Chained Guilt (Hidden Guilt (Detective Series) Book 1) (6 page)

 

 

 

 

6

 

 

 

 

I woke to the sound of my alarm clock: 3:28 p.m. Time for me to get dressed and pick Karen up from school. Hilary was “too big” to be picked up nowadays, so she typically had a friend drop her off at home. I must have been more tired than I thought.

              I turned on the news and caught the last minute of the broadcast. I smiled when I saw Miranda’s face on the air. She was doing what she loved, and it made me happy. I quickly grabbed my jacket and keys. When I got to the front door, I found a note from Miranda:

             
Make sure you’re well rested for tonight!

              I smiled and breathed a sigh of relief that I’d found the note instead of Karen or—God forbid—Hilary.

              I was still thinking about the little girl I found the other day. I took a glance down into the channel that snaked alongside the road as I drove over to Karen’s school.
Why hadn’t the killer just dumped her body into the channel?
  I went with my initial hunch that the victim had been killed elsewhere and purposely placed in the park to be found. I couldn’t think of a better reason.

              I pulled into the school parking lot and saw Karen standing beside her teacher on the front lawn, students and parents milling around. She saw my squad car, said something to the teacher, and then ran toward the car as I pulled it up next to the curb.

              “Hey, Daddy!” Karen said as she pulled open the front passenger door.

              “Hey, sugar!”

              Karen always talked a mile a minute after school, relating her entire day’s worth of activities in a condensed, CliffsNotes-style version that took about three minutes. I loved it, though.

              “I’m glad your day went well, honey.”

              “How was your day, Daddy?”

              I smiled, thinking back to the romantic rendezvous with my wife just a few hours earlier.

              “Pretty good, dear.”

              Karen asked me how long her mother had to work that night and if she would be home before she had to go to bed. She hated it when her mother worked late.

              “Your mother has a big story she’s trying to finish, otherwise you know she’d be home with us. We’ll give her a call later so you can tell her goodnight. You have any dinner requests for me?” I asked, trying to take her mind off her mother’s absence.

              I was an okay cook, but Miranda’s culinary skills were unmatched. She had learned at a young age and had taken several cooking classes in the past. She’d even thought about becoming a chef and having her own TV show. I could cook well enough to get by, but I could make it on cereal alone if I had to.

              “Well, I know I have to keep it simple for you,” Karen said with a laugh.

              “How about mac and cheese?”

              “Simple enough,” she said. “Mac and cheese it is.”

              When we got home, Karen settled at the kitchen table to do her homework while I tackled the mac and cheese. I felt her eyes on me as I read the directions on the box. “Did you forget how to make it from last time, Dad?”

              “Do your homework, young lady. I’ll be fine. I promise not to burn it this time.”

              She grinned, but didn’t say a word. She didn’t have to.

              I placed the box on the counter and grabbed my phone. I thought it would be a flirty gesture to text Miranda and let her know I’d found her note earlier.

             
Superman is waiting for Lois Lane to return.

              Catchy. Not too over the top, but it would get the point across.  I placed my phone on the counter and went back to preparing dinner.  A few minutes later, I heard a car outside, loud music blaring.
Hilary must be home
. A few seconds later, voilà, Hilary opened the door. It had barely closed before she made it to the staircase.

              “Good afternoon!” I called to her.

              “Hey, Dad,” she grumbled. “Mom working?”

              “Yes. She’ll be home later. Dinner will be ready soon.”

              “Mac and cheese again? No thanks, I’ll pass.”

              She disappeared up the stairs. I didn’t know what else I needed to do to connect with my daughter. Maybe all father-daughter relationships were like this after they hit fifteen. I was unsure. I thought back to a time when Hilary was my little angel. Boy, had times changed.

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7

 

 

 

 

I sat down to eat chicken nuggets and mac and cheese with Karen. I’d called for Hilary to come down, but I wasn’t holding my breath.

              “Dad, did you hear about that little girl last night?” Karen asked.

              “Well, sweetie, I may have heard a little something about it,” I said cautiously.  “Not much, though.”

              “Do you guys know who did it?”

              I told her I didn’t have many details on the case, and we had no suspects yet. It was pretty much the truth, all in all.

              “We don’t know who did this yet, Karen, but we’ll find them.”

              My phone buzzed as I received a text from Miranda. Glancing up at the clock on the wall, I noted it was 5:31.

             
Lois Lane may need a Tarzan. Superman not adventurous enough. Can you help? lol

              I laughed out loud and tried to think up a clever response for my wife.

              “Daddy, I’m finished. Going up to my room to play on the computer.”

              “Okay, sweetie, have fun,” I said, still distracted by Miranda’s text. “I’ll be up soon to get your bath started. We’ll call Mommy then, too.”

              As Karen took off up the stairs, a witty response came to me. I texted:

             
21st century Tarzan here, equipped with handcuffs and nightstick. Superman’s loss, Tarzan’s gain.

              I turned my attention to the kitchen and the mess I’d made. I knew Miranda would be tired, and no one liked coming home to a kitchen full of dirty dishes. I decided I might as well tackle a few loads of clothes, too.

              I took the time to make a few calls on some leads I had. I’d start with Marty Filner. When I needed the best ME on a nasty crime scene, he’s the guy I wanted. I took out my phone and hit three on speed dial.

              “Marty it’s Porter. Where are we on the little girl?”

              “Hey, Porter. It’s early still, but we know a few things. Her name is Emily Risen. Her bruises and cuts go hand in hand with our other cases. Same blade and everything. We found some smudged fingerprints—small, possibly a female perp. She’d been there about an hour before she was found, not much longer.”

              “Well, our killer didn’t try to hide her; he wanted the body to be found. Hell, I could find a million places in Houston to hide a body. We found her in an hour. That wasn’t a mistake, Marty. Keep digging. Let me know if you come up with anything else I can use.”

              It was nearly 7:00 when I decided to call Miranda to see how things were going. She picked up on the second ring.

              “Hey, honey,” she said.

              “How’s the story coming along?”

              “That’s what Cliff just asked me,” she said. “He wanted to know how much longer I’d be here.”

              I’d met the security guard a couple times. I was glad someone was in the building while Miranda worked. You could never be too careful.

              “You think you’ll be done soon?”

              She sighed. “I’m trying to learn this new editing software and looking for some recorded footage I know is here somewhere. So all in all, it’s going slower than I hoped, honey.”

              My hopes for a hookup later that night were quickly fading. I handed the phone to Karen so she could say hello. Karen and Miranda talked for a few minutes before I told Karen to say goodnight to her mommy.

              “Wow, she’s a talker isn’t she?” Miranda laughed.

              “She learned from the best.”

              “Okay, I know I’ll be after nine now, David, but I’ll call you when I leave the office. I love you.”

              “Love you, too.”

              I disconnected the call and went to Karen’s room to say prayers and tuck her in. Hilary still had her music turned up way too loud, even though she knew her sister’s bedtime.

              I banged lightly on the door. “Turn it down, Hil,” I said.

              I waited until she did as she was told—barely—and walked back downstairs. I grabbed the TV remote and found a baseball game on ESPN2. The Yankees were playing Boston, and it was still in the second inning.
Should be a good one,
I thought.

              As I sat watching the game, I grew tired and dozed off. I woke up around 9:15 to the sounds of rain and a baseball game now in the eighth inning. I checked my cell phone to see if I had any messages from Miranda, but there were none. She’d told me she would probably be later than nine, and it appeared she was right.

              I rose from my chair and went upstairs to see if Hilary was still awake. I opened her door and peeked in to find her asleep. I turned off her radio and adjusted her blanket. She looked so peaceful when she slept.  I knelt beside her bed and said a quick prayer. After I left Hilary’s room, I walked down the hall and peeked in on Karen. She was out cold. I decided to finish watching the ballgame in my bedroom. Just as I lay down, at 9:30 sharp, my cell phone buzzed with a text from Miranda.

             
Leaving now, Tarzan. I hope you’re still awake!

              I smiled and responded.

             
Barely awake. Fell asleep watching baseball game—girls asleep too. Cya soon
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8

 

 

 

 

I rolled over and sat up quickly in bed. I had a gut feeling I’d overslept my alarm, that sick feeling you get in your stomach when you know you’re late for something important. I looked over at the television, still tuned to ESPN2 but no baseball game. It was a rebroadcast of an earlier recap show.  I looked at the alarm clock on my dresser: 1:15 a.m. I had fallen asleep on Miranda. I hoped she wasn’t too upset with me.

              Then I realized Miranda was not in bed beside me. I got up, put on my robe, and headed for the living room, thinking Miranda might have gone to sleep on the couch so she wouldn’t wake me. Or maybe she was mad at me for sleeping through our scheduled romp. I was going to have to do something really nice to make up for this one. When I reached the living room, there was no sign of her. I frowned, my heart racing. I took a quick glance outside and didn’t see her car in the driveway either. I ran back upstairs to our bedroom and grabbed my cell phone. No missed calls. No missed text messages. I had just begun to punch in Miranda’s number when my phone rang.

              “Hello?” I said in a panic.

              “David, it’s Wilcrest. We just found Miranda’s car crashed into the barricades by the Ship Channel, but there’s no sign of Miranda.” He paused. “We found another note, written in blood and left on the driver’s seat. This one reads, ‘More blood on your hands, Porter, this time your own.’”

              Before I could respond, I heard someone pounding on the door downstairs. I disconnected from Wilcrest and hurried toward the stairs. Karen stood in the hallway, wide-eyed and disheveled. I guess the banging woke her; I didn’t take time to ask. I took the stairs two at a time, Karen in close pursuit. 

              “Daddy, what’s going on? I want Mommy!”

              I didn’t answer but quickly opened the door. Two officers from the station stood there.

              “David, we’re looking,” one of them said. “But we haven’t found anything, and with this rain . . .”

              “Save it!” I snapped, my voice high pitched and quivering. “Find her!” 

              I heard a noise and glanced around.  Hilary and Karen stood behind me.

              “Dad, what’s going on?” Hilary asked, her voice tinged with alarm.  “And don’t lie to us.  What’s happening? Where’s Mom?”

              I squeezed my eyes shut, praying the terror I felt inside wasn’t showing on my face. I had to be strong in front of my girls and my men, but the emotions threatening to overwhelm me left me stunned.

              “Dad!” Hilary screamed at me again.

              I pulled myself together as best I could and turned to my girls. “It looks like Mommy had an accident,” I told them. “Her car ran into a barricade, but she’s not in her car. They’re looking for her now.”

              “Dad, what do you mean?” Hilary frowned, her voice rising. “Where is she?”

              “Your mother sent me a text earlier tonight, saying she was on her way home . . .”

              “It’s after one o’clock in the morning! Why are you just now looking for her?” 

              “I was watching a game on TV when I got your mother’s text,” I explained. “I must have . . . I don’t know. I guess I fell asleep.” I felt the guilt and also saw it in Hilary’s eyes as she glared at me.

              “So you fell asleep, knowing Mom was out there and on her way home? Maybe if you’d gotten worried sooner, we would know where Mom is!” Hilary spun around and dashed up the stairs.

              “Hilary!” I called after her, but she didn’t stop. A moment later, I heard her bedroom door slam behind her.

              The mood was somber as I stood holding Karen, wondering where my wife was and if she was even alive. I couldn’t help but wonder if the same maniac from the previous days had struck again. This time he had made it personal. I should have seen this coming. Somehow I should have known. The killer had been taunting me, but I hadn’t put two and two together.

              As the officers moved toward the door, I set Karen down and stepped onto the porch with them.

              “Is there anything we can do, David?” one of them asked.

              I stood in shock as the officers looked at me, expecting an answer. They didn’t get one. I stood there for a minute until their taillights disappeared. I was soaked from the rain, which still had not let up. Suddenly, Karen stepped onto the porch and hugged my leg.

              “It’s okay, Daddy,” she said. “It’s not your fault. We’re going to find Mommy, and everything will be okay.”

              My daughter’s comforting words were pleasing to my ears. I was hopeful, but I knew if my wife wasn’t found soon, there was only a slim chance I’d ever see her alive again. I was also burdened with a massive amount of guilt. Hilary was right. If only I’d stayed awake. Maybe I could have started looking sooner. This was my fault. It had to be. Even the killer blamed me. Now the game had been taken to another level, a personal one.

              I looked down into my daughter’s big blue eyes. She stood looking at me with a sorrowful expression that stabbed deep into my heart. She too was soaked from the rain, which seemed to be coming down harder now. I picked her up and carried her inside. I called for Hilary to come down, but she was either ignoring me or had her radio blaring too loudly to hear me. I slowly walked up the stairs to her room.

              Still holding Karen, I opened the door to Hilary’s room and sat down next to her on the bed. I explained that it was okay if she was mad at me, as I was mad at myself. But  I also told her it was not my fault.  I promised to do everything in my power to find their mother.

              “Stay here with your sister,” I said. “You’re in charge. I’m going out to look for your mom. I promise, Hil, I’m coming back with her.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

9

 

 

 

 

After I finished talking to Hilary, I carried Karen to her room and set her on the bed.  “Karen, honey, I’m going to find your mother, don’t you worry. I’ll find her if it’s the last thing I do.” I paused and hugged my daughter tightly. “Hilary will be here with you.”

              “No, Daddy, don’t leave,” she pleaded.

              “It’s all right,” I assured her. “Hilary will be here, and there are a couple officers from the station outside. I have to help look for Mommy, Karen.”

              Karen didn’t want to let me go, but she understood why I had to leave. She told me to be extra careful and to come back with her mother. As I left the room, I took one slow look back at my daughter.

              “I promise,” I whispered as I disappeared from the doorway.

              As I stepped outside my front door, I saw Wilcrest and a few others waiting outside. I told him to leave the suits behind to stay with my girls and then requested that he ride with me down to the channel. He held out his hand for the car keys, and I gave them to him, realizing I was too shaken to drive myself.

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