Kidnapped (4 page)

Luke parked behind one of the cop cars crowding the lot.

Jackie Milner stood by the open doorway to room 15, talking with Taylor Marsh, a detective from the state homicide division, flipping pages in her notebook as she wrote down what he said. A body was coming out of the room in a black bag on a stretcher, moved by two men from the coroner's office.

Frank Hardin had a preference for interstate interchanges, and this hotel fit the sort of place he might choose to stay. Luke picked up the folder of photos and got out of the car. He walked across the white gravel lot to join them. “Sorry to be late, I got held up by a call as I was walking out the door. Hello, Marsh.”

“Falcon.” Taylor offered his hand. “Nothing breaks for a year on this case, and now we're deep into it again. I hope you didn't have plans for the weekend.”

“Frank exists to mess up my dating life.” Luke's plans to get away early and meet Caroline for dinner were fading. Life kept intruding on his well-laid plans. “What do we have?”

“I agree it's probably Karen,” Jackie said. “Time of death is less than twenty-four hours ago; housekeeping found her. If she was our unnamed caller to the tip line, looking to cash in on the reward, Frank must have found out.”

Luke walked over to the body bag. An officer unzipped it and Luke didn't let himself react to the smell. The woman's neck was snapped. The photo on file was not very flattering, but it was enough to confirm visual ID. “Karen Iles, last known girlfriend of Frank Hardin. There are fingerprints in the file,” he agreed, passing over the folder to Taylor.

Luke waited until the body was loaded into the coroner's van before walking to the motel room to look at the crime scene.

The room was like many he had stayed in over the years. A queen-size bed, an age-worn dresser, two wall lamps, and a color TV clamped to the dresser. The heating and air-conditioning unit under the window was still on, the aged compressor rumbling. The room looked lived in with the old bedspread pushed to the floor, sacks of fast food piled by the overflowing trash can, spare change on the dresser, damp towels on the bathroom rack. “Talk me through what we know.”

Jackie pointed with her pen. “She was found on the floor beside the bed, resting on her side, no visible injuries beyond the broken neck.”

“No sign of defensive wounds?”

Jackie shook her head.

Luke looked at the makeup open on the dresser, the uncapped perfume bottle, a single high heel resting on the bed. He'd seen neat lipstick on her mouth. Karen must have been getting ready to go out for the evening when Frank snapped her neck and left her on the floor.

“The room was signed for under her name,” Jackie went on. “The car she listed is still in the lot—the blue Pontiac by the Dumpster. Her purse is here but the wallet and credit cards are missing. The coroner's guys are guessing time of death tentatively between six and nine last night; they'll get it narrowed down for us.”

Luke stepped out of the room to let the crime scene technicians going through Karen's belongings finish their work. “What else?”

“The clerk picked out Frank's photo as the man with Karen,” Jackie said. “They arrived together on the afternoon of August 17. No room-to-room calls, no indication they knew anyone else staying at the motel. No one heard loud voices or saw others coming or going from the room.” Jackie broke the seal on a bottle of cold water and took a long drink. “The last time anyone saw Frank around the motel was just after 10 p.m. yesterday. One of the guests reported seeing him get into the passenger side of a van.”

She pointed to the end of the parking lot. “The van was parked down by the Dumpster next to the Pontiac; the guest remembers its slot because he would have thrown away some empty liquor bottles but for having to pass by Frank. He says the van was light colored, white, maybe beige, a cargo or panel type without windows. He's certain there were no logos or writing on the side.”

“So someone picked Frank up. Do we know anyone in his circle of family or friends who drives a white van?” Luke asked.

Jackie flipped through her notes. “A friend has a black SUV, and there's a pickup truck registered to his father,” she said. “Nothing close to a light-colored van. Officers are interviewing the other guests to see if anyone else saw the van arrive or leave.”

Luke looked at Taylor. “Anything useful you can add about the van?”

“Statewide, none have been reported stolen in the last two weeks. I'm hoping the driver filled up at one of the gas stations at this interchange or the next ones along these interstates. There are only so many places to stop if he stayed on major roads. I've got officers getting whatever security tapes are available, but it may take a while. We'll have a lot of white vans to eliminate.”

Luke looked around the parking lot. “Frank knows that we keep track of his friends; he's been staying out of state for the last several months. He came back now for a reason. If he was on his way into Atlanta, why stay this far out of town for over a week?”

“He needs cash to stay on the run . . . He's hired muscle . . . He came back for a job in this area?” Jackie proposed.

“It fits his profile,” Luke agreed. “If he's been here over a week, there's a chance he's been out canvassing the location of his next job. A newspaper, a fast-food receipt—maybe he left us some marker so we can figure out which town he's been visiting along these interstates. We've got a lot of ground to cover.”

“I'm just surprised he didn't leave our phone number written on the mirror for the arriving cops like he did last time.”

“So am I. And I'm tired of being taunted by this guy.” Luke pulled out his keys. “I'll get the call center spun up and information out to the media on the van, Frank's and Karen's photos, and reminders about the existing reward. Half of the state is traveling this weekend. We need someone to spot him. If he's still in the area, he's got to be sleeping somewhere.”

Luke was tired of standing over Frank Hardin's victims. The man had to be stopped, and this time they might have a chance to catch him. It would mean Luke's weekend off would be spent working, but it couldn't be helped. The leads were hot and they had to be run to ground before Frank disappeared again.

Caroline was getting shortchanged again, and Benjamin would be disappointed when he missed the Braves game. Both reactions were coming and both were deserved; work's toll on his personal life was getting steep. But some cases had to be solved, no matter what the personal cost. This was one of them.

* * *

School would be dismissing early for the holiday weekend, and Caroline didn't even try to teach for the last half period. She needed a break as much as her students did. The crossword puzzle sketched on the board at the front of the classroom had the easy questions answered. “How about five down? Does anyone have an idea?” Caroline stepped back to study the list of questions. This was a hard puzzle.

Lynn raised her hand. “Maybe . . .
temperature
?”

Caroline counted the letters. “Beautiful job.” She filled in the letters. It was the first time Lynn had volunteered an answer today. She was a quiet student, but today was unusual. Something was bothering her, and Caroline still hadn't figured out what it was. Papers rustled behind her as students filled in five down on their copies of the puzzle.

The last bell of the day rang.

“Whoever finishes the puzzle gets an extra ten minutes of art time. Enjoy your long weekend.”

Her kids were already moving, backpacks straining with books, assignment folders, and gym shoes. The boy in the third row, fourth seat, didn't move with the others. Caroline set a three-by-five card on his desk and softly said, “Fifty times.” He tugged out a piece of paper and pen without debating the point. Detention had become almost routine for both Kevin and herself.

Caroline followed her students to the door. Lockers lined the hall, and the sixth graders from the next room dominated the hallway so that her kids disappeared into the crush of bodies. She smiled greetings to kids from last year and saw from the milling parents in the hallway that the third-grade class was not yet back from their half-day field trip.

Benjamin had told her all about the trip while he waited in her classroom this morning for the bus that would take them to the museum. He'd be back soon, overflowing with news of what he had seen.

Caroline turned back into her classroom, out of habit advancing the calendar page by the door, then switched the blue cards that gave the lunch choices to next week's menu. She straightened desks. In this small private Christian school she served as janitor for her own classroom.

She started updating the schedule on the sideboard that would run the class Tuesday. She assigned Lynn as the teacher's assistant so they would have a few minutes to talk.

Kevin slid out of his chair and brought her his paper. “I'm done.”

She took it and scanned the repeated sentence:
I'm a better man than I acted today.
“Your penmanship is improving.”

Kevin shrugged. “I need a new pen.”

“I can probably handle that for you. Do you have a ride, or can I give you a lift home?”

“I'm okay; football practice is this afternoon. Can I go now?”

“I want a story from you. Ten pages, as extra credit to make up for the science project you had problems with.”

He shifted on his feet. She knew his daddy would be on him about the science project and Kevin did too. Saving face still mattered. “Five pages,” Kevin countered.

“Seven.”

“Any story?”

“As long as it's written for me as the audience and involves some science fact you had to look up.”

He nodded and turned to get his backpack. “I'll bring it next week, Miss Carol.”

She smiled as he disappeared through the doorway, his backpack rubbing the floor. He liked creative writing, even if he was reluctant to admit it.

She looked around the empty desks, names and faces coming easily to mind, reviewing how the day had gone for each one of them. Her students were doing fine, even those like Kevin who forgot to pay attention when he should.
They've worked hard this week, Lord. Bring them safely back to school on Tuesday ready to learn.

She shut off the lights and locked her classroom, as relieved as her kids to be out at two for the Labor Day break. Driving into Atlanta to see the Braves' game Saturday had blossomed into a full weekend schedule. Caroline joined the flow of parents heading to the parking lot to meet the arriving bus.

She set her briefcase on the bench and leaned against the light pole taped with flyers for the upcoming school band concert. Benjamin finally appeared at the top of the bus steps. He flew off the bus and ran toward her, his school uniform of black jeans and blue shirt looking broken in with dirt and sweat, his feet still in the black gym shoes he loved and had conveniently “forgotten” to change this morning. A frayed backpack strap fluttered behind him, the heavy canvas blue backpack already showing some wear.

Caroline straightened and he collided with her in one of his super hugs—his hands on her shoulders and his shoes stepping up on hers as she balanced for them both. They had been full hugs when he was younger; now the super hugs were more a teasing greeting so he wouldn't be embarrassed when his friends saw, but she loved them just the same.

“We're going?” Benjamin asked, catching the loop of his backpack to lug it in one hand.

“I'll drop you off at the clinic so you can ride home with your mom and help her finish packing, then you'll be on your way to Atlanta.” She smiled at his whoop of joy. “Your daddy will drive in when he finishes a house inspection. I'm going in early so I can get my schoolwork done before the fun starts. I told your mom we should find a movie for tonight.”

Benjamin walked backward on the sidewalk. “Animated?”

“Sure.”

* * *

Caroline parked beside her sister's car at the medical clinic and followed Benjamin inside. Sharon's office at the back of the clinic was a comfortable place to come and talk; the conversations here were as helpful to Sharon's patients as what went on in the exam rooms.

Caroline paused at the side table dominated by a huge bouquet of roses and carefully tipped one of the perfect blooms to smell the rich fragrance. Three dozen bright red roses among a bed of greenery—Mark was spoiling her sister.

The newspaper on the coffee table was folded back to the movies showing this weekend. Caroline picked it up and scanned their options, glancing up to smile as Sharon came through the door slipping a prescription pad into the pocket of her white lab coat. “Busy day?”

“Never-ending.”

Caroline set down the newspaper and nodded to the receptionist area. “Ben spotted the new video game in the waiting room. The receptionist promised to keep an eye on him.”

“I'm running a few minutes late, so that's perfect. Thanks for bringing him over. You have keys to the condo?”

“Mark gave me a set.” Caroline opened her purse to double-check.

Sharon leaned against her desk. “I talked to Luke last night. He said he was joining us this weekend.”

Caroline's hand slowed as she searched for her keys. She glanced up. “He's going to try. Just don't push, Sharon.” Luke had been distant the last evening they had shared together, not wanting to talk about the work that occupied his thoughts, and she'd learned she didn't handle being shut out well. They needed time to reconnect, not dodge leading questions from family. “I'll start dinner when I get to town, something that will stay hot so we can eat when everyone arrives.”

“I promise not to meddle, at least not too much. Drive careful.”

“I will.” Sharon's phone rang. Caroline waved good-bye and walked through the clinic, relieved to be away, pausing briefly in the waiting room to say farewell to Benjamin. She walked out to her car.