Haunted Hearts, page 23
“You haven’t done anything illegal.”
“Can we change that?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” He rolled her onto her back and swept his hand up her body to her breast. He plumped it up and then his mouth was on her. He dragged his tongue over her nipple, and Callie squirmed on the bed sheets.
“You have the right to remain silent,” he said, “but don’t let that hold you back.”
She laughed softly as she reached for his zipper. His hips swung toward her, and she’d just gotten it halfway down when the phone rang.
“Shit,” he said.
She dropped her head back against the pillow. “Not now.”
He leaned his forehead against her chest as he tried to rein himself in. His breath swept against her nipple, and she bit her lip when it tightened almost painfully.
The phone refused to be ignored.
He grabbed it from the nightstand and nearly broke the screen when he jabbed at it. “Yeah?” he barked.
She watched the change come over him. Whatever the call was about, it was for Chief Landry. She could feel the difference in the tension in his muscles as she ran her hand down his back.
“Are you sure?” he said. “Settle down, now. I can’t understand you.”
He glanced her way, and she could see something was wrong. She could hear it in his voice.
“Alice, slow down and breathe,” he said. “Put Sherman on the phone.”
Callie flinched. Something had happened at Alice’s place? She pushed herself up onto her elbows. What was wrong? Had somebody been hurt?
Carter saw the questions in her eyes, and he lifted a hand to hold her off. “Can you give me a description?”
Her heart began to pound when he swore again.
“Are you sure you just winged him? Where did he go?”
Her eyes went wide. Winged him? Had somebody been shot?
“No! Don’t go after him. Stay inside, lock up the house, and wait for me to get there.” Carter sat up and swung his legs off the bed. “I’ll be right over. For God’s sake, don’t shoot me when I knock on your door.”
Callie scrambled up until she was kneeling on the bed. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
He was already searching for his clothes. He zipped his jeans back up as he looked over the floor. “Somebody tried to steal Sherman’s truck. He heard someone dinking around, so he grabbed his shotgun and headed out after the guy.”
“Oh my God. Who was it?”
“Nobody knows. He ran off into the woods.”
A lead balloon dropped in her gut. She took her T-shirt when Carter handed it to her and tugged it on as he put on his shoes. He walked over to the closet to get the long-sleeved work T-shirt he kept there. She knew his bulletproof vest was in his truck.
She didn’t like this. In her head, she knew he assumed risk every day when he put on that uniform and walked out the door. She just hadn’t expected him to have to face this level of danger. This was Shadow Valley, not Boston.
“I don’t have a good feeling about this.” Suddenly freezing, she pulled the comforter over her legs. She didn’t want him to leave.
“It’s my job. To protect and serve.” He strapped on his gun that she’d gotten used to seeing on her nightstand. “The guy got caught up to no good, and now he could be hurt. I need to take care of things.”
“I know. It’s just that I...” No, she wasn’t going to do this. If they were going to make anything of this relationship, she had to accept all of him. That included his job. “Please, be careful.”
He stopped long enough to plant a hard kiss on her lips. “Lock the house up tight. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Call me,” she said. “Now go help people.”
IT WASN’T A GOOD NIGHT to be out in the elements. Another cold front had swept into town, and the steering wheel of his truck was cold to the touch. The cold didn’t bother Carter. It was the mess he was stepping into that had him concerned. He wasn’t quite sure what he was facing. Sherman had shot a guy. There just weren’t any good outcomes to a scenario like that.
He pulled out his phone. Bill had the night shift tonight, and he was playing catch-up right now. They needed to coordinate, and he didn’t want to step on any actions that had already gotten underway.
“Hey, chief,” Bill said. “What’s up? I thought you had the night off.”
What’s up? Carter shook his head. Hell, Alice hadn’t even called the station.
“I just got a call from the Gunthries. Somebody tried to steal Sherman’s truck. He shot the guy.”
“Shot him?”
It had been so long since Shadow Valley had had a shooting that it probably wasn’t even in the records.
Carter braked at a stop sign, but kept going around the corner when he didn’t see anyone on the streets. “The guy ran off into the woods. I’m going to check it out.”
“I’ll come back you up, but I’m way out on Route 8, dealing with an OUI.”
“Call everyone else in first. This doesn’t have a good feel to it.” They had a wounded suspect out there. Wounded and hiding in the woods... It wasn’t the best of situations.
The Gunthries lived on the opposite side of the town square from Callie, but still back up against the tree line. When he turned another corner, Carter saw their place was lit up like a Christmas tree. All the outdoor lights were on, and there was a flashlight sweeping the backyard.
“Put out an alert to the community,” he told Bill, although he was sure the message was already spreading. “People should make sure their doors are locked and stay inside. Maybe we’ll get lucky and somebody will spot him.”
Sometimes social media had a purpose. It wasn’t that late; people were still on their devices. They didn’t know if this guy was armed, but he should be considered dangerous. The last thing they needed was another civilian to get surprised by him.
Carter pulled up to the house and shook his head as he stepped out of his truck. “Sherman,” he called toward the flashlight. “I thought I told you to wait inside.”
Alice’s six-foot-tall beanpole of a husband shuffled over to talk to Carter. The wind tugged at his coat and pants, but his shotgun was as steady as his flashlight. “It’s my property. I’ll do as I please.”
As he’d already proven... Carter wandered over to the old beater truck the would-be thief had tried to steal and crouched beside a small pool of blood. “What happened here?”
“Like I told you on the phone, Alice and I were watching our show on the DVR. That’s when I heard the door of my pickup open. I’ve been meaning to oil it for some time now.” Sherman pulled his jacket up tighter around his neck. “Well, I knew right off what was happening. Nancy from next door had clothes stolen off the line. That hooligan came back for my truck.”
Carter went still. He hadn’t made that connection, but his administrative assistant did live next door to the Gunthries. He let his flashlight sweep over the old Ford. It wasn’t locked, and he wasn’t surprised to see the keys in the ignition. “So you decided to grab your shotgun?”
Sherman’s spine straightened. “You know I did. He wasn’t ready for that, let me tell you.”
“Did you hit him bad?”
“Got him in the arm. Maybe the side.”
There were drops of blood leading up the driveway. Carter followed the trail as far as he could with his light. It led off into the woods behind the Gunthries’ house. In the dark, the red splotches were hard to see. If it had snowed, they’d be in better shape.
“Did you get a good look at the guy?”
“Ugly son of a gun.”
“Did you recognize him?”
“He wasn’t anybody from around these parts.”
Carter pulled a notebook out of his jacket pocket. “Can you give me a description?”
“He was a big guy. I’d say he was about my height, maybe two... two twenty. His hair was shaved real close to his head.”
Carter took the description down, but it didn’t ring any bells. He hadn’t seen anybody like that around town. Newcomers and visitors tended to stick out. “What was he wearing?”
“Now why would you ask me that? I’m no fashion maven.”
Carter lifted a hand when his phone started ringing again. “Hold on. Let me get this.”
It was Jackson, his officer with the bum arm. He must have come in to coordinate the search. Good idea. “Landry here.”
“Chief,” Jackson said. For someone who’d just come onto the case, his voice was ragged. “I know you’re busy, but I’ve got some new information you should know.”
Carter tensed. Ah, hell. Were they already too late? “What happened? Did somebody find the guy? Is anyone hurt?”
“No. I don’t know. It’s not that. Maybe now’s not a good time to tell you, but I was fooling around with those fingerprints you sent to the lab from Callie Thompson’s fuse box.”
Carter’s attention focused like a switch had just been thrown.
Jackson took a deep breath. “I know they said the results were inconclusive, but I tried playing around with the prints. You know, like matching the partials up with the ones Raikins took to get a more comprehensive one. And... Well... You’re not going to believe this.”
The tension at the back of Carter’s neck threatened to strangle him. “Jackson, if you don’t tell me, I’m going to come right through this phone and tackle you.”
“I tried a side-by-side match with that larger print, using one set of fingerprints instead of the whole database.” The static screamed when the officer paused. “Now, I’m just learning. It’s only a seventy-four-percent hit.”
“Whose prints did you run?”
“Morton’s. Hell, Carter. They’re Morton’s.”
The nausea hit Carter hard and fast. For a second, his vision blurred, and he reached out for the truck to steady himself. “Are you telling me that Clive Morton was in Callie’s basement?”
“I don’t know for sure. I’m saying I’m not an expert on this, I was just messing around, and the match is far from conclusive—but close enough that I’d want to know if it was my girlfriend’s house.”
Carter’s instincts went into overdrive. He had to get to Callie. Morton had been in that house with her. She didn’t know, and he’d broken rule one.
He’d left her alone.
He was making a beeline for his truck when logic prevailed. He’d just left the house. Nobody had been there except the two of them, and he’d locked the door behind him. Those prints had been taken a while ago.
But locked doors hadn’t stopped the noises in that place.
He rubbed his throbbing shoulder as he looked at the trail of blood. He couldn’t deal with this now.
He went still. Morton. Damn it, where had his head been?
“Hold on, Jackson.” Carter dove inside his truck and grabbed one of the FBI’s wanted flyers from the glove compartment. “Sherman, was this the guy you saw?”
Sherman lumbered over. He held the piece of paper at arm’s length as he shined his flashlight at it. “By golly, that’s him.”
“Why didn’t you say so? We’ve been looking for this guy. He’s an escaped felon.”
“I’ve been on the road, chief. I heard about those escapees, but I didn’t see any flyers and I don’t watch the news much. Too much politics.”
Carter’s brain quickly clicked into gear. Morton had been behind all the petty thefts. Why hadn’t he seen it before? The clothes from Nancy’s line, the church money, and now Sherman’s truck. The answer had been sitting under his nose the entire time.
“Jackson, Sherman just ID’d Morton. Where is my backup?”
The woods pulled at Carter like a magnet. Everything inside of him wanted to go tearing off after the guy, but he knew better. It was too dark in those woods. There was little chance he’d be able to find Morton on his own out there, unless Sherman had gotten him worse than he thought. The guy must have been navigating these trails for weeks. He’d know where to go to hide or where to seek refuge.
Hell. Callie.
“Everyone’s just been put on duty,” Carter said. “Call the surrounding communities and get us some help. We need to sweep these woods, and we need to do it fast.” He ran a hand through his hair. Thoughts were flying at him from every direction. “We’ll need dogs, floodlights, the works. Direct everyone to Sherman and Alice’s house. You’ll coordinate things from the station.”
“I’m on it, chief.”
He couldn’t forget about Callie. If he wasn’t sure she was safe, there’d be no way he could concentrate. As soon as he hung up, Carter called Bill.
“Bill, turn around. I want you to go over to Callie’s. Stay with her until you get word from me. Jackson got a hit on those prints. They’re Morton’s. Sherman just confirmed he’s the guy he shot.”
“Are you kidding me?” The sound of squealing tires came over the phone, followed by a siren. “Don’t worry, chief. He won’t get near her.”
Carter took a deep breath. He had a lot of things to do, and he needed to do them right. He couldn’t let this guy slip away again.
“You all right there, Landry?”
Carter looked at Sherman. The guy stood there, his shotgun pointing at the ground. He was ready to defend what was his. Carter understood the feeling. His brain focused. It was time to be the police chief. “I’m good.”
Time passed quickly from that point. He busied himself cordoning off the area as he waited for his people to arrive. The woods were dark as he wrapped tape around a tree near the point where the blood splotches disappeared.
Morton just better hope he wasn’t the one who found him. The bastard had been in Callie’s house. Had he been the one who’d been scaring her all along? Making sounds, using her things, and trying to get into her bedroom? Carter tamped down the fury that threatened to consume him.
He was just pulling out a map of the county when two of his officers showed up. He nodded at them and spread the map over the hood of a police car. If Morton had gone off trail, it would be hard to find him without dogs, especially if he managed to stop the flow of blood from his wounds. If he was heading somewhere specific, though, the map might help. Carter pulled out a pen and circled the place where the convict was last seen.
His phone rang again, splintering his thoughts. “Landry here.”
“Chief, it’s Bill.”
The map was quickly forgotten when he heard the shakiness in Bill’s voice. “What is it?”
“You’d better get over here quick.”
“Is he there?” Carter’s world tilted on its axis. “Does he have her?”
“No, it’s...”
“Spit it out, Bill.”
“The Hughes kid says it’s Adelaide. She’s going nuts.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Callie couldn’t sleep, not after Alice’s call. What was happening over at the Gunthries’ place? She couldn’t believe there had been a shooting here, in Shadow Valley, of all places. Had they found the man? Was he hurt badly? Not knowing was driving her crazy.
Grabbing her phone, she quickly texted Mamie and David to make sure they were safe. She was secretly relieved when David texted he was home playing video games. She knew it hadn’t been him... although he had been known to poke around the Gunthries’ tool shed. She shook off the thought. That would have been bad. So very bad.
Mamie took longer to talk down. Callie briefly considered running down to the café to stay with her, but thought better of it. Still, she couldn’t just lie here worrying, especially with Carter out there in the middle of it. Whatever it was.
She pushed off the covers and went to the closet for her robe. There had to be something she could do to pass the time as she waited for the phone to ring.
The floorboards creaked as she walked to the bedroom door. The peanut butter cookies in the kitchen were calling her name. If this wasn’t the time for stress eating, she didn’t know what was. She grabbed the doorknob, but nearly stubbed her toe again when the door didn’t open.
She looked down quickly. The doorknob was stuck.
Her breath caught in her lungs, but she swiftly tamped down the surge of fear. It had to just be locked. Carter was cautious that way.
She reached for the lock, but snatched her hand back when she received a jolt of static electricity. “Ow!”
She rubbed her hand. That had been the second time tonight. Eyeing the door anxiously, she tried again. This time, she was able to touch the thumbturn, but she couldn’t move it. It wasn’t just stuck—it was jammed tight. So was the door handle itself. She used her sleeve to get a better grip, but her hand slipped off before it so much as budged.
Tingles started in her belly. “This is not happening. Not again.”
She sprang back when the television started blaring from the living room. The volume turned up to full, and she clapped her hands over her ears.
“Oh, no. Please no.”
Upstairs, the rocker started squeaking. She didn’t know how she could hear it over the din, but she could. The knot that formed in her stomach was cold and hard. She backed away from the door, shivers running down her spine.
Outside her bedroom, the tumult rose. Doors began slamming. In the living room, something hit the walls. She hunched her shoulders with every crash. Were those her books? Through the crack under the door, she could see the lights flashing on and off, on and off.
Inside her bedroom, though, all was still.
The hair on Callie’s arms rose. Adelaide had wanted attention before; this was different. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong. The whirlwind of noise and activity seemed to gain strength. She was in the eye of the storm but couldn’t wait for it to turn on her.
“Stop it,” she begged. “Please, Adelaide.”
The maelstrom rose around her. Energy pumped through the house. Appliances turned on and off. Callie hopped onto the bed when moans started coming up through the floorboards from the basement.
“Why?” She was shaking so hard that her teeth clattered. Why had the spirit come back? Hadn’t she completed the mission Adelaide left behind? Wasn’t she doing as the spirit had asked?
