garnet and Dale fought over who brought in the bread. But I figure it’d be a sore subject, particularly if you add it to criticism by a wife’s friends.”
As they meandered back to the apartments, Julian drew some conclusions of his own. He thanked John, then left him with his terrier at the entrance. Once in his Jeep, Julian studied the new data on Patton. It fit his observations of Lee Hackett.
Julian’s stomach tightened. Was his dad right this time? One stepson had said that Hackett once owned a motorcycle. Evidence pointed to Patton hanging with a biker crowd. The only fly in the ointment, so to speak, was that the school secretary’s physical description of Dale Patton in no way matched Lee Hackett.
Even so, Julian wasn’t ready to pack it in and go home. Instead, he made a second trip to the high school. This time he managed to bump into a pair of teachers who exited the building with Ms. Patton. He approached the two women after they left Garnet at her car, and they were plainly curious about him. The younger teacher, who introduced herself as Jenny Hoffman, immediately acted coy with Julian. The second woman gave her name as Molly Eberhart, but neither seemed eager to talk to him about Garnet other than to defend her.
“Any man who’d steal a child from her mother is a creep. I never liked him,” Jenny said scraping back her long hair. “Garnet’s so far out of his league. The mystery is why she married him in the first place. Tracy Williams and I were right to voice our objections to him at the custody hearing. Look what he did.”
“He had more decency than you and Tracy gave him credit for,” Molly ventured.
“So he phoned the preschool and told the secretary Sophie was okay. He still waited two days and notice he phoned before the police tapped the line.”
Molly tsked. “Jenny, that call kept Garnet from falling apart. I think she wishes she’d never asked for sole custody.”
“You haven’t seen Garnet cry her eyes out. She’ll never be her old self until Sophie’s back safe and Dale’s behind bars.”
Julian listened to the women sparring. He finally excused himself. “Ladies, I appreciate your insight. I guess I need to go read all the old articles,” he said, carefully keeping the reporter persona intact.
Jenny caught up with him as he approached his Jeep. “You can verify everything I said with Garnet. Sorry I didn’t think to mention it earlier, but a small group of us are going to the Silver Springs lounge to celebrate the end of school. I’ll introduce you two. Just remember, I saw you first.”
“All I’m after are some unbiased opinions.”
“Huh, you won’t find any friend of Garnet’s with an unbiased opinion.”
Julian offered a smile as he climbed into in his Jeep. He had, in fact, found two unbiased opinions. One belonged to Molly Eberhart, the other to John Carlyle. Tossing off a wave, Julian pulled out of his parking space. He spent the next hour at the library poring over old records. The story had been front-page news for months, then, as was typical, it tapered to nothing when leads fell off.
Julian shut down his laptop and thanked the archive specialist. He dropped his stuff at the motel. Then, because Larry Adams had left a message to meet him at a nearby pub, Julian dashed out again.
Lingering in the doorway of the smoky, noisy bar, Julian let his eyes adjust while trying to pinpoint the cop he’d met only twice before.
Larry recognized him, came over and slapped him on the shoulder.
“Wow, I’d never have known you if I’d bumped into you on the street,” Julian said.
“That’s the point of an undercover disguise,” Larry said, leading Julian to a booth at the back of the pub where two beers sat in sweaty mugs. He slid in first, and Julian took the opposite bench. “What’s up in Atlanta? Are they fresh out of crime? With your workaholic reputation, I never expected you to make it to my neck of the woods.”
Taking a swig of cold beer, Julian shrugged. “It’s my reward for finally nailing a sleazebag who terrorized women in one of our burbs for over four months.” He went on to describe the case in more detail.
Larry spun his mug, staring at the wet rings it left on the tabletop. “I’m glad I work Narc now. I had to get out of Violent Crimes. How’d you keep from plugging a guy like that and claiming he tried to escape? We had one recently who walked on a technicality.”
“It happens. My partner’s a twenty-year man who lost his oldest daughter to a repeat offender. He and I go the extra mile to make sure our collars are by-the-book so our evidence holds up.”
“That’s good. Alaska courts have been known to accept that our citizens are entitled to a wild and woolly lifestyle. Or maybe we attract more than our share of renegades and malcontents.” The topic trailed off as Larry perused a worn menu.
As Julian picked up his own, he considered asking Larry if he knew anything about the Patton kidnapping. It’d help to get a professional opinion on whether Dale Patton was one of the malcontents or renegades. But he’d already risked too much nosing into a case that wasn’t his. And unless his father’s hunch was correct, the case would never be under his jurisdiction. Taking another slug of beer, Julian decided against involving a casual friend.
ALTHOUGH SHE’D NEVER stopped grieving the loss of her missing child, Garnet Patton didn’t live in a fog. She’d seen the good-looking, dark-haired stranger hanging around outside her school. Strangers on campus often meant drug deals. Yesterday, when she saw him speak to some of her better students, her antennae had shot up. She hadn’t seen anything change hands and he hadn’t stuck around, so she felt all right about driving away. In class today she’d asked the students. They said the guy was a reporter.
She was surprised to hear from neighbors that a similar man had questioned them about her. Anna Winkleman from across the hall also said he was a reporter. He’d gotten nowhere with Hazel Webber.
So, who was he and what was really going on? It was definitely strange, but at least no one found him threatening. Which was why she didn’t totally freak out when her best friend, Jenny Hoffman, phoned and announced that very same guy had returned to campus and questioned her and Molly Eberhart. “I think it’s funny he hasn’t talked to you, Garnet. He said he’s a reporter, but Molly thinks he’s a cop or maybe FBI. That’s pure speculation, though.”
A ripple of hope ran through Garnet, which she quickly reined in. “Why do you suppose he didn’t come to me instead of poking about? If someone new has been assigned to Sophie’s case I would’ve expected Sergeant Savage to tell me.”
“Gary Savage is an arrogant SOB, Garnet. It would kill him to share a case.”
Garnet was used to Jenny’s dismissing the sergeant. “Hmm. And why would the department let a new man go over old ground?”
“The new guy is so hot, whoever he is. Very yummy! By the way, I invited him to come by the Silver Springs tomorrow after school.”
Garnet’s heart sped up. “He’s coming?”
“He didn’t say yes, but he didn’t say no, either. I’m giving fair warning. If he shows up I have dibs on him.”
“Jenny! If he’s reopening my case, don’t distract him. Oh, but…I’m getting way ahead of myself. Could they have a lead on Dale? Gary told me months ago that all the tips had dried up. I wonder…”
“Don’t. Guessing doesn’t get you anywhere. Isn’t that what we tell our students? I’d hate to see you get your hopes up, Garnet. What if he really is a reporter?”
