Don't Forget Me Page 6

  His heart leaped into his throat. The thrill of this part never dulled.

  The phone rang. He jumped and gripped the steering wheel.

  Why hadn’t he silenced it yet? The stupid thing had been going off all morning.

  He picked it up to turn off the ringer when the screen showed it was Gayle, his girlfriend. She had the worst timing. Always.

  If he answered, she’d stop calling. Hopefully. He could say hi, then end the call and still get across the street in time to blend in with the mass of people heading to the playground once the bell rang.

  He accepted the call. “I told you I’d call when I could.”

  “Why have you been avoiding my calls, Tony?”

  “I’ve been busy.”

  “Do you think I’ve been calling for nothing?” Gayle demanded.

  He squeezed his fists. “And you know I need to focus when I’m traveling.”

  “Am I even important to you?”

  “Not this again. I keep telling you, yes!”

  She sighed into the phone. “Then why are you always gone? Avoiding me?”

  “I’m not avoiding you!” Though he was beginning to wish he had.

  “You know what? If we’re going to be together, you have to pay me more attention! There are plenty of guys who would be happy—thrilled, even—to be my boyfriend. You don’t seem to care. That needs to change. Now.”

  He clenched his jaw and glanced at the time.

  Two minutes before the bell.

  Time to end the call.

  “Are you there? Don’t you ignore me, Tony!”

  “We can talk about this later,” he said through gritted teeth. “When I’m back in town.”

  “No.”

  “No?” Had he heard her correctly?

  One minute before the bell.

  “You heard me. I’m sick of this. I feel more like a mistress than your girlfriend. Tell your boss you need some personal time. Demand to work less hours. Be a man!”

  Fury ran through him. “I am a man, Gayle! You need to back off.”

  “I’m the only one you have the balls to stand up to. You give into everyone else. And you know what? I’m sick of it. Things are changing, and they’re changing now. One way or another.”

  “Are you threatening me?”

  The bell rang.

  He clenched his fists.

  “I’m giving you an ultimatum,” she said. “It’s not a threat.”

  Kids poured out of the school, filling the schoolyard. He should’ve been there. Already making his way toward Maisie.

  “Tony? Are you there?”

  “We’ll talk about this when I get back.”

  “No. We’re talking now. Will you stand up to your boss, or are we through? I need an answer. Now.”

  “I said we’ll talk later. I have to go.”

  The line went dead.

  He looked at the screen. It showed the call ended.

  Swearing, he chucked the phone across the car. Now he was in no state of mind to head across the street. He would have to wait for the last recess of the day. Maybe pick-up time, but most schools had strict regulations about who the kids went with these days. These things were so much easier back in the day. Nobody ever let kids out of their sight anymore. Helicopter-parent sissies. Pansies—the whole lot of them. A whole society of ninnies.

  And what was it with women these days? Always thinking they could order him around. Go here, do that, don’t do this. Blah, blah, blah. Emotional castrators, that’s what women were. Worthless, stupid, and infuriating emotional castrators.

  He squeezed the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white then glanced over at the playground full of kids. They weren’t controlling. They weren’t cruel or patronizing.

  Kids were kind and accepting, full of grace. Until they hit a certain age and turned into jerks. They always did. It was like a phase of life nobody missed. Especially the girls. They all turned into women at some point.

  He shuddered at the thought.

  If only the sweet little girls could stay that way. But they never did.

  He turned his attention back to the school, and he watched the teachers. They were the ones he’d have to be careful about when the kids came out for their next recess. There were only three of them from what he could tell. Definitely not enough to watch all the kids at once. Especially not with one of the teachers glued to her phone.

  Maybe bringing Maisie back to his car wouldn’t be so difficult after all.

  He would only have to wait for the next recess.

  Suspect

  Nick paced his office. Genevieve probably had a good reason for not answering his calls. Maybe she was sleeping. He could understand that. If he could take a nap, he’d crash on his couch in a heartbeat.

  Now there was no time for that. Not with Genevieve’s dad now a stronger person of interest. It had to be a coincidence that he’d worked with the first dead girl’s dad. Chances were, he’d never even met her. Nick had never met plenty of his colleagues’ kids. Well, some of them. A few, at least.

  He sighed then went back to his phone and sent Genevieve a text.

  Nick: Need to ask your family questions. Here or the condo?

  Ending with a question would raise the likelihood of her responding. If not, he’d make a trip over to the condo. He needed to get Walter’s side of the story while he was still just a person of interest—before he became a full-blown suspect.

  Knock, knock.

  Nick glanced over and saw Anderson. He undoubtedly wanted to know if Nick had reached the Fosters yet. Nick waved him in, his mind racing for a good response. Something other than no that wasn’t a lie.

  Anderson came in. “Are they on their way over?”

  Nick drew in a deep breath. “I’m going to head to the condo. That way they don’t have to come in again. They’ve been through enough.”

  Anderson arched a brow. “Sure you can be unbiased?”

  “We all work with Foster,” Nick snapped. “Sorry. I just mean that none of us want to see her dad as a suspect. Yes, I can be unbiased. We all want to get to the truth of the matter, nobody more than me. I just want to see the killer put behind bars. That’s all any of us want.”

  “I’m just asking, sir.” Anderson nodded and gave him a sympathetic glance. “I can go with you, if you want.”

  “Find out if forensics has ID’d anyone else. One body doesn’t tell us much. The whole group of them will give us a clearer picture.”

  “You’ve got it, Captain. Let me know if you change your mind.” Anderson studied him for a moment before leaving.

  Nick sighed and checked his phone. No new texts.

  He gathered his things then headed out to his Mustang, glad to be exiting from the back parking lot. The media circus had grown since the morning.

  Nick mulled over all the details he knew about the case as he drove. There weren’t usually coincidences in his line of work, but hoped this would be the exception. Genevieve would be crushed if her dad turned out to be the killer. The fact that he lived in the house and had a connection to a victim didn’t bode well. That was not one, but two, coincidences.

  He reached the condo and parked, his mind racing. Genevieve’s car was there. That meant unless she’d gone somewhere with her parents, she was there.

  Hopefully she could explain away the coincidences.

  It was strange to knock on his condo’s door. He’d lived in the tiny unit for what had felt like forever. Time had seemed to stand still during the period when Corrine took the kids across the country from him.

  Nick was about to knock again when the door opened.

  Genevieve answered, her eyes red and her long dark hair flat. Her eyes widened. “Nick.”

  “I’ve been trying to get ahold of you.”

  “Sorry. It’s been crazy around here. Tinsley woke up from a nightmare, and that was after we all slept in pretty late.”

  He nodded. “Understandable. Mind if I come in?”

&
nbsp; She hesitated. “Um, sure. We kind of made a mess. Sorry.”

  “No problem. I just have a few questions.”

  Genevieve stepped aside. They went to the kitchen and sat at the table. Tinsley was reclining on the futon, reading. The shower sounded through the thin walls.

  Nick cleared his throat. “Is your dad here?”

  Her expression darkened for a moment. “He actually went fishing. It’s his way of dealing with stress.”

  Nick managed to keep his face from showing his worry. Walter not only had two coincidences going against him, but now he was out fishing, unable to be questioned? This was looking worse.

  It was a good thing he’d convinced Anderson to stay behind. Nick needed to find out what was going on before anyone else caught wind of this.

  Genevieve twisted a lock of hair around her finger. “Is everything okay?”

  “Actually, it’s your dad I wanted to speak with, but maybe you can help.”

  Her face paled. “Sure. Is there a problem?”

  Nick considered his wording, but it really didn’t matter how he framed it. She was a cop, and would understand the severity of the situation—that her dad was moving up on the persons-of-interest list.

  “Nick?”

  “How close was your dad to Gary Michaels?”

  She gave him a double-take. “Who?”

  “They worked together.”

  Genevieve tapped the table and looked deep in thought. “I don’t recognize the name. Why?”

  “Just trying to fill in some gaps.”

  She frowned. “What kind of gaps? Who is Gary Mitchell?”

  “Michaels,” Nick corrected. “His daughter went missing some thirty years ago.”

  Genevieve’s face paled even more. “You think my dad…?”

  Nick shook his head. “I’m here to clear him of the connection. To get him off the list.”

  She buried her face in her palms and muttered.

  “Can you call him so I can talk to him? I just need to ask him some questions.”

  “He’s not answering our calls.” Genevieve looked up at him, her eyes shining with tears. “This looks so bad, but really, fishing is how he deals with stress.”

  Nick’s heart shattered, seeing her pain. He reached for her hand and squeezed. “I’m sure it’s all a big misunderstanding. It has to be. That’s why I’m here to clear him from the list.”

  She blinked and tears spilled onto her face. “He always goes to fish when things are tough. He comes back calmer. Happier. It’s his way of dealing with things.”

  He nodded. “I believe you. I just need to be able to talk with him myself. You understand.”

  “Of course.” She wiped her eyes.

  “Do you know when he’ll be back? Or where he went fishing? I can ask him questions there, where he’s comfortable.”

  “Maybe Mom knows.” Genevieve’s lips trembled.

  Nick couldn’t take it a moment longer. He scooted closer, wrapped an arm around her, and brushed his lips across hers. “It’s going to be okay. I promise you.”

  “How can you promise that?”

  “Because I’ll make sure of it. You have my word.”

  Genevieve shook in his arms. He got a whiff of a sweet floral aroma. He couldn’t take her pain. He needed to do something, so he pressed his mouth onto hers, taking the kiss deeper for just a moment before pulling away. She leaned against his chest and continued shaking.

  Nick’s heart raced. She could probably hear it thundering in her ears. He tightened his grip around her and rubbed her back.

  “Captain Fleshman?”

  He turned around to see Brenda, her wet hair in curlers. “Yes, Mrs. Foster. I came to ask a few more questions.”

  She arched a brow, glancing at Genevieve pressed against his chest.

  Nick ignored the look. “I have some questions about your husband that Genevieve couldn’t answer. Perhaps you could help?”

  “Sure.” She sat across from them, still eyeing her daughter who was practically in his lap. “What do you need to know?”

  “Do you know a Gary Michaels?”

  Brenda’s eyes were blank as though she were trying to remember. Then her mouth dropped open. “Don’t tell me poor Amy has something to do with this.”

  “So, your husband did work with Gary?”

  She nodded. “Yes. I remember her disappearance like it was yesterday. Was Amy buried under our yard the whole time?” Her eyes grew as wide as saucers.

  “I can’t speak about the case. I’m sorry.”

  “I’m going to be sick.” She covered her mouth.

  Nick cleared his throat. “I should ask Walter the rest of my questions. Do you have an address for where he’s fishing?”

  Brenda gave a worried glance to Genevieve. “I’m not sure where he went. Sometimes he just takes off when he’s stressed—doesn’t mean he’s guilty.”

  “Of course not. I’m just here to clear him from any possible connection to the case.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief. “Well, I can give you the names of the places he often fishes. Would that help?”

  “Certainly.” Nick pulled out his phone and opened the notes app.

  Brenda listed off a few places and Nick jotted them down. “Any others?”

  She shook her head. “Do you want his number?”

  Nick pulled out his notepad and flipped through, making sure not to disturb Genevieve, who still rested against him. “I’ve got it here. Is this correct?” He read off the numbers.

  Brenda nodded.

  “Can I get a few more details? Then I’ll be out of your hair.”

  “Sure.”

  “What’s his full name?”

  “Walter Anthony Foster.”

  Nick scribbled on the paper. “Does he have any nicknames?”

  “No…” She looked deep in thought for a moment. “He actually used to go by his middle name when we met.”

  “Anthony?”

  She nodded. “But then later he thought Walter was more distinguished, so he’s gone by his given name for over thirty years.”

  “He doesn’t go by that anymore?”

  “No. Never.” Brenda shook her head.

  Unload

  Zoey stared into the eyes of her best friend. Her insides shook, and her stomach lurched. Part of her felt relief at the thought of telling her everything. Another part of her wanted to run. Far away.

  Pretending none of this was actually happening really wasn’t healthy, and she knew it, even if it was easier. Part of her stomach issues were probably due to the stress of keeping everything to herself.

  “You know I won’t judge you.” Macy put her hand on top of Zoey’s. “I’m here for you, just like I always have been.”

  Zoey nodded and took a deep breath. Her heart thundered in her chest faster than it had in a long time. It almost brought her back to her abduction.

  She stared at a daisy for a moment before forcing herself to look at Macy. Her hands shook. She shivered despite the warm sun beating down.

  “Something else happened, didn’t it?” Macy’s voice cracked. She squeezed Zoey’s hand, heartbreak in her eyes. She knew.

  Tears blurred Zoey’s vision. There would be no more trying to pretend that the last assault hadn’t happened. No more hoping it would all go away. Her best friend had already figured it out. “He… Dave…”

  She struggled to find the words. They were there. She just couldn’t say them, even though Macy knew. She was just waiting for Zoey to voice it.

  Maybe she should just run. Macy had the baby—she wouldn’t be able to keep up. No, that would be the cowardly thing to do. And she was no coward. She needed to do this, no matter how hard it was. Macy was her best friend, and she would help her through this. As a counselor, she had resources. Heck, she’d even been abducted herself. That was what had driven her to her profession.

  Zoey took another deep breath. “Before I escaped, he raped me.”

  Tears spilled fro
m Macy’s eyes. “Oh, Zoey. I was hoping that wasn’t what you were going to say.” She wrapped her arms around Zoey as best she could with Caden strapped to her. “Have you told anyone else?”

  “The doctors, right after it happened. They collected evidence. I’ll have to testify.” Zoey swallowed, trying to keep herself together.

  “You’ve been checked out. Good. You haven’t talked about it since then?”

  Zoey shook her head, and tears spilled onto her face. “Not even to the counselor. I just couldn’t do it.”

  “You didn’t get any STD’s from him?”

  “No, amazingly. Though I think I have to be retested in a few months for one of them. The whole thing is so confusing.”

  “What does Alex think?”

  Zoey didn’t respond. She bit her lip.

  “He doesn’t know?” Macy asked.

  “Not yet.”

  “Are you going to tell him?”

  “I’m going to have to soon. Can’t hide it forever.”

  Macy sat back, wide-eyed. “You don’t mean…? You’re pregnant?”

  Zoey pressed her shirt against her stomach, showing off the roundness of her belly. “I’m carrying a psychopath’s child.”

  Macy’s mouth gaped. “I had no idea.”

  “Nobody does.”

  “Are you planning on keeping it? Are you sure it isn’t Alex’s? Is that what you’re worried about? Maybe it’s his. It has to be, right?”

  Zoey rubbed her temples. “You’re making my head spin.”

  “Sorry. I can’t help freaking out when this involves my best friend and my baby brother.”

  Zoey groaned. “Great. You’re referring to him as your baby brother.”

  She frowned. “When are you going to tell Alex?”

  “Not helping.” Zoey closed her eyes and focused on her breathing.

  “I’m sorry. What do you need from me? What can I do?”

  Zoey opened her eyes. “No more questions, please.”

  “Understood. I’m sorry. What can I do?”

  Zoey pressed her palms on her stomach, but didn’t say anything.

  Macy frowned. “I’ll do anything. Whatever you need, just let me know.”

  “You already have so much on your plate.”

  “I also have all the time in the world right now. My maternity leave is six months.”