Chained Guilt (Hidden Guilt (Detective Series) Book 1) (5 page)

              “I will,” I told Miranda. “I just have to wind down first. Last night was extremely difficult, and this new case could be troublesome for us. I don’t know how we earned it, but it seems we’ve got a serial killer on our hands.” I flipped through the channels. “And here’s another one targeting me, calling me out.”

              As I spoke, Miranda, in her ever-so-seductive way, snuggled closer.  

              “This certainly won’t help me fall asleep,” I whispered in her ear as she perched on top of me, her breasts at eye level.

              “I know; blondes drive you wild.”

              Then she kissed me.

              “Mommy! Mommy!” A voice squeaked as the door flew open. 

              “Party’s over,” I mumbled as Miranda rolled off me and reached for her daughter.

              “Hey, Karen, sweetie,” Miranda said, pulling the frightened child into our bed. ”Time to get up anyway.” She reached for her dressing gown. “Why don’t you spend a few minutes with your father while Mommy makes you something to eat?”

              “Okay, Mommy.”

              “Don’t leave,” I whined as Miranda walked away. She turned in the doorway and smiled seductively. I took it as a raincheck—one I definitely intended to cash in soon.

              I immediately turned my attention to my little angel. I never thought I would love being a parent as much as I did. I was constantly amazed by Karen. It seemed there was nothing she couldn’t do, no task too big or too difficult for her to tackle. She loved gymnastics and promised to be an Olympian one day. She was good at everything she put her little hands on. She had even mentioned dabbling in softball. Basketball, too.

              “How was work, Daddy?”

              “Work was work, sugar, nothing too exciting,” I told her.

              “Did you get to chase anybody last night?”

              “Nope. It was actually quite boring last night.”

              “Daddy, can you tell me an old army story?”

              “Well, honey, I think I’ve told you most of them already. Let’s see . . . I probably can come up with one more.”

              “Karen, honey, come on down,” Miranda called from the kitchen.

              “I love you, Daddy,” Karen said, scrambling off the bed. “You can think about it and tell me your story later.”

              “I love you too, honey.” I smiled. “Go eat and then get dressed for school. I promise I’ll tell you that story later.”

              I watched as my little one scampered out of the room. Time to wake my other sleeping beauty.  I sighed as I climbed back out of bed and made my way down the hallway in my robe. I opened Hilary’s door to find her out like a light, as was the norm. I walked over to the stereo system, and reached to turn it off.

              “Don’t touch it, Dad,” she murmured, eyes still closed.

              Like most teenagers, music was a big part of Hilary’s life. Music and boys and not much else. We had become “old” and “out of touch.” All she really wanted to do was hang out with friends. The radio, although on low, was somewhat of a distraction to me.

              “Time to get up, Hil.”

              “Dad, I’m not a kid anymore,” she muttered. “I know I have to get up and go to school. I know I need to clean my room. I know I need to make good—”

              “Whoa! Easy, tiger. I’m just trying to get you up. We’ll deal with the other stuff later. Let’s take it slow here.”

              Hilary, as she managed to do at least three out of five school days each week, had overslept. She was fifteen years old now and really beginning to come into her own. I sighed and moved to her window, opening the blinds.

              She moaned. “Why did you have to open the blinds?”

              “I open them every day, Hil. Nothing new. Rise and shine, kiddo.” I said as I walked out of her room.

              The summer before, Miranda and Karen and I had taken a family vacation. Hilary had some school and club sports obligations and was given the option to stay behind. While we were gone, some of her friends decided to throw a house party and convinced Hilary we would never find out. We probably wouldn’t have, except for the fact that the police were called to a fellow officer’s residence. My residence.

              After they arrived, alcohol was found, as were a few drugs. Weed mostly, nothing major, but drugs nonetheless. Arrests were made and MIP citations were handed out. I caught hell from my fellow officers. Jokes mostly, but I didn’t find them funny at all. No one likes being the butt of a joke.

              Our relationship suffered a severe strain because of the party and had never fully recovered. Hilary swore she’d learned her lesson. They were just having fun, she’d said at the time, so what was the big deal? I countered with a litany of complaints: how she couldn’t even wake up on time for school, wouldn’t clean her room, often missed curfew, and a host of other things.  I was a little harsh at times, maybe, but I was right. I didn’t like where our relationship was at the moment, but it seemed every attempt I made to make it better only made it worse.

3

As I headed downstairs, I heard Miranda and Karen discussing the pros and cons of packing a lunch for school. Karen, as she did every day, sped through her bowl of Captain Crunch, rushed upstairs to throw on her school clothes, and flopped on the couch to watch
Dora the Explorer
. I sat at the kitchen table, staring aimlessly out the window, trying to figure out how I was going to catch the maniac. The case consumed my thoughts.

              “I thought you were turning in, David.” Miranda said.

              “Yeah, I am soon. Just trying to put all this stuff together, that’s all.”

              I had not been fully honest with Karen earlier when she’d asked how my night went. That bothered me too. I was not about to tell my five-year-old I’d discovered the body of an eight-year-old girl lying naked in a field near the bridge. Or that she had the trauma signs of rape. Or any of the other gruesome details. I didn’t like to lie to my family, but at the time I felt it was the best move.

              This was certainly not the first dead child I’d seen on the job, but, for some reason, this one was different. It really struck a chord in me, as had this killer. He—or she—was probably out there right now watching me, planning and plotting.

              “David.” Miranda sat down next to me. “I am sorry. You have a tough job, and you do it well. I definitely know I couldn’t handle it. Why don’t you try to get some rest? You’ll never be able to figure out why people behave the way they do. Most of the time, the criminals can’t even explain it themselves. You, of all people, should know that.”

              “I have to figure out who this guy is and why he’s messing with me. This asshole has made it personal—more personal than other perps in the past.”

              I reached for my wife and held her in my arms for a long time. Then I quietly told her what I’d found the night before, which also explained my despondence. Miranda was deeply saddened and troubled by the news. We both looked over at our little girl, probably thinking the same thing.

              “If that ever happened to us . . .” She couldn’t bear to say the words.

              It had already struck way too close to home.

              “Ohhh! Mommy and Daddy are kissing,” Karen said with a laugh as she stared at us.

              “Ewww. Totally gross.” Hilary echoed the sentiment as she came down the stairs.

              “We’re not kissing, you clowns,” I said. “This is kissing.” With that, I gave my wife a heartfelt kiss right on the chops. Then I got up from the table and hugged the girls. Well, I hugged Karen and tried to hug Hilary, who brushed me aside. Then I headed upstairs to get some sleep. I thought about how much I loved my family, and how I’d almost lost one of them. Sleep? Not likely, but I had to try.

4

Miranda hurried the girls to gather their belongings for school. She gave a slow-moving Karen a nudge toward the door and called for Hilary to meet them at the car. Three minutes later, Hilary emerged from the house, unconcerned that they were running late. Miranda sighed.

              “Come on, Hil, hurry up. I have to get down to the station.”

              Being in the news business, Miranda often listened to news radio. She clicked it on.

              “Last night the body of an eight-year-old girl was discovered in a field near the Sam Houston Bridge. The remains of the body have yet to be—”

              “Mommy, Daddy said last night was boring and nothing happened,” Karen said from the backseat. 

              Miranda turned down the radio. “Well, sweetie, maybe your dad didn’t respond to this case last night,” she said as Hilary slid into the front passenger seat, a nasty scowl on her face.

              “Mommy, who is picking me up from school today?” Karen asked.

              Miranda had been working on a special for the past few months, and her schedule had been erratic. She felt relieved it was nearing completion. “I’m not sure, dear, but Mommy may have to work late the next few nights. I have a big project at work and I have to finish it by the end of this week.”

              “Aw, man! I like it better when you pick me up.”

              “I’ll try my best,” Miranda promised.

              The rest of the journey passed peacefully. She navigated through the crowded elementary school parking lot and pulled in beside the curb.

              “All right, little lady. We’re here. The mommy train is ready to unload.”

              “Whatever,” Hilary grumbled as she rolled her eyes. “Mommy train?”

              Miranda wished Karen a good day and watched as she darted off into the crowd.

              “So why did you guys lie to her, Mom?” 

              Miranda took a deep breath as she navigated her way out of the parking lot. “I think you already know the answer to that question, Hilary.”

              “Yeah, I do, Mom. It’s because you guys always baby her.”

              “One day, Hilary, you’ll have kids, and it will be your job to protect them. Would it have made you feel better if I had told her the person who killed that little girl was probably the same one who tried to take her in Florida? Or could be the same person? Or that she could be next?”

              Hilary heaved a heavy sigh. “Never having kids, so I won’t have to protect anyone but me.”

              “Maybe that’s true, but you might change your mind one day.”

              “So what little white lies are you and Dad telling me?” she said in a raised voice.

              “Am I adopted? Is Karen?”

              “That’s enough, young lady!” Miranda frowned, glancing at her daughter. “Your dad and I protect you in other ways. You’re growing into adulthood, Hilary, and your father and I don’t need to protect you in the same way we do your little sister. I hope you can understand and appreciate that.”

              Hilary rolled her eyes.

              The car pulled into the high school parking lot, but Miranda had barely crept to a stop at the curb before Hilary flung open the door and dashed out of the car. She slammed the door behind her and flounced away without a backward glance.

              “God, why does this have to be so hard?” Miranda muttered. 

5

Miranda walked through the busy newsroom and headed toward her office. Everything was always so crazy, especially the final thirty minutes before a broadcast. Cameramen, audio crew, anchors, producers—everyone scrambling to make sure their part of the process was ready to go. It was controlled chaos, and she loved every minute of it.

              After the newscast, Miranda hurried back to her office to work on cutting and editing footage for her special. She had done a good job keeping the details of the program under wraps. It was a huge story that would probably get a few people fired and might even result in jail time for some of them.  She focused on her task until she heard her cell phone ringing in her purse. She grabbed for her phone and eyed the display.

              “David? You’re supposed to be asleep.”

              “I was . . . for a while. You know I only need four to five hours of sleep, and I’m ready to go.”   He paused. “Are you working late tonight?”

              “Yeah, I am, honey.” She sighed. “I’m almost finished with this special.”

              “You do remember the early morning tease you gave me, right?”

              She laughed. “Don’t try to guilt me.”

              “Why don’t you come home for lunch today?”

              Miranda heard the grin in his voice, and without much hesitance, she agreed.

The kids were at school for several more hours, and she and David would have the entire house to themselves. She quickly shut down her computer and hurried out of the station.

**

              Twenty minutes later, Miranda was home, shedding clothes as she headed up the staircase. I watched from the landing with a pleased smile. After our lovemaking session, we lay in bed in silence for a long time.

              “How did I get so lucky?” I finally said, my thumb caressing her shoulder as she lay by my side, my arm wrapped around her. Her response was one I hardly expected, but given her quick-wittedness, it didn’t surprise me.

              “I don’t know, David,” she whispered. “I’ve been asking myself the same question. How did you get so darn lucky?”

              We laughed as we looked into each other’s eyes. Then I kissed her again.

              “Okay, Casanova,” she said, pulling away. “Enough already. I have to go back to work.”

She smiled at me as she slipped from the bed. “I’m almost finished with the story I’ve been working on. I’m so close, but I need to tell you . . . well, I’ve asked a lot of questions and probably raised a lot of suspicion. You think anyone would ever . . . you know . . . try to come after me? Do people do that?”

              “Hey, don’t talk like that,” I said. “You’re doing your job. Reporters cover cases like this all the time. Why should this one be any different?”

              “I guess you’re right, but you know I’m a scaredy-cat.” She leaned down to kiss me. “That’s why I got you to protect me, Officer Porter.”

              “Well, at least people will finally know John Carter is a piece of shit when this is all said and done,” I said. “I’ve been telling anyone who’d listen, but no one gave me the time of day. Maybe now they’ll agree with me. You gonna give me any idea what might be brought to light? A hint? A clue? Anything?”

              “Now tell me how you really feel!” She laughed. “But yes, you’ll find out the dirty details with the rest of the world, and our Mayor, Mr. Carter, and his cronies will have lots of questions to answer.”

              “Good! He’s a snake. What you do in the dark always comes to light. I believe that.”

              “Soon enough, my dear. Soon enough.”

              I admired her well-toned backside as she walked to the closet to grab a new outfit. She glanced over her shoulder at me.

              “Stop ogling. Can you get Karen from school today?”

              I told her it would be no problem. She thanked me and told me not to wait up for her.

              “Don’t be too late,” I said. “I worry, you know.” I grinned. “Maybe we can go another round tonight.”

              “If I’m later than nine o’clock, I’ll call you. And we’ll see about that other round.”

              Miranda kissed me one last time and told me to go back to sleep. I listened as she headed downstairs and out the door. I lay there for a while, thinking about what she’d said.  I hadn’t really given much thought to her story before, but now I wondered exactly what she’d been working on and what scandal, or scandals, her exposé would uncover.