UNEASY PREY Page 25

  Pete stroked his upper lip and the slight prickle of his shaved mustache. No forced entry. Dammit. He should have caught that.

  Seth said the words as Pete thought them. “It’s almost like whoever broke in had a key.”

  Maybe because they did. “Trout.”

  “Huh?”

  Pete stood and rounded the desk, heading for the door. He slapped the officer’s shoulder as he passed. “Good work, Metzger.”

  “Wait.” Seth scrambled to his feet and followed Pete. “You mean Mr. Troutman?”

  Pete grabbed his coat from the front office. “The old man had a key to Oriole’s house.” Pete silently chastised himself for not pressing Trout about it earlier. Instead of a suspect, Pete had viewed him as a befuddled codger. Hell, Pete had looked at Trout and seen Harry.

  Every. Time.

  Seth slid his hands from his pockets and crossed his arms. Although he’d struck a serious pose, his hunched shoulders revealed uncertainty. “Actually, Chief, I was thinking of someone else.”

  “Oh?”

  “The granddaughter’s son. Marcus? Have you taken a good look at him?”

  Pete had the thirteen-year-old’s history memorized. Petty vandalism. Skipping school. Hanging out with older kids who had bashed mailboxes. And more recently, a handful of fights, including the one at the high school last week. “The kid has anger-management issues,” Pete said more to himself than to Seth.

  “Yeah.” The officer’s shoulders relaxed. “He’s been in trouble a lot the last year or so. And the level of violence has been escalating. Yesterday, I was out running errands and I spotted him and his mother out in front of their house. He was really laying into her.”

  “What do you mean? ‘Laying into her.’”

  “Yelling. The kid was in a rage. I thought he was ready to throw a punch at her, but when I stopped and asked if I could help, she insisted everything was fine. I wanted to talk to him, but he took off.”

  Pete hated to admit it. Not only had he been wearing blinders where Trout was concerned, but he’d been allowing Marcus to slide as well. The boy needed a father figure in his life, but Pete hadn’t seen him as a hard case. Still, that day in the high school gym, Marcus had been unrepentant about the fight. Could his teenaged hormone-driven anger have flared to rage with his great-grandmother? “I’ll talk to Marcus first. Then Trout.”

  A hint of a smile crossed Seth’s face, clearly pleased his idea had been accepted as valid.

  Pete slapped the “Out on Patrol” sign in the window, set the alarm code, and shooed Seth out before locking the door. “Go home.”

  “I’d like to come with you.”

  Pete eyed him. “Nate’s on duty if I need backup. Go enjoy what’s left of your Sunday.”

  Seth straightened. “Chief, I was there that night. I helped Zoe and Earl bring Mrs. Andrews out of her basement. I’d like to see this one through.”

  Of all Pete’s officers, Seth was the one he predicted would end up taking over as chief one day. Or maybe he’d move on to the city and a job as a detective. “Okay,” Pete said. “Let’s go.”

  “I’ll wait here.” Patsy gazed through her pickup’s windshield at Golden Oaks, her nose wrinkled.

  Zoe unclipped her seatbelt. “You’ll freeze.” The glorious sunshine had been obliterated by ever-darkening clouds and wet flakes were again drifting through the air. “Are you planning to keep the engine running the entire time I’m in there?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Oh, quit being a wimp. Come on. You know Harry.” Harry, of course, would likely not know Patsy, although he’d helped save her life as well as Zoe’s last summer.

  Patsy turned a tortured gaze on her. “I’ve never been in one of these places. I hear they’re awful.”

  Zoe opened the passenger door, letting in a gust of icy air. “Actually, this one’s really nice. Come on.”

  Grumbling, Patsy released her seatbelt and climbed out.

  Inside, residents gathered in the front room, some in their wheelchairs, others seated in chairs set in a semi-circle around the piano. A trio of teens stood next to it, studying sheet music. Zoe searched the faces for Harry, but he wasn’t there. Neither was Barbara.

  Zoe caught Patsy’s arm and directed her to the staircase.

  “This isn’t so bad,” Patsy said.

  “Told you.”

  Zoe led the way to the second floor and Harry’s room. Soft weeping from inside the room across the hall stopped her. Inside, Barbara sat on the edge of her bed, sobbing. Harry sat next to her, patting her hand. Zoe rapped lightly on the doorframe. “Hello?”

  They looked up. Harry appeared distressed, but puzzled. Barbara’s eyes glistened with tears. She pressed a small white handkerchief to her nose. “Yes?” The older woman’s voice quivered.

  “Mrs. Naiman? I don’t know if you remember me—”

  “Oh, yes. You were with Harry’s son visiting. Yesterday, I think. Right?”

  “Yes.” At least one of them remembered.

  Harry turned his gaze to Barbara. “My son? Pete? Is he here?”

  Zoe had grown used to “meeting” Harry every time she saw him. She strode to them, extending a hand to him. “Hi, Harry. I’m Zoe. Pete’s friend.”

  He took the hand. “Zoe? I think…we’ve met before, haven’t we?”

  “Yes, we have.” She smiled. He was having a good day. “I thought I’d stop in to say hello.”

  Barbara sniffled. “You should go,” she told Harry. “You have company.”

  “I don’t want to leave you.”

  “You don’t have to.” Zoe pointed at a pair of chairs and asked Barbara, “Do you mind? We could visit with both of you.”

  “Please.”

  Zoe waved Patsy in and dragged the chairs over to face the bed.

  “I’m sorry to be such a mess.” Barbara dabbed at her eyes. “I just found out—” Her voice broke. “I just found out my grandsons have been arrested.”

  Harry put an arm around her shoulders. “Hush now. I told you. I’ll have my boy straighten this whole thing out.”

  Zoe exchanged glances with Patsy. No way was she going to tell them Pete was the one who’d done the arresting.

  Barbara wept quietly for a few moments. Zoe plucked a tissue from a box on the dresser and handed it to her, wishing there was something more she could say or do.

  The older woman sniffled into the tissue. “I don’t know what I’m going to do now. Those boys, they’ve been my entire life. They’re my sole support. Emotional and financial. If they go to jail, I’ll have to leave here. I have no money of my own left to pay the bills. Where will I go?” As if saying the words had drained the last ounce of her energy, she slumped against Harry, sobbing.

  He looked at Zoe, helpless. “We have to do something. Can you call Pete for me? Tell him there’s been some mistake. He can get this fixed. Can’t he?”

  She wanted to tell him it would be fine. Wanted to tell Barbara she’d be cared for and wouldn’t have to leave this place. But the lies wouldn’t leave her lips.

  Behind Zoe, someone rapped on the door. She turned.

  “Hello,” Lauren Sanders said with an exaggerated smile. “Mind if I come in?”

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  There had been no answer at Janie Baker’s house and her car wasn’t in the driveway. “We’ll stop at Oriole’s house,” Pete told Seth. “Janie might be cleaning the place out. If we’re lucky, Marcus will be helping his mother. At the very least, she might know where we can find him.”

  As if reading Pete’s thoughts, Seth said, “And we can stop at Mr. Troutman’s place while we’re there.”

  “You got it.”

  As Pete pulled onto Andrews Lane, the county dispatcher put out a call to Nate, requesting he see a woman regarding a disturbance just outside of town.


  Pete clenched the steering wheel and wrestled the vehicle on the potholed and slick road. “Call him and let him know we’re available for backup.”

  “Roger that.” Seth dug out his phone.

  Over the rumble of the SUV’s heater, Pete could hear Nate’s muffled voice respond.

  Janie’s battered gray Chevy sat in front of her grandmother’s house. The flurries had intensified into snow showers, coating the top half of the small car. At this rate, it would soon look like a large snow drift. The clumps of plump flakes limited visibility and the leaden skies gave the impression of dusk rather than early afternoon. Inside the farmhouse, lights blazed from an upstairs room and a downstairs one.

  Seth ended the call. “Nate says thanks, but it’s just Mrs. Jennings complaining about some kids sled riding on the road. He’s got it.”

  Pete smiled to himself. Kids sled riding on the road was more on par with a normal police call in Vance Township.

  He and Seth climbed out of the car. Pete pulled his collar up as he approached the house. Boot prints on the walk had already been obliterated, making it impossible to tell if Janie had company. The air wasn’t as brutally cold as it had been last week; however the slightly warmer temperatures opened the floodgates for heavier accumulation.

  Janie was slow to respond to his knock at the door. “Chief Adams.” She attempted a tired smile that never reached her eyes. “What brings you here?” An old bandanna bound her mousy hair. Dark smudges on her face and the plaid flannel shirt she wore offered a good hint that she was in the middle of cleaning. She didn’t step back to invite them in.

  “I’m sorry to bother you. May we talk to you for a moment?”

  She glanced over Pete’s shoulder at Seth. “Oh, of course.” She moved out of their way. “I must look a mess. There’s so much to do around here.” Her hands fluttered, gesturing at everything—and nothing in particular.

  Pete stepped inside and made room for his young officer. “We won’t keep you. Is your son here?”

  “Marcus? No.” Worry sparked in her weary eyes. “Why? Is he in trouble again?”

  Pete gave her his best professional smile. “I just wanted to ask him a few questions. He might be able to help us with a case we’re working on.”

  “Oh. He’s at home. He had some schoolwork that’s due tomorrow.”

  Pete decided against telling the boy’s mother that, no, he in fact was not at home studying. “Thanks. We’ll stop there if it’s okay with you.”

  Her eyes shifted. “Maybe you should wait until this evening when I get home. I’d be more comfortable if I’m there when you talk to him. He’s only thirteen, you know.”

  “No problem.” Pete reached for the door. “I completely understand. I’ll stop in later.”

  She relaxed. “Great. Thanks so much.”

  He shot a quick look at Seth before coming back to Janie. “Officer Metzger tells me you and Marcus had an argument yesterday. Are you okay?”

  She rubbed her arms against a chill—either internal or external. “Oh, I’m fine. It was nothing. He has a temper. You know that. But he just yells and then goes for a walk to cool off.”

  “Do you mind telling me what the argument was about?”

  “I don’t even remember. I think he wanted to go to his buddy’s house to play video games and I told him no. Something silly like that.”

  Pete thanked her for her time and promised to stop at her house later. Seth led the way back to the SUV. Pete noticed their footprints had already nearly filled in during the few minutes they’d been inside.

  Seth clicked his seatbelt. “She’s covering something.”

  “Yeah.” Pete hated to admit it, but his junior officer might very well have seen the case through clearer eyes than he had. “Can’t blame a mother for trying to protect her only son. Especially when he’s all she has left.”

  And especially if that son happened to be the real third person in the Naimans’ burglary ring.

  Zoe looked from Lauren to Barbara and back again. Did they know each other? Zoe suspected the reporter could act well enough to cover any personal connection, but the old woman? Probably not.

  Barbara showed no signs of recognition. She gazed at Lauren with sad, blank eyes. “Yes, of course. Come in,” the older woman said. “Do you work here? You must be new.”

  Lauren maintained her thin-lipped smile as she stepped into the room. “No, I don’t work here. I’m a reporter with The Phillipsburg Enterprise and—”

  Zoe intercepted her, blocking her from moving farther into the room. “Outside. Now.”

  Lauren blinked. “Pardon me?”

  Zoe fixed her with as hard a glare as her throbbing head and blurred vision would allow. “I want to talk to you. Out in the hallway.”

  Lauren stared at her, agape. Zoe could feel Patsy’s, Harry’s, and Barbara’s stares in the silence. After a moment, the reporter shrugged and turned.

  Zoe followed her, closing the door to Barbara’s room behind them. “So you do know the Naimans.”

  “Know them? Chief Adams gave me the names of the two men they busted as the Senior Killers. Dennis and Douglas Naiman. I did some digging and learned their grandmother is a resident here. If that’s ‘knowing them,’ then yes. I do.”

  “And that’s all there is to it?”

  Lauren’s lips pursed in a puzzled scowl. “What are you getting at? Of course that’s all there is.”

  Had Zoe trusted her instincts right now, she’d have believed her. But her instincts had been compromised by the blow to her head. She planted her hands on her hips. “I think you’re more acquainted with the Naiman family than you’re letting on. Especially the grandsons. I think you’re the one who alerted them to me being outside the Krolls’ house on Friday. And I think you’ve been ‘reporting’ on this case as a way to get the inside track so they wouldn’t be caught.” Zoe stopped and realized what all she’d said. She hadn’t intended to spill that much information.

  Lauren stared, her mouth hanging open in shocked surprise. Zoe expected a rebuttal. Instead, Lauren guffawed. Then burst into full-fledged laughter. Within a few moments, the reporter was wiping tears from her eyes. “Oh…my God,” she said, gasping for air. “You think…the third person Chief Adams mentioned…you think it’s…me?”

  This was not the reaction Zoe had expected. And what third person? But she decided to stand her ground. She crossed her arms. “Then what are you doing here at Barbara Naiman’s room if you don’t know the family?”

  The laughter subsided. Lauren dug a tissue from her bag to dab her eyes. She sniffled. “I told you. I’m working on the story.”

  “By questioning the suspects’ elderly grandmother? That’s a little crass, isn’t it?” Zoe replayed her words through her fuzzy brain. “Then again, you are a reporter.” She let venom drip on the title.

  Any evidence of amusement in Lauren’s expression transformed to rage. “How dare you. You don’t know anything about me.”

  Zoe hadn’t anticipated Lauren’s reaction to the previous accusation, and this retort took her even more by surprise. “I know that you once had a thriving journalism career in Boston, New York, and Philadelphia. Front pages. Bylines. Major stories. And then you vanished. Or seemed to.”

  Lauren glared at her. “You’ve done your homework on me. Why?”

  Zoe hesitated. “I told you. I think you were the Naimans’ lookout that day at the Krolls’ house.” No way was she gonna let on that jealousy had anything to do with it. “And because you’ve been popping up everywhere. Janie Baker’s my friend. So is Sylvia Bassi. And the Krolls. Everyone who’s been harmed by these con men. And you’ve been two minutes behind, showing up on their doorsteps. Attending Oriole’s funeral.”

  The reporter locked eyes with Zoe in what felt like a game of who-blinks-first—a game Zoe wasn’t about to lose.

 
; And didn’t.

  Lauren’s fierce façade cracked. She looked around and gestured to a pair of faux-antique chairs ten feet down the hall. “You want to know about me? Fine. I’ll tell you.”

  Pete stood on Trout’s front stoop, snow swirling in the air around him. There was no response to his knock on the door. No sounds of shuffling or footsteps from inside.

  Seth checked his watch. “It’s early, but Mr. Troutman usually goes to his daughter’s house for Sunday dinner.”

  Pete looked at his officer. “And how do you know this?”

  Seth offered a sheepish grin. “I dated his granddaughter for a while last summer.”

  Pete almost asked why he was only learning about this now, but reconsidered. His officers didn’t need to share their personal lives with him. Nor did he necessarily want them to. But in this case, the connection offered some potential insight into the situation at hand. Pete gazed down the hill toward Oriole’s house, barely visible through the snow. “Did Trout ever bring Mrs. Andrews to these family dinners?”

  “No. I got the impression Mr. Troutman’s daughter didn’t approve of her father having a lady friend.” Seth shoved his hands deep into his coat pockets. “She didn’t approve of her daughter dating a cop either.”

  “What did she say to give you that impression? About her father having a lady friend, I mean.” Daughters dating cops? Pete already knew all about that.

  “I overheard them arguing once. They were alone in the kitchen and I didn’t want to eavesdrop, so I can’t tell you exactly what they said. But the gist was she thought he was disrespecting the memory of her mother by spending time with another woman.”

  Pete grunted and thought of Harry and Barbara. The idea of his old man having a beautiful woman to keep him company thrilled him. Too bad the woman in this case had a pair of alleged felons paying her bills. “Let’s get back in the car. We’re not going to stand in the snow waiting for Trout to get home.”

  Once at the SUV, Pete kicked the bottom edge of the door to knock the clumped snow from his boots before climbing in. He flipped the defrosters onto high and pulled out his phone.