Bloodlines (5 page)

The desk clerk glanced up, saw the man and then the pizza box, and immediately looked away, assuming it was a delivery gone bad, just as Foster hoped.

Once he was out on the street, he discarded the box and lengthened his stride. He stopped once at a corner drugstore, exiting shortly carrying a small sack, then proceeded a few blocks farther before checking into another hotel.

The desk clerk was an obese female of indeterminate age, who eyed Foster curiously. He stared back, morbidly fascinated by the faint green tinge to her hair and the number of fleshy folds in her face as he counted out the money for another room. She took the money without comment and handed him a key. Again, he had only paid by the night. If nothing else went wrong, he should have his money in a couple of days and be long gone.

 

Trey finished reporting to Lieutenant Warren, but his anger was obvious as he went back to his desk.

Chia Rodriguez was finishing a report when Trey slumped into his chair, then rubbed his face with his hands, as if trying to scrub away something foul.

“Hey, Trey, what's up?”

“Today I hate my job,” he said shortly, then got up from the chair as quickly as he'd sat down, grabbing his coffee cup as he went.

Chia followed him to the break room.

“Is it the Sealy case?”

He nodded.

She sighed. “God. I can't imagine something like
that happening to one of my kids. I look at them every night and pray that I'll be able to keep them safe long enough to grow up.” Then she grimaced. “Then there are the nights when I'm afraid to close my eyes for fear they'll disappear when I'm not looking. On those nights, I sleep on the floor outside their door.” Then she laughed weakly. “Pretty crazy, huh?”

Trey put down his cup and turned around.

“Damn, Chia, that's scary. You'd be a good spokes-person for birth control.” He turned away again.

She pulled a face, then made a big deal out of leering at his backside to make up for the fact that she'd just shared something personal with him.

“Now, Bonney, you know how women are. PMS and shit like that gets us all crazy sometimes for no reason. Besides, with buns like yours, it would be a crime to the human race not to pass them on.”

He grinned because she needed him to, but he didn't feel like smiling. Truth was, he could identify with her fears and had an overwhelming urge to hug her, but she wouldn't like it and everyone else would take it the wrong way, so he let the notion slide.

Thankful that Trey was letting her change the subject without comment, she poured him a cup of coffee, then topped off her cup.

“Here, stud…drink up. Caffeine always makes the world a little easier to bear.”

“From your lips to God's ear,” Trey muttered, then lifted his cup in a toast before taking a sip, after which he made a face. “This stuff is terrible.”

Chia reached in front of him, snagged the last doughnut from a plate, broke it in half and handed one piece to him.

“That's what these are for,” she said.

Trey eyed the dried-out pastry, then shrugged and dunked it into the dark, greasy-looking brew as Chia took hers and swaggered back to her desk.

Trey ate the doughnut without tasting it and took the coffee like medicine. He would need all the fortification he could get to make it through the next day and get the Sealys to the lab. Then he thought about the notes he'd taken from Marcus and pulled them out. He didn't know what time it was in Milan, but he was going to try the number that Marcus had given him for Terrence Sealy.

Back at his desk, he dialed, then picked up a pen and began doodling on a notepad as the phone started to ring. He counted the rings up to seven and was about to hang up when a woman answered in a breathless voice.

“Ciao.”

Trey frowned, frustrated that he hadn't counted on the language barrier.

“Is this the Terrence Sealy residence?” he asked.

There was a moment of hushed silence, then a surprised lilt to the woman's voice.

“Yes…yes, it is. Who's calling, please?”

Trey's heart skipped a beat. Pay dirt!

“This is Detective Trey Bonney with the Dallas, Texas, police department. I want to talk to Terrence Sealy.”

“Oh no! Has something happened to Marcus?”

“No, ma'am. Nothing like that. Who am I speaking to, please?”

“Oh, yes, of course. I'm Carolyn, Terry's wife. He's gone for the day and won't be home until evening. Can I be of help to you?”

“I certainly hope so, and I'll get straight to the point. A few days ago, the remains of a small child were found in a house at Lake Texoma. She had been murdered about twenty-five years ago, then put in a suitcase and hidden behind a wall. Early investigations lead us to believe that the child might have been a Sealy.”

“Oh my God! How awful! But why would you suspect such a…oh! Olivia's kidnapping! But we got her back,” Carolyn said.

“Yes, ma'am, but we're still questioning the remaining Sealys.”

“Why?”

“The child that was found had been born with two thumbs on her left hand. A pretty distinctive trait.”

“Dear Lord…well, what would you be wanting with us? We weren't able to have children.”

“Ma'am, this is a very personal question, and forgive me for asking, but I have to know. Was it you or your husband who had the infertility problems?”

“It was me, but that doesn't—”

There was a gasp, then a long moment of silence.

“Mrs. Sealy? Are you still there?”

“Yes. Yes, I'm here,” she said. “Are you insinuating that my husband had an affair? That he fathered some child that was subsequently murdered?”

“I'm not insinuating anything,” Trey said. “What I
am
doing is eliminating all the suspects.”

“How do you propose to do that?” Carolyn asked.

“I need a DNA sample from your husband.”

“This is horrible,” she muttered.

“No, ma'am. What's horrible is what was stuffed in that suitcase.”

“Dear Lord…”

“Can I count on your cooperation?” Trey asked.

Carolyn answered without hesitation. “What do you want him to do?”

“I don't suppose you would consider coming back to Dallas for the tests and to answer a few more questions?”

“That far? But—”

“It would mean a lot to the department, ma'am.”

Carolyn Sealy sighed. “It would mean a lot to me, too,” she said. “I mean, coming back to Dallas. I miss living in the States, and it's been ages since we've seen Marcus.” There was a moment's pause, and then she said, “Yes, we'll come back.”

“This is my number,” Trey said, then recited it. “Call me when you get into the city. We'll set up a time and place to meet and get this taken care of.”

Carolyn sighed, as if anxious to get rid of his call. “We'll be in touch,” she said, and hung up.

Trey put the phone back on the receiver, then rubbed the back of his neck. One more possible link in the chain.

 

Marcus speared a slice of meat from the serving platter and delivered it to his plate, then poured a small
helping of mushroom gravy next to it before resuming his meal. At the first bite of meat, he rolled his eyes in satisfaction.

“Oh my, Olivia. Rose has outdone herself tonight. The tenderloin is delicious.” Then he noticed that her plate was still empty and frowned. “What's the matter, darling?” He sat up a little straighter as concern tinged his voice. “Are you ill?”

Olivia stifled a sigh, then made herself smile.

“No, Grampy, I'm fine. Just not very hungry.”

Marcus put down his fork, then leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his stomach as he studied her face. He was so accustomed to her appearance that he never studied her features, but looking at her now, he had a fleeting moment of doubt. What if…? Then he frowned and thrust away the thought.

“You're worried about tomorrow, aren't you?”

Olivia shrugged, then nodded as she looked away.

Marcus's frown deepened.

“I wish I could make you believe that there's no need for concern.”

Olivia looked up, her eyes swimming with tears.

“Oh, Grampy, I wish you could, too, but there's a dark feeling inside me, and as hard as I try, I don't believe anything is ever going to be the same again.”

Marcus wanted to argue with her, but he knew that she wasn't in a frame of mind to listen. All they could do was wait this out. Only time and truth would tell.

Olivia could tell that she'd upset her grandfather, and while it was the last thing she wanted to do, she
had never been able to lie to him. All she could do now was trust that his faith in her was justified.

“I'm sorry for being such a whiner, Grampy. I'll be better, I promise. And for starters, I think I'll try some of Rose's tenderloin, after all.”

Marcus smiled as he passed the platter.

“Don't forget the gravy,” he added.

 

Foster Lawrence downed the final bite of his burger, then dunked the last two fries in ketchup, nodding affirmatively when a waitress paused by his table with a pot of coffee.

As she poured, Foster inhaled the fragrance of freshly brewed coffee while considering the luxuries that now abounded. It was almost midnight, and yet he'd walked out of his room and down the street to the all-night diner and ordered food.

Not because he'd been especially hungry, but because he could.

“How about a piece of pie?” the waitress asked. “Still got some apple and some deep-dish peach.”

Foster's stomach was full, but his mouth watered.

“Peach?” Foster said

“Peach it is,” she said.

“À la mode?” he added.

“Sure, mister. À la mode.”

She gave him a friendly wink and moved on.

He watched the sway of her backside with admiration, but on this day, his bodily hungers had been fully assuaged. He would settle for the peach pie and ice cream and call it a day.

Outside the diner, a police car went speeding by, running with lights and siren. He shuddered, thankful that, for now, he wasn't their prey. As the patrol car disappeared down the street, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the darkened windows and grinned. The man looking back at him was not only bald, but bare-faced. If she'd been living, not even his mother would have recognized him like this.

Then the waitress appeared and slid the pie in front of him. Despite his full belly, the aroma of warm pie and ice cream made him hungry all over again.

“Here it is, mister, ice cream and all. Enjoy.”

“You bet I will, babe,” Foster said with a smile, then picked up his spoon and dug in.

As he ate, he made plans for tomorrow. He'd looked in the phone book for the Lazy Days restaurant but had come up empty. It didn't surprise him to know that it was no longer in business. Lots of things had changed since he'd last been in Dallas, and although businesses had come and gone, the buildings were still there, which made him confident that the building that hid his money would be, too. It was only a matter of time before he got what he'd come for. For now, pie and ice cream would suffice.

 

Trey sat on the edge of his bed, fingering through the pages of his high-school yearbook. It had been ages since he'd bothered to drag himself through the memories, but seeing Olivia had brought them all back.

He paused at a page, lightly tracing the shape of her
face as she smiled back at him from a picture, then laid his hand on the words she'd written beneath.

Love you forever

“But you didn't, did you, Livvie girl?”

Then, disgusted with himself for being so morbid, he slammed the book shut, tossed it on the floor and rolled over onto the bed. But even after he closed his eyes, he could still see her face smiling up at him from the page. Then the image faded, and another, more unsettling, took its place. It was that handful of tiny bones laid out on the examining table that strengthened his resolve.

He would give a name to the bones and find the devil who had ended her brief life, no matter what it took or who he pissed off along the way.

B
raced with three cups of coffee and three extra-strength painkillers to dull the headache he'd awakened with, Trey figured he was ready for anything the day presented. But when he got in his car, saw the gum wrappers, the empty disposable coffee cup on the floor and the slight film of dust on the dash, he stopped. A picture flashed in his mind of the elegance of Marcus Sealy's home, and he imagined the looks on their faces when they saw the inside of his car. He sighed. Once again, Marcus Sealy would judge him and find him lacking.

He glanced at his watch. He was going to be late, but it couldn't be helped. He started to get out and get something to clean the car with, then stopped.

His car was dusty because of the dirt roads he'd driven on to get to the lake house where the baby's remains had been found, and the gum and coffee had been all he'd been able to stomach in the way of food after he'd left.

At that point, he came to terms with himself. What the Sealys thought about him no longer mattered. He grabbed the coffee cup and gum wrappers, stuffed
them into the open pocket at the bottom of the door, stuck his forefinger on the dash and wrote Clean Me in the dust, then jammed the key into the ignition. Seconds later the engine roared to life. As he was backing out of the driveway, he waved at his eighty-one-year-old neighbor, Ella Sumter, who was doing tai chi in her front yard, and grinned when she blew him a kiss.

He began to feel better as he drove toward the outskirts of Dallas and the Sealy estate. By this time next week, it would all be over, and chances were, he wouldn't have to see them again. All he had to do was put on his game face and remember that he was the one in charge.

 

Olivia paused in front of her bedroom mirror long enough to get a full view of the dress she was wearing. She frowned, then flung it aside to join the four other outfits she'd already discarded on the bed. She had started toward the closet again when reality hit. It shouldn't matter what she wore. She shouldn't care what Trey Bonney thought. He wasn't coming to take her out. He was coming to take them away—to a crime lab for DNA testing to verify her identity, for God's sake.

She sank onto the side of the bed and covered her face, stifling the urge to cry. She didn't want Grampy to know that she was falling apart, and she certainly didn't want Trey Bonney to see her vulnerability.

Slowly, anger replaced fear as she got up from the bed and moved back to the closet. This time, there was
no hesitation as she pulled out an outfit, and when she began to dress, it was with purpose. She buttoned and zipped and tucked and smoothed, and then stepped into shoes that matched, ran a brush through her hair, grabbed her handbag and left the room without giving herself a second look.

Marcus was in his room when he heard Olivia's footsteps going past the door. There was a strong, steady rhythm to her stride that hadn't been there last night when she'd left the dinner table in tears. The sound made him smile. That was his girl. He glanced at himself in the mirror, making sure that his collar was smooth and his tie straight as he moved to the dresser to get his wallet and change; then he followed his granddaughter down the stairs.

They had no sooner greeted each other in the foyer when the doorbell rang. Rose's footsteps sounded on the marble flooring as she came from another wing of the house, but Olivia wasn't in the mood to stand on formalities.

“I'll get it,” she said, then lifted her chin and strode to the door.

Marcus saw the glint in her eye and smiled again. The moment he'd seen the dress she was wearing, he knew she'd gone on the defense. It was a power dress in a power color, and she wore it well.

“I'll be right back,” he said shortly. “I want to speak to Rose before we leave.” He walked away, leaving Olivia to deal with their caller.

Finding herself suddenly alone did not deter Olivia from her intent. She grabbed the doorknob and swung
the door inward, leaving her face-to-face with the man whose current presence in their lives had thrown her world into turmoil.

 

Her appearance at the door was, for Trey, unexpected and, at the same time, mind-blowing. He knew, as well as he knew his own name, that the only thing she had on under that red dress were her panties. He knew because, as she stood in the doorway, the full sun of morning hit her like a spotlight, revealing the thrust of bare breasts and pouting nipples beneath what appeared to be silk. If that wasn't enough, the slight flare of the body-hugging skirt revealed enough of her long legs to remind him of the intimacy they'd once shared.

It took every ounce of self-restraint he owned to shift his gaze from her body to her face, and when he did, he knew he'd been sideswiped. There was a glint in her eyes and a jut to her chin that he remembered all too well. She'd come prepared for battle and, if he wasn't mistaken, had just declared war.

“Uh…”

Olivia stifled a smirk. From the look on his face, the dress was a success.

“Good morning, Detective. Please come in. My grandfather will be here shortly, and then we can leave.”

“Uh…”

Olivia eyed Trey coolly. “I believe you're repeating yourself.”

“Shit,” he muttered.

She smiled.

He shoved his hands in his pockets, then surprised the smile off her face.

“You always were a pretty girl, Olivia, and I would have sworn there was no way you could have improved upon perfection, but I would have been wrong.” Then his voice softened. “You are so beautiful, and I am sorrier than I can tell you that you and your grandfather have to go through this.”

Suddenly her defiance seemed out of place. She had been so stunned, and then so frightened, by the revelations of the past week that she'd been pulling a “kill the messenger” attitude just because of the trip they were going to take.

“Look, Trey…I—”

“Sorry I kept you waiting,” Marcus said as he came striding back into the foyer.

Olivia sighed, then turned to her grandfather and made herself smile.

“No problem, Grampy. Detective Bonney had only just said hello.”

Trey yanked his hands out of his pockets and shook the hand that Marcus was extending.

“And hello to you, too, sir,” Trey said. “If you're both ready, we should probably go.” Without waiting for them to agree, he led the way out the door.

When Marcus and Olivia reached the curb, Trey was standing at the car with the back door open. Accustomed to being driven, Marcus got in and slid over to the other side, making room for Olivia to sit without acknowledging the courtesy that had been extended.

But Olivia felt the awkwardness of the moment. When she turned to Trey to thank him, she got caught in the fire in his eyes and stumbled. He grabbed for her, and for a moment she was in his arms, being steadied firmly against his chest. She didn't know how reluctant he was to have to let her go, and she couldn't have voiced what she herself was feeling. Thankfully, the moment was brief. Then she slipped in beside her grandfather, crushing a peanut shell beneath her foot as she went.

By the time Trey had buckled himself into the front seat, she was staring at the back of his head and remembering how springy his dark hair felt to the touch. Unintentionally, she sighed aloud, then caught him looking at her in the rearview mirror. Startled, she quickly turned and smiled at Marcus, as if to reassure him that all was well, although it wasn't. Suddenly the shoe was on the other foot, and she felt breathless and out of control.

Trey made himself look away as he put the car in gear and proceeded back down the driveway. At the same time, the sunshine caught on the dash, highlighting the thin film of dust.

When Olivia saw what he'd written on it, she stifled a grin. Her first love had certainly grown into a bona fide hunk, and being a detective with the Dallas PD put him in a very respectable light, but it made her happy to know that the part of him that she'd fallen in love with so long ago had not changed. The fun-loving cutup who'd refused to take her social status seriously and then loved her in spite of it was still there.

But the memory also reminded her that, because of that same social status and her inability to stand up to her grandfather, their relationship had ultimately ended and she'd lost the love of her life.

Unwilling to dwell on what had been, she leaned back and closed her eyes as her grandfather clasped her hand.

“Olivia, darling, it will be okay,” he said.

“Oh, I know that, Grampy. Quit worrying about me.”

Trey glanced up into the rearview mirror, then quickly looked away before they caught him staring. From the start, Olivia had been out of his reach; he'd just been too young to realize it. But he was no longer the naive teenager he'd been before, and he was too smart to set himself up for another heartache.

“Say, Mr. Sealy, I thought I'd let you know that the phone number you gave me for Terrence was good. I spoke to his wife yesterday afternoon. They will be flying in sometime soon so that Terrence can submit to DNA testing as you two are doing.”

He glanced up in the rearview mirror again as he spoke and caught a look of anger on Marcus's face. Being the good detective that he was, he didn't let the opportunity pass.

“Why do I have the feeling that this is not good news for you?”

For a few moments Marcus didn't answer; then, when he did, his words were sharp and clipped.

“There's never been any love lost between Terrence and I. No reason, just a fact of life.”

They drove in silence for a few miles until Marcus's cell phone began to ring.

“Excuse me,” he muttered. “I meant to turn the thing off,” he said, and glanced at the caller ID, then frowned. “It's the office. I'd better take this.”

Olivia nodded, then tuned out the conversation by staring through the window at the passing scenery and the constant flow of traffic. Before she knew it, her grandfather was disconnecting.

“Yes. I'll be there as soon as I can,” he said, then ended his call and dropped the phone back into his pocket. “Detective Bonney, how long will this test take?”

“Not long,” he said. “Do you have a problem?”

“I didn't, but I do now. I'll need to leave for my office as soon as we've finished. I trust you'll see Olivia home?”

Olivia flinched. “Oh, Grampy, I don't need to be treated like a child. I can get a cab.”

“No, ma'am,” Trey said. “I brought you. I will take you home. It's part of the job.”

“That's settled, then,” Marcus said. Satisfied that his problems were solved, he leaned back and relaxed.

But Olivia's problems had just escalated. With her grandfather's presence, she'd been able to maintain a mental distance between herself and Trey. The change in plans was unsettling, but she would handle it. Eleven years was a long enough time to get over a mistake—even if she was coming to believe it might have been the biggest one she'd ever made.

She was still struggling with her emotions when
they arrived at the crime lab. As they pulled into the parking lot, they quickly realized something was wrong. Two vans from local television stations were waiting, and a half-dozen reporters with cameramen were hovering around the entrance, as well as a man who was standing on the corner carrying a sign that read Baby Killer?

“Oh, hell,” Trey muttered. “I'd like to get my hands on the jerk who tipped them off.”

“What's going on here?” Marcus demanded.

“Just stay in the car,” Trey said tersely. “I'll get rid of them.”

From the corner of her eye, Olivia saw Trey reaching toward the police radio, then heard him calling the dispatcher to request assistance. To her horror, the reporters suddenly spied her in the back seat and rushed toward the window. The press of their bodies against the car set it to rocking. Then, in the midst of it all, the man carrying the sign slammed his way through the crowd and shoved it against the window.

All she could see of the man's face were his eyes and their maniacal gleam as he peered over the placard into the car. In sudden panic, she grabbed her grandfather's hand.

Trey turned abruptly. She knew he was talking to her, because his lips were moving, but she couldn't hear what he was saying above the noise outside. She sank back, putting as much distance as she could between herself and the doors. Even though she knew they couldn't get to her, it didn't deter them from aim
ing their cameras at the windows while pushing and shoving at each other to get a clear view of her face.

She started to shake.

“Trey…”

He heard the fear in her voice and silently wished all the head cases and the media a long, slow trip to hell.

“It's okay,” he said quickly. “I'll get rid of them.”

“Do something,” she mumbled.

As Trey was reaching for the door latch, someone shouted her name.

“Trey…for God's sake,” she begged.

Disgusted, he got out of the car shouting, with his badge in his hand.

“Get back!” he shouted. “Get the hell away from my car, or I will arrest the whole lot of you.”

The reporters backed up, but, still wanting to get some kind of sound bite for the evening news, they persisted in shouting out questions. The man with the sign was jostled to the back of the crowd, but Trey could still see the sign waving above their heads.

At the same time, two police cars pulled into the lot and parked beside Trey's car. Four uniformed officers emerged and headed toward the crowd.

Confident that the media was now contained, Trey strode to his car, opened the back door, leaned in and took Olivia's hand.

“Come on, Livvie, it's all right now,” he said shortly.

Her fingers curled around his wrist as he helped her out of the car.

“It's not all right,” she whispered. “Oh God…don't you see? It's never going to be all right again.”