Speed Trap (16 page)

Mandy opened the folder in front of her. “You drive a 1999 Ford pickup, don't you?”

“Yeah.”

“What color is it?”

“Black. Why?”

“We have a witness who said Judy was run off the road by a black truck.”

Spike sat up. “I didn't have anything to do with that.”

Mandy folded her hands in front of her. “Did she owe you money? Was that why she bolted when she saw you?”

“I never saw her.”

Fred stepped forward and pounded his fist on the table. “We're going to get a sample of paint from your truck and it's going to match the paint that transferred to Judy's car. You murdered her.”

Spike licked his lips. “I wasn't driving my truck that morning. I loaned it to someone else.”

Fred leaned closer. “Who?”

“I want a deal before I say anything else,” Spike said quickly. He sat back and waited.

Mandy's gut told her something wasn't right. This was too easy.

Fred straightened and folded his arms. “Tell us what you know and we'll talk deal.”

Spike's gaze darted between them. “Okay. Garrett Bowen was driving my truck that morning.”

Mandy's mind screamed no, but she kept her composure with difficulty. “Why would you loan your truck to Mr. Bowen?”

“We're business partners. He pays me to cook meth. I deliver it to his place and he handles the distribution. That's all I'm gonna say until I talk to a lawyer.”

Mandy left the interview room and turned to Fred who had followed her out. She raked her fingers through her hair. “I don't believe it. I've been out to Garrett's place a dozen times.”

“He's got hundreds of acres he could hide a lab in. Just because he wasn't cooking it in his kitchen doesn't mean he's innocent. I knew he was guilty from the start. I'm going to get a search warrant.”

Fred started down the hall, but stopped to look back. With a smirk, he said, “Bowen sure pulled the wool over your eyes.”

G
arrett shifted Colin's carrier to his other hand and unlocked the front door. “Man, you're getting heavy. What's Ina been feeding you while I was gone, lead pellets?”

Colin kicked his feet and cooed. Wiley, wagging his tail frantically danced around the carrier and whined.

Smiling, Garrett pushed open his door. “Yeah, I missed him, too.”

Garrett had been able to fill his orders and buy the cows for his own herd in record time. He'd left the sale a day early and had driven straight through because he needed to see his son. For the first time in his life, the idea of God as a loving father began to make sense.

Garrett was constantly amazed at the way his heart had expanded to encompass Colin and Mandy. He couldn't imagine his life without either one of them.

If only Mandy felt the same after he confessed what a coward he'd been.

She wasn't expecting him back until tomorrow. Tomorrow he would tell her everything. If their relationship had any chance, there had to be honesty between them. Telling her would be hard, but he hoped, and prayed, that she would understand. His confidence wavered. What if she didn't under
stand? If he destroyed the evidence of his shame she never had to know any of it. He glanced over his head. That was what he needed to do.

Stepping into the living room, he set the carrier on the sofa and extracted Colin. Lifting the baby to settle him in his arms, Garrett was swamped with emotions deeper than he ever dreamed of. The feel of his son's small body, the sweet baby smell of his skin, the light in his bright eyes, wrapped a band around Garrett's heart and squeezed tight enough to bring tears of joy to his eyes.

“I love you, son. I'm never going to let a day go by without saying that.”

Tenderly laying the baby in his crib, Garrett allowed his hand to linger on Colin's soft curls. “It's great to be home.”

Home. A true home, the old house would become one at last.

Wiley's excited barking suddenly erupted from the kitchen. Leaving Colin happily batting at his moon and stars mobile, Garrett entered the kitchen, expecting Wiley to be sitting beside his dish demanding food, but instead the dog was at the front door.

When Garrett looked outside, he saw two squad cars parked in front of his house. Mandy, along with several of her deputies, stood on his porch.

Garrett opened the door. Mandy came forward and handed him a folded packet of papers. Her expression was cool and remote, but in her eyes he saw regret.

She said, “This is a warrant to search these premises.”

“For what?” he demanded.

“It's all in the warrant.”

She turned back to her men. “Fred, you and I will take the house and cellar. The rest of you take the barn and outbuildings.”

Garrett had no idea what they were looking for, but with a sick, sinking sensation, he realized they would go upstairs.

 

Mandy didn't believe Garrett was trafficking in illegal drugs, but she knew he was hiding something. He was afraid of something. He sat quietly at the kitchen table, his copy of the search warrant in his hands, but his eyes darted to the doors at the back of the kitchen.

He'd seemed nervous when she was looking around the day Shari Compton made her home visit. At the time, Mandy had assumed Garrett was worried that Wiley's exuberance would spoil the social worker's report. Now, she wasn't so sure.

She said, “Fred, check the basement.”

He nodded, opened the door and proceeded down the steps with caution. Garrett didn't so much as flinch, until she added, “I'll check upstairs.”

His lips pressed into a tight white line and his eyes pleaded with her, but he didn't say a word.

The hinges squealed in protest as she pulled the door. Garrett made as if to rise, but Benny stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Wait right here, Mr. Bowen.”

Mandy looked up the stairs. It was plain they hadn't been used in some time. A coat of dust covered everything except for a single set of boot prints and accompanying paw prints.

She looked over her shoulder. Garrett sat bent forward in the kitchen chair with his elbows resting on his knees. He wasn't watching her anymore. His face was turned away and resignation slumped his shoulders. What was he afraid of?

Walking up the steps, Mandy followed the path of the prints in the dust. They led first to the door on the right, but had made a circuit to each room and returned to this room before going back downstairs.

She opened the first room and stepped inside. Someone, she assumed it was Garrett, had walked to the closet. Looking down, she saw where the dog had sat beside Garrett. His tail had swept a small space clean.

She opened the door. It was empty except for some old clothing. That didn't make sense.

Pulling out her flashlight she made a careful check of the interior. Nothing.

She bit her lip as she pondered what he'd been doing staring into a nearly empty closet. She couldn't figure it out.

Rising on tiptoe, she patted along the shelf where she couldn't see. Suddenly, her fingers touched something metal. Pulling down the object, she saw it was an old-fashioned key.

A key to what?

Leaving the empty bedroom, she followed the footprints to the next room and again they stopped in front of the closet. When she tried to open it, she found it was locked.

She inserted the key. It turned over with a grating click that made her flinch. Pulling open the door, Mandy stared into the empty space.

Two wire hangers on a dowel rod were the only evidence that the wardrobe had ever been used.

She stared into the narrow confines. Why keep an empty closet locked? This one didn't even have a shelf. Shining her light downward, she saw a dusty blue carpet square covering the floor. One corner was curled up slightly.

Leaning down she lifted the pad. The floor was covered with gouged out words, but the writing was upside-down.

Tipping her head, she read them and her blood ran cold.

Let me out. Make Dad stop hitting Mom. Help me, God. I hate him. Make him stop. Make him stop. Make him stop. G. B.

G. B. Garrett Bowen. Mandy stepped into the closet and
sank to her knees. What had gone on here? Was this what Garrett wanted so badly to keep hidden?

Although the words had been scratched into the wood, Mandy knew it was his writing. Garrett had been locked in the closet.

She reached out and pulled the door closed. In the darkness, the only light was a thin band that shone from beneath the door, highlighting the words etched in that small rectangle of illumination.

Sympathy for Garrett gripped her heart until it ached with actual pain. Closing her eyes, she prayed for wisdom.

At least now she understood.

Rising to her feet, she pushed open the door and replaced the square of carpet covering his words. When Garrett was ready to talk about this, she would be there to listen.

After checking the rest of the rooms and finding nothing out of the ordinary, she replaced the key where she had found it and walked down the stairs. She closed the door to the stairwell and turned around to face Garrett.

 

She knew.

As soon as Garrett saw her face, he knew that she'd seen his writing on the floor.

Shame burned like acid in his throat. He dropped his head onto his hands and struggled not to be sick.

He should have torn those boards out years ago instead of leaving them locked away. As hard as he had tried, he'd never been able to lock away the memories or the anger or his shame.

Fred emerged from the basement, huffing slightly. “I didn't find anything. You?”

Garrett felt Mandy's eyes on him, but he couldn't look at her. He steeled himself to face the humiliation of having his terrible secret exposed.

“There's nothing related to this case upstairs. Looks like our tip was wrong.”

Garrett's gaze shot to meet hers. He was grateful for her silence, but he saw the pity he dreaded as much as his exposure.

Fred scowled. “Maybe he had time to move the stuff?”

Mandy said, “Either way, we're done in here. Go help Benny search the outbuildings.”

When Fred was gone, Mandy sat at the table with Garrett. “I'm sorry. I hope you realize I'm just doing my job.”

He turned his face away. “Sure, I get it. How can you trust a guy like me?”

“I do trust you, Garrett.”

“You have a funny way of showing it.”

“Why don't you tell me about the closet.”

He stared down at his hands. “I was just a kid when I wrote that stuff. I don't know why I left it all these years.”

“You must have been very scared.”

Rubbing a hand along his jaw, he shot to his feet. He paced the length of the room and back. “My dad was a hard man, but when he drank, he got real mean. Mom and I never knew what would set him off.”

“It wasn't your fault.”

“I tried so hard to be invisible, but it didn't matter. If I so much as laid my fork down wrong at the dinner table, he'd start hitting me. When Mom tried to stop him, he'd drag me to the closet and lock me in, then he'd haul her to their bedroom and beat her senseless.”

“And you heard it all.”

“Every time. And every time I did nothing to help her.”

“You were a child. There was nothing you could have done.”

He whirled to face her and shouted, “I could have done something!”

“What happened to your mother, Garrett?”

The anger in his eyes faded. “I came home from school one day and she was gone. I can't really blame her for leaving him.”

“She shouldn't have left you in that terrible situation.”

“Why not? I left her in a worse situation every day of my life.”

Turning away from Mandy, he said, “You should leave now.”

He was shutting her out. She could feel his retreat and didn't know how to stop it. “If you need someone to talk to—”

“I don't.”

Mandy rose and laid a hand on his arm. He shrugged it off and stepped away. She had no choice but to leave, but her heart was breaking for him.

 

To Fred's disgust, the search of Garrett's outbuildings turned up nothing. He was in a sour mood as they drove back to town. Mandy didn't care. Spike had tried to implicate Garrett to save his own hide and it hadn't worked. Garrett was innocent.

When they walked into the station, Donna looked up expectantly. “I thought you were going to arrest Bowen? What happened?”

Mandy said, “Spike was lying.”

“Maybe,” Fred countered.

Shaking her head at his stubborn refusal to accept Garrett's innocence, Mandy entered her office and dropped into her chair. She stared at the phone. Should she call Garrett or should she give him more time? She simply didn't know what to do.

Like all law enforcement officers, Mandy understood that dealing with victims of abuse took special handling. She wasn't objective enough. She was too close to Garrett. She needed help, too.

Picking up the phone, she dialed Shari Compton's number. For the first time since Mandy had known the social worker, she picked up on the first ring.

“Hello, Shari, this is Sheriff Scott. I need some information.”

“About what?”

“About adult survivors of child abuse. I know someone—I just found out. What do I do?”

“If this person was willing to share that information with you, that is a huge step.”

“I uncovered it on my own.”

“I see. Well, many survivors feel threatened and humiliated when the abuse becomes known. Be supportive of that person's feelings. Don't pressure them to reveal things they aren't ready to talk about.”

Oh, like don't accuse him of murder? Don't search his house for illegal drugs.

Mandy said, “Is it true that they have a higher risk of becoming an abuser themselves?”

“That is true, but each case is different. Most survivors suffer from terrible guilt and deep, deep anger. They feel they should have done more to protect themselves or other family members. They also have a higher risk of suicide, depression, posttraumatic stress disorder and anger management issues.”

They were all things Mandy knew from her training, but it helped to have someone else reinforce her meager knowledge.

Shari said, “I'm going to fax you some information about support groups.”

“That would be wonderful.” Mandy knew that she and Garrett were going to need all the support they could get. If he'd allow her to help. In her mind, it was a big if.

After hanging up from her call to the social worker, Mandy
tried calling Garrett. She wasn't surprised when he didn't answer, but she was disappointed and worried.