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“Oh. Right.” He looked back at Sam. “How’s your niece?”
“No change,” he answered tersely. “Detective Tandy’s investigating the case.”
“I guess that package might be connected?”
“Maybe. We’ll see.” Kristen stepped closer to the police tape. “Any way to get me in there?” she asked Sam.
He searched the crowd of policemen and firefighters on the other side of the cordon to see if he could catch the eye of one of the handful of officers he knew by name. A few seconds later, a sandy-haired detective named Cropwell spotted him and crossed to the tape to greet him.
“Nothing like fan mail, huh?” he said with a bleak grin.
“What’s the latest?”
“Perkins from the Bomb Squad said they’ve x-rayed it and don’t think it’s a bomb. They were about to open it last I heard.” Cropwell glanced over his shoulder. “Rayburn’ll probably be the first to know.”
Kristen Tandy flipped open a slim leather wallet, displaying her badge. Sam had a feeling that Cropwell wouldn’t exactly be impressed—Gossamer Ridge was small potatoes as Alabama towns went—but he had to admire her bravado.
“Kristen Tandy, Gossamer Ridge Police Department. We believe the package delivered to Mr. Cooper’s office may be connected to a home invasion case we’re investigating.”
As Sam had expected, Cropwell looked at Kristen’s badge with a mixture of amusement and disdain. “We’ll let you know if anything in the package is of concern to you, Detective.”
“Detective Tandy is investigating an attack on my niece, who was caring for my daughter at the time,” Sam said firmly. “If this is connected, I want her in on it.”
Kristen didn’t drop her gaze from Cropwell’s, but Sam saw her expression shift slightly, a slight curve of her pink lips in response to his defense.
Cropwell looked at Sam, instantly apologetic. “Yes, sir.”
“May I enter the scene?” Kristen asked, her voice tinted with long-suffering patience that made Cropwell flush.
“Yeah, fine.” He lifted the cordon and let Kristen come under. But when Sam started to follow, he blocked entrance. “Sorry, sir,” he said, his eyes glittering with payback, “but civilians aren’t allowed behind the tape. Not even you, sir.”
Sam nodded, acknowledging Cropwell’s small victory.
Kristen would have died rather than let it show, but mingling with the Birmingham police officers busy outside the Jefferson County District Attorney’s office was beginning to make her feel like the biggest rube that ever walked a city street. It wasn’t that they treated her badly; most of the other policemen on the scene were polite and helpful, answering her questions and helping her get caught up as quickly as possible. But she was clearly the youngest detective there, and she could tell from the wary gazes of some of the Birmingham detectives that she’d still be wearing a uniform and driving patrol if she weren’t on some hayseed rural police force.
She was waiting with the other detectives for word from the bomb squad when her cell phone rang. She excused herself, walked a few feet away and answered. “Tandy.”
“I hear you’re in Birmingham.” Her boss’s familiar voice rumbled over the phone, tinged with the same frustrated affection Carl usually showed when it came to her.
“Why do I feel like I just violated curfew?” she murmured.
“Got anything yet?”
“We’re waiting for word from the bomb squad. All we really know so far is that there’s not actually a bomb in the package.”
“That’s progress, I suppose.”
“Heard anything from Foley? Did he get anything out of the interview with Cooper’s neighbor?”
“A rough description of a blue van she saw circling the neighborhood a few times earlier in the day, but nothing concrete. Foley’s taking her some pictures to look at, see if she can pick out a make and model but right now, he’s going door to door, talking to other neighbors.”
She didn’t miss the slight tone of admonishment. “And you think I should be there doing that instead of being here waiting for news from the Birmingham bomb squad?”
“You said it, not me.”
“You said it without saying it.” Movement to her left caught her attention. “Bomb squad’s coming out. Gotta go.”
She rang off and returned to the queue of police officers waiting for word. A tall, sandy-haired squad member peeled away from the rest of the group and moved toward the detectives. He carried a clear plastic bag containing what appeared to be the remains of a large manila envelope.
“No bomb, no foreign substances. You’re clear to examine it,” he told a tall, barrel-chested man standing near the front of the line. Kristen dug in her memory for the detective’s name. Raymond—no, Rayburn. Captain Rayburn. She took advantage of her small size to slip through the huddle and reach Rayburn’s side just as he donned a pair of latex gloves and carefully opened the plastic bag.
He slanted a look toward her, his expression hard to read for a moment. Then his features relaxed and he gave a little half nod, as if beckoning her closer. “Reckon you’ll want to see this, too, Detective.”
She scooted closer. The contents were, indeed, the remains of a manila envelope. The bomb squad had apparently used a razor knife to slice it open and examine the contents.
Captain Rayburn reached into the plastic bag and delicately opened the edges of the envelope. Inside lay what looked like a small stack of five-by-seven photographs. Careful to touch only the outer edges, Rayburn pulled the stack from the envelope.
Kristen’s heart plummeted.
The top photo was an image of a little girl dressed in a robin’s-egg-blue shorts set, swinging on a swing at Gossamer Park.
The girl was Maddy Cooper.
Chapter Three
Sam stared at the photographs, his stomach rebelling. There were twelve in total, five-by-sevens taken on a digital camera according to the lab tech who examined them first before releasing them back to the Birmingham detectives. Each photo depicted his daughter Maddy at play, in a variety of places, from the playground at Gossamer Park to the farmer’s market on Main Street. Once or twice Sam was in the photo, as well; another time, his parents. One photo featured Maddy with Sam’s sister Hannah, fishing from one of the marina’s fishing piers. Maddy was holding up a small crappie and grinning at her aunt.
He looked away from the photos and rubbed his eyes. They felt full of grit.
“I called my office.” Kristen Tandy’s voice was toneless. He looked up at her and found her gaze fixed on the photos. “Foley’s on his way to the marina now to let your parents know what’s going on.”
“I need to get back there.”
Kristen nodded. “The detectives have agreed to send me scans of these photos.” She looked up at Dave Rayburn, who gave her a nod. She and the captain seemed to have come to an understanding, Sam noted.
“So we can go now?”
“Yeah.” Kristen shook hands with Rayburn and led Sam out of the office.
They didn’t talk on the way to the car. Sam wasn’t even sure what to say. The very notion of someone stalking his baby girl was so surreal, he spent half the drive back to Gossamer Ridge wondering if he was stuck in a nightmare.
Kristen broke the silence they’d maintained to that point, her voice uncharacteristically warm. “We’re going to find the son of a bitch who took those pictures.”
He looked at her. Her gaze angled forward, eyes on the road, her jaw set like stone. “He dropped them off yesterday evening,” he said aloud. “Before he even tried to take her. He wanted that to be the first thing I saw the morning I woke up with my daughter gone.” And he’d been sneaky, too, leaving the package outside the building after hours—but before the receptionist had left for the day. He’d probably waited around to make sure she saw the package and took it back to the office before she finished locking up for the night.
Kristen looked at him then, just a quick glance, but he saw fiery anger flashing in her blue eyes. “It doesn’t matter that the security cameras didn’t catch him. It won’t stop us.”
He hoped she was right.
At the marina, Kristen parked beside the bait shop, next to a Chevy Impala identical to the one she was driving. “Foley,” she said to Sam as they got out of the car.
Inside the bait shop, Maddy sat on her grandfather’s knee playing with a large cork bobber, tossing it in the air like a ball and nearly tumbling off Mike Cooper’s knees trying to catch it. Nearby, Foley stood at the counter, talking in low tones with Sam’s mother. All four of them looked up as Sam and Kristen entered.
Maddy’s eyes lit up and she scrambled down from Mike’s lap. “Miss Kristen!” she squealed, beaming up at Kristen Tandy as she ran to greet them.
Sam felt Kristen stiffen beside him. He quickly intercepted his boisterous daughter before she flung herself at Kristen’s knees and hoisted her into his arms. “What? No hello for your daddy?”
“Hi, Daddy!” She patted his face affectionately before twisting in his arms to look at Kristen. “Daddy Mike’s gonna let me feed the worms, Miss Kristen. D’you wanna come with us?”
Kristen looked positively green, but Sam suspected it had nothing to do with the prospect of feeding worms.
He tamped down a bit of resentment. “Miss Kristen has a job to do, baby. And I’m afraid you and Daddy Mike are gonna have to go worm feeding some other day. I’ve got plans for us this afternoon. Want to know what?”
“What?” She caught his face between her hands again, making his heart swell. But instead of her lopsided grin, he saw static, candid images captured in a series of still photographs. He glanced at Kristen, who was watching him, her expression for once unguarded. The look on her face was utter devastation. There was no other word for it.
He cleared his throat and looked back at Maddy. “We’re going to have a movie marathon! All the princesses—as many as we can get through before bedtime.”
Maddy wriggled excitedly in his arms. “Really?”
“Really.”
Sam heard Detective Foley make a low, sympathetic sound behind him. Normally, Sam would agree—an afternoon and evening full of animated fairy-tale musicals were to be avoided at all costs. But this time, he could think of nowhere he’d rather be than his parents’ guest cottage with his little girl tucked safely against him on the sofa, miraculously still with him to watch dancing brooms and singing mice.
“Can Miss Kristen come, too?” Maddy asked.
“I told you, Miss Kristen has to work.”
“But after work, can she come, too?”
Sam started to say no, but Kristen cleared her throat behind him. “Yeah, Maddy. I can come after work.”
Sam looked up at Kristen, startled. She met his gaze, sheer terror shining in her blue eyes. But her small, pointed chin jutted forward, like a soldier preparing for battle.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, unconvincingly. “Y’all are staying here for a few days, right?”
He started to tell her it wasn’t a good idea, but the glee in Maddy’s laughter stopped him before he uttered a word. He looked at his daughter, finding her grinning at Kristen with sheer delight, and stayed silent. “Yeah. There’s a guest cottage down the hill from my folks’ place.”
“I can be there by seven-thirty,” Kristen told him quietly after Maddy had climbed down to follow her grandfather into the back room. “I’ll bring some microwave popcorn or something.”
“You don’t have to do this.” Sam didn’t miss the reluctance in her eyes.
“She goes to sleep—what? Eight? Eight-thirty?”
“Yeah,” Sam agreed, not following.
“Good. Then you and I can go over a few things.”
He arched an eyebrow. “A few things?”
“A few cases, actually.” She stepped away from the counter, lowering her voice. “I think whoever sent you those photos may be someone you’ve crossed in your work. You were a prosecutor before you moved back here to Alabama, weren’t you?”
“Yeah, I was an assistant Commonwealth’s Attorney in Arlington County.”
“Tried a few cases?”
“You think someone I prosecuted is looking for revenge?”
She shrugged. “It’s worth thinking about, isn’t it?”
“Okay, I’ll think about it.” He shot her a wary grin. “Something to do while the princesses are singing.”
Her answering smile transformed her face briefly, giving him a glimpse of what she might have looked like had her tragic past not left indelible traces on her young features. Her eyes shimmered like a cloudless sky reflected in a calm lake, and the worry lines creasing her forehead disappeared as if erased.
He felt another unexpected tug of attraction, sudden and primitive, that lingered even after her smile faded into the careworn lines he’d become accustomed to. He cleared his throat as Maddy and his father reemerged from the back room with the bait containers. “Okay, we’ll see you around seven-thirty.”
“Foley, I’m heading into the office to type up my report. You coming?”
“Uh, yeah.” Foley’s gaze moved quickly from her to Sam and back again. “Call us if you need us.” He fell in step with Kristen as she headed for the exit.
“Bye, Miss Kristen!” Maddy called from behind the counter.
Kristen lifted her hand to Maddy, shot Sam an enigmatic look and left the bait shop, Foley on her heels.
“She seems like a nice girl,” Beth Cooper commented, patting Sam’s back as she passed on her way back to the front counter. “Too sad about what happened with her mama.”
Sam dragged his gaze away from the empty doorway. “I know the basics—her mother killed her brothers and sisters and tried to kill her. But what else do you recall about it?”
His mother gave him an odd look. “That’s pretty much all I remember. The news reports at the time were vague.”
“What happened to the mother?”
“I don’t think she went to jail. I want to say maybe the state mental hospital or something like that.” Beth’s gaze was quizzical. “You’re awfully interested in Detective Tandy all of a sudden.”
“Stop it, Mom.”
Her smile faded. “Just be careful, okay? Maddy’s at a ripe age to get attached to a woman in your life. She’s old enough to wonder why her mother doesn’t ever come around.”
He’d bent over backward to make excuses for Norah to Maddy, more for his daughter’s sake than his ex-wife’s. But Maddy was nearing school age, and she’d soon start wondering why everyone else in her class had a mommy to take care of them. One day his excuses wouldn’t be enough.
One day, he’d have to explain that not all mommies wanted to be mommies, and there was nothing she could have said or done or been to make a difference. It was going to be the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life.
No point in making it harder by letting another woman so clearly not cut out for motherhood break his daughter’s heart.
“YOU CAN’T BE SERIOUS.” Kristen stared at Carl Madison, shaking her head. “Carl, there’s got to be someone else—”
“I could find someone else,” the captain of detectives conceded. “But Foley says the child already likes and trusts you. And honestly? You need to do it for yourself.”
