Maternal Harbor (31 page)

The Space Needle towered behind Bryan.  To his left, hundreds of moored sailboats bobbed at every view of Puget Sound.  Their bare, white masts pointed heavenward, petitioning for sure winds and clear skies.

And that Teagan would be all right.  Bryan wiped the palm of his right hand on his jeans, then rubbed his thumb across his fingers, a nervous habit, checking for leftover moisture.  His hands sweated under stress.  Why was unknown.  Maybe to remind him to remain sensitive, some decisions could not be guessed at, like now.  He had to be swift and sure to locate Teagan.

After Ballard Bridge, he was pretty sure 15th Avenue was the most direct artery to 85th Street.  The lush profusion of trees and bushes surprised him.  He’d forgotten their density.  By the time he reached Holman Road, his memory took over and he drove to 104th Street without a wrong turn.

He followed the street until he came to Alness’s block and pulled over at the corner.  A few autos were parked in front of a brick ranch-style home on the otherwise empty street.  He checked the numbers on the nearest house and counted down.  The brick should be the right one.  Teagan would be hiding somewhere nearby, waiting for Erica to come for Levi.  It was risky, but she’d be here somewhere.  He really couldn’t blame her for not trusting the police to handle Erica.  He didn’t either.

No sign of the Jeep.  He drove down the alley behind Alness’s house.  Nothing.  He drove back around and noticed a
For Sale
sign in the front yard of a split-level across the street on the far corner.  He studied the front window.  Maybe?  Could she see him?  He hoped so.  He was here and she better get used to it.  He hung a left and circled the block, coming up the alley from the opposite direction.  Yes!  His Jeep hid in the last carport.

Drained with relief, he slipped up to the driver’s side.  The Mauser lay on the front floorboard beneath his grandmother’s jacket.  Puzzled that she hadn’t armed herself, Bryan sauntered to the house, whistling.  No sense in frightening her.  Shards of broken windowpane sprinkled the floor.  He sidestepped them and softly called, “Teagan.”  He called twice more.

“Stop right there,” Teagan said.  Double-handed, she pointed a chrome revolver at him.  Dark circles hollowed her eyes and hardness tightened her chin.  She wore the same white T-shirt, but the green plaid shirt was tied around her waist.  Her jeans were a size too big.

Bryan didn’t move.  “It’s me, Teagan.”

She waved the pistol at him.  “Turn around and go back to Montana.” 

“
Point that at the floor!”

“
You turned in the babies!”

“
The sheriff came to the cabin and took them.”

“
Liar, I left no trail.”

“
You can’t honestly believe that.  All the cops had to do was check your past.  I’m part of it.  They had Grandma’s address in no time.”

“
Part of my past
says it all.  Keep it that way.”  Again, Teagan pointed the gun at the door.  “I don’t know how you found me.”

“
You did what I would’ve.  And how can you watch for Erica and keep pointing that gun at me?”

Her determination faltered.  The break in her resolve bared the soul of a desperate mother.  She was capable of anything.

“For God’s sake,” he said firmly.  “Lower the damned pistol.  I only want to help.”

She spun, strode back to the front of the house and dropped to the floor near the picture window, focusing on the house across the street, pistol on the floor by her knee.  She hunched, legs crossed Indian style, spine sharply outlined under her T-shirt; her hair, a mass of tangled reddish curls.  Her thumbs twitched nervously against her thighs in a rhythm –
come on, come on
.  He couldn’t see her features, but knew they were hard like granite.

He wanted to drop beside her, but held back unsure of the reaction.

She didn’t look at him when she spoke, “The water’s connected in the bathroom if you need it.”

“
Teagan, we’d better call the police.”

She moved only enough to look up.  “Just so we get this straight.  No one, I don’t care who, gets between me and my Charlie.”

“Detective Lute has a policeman guarding your baby at a foster home.”

“
Did you get the address?”

“
No.”  He felt like the idiot she thought he was.

Teagan watched Bryan’s expression sadden with his inadequacy, watched him turn and walk down the hall.  She scrubbed a hand across her mouth, deliberately slid fingers down her chin, dropped her hand into her lap, and sat squinting though the window, shaking her head.  She wanted to knock him over and stomp on him for giving up Charlie, yet the longing to curl up in his arms, bury her face, and let him take over was undeniable.  She blinked and strained to see the alley.  Nothing, but she could’ve sworn there had been movement.  Damn him, she needed to stay focused.

His strong, sure steps returned down the hall.  He would help.  Did she dare rely on the man who broke her heart?  Yes, she would do anything for Charlie.

Bryan knelt beside her, close but not touching.  Unshaven, eyes bloodshot, rumpled.  He was damned tired, same as she was.  She detected concern in the set of his mouth and the tilt of his head.  “How is Fiona?” she asked softly.

“She’s very pale and tired, talking about a nursing home.”

“
I hate that.”

“
So do I.  For some reason, she’s disgusted with me.”  His eyes saddened, same as a puzzled boy who couldn’t understand why he was yelled at.

Teagan’s cheeks grew hot.  “How can you be so flippin’ dense?”

“Dense?”

“
Fiona is upset because you turn your back on everything that matters.”

“
What?”

“
First you turned away from becoming a teacher because you were afraid to face students day in and day out.  Afraid you couldn’t measure up.  The same thing happened with me.  As soon as we ran into a real problem, you took the easy way out.  Instead of tackling our separation, you married someone else, for God’s sake.  Apparently you didn’t stick around long enough to work out that relationship either.”

“
Now just a minute.  She divorced me!”

Teagan digested that, but let it go for now.  “You even abandoned Fiona sick in bed.”  She expected him to be angry, to defend himself with cutting words, but he said nothing.

“You should’ve stayed with her,” she added.

“
And shouldn’t you be watching that house?” 

The house across the street blurred.  Teagan blinked several times.  She would not cry, not in front of him.  A brief thought wormed beneath her disgust – she was used to coping alone, had grown to prefer it.  Is that why his presence upset her so?

Bryan spoke behind her, “Teagan, this isn’t the time to set the record straight, but you’re at fault, too.  In fact, your lack of trust is what broke us.  We weren’t enough.  You had to have your independence.  Not relying on anyone is an obsession.  What hurt you that much?” 

“
I’m watching a house, remember?”

Some moments passed before Bryan cleared his throat and said, “We have to warn the Johnsons about Erica.”

“Levi will draw her.  It’s the only way to find Jimmy and she’ll know where Charlie is.”  Teagan again wiped her hand across her mouth, only this time it was pensive instead of agitated.  “When I first knelt by this window, I wanted to dash across the street and join forces with Florene, but one thought stopped me.  Only by following Erica will I find the boys.”

“
Lute knows about Erica now.  I was with him when Duffy reported Jimmy missing.”

“
I can’t trust anyone but myself.”

“
We’re putting Levi at risk.  Can you choose between him and Charlie?”

“
I gotta do what I gotta do.  You don’t like it, the door’s that way.”  She pointed with her thumb and focused outside again.

A squad car entered the block, drove slowly up it, and parked near Alness’s.  The officer got out and went to the door.  He disappeared inside.

“Looks like the Marines have landed,” Bryan said.

“
He’ll scare Erica off.”

“
It’s time to let the police do their job.”

“
Shut up!  I’ve have to think!”

Erica Thorburn waited miserable minutes in the parking area of Green Lake, leaning against the front fender of the Mercedes, watching pigeons beg food from a welfare mother and two snotty kids.  An old geezer ambled up a path and sprinkled popcorn for the greedy, wretched birds that defiled the world with their leavings.  She glanced at her Timex.  Ten after one already.  Fatty’s niece better show.

At the bottom of the surrounding knolls, a green algae-rimed lake looked disgusting.  Scattered wooden tables nestled under bald cypress, weeping poplars, and red maples.  Snickering girls and hormonal couples sat at or sprawled on the tables.

A bench, set apart near overgrown bushes, caught Erica’s attention.  A dainty girl dangled a ribbon for a tabby kitten to swat while her mother watched over them.  Erica’s eyes followed the paws.  The scene wavered, and she saw herself playing with Tabitha.

Her mother’s words still rang clearly.  “It’s a good thing you heard the kitten.”

“
Will Daddy let me keep it?”

“
I just climbed into a garbage bin to get her and that’s the end of it.”

Mother
was
boss.  Daddy thought he was, but secrets were kept from Daddy, but Erica knew.  Of course, the kitten was hers to keep.  Power swelled in her childish heart.

The same pride now stirred in Erica.  “Very soon, I’ll pass that power to Derek.”  She pulled her gaze from the kitten.

Near the polluted lake, a couple cleared away their lunch.  The man crumpled a brown paper sack and tossed it at a refuse can.  As it floated through the air, Erica saw it change to black and rubbery with a zipper – a bag big enough for Mother.

Erica squeezed her eyes shut, willing the image to fade, trying to keep control, but her mind transported back to that rainy night seventeen years ago.  She’d been patrolling near Newton Park for keggers when a call came over her high-band radio that a body was caught below some pilings in Lake Union.  She flipped on her overheads and pressed hard to be first on the personal injury scene.  After dawdling once, she would never be ribbed again.  This time she was out of her vehicle and running yellow tape around the area before the coroner’s van screeched to a stop, lights flashing and siren howling.  The crew gave her thumbs up, and she stood with her arms crossed waiting instructions when the brass arrived.

Captain Erik Thorburn approached, tall and splendid in his police blues, not a wrinkle or flattened crease.  His tanned skin contrasted sharply with sky blue eyes and silver hair.  “What do we have?” he asked his daughter without looking at her.

“
Floater stuck in the pilings, Sir.  They’re about to bring him up, Sir.”

“
Him?  Identity known already?”

“
My mistake, Sir.  Nothing is known yet.”

Her father stepped out onto the pier as the Medic One boys hoisted the water-streaming body from the lake and rolled it over.  He nodded and said something to the assistant coroner.  He stoically brushed by Erica without a word, eyes glazed in pure anger.  And something more.

“What?” she cried

His pace quickened and his voice drifted over his shoulder, “The bitch finally drowned herself.”

Speechless, Erica stared at the retreating back.  Mother?  It can’t be.  She mashed down fear and moved out onto the pier, shoulders back, chin up, eyes focused on the men surrounding the corpse.

A white nylon slip had sucked to the clammy, cold body.  The ghostly face wasn’t Mother.

What the hell was Father talking about?

Erica peered closer.  Water dripped from the bleached hair and clung to blackened lashes.  Droplets ran down concave cheeks to the purplish shrunken lips.  The flattened, blue-veined breasts visible under the wet slip belonged to someone else.  She bent and checked a spot below the right collarbone – a tiny splotched birthmark.

And Erica knew.

Mother ended it in the water, alone and cold.  The crew unrolled a body bag.  They zipped Mother inside – the bag fit fine.

A motor, loud and uneven, interrupted Erica’s uncontrolled flashback.  She staggered; confused that she was no longer beside the Mercedes, but standing in marshy cattails near the water.  She rushed back up the incline as a rattletrap Nissan jerked to a halt in the parking area.

A maroon-haired girl dressed in tight leather slithered out and slammed the door shut.  She ambled up to Erica and held out an ignition key.

Erica plucked it from the black-painted nails and dropped the Mercedes keys into the outstretched palm.

“
Title.”

Erica handed it over.

The girl beamed and strutted to the luxury auto.

Erica didn’t waste time asking for papers.  She grabbed her gym bag from the bench, jumped into the rust and tan Nissan.  She hung onto the vibrating steering wheel for the time-devouring miles to Charlie.

Charlie must be in the last house
.

“
I know, Iska, I know.”

Squad car
!

Erica’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel, and she squinted, trying to make out the identification number on the car parked in the driveway.  It belonged to Renzo, a rookie out of North Precinct.  She’d run into him a couple of times, and he was as green as they came.  Erica relaxed.  The simple plan of knocking on the door and removing Charlie wasn’t ruined.

She parked around the corner and slipped out of the Nissan.  No sign of Renzo.  Erica smiled.  He must be inside.  “Iska, this will be a piece of cake.”

Carrying the Glock low and a little behind, she boldly stalked to the back door and checked through the kitchen window.  Nothing.  The doorknob didn’t budge.  The lock was a simple punch and turn.  Hoping a dead bolt wasn’t set, she holstered the Glock and slipped a credit card between doorjamb and door until the lock popped open.  She turned the knob, pulled her gun, and stole inside.

Laughter carried from another room.  Stupid kids.  Everything a joke.  She flattened against a wall, edged to the doorway, and peeked.  Renzo filled a small wingback chair, appearing strong and virile in blue uniform, a goofy grin pasted on a swarthy face.  Cathy was pouring him a glass of iced tea.  Her fawn hair was caught up in a twist and her face alive with pleasure.

Erica almost laughed when she stepped into view with the Glock aimed at Renzo.  “Close your mouths.  I have no reason to harm either of you, but will if you don’t do exactly as told.”

The pitcher slipped from Cathy’s hand and crashed to the floor, splashing tea onto her sandals and the hem of her long denim jumper.  Lemon slices and ice cubes spread across the rose carpet, a real mess that none of them paid attention to; all eyes were glued on the handgun.

Renzo jumped up.  “I know you.  You’re out of West Precinct.  You’re Thorburn!”

Erica waggled the Glock at him.  “Stand very still.  I know how to miss body armor.”

Renzo stiffened.  “What the hell do you want?”

“Very carefully put your weapon on the floor.”

He reached too fast for his sidearm, and Erica zeroed the 9mm’s barrel between his eyes.  “Go ahead.”

His hands dropped limply to his sides.  “The whole department is looking for you.”

“
Renzo, if you want to live, drop your weapon with your left hand.”

Hand shaking, eyes glaring, he pulled his 9mm, laid it on the floor, and slowly straightened back up.

I should just pull the trigger, she thought, and end his miserable, cowardly, useless life.  The SPD patch on his arm stopped her.  “Step back.  More!  Now, put your hands behind your back.”

Renzo stiffened.  “Can’t do it.”

Erica was surprised at his show of backbone.  “I don’t have time for any of your shit.  Handcuff him, Cathy.”

Cathy didn’t move; chalky face remained blank.

“Cathy!”

The girl stumbled, but caught her balance.  “What!”

“Handcuffs!”

Cathy lurched to Renzo and pulled the cuffs from his duty belt.  He jerked his hands away, looking like a wrathful, cornered dog; one that Erica didn’t want to have to shoot.  She pointed the Glock directly at Cathy’s head.  “You want her to die?  One more second, she’s dead.”

He grudgingly placed his hands behind his back, and Cathy snapped the cuffs around his wrists.

“
Now slide his weapon over here with your toe.”

Cathy toe-pushed the 9mm and escaped backward a few steps.

Erica stuffed the handgun into her belt and scanned the room.  “Where is a closet with a lock?”

“
I don’t know,” Cathy gasped.

“
Think!”

“
Who the hell locks closets?”  Cathy rapidly tapped her fingers on her temples.  “Oh God.  Off the kitchen.  A big storage cupboard, someone put a lock on it, probably used to lock up food from kids.  I’d never do that . . .” Her rambling halted when she met Erica’s eyes.

“
Renzo, I shouldn’t have to spell it out for you.”  He didn’t move.  “It’s either that or your left eye.”  He flinched, but obeyed.

Erica grabbed Cathy and shoved her into the room behind him.  On the far side of the cupboards, an unlocked padlock hooked through a clasp on a wide white door.  “Open it.”

Cathy did and stood holding the padlock and the door open.  The deep storage shelves were crammed with stuff, but the bottom one was big enough for Renzo to curl up on.

“
There isn’t room,” Cathy said.

“
Empty the bottom shelf.”

Cathy pulled a suitcase free and tossed it on the other side of Renzo.  Several cartons and an electric fan followed.  She stepped back, tears leaking down cheeks, hiccupping every few seconds.

“Curl up on a shelf, facing the door,” Erica ordered Renzo.  “I won’t say it again.”

He shot a hateful look, but backed up to the shelf, bent over and tucked himself into it.  With the door shut, he would be sandwiched tightly and unable to move.

“Lock it.”

Cathy closed the pantry door and hooked the padlock in place, but her shaking hands couldn’t shove the lock together.

Erica swore.  “Do you want to die?”

Cathy inhaled a disgusting snivel and fought with the padlock.  When the shackle clicked into place, her hands dropped away.  She leaned against the door like a limp rag.

“Where’s Charlie?”  Erica asked softly.

Cathy gasped.  “Shame on you!  You’ll burn in hellfire.”

Erica slapped her.

Cathy scurried down a hallway, holding a reddening cheek.

Glock aimed dead-center at Cathy’s spine, Erica followed closely.

The fragrance of baby powder hung in the darkened room.  Light filtered through beige blinds.  A crib was in the right-hand corner.  Charlie’s deep blue eyes fought to focus on a dangling mobile.

Precious, so precious
.

“
Get into the closet.  Cathy, move.”

“
Don’t hurt me!”

Erica shoved her inside.

Cathy fell, clothes and hangers spilling over and around her.  She screamed.  A bullet exploded into her knee.

Charlie wailed.

“Cathy, I didn’t want to hurt you but I couldn’t let you phone the police the minute I leave.”  Erica shut the closet door, muffling Cathy’s screaming and shoved a dresser in front of it.

She crossed to Charlie who struggled for breath between sobs.  “Hush, hush, little boy.  Everything is all right now.”  She laid her Glock in the crib and picked him up too fast.  He spit up all over her shoulder.  Erica stared at the milky slime, nose wrinkled, phlegm clogging her throat.  She snatched a baby wipe and smeared the spittle worse.  She tossed it, transferred Charlie to the crook of her left arm, grabbed the Glock, dashed down the hall, and through the kitchen.

Renzo possessed the good sense to be very quiet, but he’d try to break the door out as soon as she left.  Erica wasn’t worried.  By the time he got free and called in, she’d have Levi and be lost in traffic.  The Nissan disguised her perfectly.  Fatty had done a good job, might’ve saved his fat hide.

She feasted on the sight of Charlie wrapped in a receiving blanket lying on the seat next to her leg.  His breathing was still ragged, but the crying stopped as soon as the car started.  “You’re a good boy, but you gotta quit puking formula.”  She pulled her sleeve enough to loosen the wet fabric from her shoulder.  “I forgive you because we’re on our way to Dahlia Johnson’s house.  Wasn’t it lucky I overheard where Levi would be?”

By now, an officer would be with the Johnson’s too.  She glanced at the gym bag on the other side of Charlie.

She was prepared.