All The Stars In Heaven (31 page)

Chapter Sixty

“We need to meet.” The voice on the phone was neither angry nor demanding, but Grant’s fingers shook nonetheless. Rossi had always been cool, calculating, and very persuasive.

Grant hesitated before responding. “You have my daughter?”

“She got away again. Perhaps if you’d given us the information about her meeting with the DEA agent sooner—”

They don’t have Sarah!
“I didn’t know,” Grant lied. Silently, he celebrated, feeling like he’d been given another chance at life. “And I still don’t know how Detective Anderson’s message made it to my inbox.”

“Don’t let on that it did. I’ve got a man following him, and he may lead us to Sarah. We’ve already found his family in Worcester.”

“Don’t do anything to them,” Grant warned. “I can’t cover up something that far away.”

“It
is
far away, so you don’t have to.” A low chuckle sounded through the phone. “It’s good to know you still have a soft spot when it comes to a wife and kids. We’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

Grant closed his eyes, fighting off panic as he sat in the nearest chair.

“There’s going to be a funeral in three days. We’ll talk there.”

“A funeral?” Sweat broke out along Grant’s forehead.

“There was a casualty yesterday. Someone shot and killed Rick. We think it was the boyfriend. Since it’s your fault Sarah’s with him, the least you can do is pay your last respects.”

Good riddance,
Grant thought. “There’s no way I can get anywhere near you right now. With that federal agent dead and a record on his cell phone that he’d called the station yesterday morning, I’m in enough trouble already. So say what you have to say right now.” Grant felt emboldened, realizing Sarah and her boyfriend had outsmarted—and outshot—one of Rossi’s best men.

“All right.” There was a long pause. “You lied to me, Grant, told me Sarah didn’t know anything about our operation, and I really wanted to believe you. We’ve had a good thing all these years, and I hate to see it end badly.”

It began badly,
Grant thought.

“You want to tell me why—if she knew nothing—she went blabbing to the DEA?”

“I told you, I don’t know.”

“But you did,” Rossi said. “You knew about it and didn’t tell us. Which means I can’t feel good about trusting you anymore. And I
really
don’t feel good about your daughter out there, where she might get to the right authorities.” Rossi chuckled again. “You know, the ones who try to uphold the law.”

Grant was silent. Nothing he said would appease the man. Only one thing would satisfy Rossi now, and Grant couldn’t—wouldn’t—give it to him.

“I believe in second chances,” Rossi said. “Sometimes even third, but I’d say you’ve about run out.”

“You think a new police chief is going to look the other way and ignore your little operation?” Grant asked.

“You were easy enough to persuade. Or you used to be.” There was a pause on the line. “Guess it’s like they say, all good things must come to an end.”

Grant’s hand went to the gun on his hip as he rose slowly from his chair. He looked toward the open blinds.

“Yes,” Rossi said, confirming Grant’s suspicions. “You’d be dead already if I wanted it.”

“Go ahead,” Grant said. He raised the blinds, staring at the car parked across the street. Sarah would be better off without him. He’d failed her in every way possible, and maybe, just maybe, she’d gone far enough away that they’d leave her alone.

“In spite of my better judgment, I’m going to give you one more opportunity to get your daughter back.”

“I have no way—”

“There are plenty of ways,” Rossi insisted. “And it’s time you found them. Sarah called her friend yesterday. We found out about the DEA. We followed her to the cop’s house. We found out where her boyfriend works. Those are all things you should have done, Grant. This is your mistake, not ours. And it’s your lucky day, ’cause I’m giving you another seventy-two hours to fix it.”

Grant opened his mouth to protest, to tell Rossi he’d be waiting for him on the other side, where they were both going to pay.

“It’s not just about you anymore,” Rossi said as if he’d read Grant’s mind. “You don’t deliver this time, Detective Anderson is out a wife and kids.”

* * *

“You’re sure your dad won’t be home?” Jay asked as he parked Kirk’s car a couple of blocks from Sarah’s house.

“He’s had the same schedule for years,” Sarah said. “He’s the boss, works the best shift, and is always home by five. The only problem we might have is Carl, if he’s not in jail.” They got out of the car and started walking. “I’m still not sure what it is you think we’ll find. I’ve been cleaning that house for years, and I’ve never found anything that links my father to any sort of criminal activity.”

“Maybe you weren’t looking in the right places—or at the right things,” Jay said. “We need to go through bank statements, cell phone bills, credit card receipts . . .” A car approached, and he crouched down, pretending to tie his shoe.

Sarah kept her face turned away from the street. “Sounds like a needle in a haystack.”

“It is—sort of. But there’s got to be something there. And if it’s there, we’ll find it.”

They were silent the remaining block and a half to the house. Jay worried about Kirk and debated over the wisdom of calling him from Sarah’s house. Sarah appeared deep in thought too, and Jay could tell from the look on her face she was reliving yesterday—something she wasn’t going to get over anytime soon.

They reached the house, and Sarah took the spare key from a broken piece of rain gutter hanging off the side of the garage.

“I can’t believe your dad would be so careless,” Jay said. “He’s got bars on all the windows, and he leaves a key lying around?”

“He didn’t,” Sarah said. “I hid it there a long time ago. So in case I ran away I could sneak back when my dad wasn’t home—to eat and do laundry.” Her mouth twisted and she looked down at the dried blood on her jeans. “While we’re here, I’ll definitely pick up some clean clothes and grab some food.”

Jay unlocked the front door and stepped inside. Behind him, Sarah had Detective Doyle’s gun drawn. Jay glanced around the living room, remembering the last time he was here and how Sarah’s father had implored him to look out for her.
I’m trying,
he thought.
No thanks to you.
Quietly they made their way around the small home, making sure they were alone.

“Where do you want to start?” Sarah asked when they’d finished checking the last closet and she’d taken a few minutes to change into clean clothes.

“How about that filing cabinet?” Jay asked, pointing to one beneath the window in her dad’s room. “We should also check his dresser and closet, under his mattress—any place we can think of.”

“Okay.” She sighed. “This isn’t going to be a lot of fun.”

“At least we’re together.” He pulled her close and kissed her. “We just need to find
something
linking your dad to Carl and the drug activity at the park. Then Kirk can take it to the DEA, and we’re on the right track.”

“I wish I knew what that something was.” Sarah started on the dresser.

Jay sat on the floor and began sorting through each boring paper—electric bills, mortgage payments, dental records. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. An hour ticked by. Sarah moved on to the closet. He neared the back of the second drawer and discovered a file marked, “SARAH.” Pulling it out, he leaned against the wall and opened it.

A picture of a little girl with long blond hair and her two front teeth missing looked up at him. Her smile was too wide—the kind forced by the photographer no doubt—and didn’t reach her deep blue, sad eyes. Jay turned the picture over and saw it had been taken when Sarah was six years old and in the first grade. He looked at the paper behind it—a report card—and the one behind that, a Father’s Day card she’d made for her dad.

The file was thick, packed with construction paper and yarn projects, glowing reports from her teachers, programs from piano recitals. It was the sort of file a loving parent kept for a cherished child. Thinking of Sarah’s father and the way he’d looked when he asked Jay to keep her safe, Jay could almost imagine Grant saving these things, tucking them away after he’d tucked his little girl into bed each night. Except that image clashed with the father Sarah told him about—the one who made her assemble other kids’ bikes but never bought her one of her own.

The same father who surprised her with a piano. The one who lied about paying her tuition. Jay felt more confused than ever. He wondered if Sarah had ever seen this file, then decided now wasn’t the time to show it to her. Her feelings about her dad were conflicted enough. And, whether Grant loved her or not, Jay was certain he was involved in something illegal. Above all else, that was what they needed to focus on.

Sarah backed out of the closet. “The only things that might be considered suspicious are his guns. And since he’s a police chief, I doubt those qualify.”

“Probably not,” Jay agreed. He stuck the file in the drawer and closed it. “Let’s lift the mattress.” He stood and walked over to the bed, holding up the mattress and then box spring while Sarah peered beneath.

“Nothing,” she said. “I’m afraid we’re wasting our time.”

Jay followed her out to the hall. He still felt certain there had to be
something
here. Her dad had lived here how long? “Is there a crawl space beneath the house—or an attic?”

“No crawl space, but the attic access is right here.” Sarah pointed to a rectangle in the ceiling. “To my knowledge, no one’s ever been up there.”

“It’s worth checking,” Jay said.

Sarah headed for her room. “I’ll get a chair.” She returned a moment later, and Jay stood on the chair, reaching up to move the panel.

Sarah wrinkled her nose. “Dust.”

“I’ll go up, so you don’t have to.” Jay put his hands on either side of the opening, tried to pull himself up and let out a yelp of pain.

“Your shoulder!” Sarah exclaimed.

“My shoulder,” Jay said, moaning. “I think I’m going to have to use a ladder.”

“We don’t have one,” Sarah said. “My dad isn’t much for home improvement projects—you probably noticed.”

He had. The outside of the house was a mess, with sagging rain gutters, peeling shingles, and faded paint. Inside wasn’t much better.

“Just a minute.” Sarah disappeared, returning a few minutes later with a flashlight. “I’ll go up if you’ll help me.”

“What about the dust?”

She shrugged. “I’ll change later. I have a feeling we should check this out.” She smiled. “Maybe your Scottish intuition is starting to kick in.”

“Step on the chair and then my shoulder—the good one.”

Sarah followed his instructions and climbed up easily.

“See anything?” Jay asked.

“Boxes and baby furniture,” she said, sounding surprised. “I had no idea any of this was here.”

Pay dirt,
Jay thought—or hoped. “Can you hand me a box?”

Sarah leaned forward, reaching across the dusty floor. She pulled the closest stack of boxes to the edge, handing one at a time to Jay. As soon as the last one was down, she lowered herself to the chair and sat on the floor, eagerly prying the first open.

* * *

“It’s three o’clock. We ought to get going.” Jay raised his arms overhead, carefully stretching his aching muscles. Driving so long, plus moving the boxes up and down, had his shoulder hurting again. “We need to clean up this mess, and I want to be long gone before your dad gets home.”

“We will be.” Sarah didn’t look up, but continued turning pages of the scrapbook in her lap. “Look at this.” She turned the book so Jay could see. “My mom must have been pregnant with me.”

Jay looked at the faded picture and the woman who looked much like Sarah. Remembering how he’d felt when his mother first showed up in his life, he understood Sarah’s feelings. Everyone needed a mother. He hurt for Sarah, knowing hers had let her down.

“We need to go,” Jay said gently, closing the book. “Someday we’ll come back and get all this.”

“I wish we could take it now.”

He shook his head. “Too risky.”

Sighing, Sarah put the book back into the box it came from. “Did we look through them all?”

“I think so,” Jay said.

“One last look,” Sarah said. “I’ll be fast, I promise.”

Jay followed her into the hall, standing beside the chair so she could climb up again. When she sat in the opening, he handed the boxes up to her.

“I’ll be right back.” She turned on the flashlight and crawled away.

Jay walked through the bedrooms again, making sure nothing looked disturbed. They’d been careful to put things back as they were, and, not wanting to alert Grant that someone had been in the house, they’d decided against eating here too—not that there was much in the way of food in the kitchen anyway.

Sarah still had the spare key in her pocket, and Jay planned to have her keep it when they left. Though they’d decided to call Kirk and then head to Worcester for the night, he knew it was a possibility they’d need to sneak back in the house another time.

“Sarah.” He called a reminder for her to hurry, and walked into the living room. Outside a car door slammed. Rushing to the front window Jay peered through one of the bent blinds. A police cruiser was parked out front. Sarah’s father walked toward the mailbox at the curb.

“He’s home!” Jay raced back to the hall. “Your dad’s here.” He climbed up on the chair. Sarah scooted over to the edge of the opening, a manila envelope clutched in her hand, panic on her face.

“He’s early. I’m sorry.” She leaned forward. “Move, and I’ll jump down.”

“There’s no time,” Jay said. The only two outside doors—in the living room and kitchen—were at the front of the house, and all the windows had bars. There was no way they could leave without her father seeing them.

“I’ll distract him,” Sarah said. “You hide in my room and—”

Jay reached up, pulling her face to his and kissing her. “No. If your dad finds you . . .” He didn’t want to say it, didn’t need to. How many attempts had already been made on her life?