First Night of Summer (6 page)

The natural light of day filtered in, and everyone gathered around the sturdy, wooden table. A meaningful discussion was taking place regarding the investigation. They all found that time passed more graciously with a purposeful task.

Charlie was due to arrive any minute. The chief of police had plenty of other duties, but all were put second to his friends’ crisis. Personal ties or not, crimes like this were next to nonexistent in Ruidoso. The outrageous events were not just a priority. They
were
the priority.

The front door latch opened and caught everyone’s attention. Like usual, Charlie showed himself in. This time, though, he did not remove his gun belt and get comfortable. He was on duty. The belt stayed where it was.

He moved through the antiquishly modern living room and into the kitchen where everyone was seated. The sixty-year-old hardwood floors creaked beneath his weight and boots. Tom stood to shake his hand, and Helen gave the man, whom she had loved since his childhood, a tight hug. He was not their son, but he was as good as.

“Good morning, Officer,” Helen said with pride. Recognizing his accomplishments was her way of doting. She smoothly ran the inside of her hand along Charlie’s baby-faced, blushing cheek.

“Hey.” He loved the motherly affection, but he was never sure how to handle it. His own had never bestowed one morsel of positive reinforcement. He backed away and sat in an empty chair.

“What’s the latest?” asked Tom. He poured a coffee, set it down in front of Charlie, stepped back, and leaned against the counter. “Any solid leads?”

“Same things but more information,” he said matter-of-factly. “Whoever this guy is, he’s real careful. Fingerprints would have been the easiest to trace, but gloves prevented that. Other than Isaac, there are no eyewitnesses, and no one around seems to have noticed anything out of the norm.”

All eyes were intent on Charlie, hanging on every word he said.

“There hasn’t been anything like this going on here, and it would appear completely random. However, abductions rarely, if ever, are.” He held Sarah’s expressionless stare and noticed Isaac’s forced attention. “That’s why we’ve had you go over everything again and again.” He rubbed his face. The first sign of dark circles were showing up under his puppy dog eyes. “Whoever he is, he knew the Howards were gone and, more than likely, the bedroom windows were unlocked.”

“He cased the joint?” Tom asked.

“It’s a good bet. His plan was good enough that if he hadn’t made any noise—”

Isaac was paying attention, but his mind kept flashing back.
What if I hadn’t gone to check on them? What if Sarah hadn’t asked me to go?
From there, the imagination became a dead sea of harrowing possibilities. It was hard to fathom that their situation could be any worse, but it could. Caroline and Josie could both be gone right now, in the hands of someone who would surely kill them but only after having his way. The thought made bile rise to the back of Isaac’s mouth every time it flashed through.

Sarah didn’t blame anyone, especially her husband, for what had happened. She simply felt drained of feeling, half alive, just wishing her little girl was back.

Over the past three days, each had given his or her story a dozen or more times. The state detectives gave the first formal questioning; the FBI followed. Charlie and his police force had several sit-down meetings, albeit much less rigid than the others. The Ruidoso cops were more familiar with the town and used their knowledge to try to find something out of place. The state boys worked forensics, along with the FBI, and the FBI put together a profile based on specifics of the case. Information was king, and everyone scurried to collect it.

“As of right now,” Charlie explained, “the best leads we have are the description of the van, a DNA sample, and an FBI profile.”

“That’s great.” Helen sounded encouraged.

“Well, here’s where we stand.” He shifted in the chair. “The FBI ran down the tread pattern left on the Howard’s driveway. Dunlop makes the tires in question, and the van, judging by the wheelbase, is probably a Ford. That, coupled with Isaac’s account, gives a pretty firm picture of the vehicle we’re looking for. The flip side is, in New Mexico alone, there could be anywhere from several hundred to over a thousand white Ford vans. And without plates, we don’t even know if the van is from in state.”

“But the DNA,” Tom reminded. “That’s dynamite, right? I mean, isn’t that what they call undisputable evidence?”

Charlie wanted to tread lightly. The DNA was a big deal, but having a sample and nailing the guy were two different animals.

“DNA is as ironclad as it gets with a crime scene,” he assured. “The lab sent back results from all the pieces of busted glass. They found a sample of skin on one, large enough to test. It’s not Isaac’s or Caroline’s.”

“It’s his?” Helen asked.

“Almost certainly. However, it’s not registered in any of the databases, so it doesn’t give us an identity.”

Isaac and Sarah remained placid, but Tom and Helen were alert and in tune. Their faces sank when they heard that the sample didn’t belong to any known person.

“Don’t let that discourage you though. See, now we have a DNA profile to match against any future suspects.”

If Charlie knew anything, it was that one stand-alone piece of evidence rarely solved a crime. An accumulation of information solved them. A puzzle of small, carefully put together pieces was how cases typically took shape. One factor, like the DNA, might become the deciding item, but only because all the others led to a probable person. Clues like descriptions of vehicles and tire patterns were just as important.

Tom wanted more. “You said the FBI was working on a profile. What’s that looking like?”

“Yes. By incorporating all the specifics, they can build a pretty accurate description of who they’re looking for. According to them, the person in question is obviously a male and Caucasian. He’s between the age of thirty to forty-five and single. He’s physically fit, probably a bit of a recluse with an above-average IQ.”

The FBI had other things in their profile, but Charlie wasn’t going to share those, at least not at the moment. It didn’t make a pretty picture and would do nothing to help ease their minds.

He tried to go on, but there wasn’t anything else of substance to mention. Silence dominated the room. Part family, part investigator, and part friend was not a position easily filled. He didn’t know whether to stay and visit or leave them in privacy.

Helen sensed his discomfort and wanted to ease the tension. If there was one thing she knew, it was appetites. And Charlie had one of the biggest she had ever seen, even from the time he was a little boy. The way to his heart truly was through his stomach.

“Charlie.” She reached across the table and set her hand on his. “We have more food than we can possibly eat. If someone doesn’t take it, it’s going to go bad. I would feel better if you’d have some. You look like you could use it.” She knew just how to phrase it.

Charlie, always a little embarrassed about his weight, had a habit of turning down food in front of others. On the other hand, he also had a soft spot for people’s feelings, especially Helen’s. The woman had been everything to him that his real mother wasn’t. If he thought eating would lift her spirits, he wasn’t about to say no.

“Well.” He leaned back in his chair. Both hands ran over his belly and down to his belt. A tan uniform shirt was pulled tight against his stomach. The utility belt rode low beneath the paunch. “I haven’t had breakfast.”

“Good. I’m also going to send some with you. I know the boys down at the station won’t complain about it.”

Charlie looked to Sarah to make sure the gesture wasn’t too much. She nodded and gave a halfhearted, tight-lipped smile, encouraging him to take it.

He left with two sacks of food. There was still an endless pile of to-dos before the afternoon. He was sitting as a member of the family at Caroline’s funeral and couldn’t be late. Once more, the struggle between friend and professional nagged. But there was nothing to do except get in the cruiser, go slog out more cop work, and try to find the enigma they were all chasing.

Chapter Ten

T
he time was marked when a black, funeral home Suburban parked out front. Together and strong for the moment, Isaac stepped onto the spacious front porch with Sarah and Josie. Helen and Tom came last. Like one being, there was a unified inhaling and exhaling of breath. The march down the sidewalk was the start of an unfortunate ritual. A life had to be remembered and told good-bye forever.

Isaac sat in the middle seat with Sarah and Josie on either side of him. He held both their hands. They were going to get through this together. There was no other way of passage. His parents were in the third seat, silent and brokenhearted over more than Caroline. They felt dejected at seeing their son mourn with his family.

They rode to the mountainside cemetery without a word. It had rained more over the weekend, and the grass was soggy. Across the meadow, headstones, old and new, all grayed by weather, dotted the setting.

Chairs for the family were neatly lined up in front of Caroline’s child-sized, open casket. The girls were sandwiched in the middle. A halo of protection and strength surrounded them. On the far end, next to Tom, Charlie took a seat. Excluding him, the five of them were the only surviving family.

Friends, teachers, acquaintances, little girls in dresses, and little boys in suits were spread around in a semicircle to hear the preacher deliver the final words of compassion to a daughter, a sister, a granddaughter, and a friend too short-lived. All was quiet and calm as her final blessings were bestowed.

Without any instruments, voices young and old offered a song to a precious little girl.

Amazing grace, how sweet the sound

That saved a wretch like me

I once was lost, but now am found

Was blind, but now I see

Those sweet words echoed across the cemetery and down the valley. The mountains stood tall, and the breeze rustled in the aspens. Caroline’s spirit could almost be felt as the air spiraled and moved on to places unknown. Only her body remained. Her eyes were closed, and she was wearing her favorite dress. A lacy scarf covered the fatal wound. A ribbon and pendant hung loosely around her neck. If she could have spoken, she would have told them to not be sad. She was in a better place and patiently waiting to see them again.

“No one can hurt me now.”

When it was time, Sarah leaned over, kissed her forehead, and let quivering lips linger. She would gladly have died a thousand painful deaths to trade places. Isaac pressed his lips to the same place. He felt sadness and anger but mostly failure. It was his job to protect her, and he had failed. There was no second chance. The stakes were life and death. A do-over did not exist. Tears dripped onto Caroline’s face from the tragic reality. He wanted to pull her from the casket, carry her home, and never let go.

He felt a small hand squeeze his fingers. Josie was on her tiptoes, trying to get a better look at her sister.

“Do you want to say something to her?” His eyes spilled tears, but his voice was clear.

She nodded, and he set a folding chair next to the elevated casket. She wasn’t crying as he lifted her to stand in the seat. The look on her face was peaceful, at ease with the world. She looked down on her twin sister.

“What do I tell her, Daddy?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed, and he swallowed the lump. “Well, I guess you can tell her anything you want. You’re sisters.”

Her hand slipped out and wrapped around Caroline’s. She slid her thumb over the cool skin. “She’s cold.”

He tried but couldn’t hold back. It was too much. Even in front of Josie, he had no strength left. She had just broken his wall, and the tears came rolling. He shook with sobs, crying the helpless cry of a man out of options. Sarah was there, and he drew into her. This was his time, and he needed to hear it would be okay.

Josie held on to Caroline’s hand. It was just the two of them. The way they had begun. Out of the blue, she smiled.

“You look pretty, sissy. Grandma says Jesus will take good care of you.” She went on her tiptoes and did something she and Caroline had always done. “I love you,” she said, and kissed her sister on the lips.

Josie stepped down from the chair and looked at the sad faces of all the grownups. “It’s time to go.” With that, she walked toward the Suburban.

Somehow, it was the perfect thing to say. They couldn’t stay there forever. It was time to go.

Chapter Eleven

S
hiny blonde hair reflected yellow rays of light drifting through the window. Josie sat in her bedroom. A child-sized table and teacups were placed before her.

Isaac came to the doorway and stopped. He observed as she poured make-believe tea into two cups, visiting with a presence only she saw. She had been caught several times over the last few days talking into thin air, like someone was there with her. She spoke to the ghost no differently than a real person.

Everyone took comfort in how well she was adjusting. After all, she was closest to Caroline. They were blood, confidants. They had begun as one egg, sharing the womb. Where two had always been, there was now only one.

To the average parent, the one-sided conversations would not have caused alarm. Isaac, however, was in a heightened state of concern. He feared it might be Caroline she was speaking with, and if so, that Josie was in denial about her sister’s permanent absence. Death could be difficult to understand at eight years old. Neither of the girls had ever lost a loved one. Not even a family pet had passed away. And Isaac thought they should talk.

He leaned against the doorway. “Hey, you have room for one more?”

She was immersed in her serving. “Sure.”

The delicately carved chair set was too fragile for his grown body. Instead, he sat on a stool used to retrieve things from the closet shelves.

“Is this cup for me?” He gestured toward the second place setting.