Sterling's Reasons (24 page)
“He’s on vacation somewhere,” he stated flatly, and raised his hand in a motion to dismiss her.
Vacation. Uncivilized choice of words. Just as she opened her mouth to argue with him, she felt a timid hand on her arm. She turned to see a baby-faced cop about her own height smiling at her.
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“I’m Tony. I heard you ask for Mac. You do know what happened, don’t you?” His clear blue eyes were brimming with affection.
Relieved, Sterling put her hand on his shoulder. “I do. Tony, I’ve come a long way to see him. I’m Sterling Powell. We grew up together, Mac and me.”
She lied and used the rookie’s name for him.
“Tony Bedford. He’s quite a man, Mac. I really hated what happened to him and Red. There were no finer friends than those two. I was afraid it would kill Mac, too. I wish I knew where he was and if he’s okay.”
She wished she could tell him. His sincerity was touching. “Do you have any idea where he might be?” It was obvious to her now that he hadn’t come back here.
“No. He just left after the investigation. Didn’t talk to any of us. He just sort of faded away. I can give you his address, but I don’t think he’s there.”
“No thanks. I have that. Is the investigation closed now? I mean, is Mac cleared of everything?”
Tony led Sterling to a corner desk and sat on the edge of it. “You know how things are around here. You hear things,” he whispered.
She didn’t, but she nodded anyway.
“They say that Red’s father insisted that Mac be charged. IAD doesn’t report to me, but sometimes I hear bits and pieces. I don’t think the file is closed. Of course, that don’t mean nothin’ for sure. Could be the big guys are leaving it open until Red’s old man gets tired of whining and faces up to things. Mac would’ve killed himself before he would’a killed Red.”
Lost as to what to do next, an idea struck her after a moment. “Can you give me the address of Red’s family? Maybe, just maybe, they’ve heard from him.”
Tony shook his head. “I hardly think so, but I have it here somewhere.”
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Sterling waited as the boy riffled through his desk. “You never know. Mac may have wanted to talk to Red’s dad or his wife.”
He copied an address onto another sheet of paper. “Nope,” he said with conviction. “Mrs. Younger probably wouldn’t let him in the house. They’ve all gotten kind of screwy since the accident. Shame. One man dies, but a lot of lives are changed forever.”
Sterling patted the rookie on the shoulder. His obvious hero worship of Mac wasn’t dampened a bit by all of this. She admired him for that. “Thanks for your help. If I find Mac, I’ll have him give you a call and let you know he’s all right.
Okay, Tony?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned. “I would like that. Mac and me, we were starting to be real pals. He was going to take me up to the cabin in Cumberland to hunt next time he and Red went up. I’d like to hear from him.”
Another idea struck her as she reached the door, so she turned back around to find Tony. “Tony, how would you like to have three kittens?”
“Kittens, ma’am?” he questioned, looking at her as if he had never seen her before.
“Someone dropped a box of kittens off outside Mac’s apartment. You know him. He would drag them in and care for them, so I bought bottles and formula, but if I’m going to be traveling all over looking for him, I certainly can’t take them with me. I’m sure he would be very grateful if you took them home with you. You could drive me to his place and bring them back with you.”
He thought a minute, and then his loyalty to Joe won out. “I guess I could take them home. My sisters would probably love them, but I don’t know if my mom…”
“Please, it’s only temporary till I find Joe, ah…Mac. Then we’ll come back and get them.”
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“All right.” He said something to one of the other men and then escorted Sterling to his police car. It was a much better ride to the apartment than the cab would have been.
Once Tony and the kittens were on their way back to the precinct, Sterling decided to get to bed early and start for Red’s house in the morning. According to the address, it was in Silver Spring, Maryland. Just over the district line. She was tired and had no inclination to drive to another strange place in the dark.
Besides, Joe might come back here tonight and she would miss him.
She was hungry. She hadn’t eaten anything except a very bad hamburger at a fast-food place on the way up. She searched Joe’s cupboards and came up with some very stale crackers. She sliced the cheese and slapped some on the crackers, drank the other Coke, and collapsed on his bed.
She hugged his pillow to her. It was almost as if he were lying beside her. A dull ache began and spread throughout her entire body. She missed him. She wanted him with her for the rest of her life and, by God, she would see that it happened. She closed her eyes.
The next morning Sterling waited for the rush hour to be over. She went to Joe’s closet. His uniforms hung there. Crisp, well-pressed blues. She ran her hands down them. His cap sat exactly in the middle of the shelf. What did he look like in them? All business and confident. She tried to picture him standing at attention with his hair cropped short, his sideburns trimmed. She smiled and brought one of the sleeves up against her chest.
Oh, God, don’t let anything happen
to this man. Please. Put a guardian angel on his shoulder.
Red’s house was the picture of modern suburbia. A two-car garage was attached to the rambling brick rancher. The yard was well kept and landscaped.
A swing set was in the backyard. A big-wheel and a tricycle stood by the side
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door along with a ball and bat. An anchor fence enclosed it all, keeping everything safe and defined.
Sterling sat in the station wagon a long while. What would she say to these people? Chances were that Joe wouldn’t come anywhere near this place, but where else? She had to start somewhere.
Knocking on the door, she could hear kids playing in a distant room. The door swung open and Sterling was faced with a huge man with flaming red hair.
He wasn’t smiling. His blue eyes surveyed her from head to toe and he just looked. He didn’t say a word.
“I’m looking for Joe MacDaniels. Have you seen him?”
The man all but bellowed. She saw his chest heave when he drew a deep breath to keep from spouting words that would be rude. “No. Who are you?”
“I assure you I’m not a reporter or anything like that. I’m a friend of Joe’s and I can’t find him. I just thought he might’ve come here.”
The man warred with his better judgment, but his politeness ruled and he swung the door wide to let her in instead of keeping her standing in the doorway.
The house smelled of apple pie. When she followed him to the kitchen she saw one cooling on the countertop. He pointed to a chair at the kitchen table and Sterling sat down.
The room was decorated with Pennsylvania Dutch hex signs. The curtains and the canisters were Willamsburg blue to match the toaster and the coffee pot.
The table was covered with a crisp white cloth. In the middle was a fresh vase full of mums. The place was spotless and smelled of Mr. Clean. Hallmark could have filmed a commercial here.
The voices of children became raised, and then two redheaded boys streaked into the kitchen. One held a game board in his hands, the other the pieces.
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“Grandpa, Grandpa. Jason won’t play fair. It’s my turn and he just keeps going and going.”
The child was about seven, and as soon as he saw he had company he stopped talking and looked at her. The other child, around five years old, climbed up into his grandpa’s lap and leaned his head back against Sam’s shoulder.
“Joshua, whose turn is it?” The old man’s voice was patient and gentle.
Joshua hid his little face in his grandpa’s shirt and whispered, “Jason’s,” but then his eyes brightened and he continued animatedly, “but he always wins. If I don’t give him a turn, then he can’t win!”
Sterling hid a smile behind her hand. Joe was right. They were beautiful children. At least Red’s wife still had them.
Grandpa cleared his throat. “Well, seems to me the object of playing a game is to take your chances. If you cheat you’ll never know if you can win or not.”
The little boy thought about this a minute. It still didn’t suit him, but he decided to do as Grandpa said. “Okay. Let’s go, Jason. We’ll start over and…”
Their voices faded down the hallway.
Sterling smiled. “Lovely children.”
Grandpa was Sam again. “Shouldn’t be fatherless.”
Sterling felt the heaviness of his sorrow, only continuing because she had to.
“No, they shouldn’t be. I am sorry. But I know Joe. I know he would have done anything to prevent all this from happening.”
“Coffee?” he asked absently as he got up to serve himself.
“Yes, please.” She waited silently as he poured two cups and put them on the table. He set a spoon beside her cup and she added a good amount of sugar.
Taking a sip, she was grateful for the warmth it brought her. Being in this man’s presence had made her cold.
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“Joe wouldn’t come here. Not after the last time.”
“What happened the last time?” she questioned, almost afraid to hear.
“Nothing. He got the idea he wasn’t welcome.” He sipped his coffee and eyed her icily over the rim.
Automatically on the defense, she tilted her chin. “It wasn’t his fault. It was a tragic accident…”
“Did he send you here?”
“No.” She laughed nervously. “No. I just have to find him. Do you have any idea where he could be?”
“Nope and don’t care. Joe was always what I called a renegade cop. He used unorthodox methods to get the job done. Never anything completely outside the law, but dangerous nevertheless. He put my son’s life on the line more than once.”
“Cops put their own lives on the line every day, Sam. Not just Red and Joe.
And they were narcs. That adds just that much more danger, increases the risk.”
Sam studied her, appearing to make a judgment.
“I talked to Red about it. He always laughed me off. Didn’t pay the least bit of attention to his old man. Now look where it got him.” He chugged his coffee and got up to get more.
Sterling watched him. He was weary. He was tired. Probably the only thing that kept him going was the children in the other room. She could feel the sadness in this house.
“I can’t tell you how sorry I am that your son is dead. But I must find Joe. Do you have any idea where he could be?”
He sat down heavily. “Little lady, if I knew where he was, I’d tell you because I don’t give a damn. Last I heard he hightailed it out of here.”
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“Would Red’s wife know? Maybe?” She realized immediately it was the wrong thing to say.
“Jessica hardly knows what time of day it is anymore. She comes and goes, sometimes hours, even days at a time. She spends a lot of time at the cemetery.”
He gazed out the window and Sterling could tell he was trying to keep control.
Still she asked, “But the children?”
“She knows they’re okay with me here. I see to it they eat and get on the school bus on time and that they do their homework. Sometimes she’s fine, other times she isn’t.” He returned his cold stare to her.
“Fixed that pie this morning. Just like nothing was wrong. Then the next minute she announced she was leaving for a few days and out the door she went.
No telling. She has to work this out in her own way. It ain’t up to me to say nothing.”
“I wish there was something I could say or do, but I know…”
“There’s nothing. I tell you it would’a helped if Red hadn’t left that damn hunting cabin to Joe. The cabin, his shield, and his gun. When Jessica heard that at the reading of the will, she went off.”
“The cabin in Cumberland?” Sterling felt an eerie chill work its way up her spine.
“Red loved Joe. Worshipped him. Wanted to be just like him. He had no way of knowing it would be some kind of a cruel trick on his family…leaving his prized possessions to the man who killed him.”
Sterling stood up. “I think I’d better go. Thank you for talking to me.”
The old man grunted and escorted her to the door. Sterling was glad to be outside, where she could breathe deeply of the air. She was beginning to have a really bad feeling about all this.
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Chapter Fourteen
Her mind spinning, Sterling sat in the station wagon. Jessica comes and goes? She’s gone for a few days right now? No. Sterling shook her head and put the key in the ignition. Pausing again, she sat back in the seat and pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers. Could it be? Could Jessica be the one torturing Joe? No. She turned the key, powered the car, and headed back toward the apartment. This time she would search the place thoroughly. She’d go through his desk, his closet, look under the couch. There had to be a clue to where he went.
There was none. Pencils in need of sharpening, key chains, lighters empty but saved, a phone bill from 1984. A roll of Life Savers, soft and gooey, stuck to the bottom of the desk drawer.
Lottery tickets were mixed with insurance papers and old photographs. She lifted the lid on a little box and inside, haphazardly pitched, were medals. She picked them up one at a time and ran a finger over them. Pride filled her. He had done so much with his life. He had seen and tasted and spit out or absorbed more than she would ever know about. At least they would never run out of things to talk about.
She plunked herself down on the couch. Where would she go if she were Joe? Looking. But for what? Where would he start? She glanced around the room one more time. The flashing red light on the answering machine winked at her.
