Revealed

Chapter 3-1

Three

Mark had been on duty for many evening shifts and night shifts in his career as a deputy with the Sheriff’s Department, but tonight was already one of the worst.

Some citizens thought all the sheriff’s department did in a small county like Polk would be to rescue kitties from enormous trees. Or redirect traffic around a farmer driving his huge combine on the highway, because no alternate route to the field was available.

Or just drive around town … like he was doing now.

He shook his head.

If they only knew.

The minute he checked in, a report of domestic abuse came in. The incident appeared to be settled now—the wife had called in after her husband threw a sledge hammer at her and missed. Thank God. It might have been a homicide instead.

Thank God.

To add to his misery and stress, every time he reported back to the department, the other deputies asked if he’d seen Katty Randolph.

No, not tonight.

Don’t ask again.

And if they said one more time, “Go get her, Son!” he’d have to … well, he wouldn’t draw his gun, but he might have to put salt in the coffee. The convenience store offered a buy 7 cups of coffee, get one free promotion now anyway, so he’d still get his caffeine. Let those dorks sputter when they sipped their first big gulp of that dark goodness laced with salt.

He tapped the steering wheel.

But it was true.

She was all he thought of.

Katty might like to go to eat at that new Mexican place.

He turned into the small city park and followed the road. Someone had parked by the playground equipment, as three kids chased each other up and down and around the walkways and the slides, like little monkeys. He guessed on his next round through the park, they’d be heading home.

He drove past the huge leaning tree.

Next, the pool. Then the old Boy Scout cabin.

He followed the road around the outdoor picnic enclosure toward the exit—an older lady sat reading a book at one of the picnic tables. She waved. Everybody ventured out tonight.

Katty might like to take Bea to the park. He’d go down the slide with little Bea. He’d seen kids try to climb up that old tree—it leaned at just the right angle to get them started—but they could only go up so far. Bet Bea would try it with him.

He stopped at the stop sign and waited for a car driving past on the street. Noted the license plate, the make and model of the car, assessed the driver—Mrs. Bertrand? She owned the consignment store. She waved.

Always the vigilante, always assessing each driver and their intentions.

Flowers along the exit bloomed bright orange. Couldn’t miss those.

What if he just took Katty and Bea on a walk around the nursery out by Benedict? Katty loved plants—she had some potted on her deck. Every time they had dispatched him to check on her or … her neighbor filed a complaint, they always sent him.

Katty would open the door, see him, step outside and pluck a leaf from a plant. As they sat on the chairs to talk, she’d squeeze it, sniffing it the whole time.

What he wouldn’t give to do that today.

Check on her.

Get dispatched to her trailer.

Talk to her.

Tickle Bea.

Katty’s injuries from the accident a few weeks before turned out to be mostly her left arm. Still in a cast, that couldn’t be easy with being a mom and all. She had worried about Bea, but the hospital had tested her and kept her overnight—two nights even—then released her. She’d breathed in smoke, but they felt confident that her lungs looked clear.

Thank God.

Mark grinned, despite himself, when he thought of Bea. Cute, tiny thing. Ornery. Her brown eyes twinkled and gave her intentions away every time.

Crossing the highway, he always noted any out-of-town cars at the convenience store. Nope. All 41 county vehicles—not that any of those drivers were angels.

Huh. Gas pumps were replaced and in use.

Hard to comprehend the accident just weeks before. Why would a man who seemed so intent on kidnapping his daughter—getting her for himself, for whatever reasons—ram headlong into the car she and her mom sat in? Knowing he might have killed her and almost succeeded. Why would what’s his name—Phil Daynton—do that?

He destroyed the car and the old pickup he’d been driving, but he almost killed Bea’s mom.

Katty.

Maybe that’s what his intention had been all along.

Kill the mom and kidnap his daughter.

Mark shook his head.

The more he learned on this deputy job—yeah, the technical stuff of guns, protocol, the department itself—the more he grew horrified by the things people thought of doing.

But maybe that was it.

They didn’t think. They just reacted.

That bastard, Phil, obviously didn’t have a brain cell in his head.

And he was still on the loose.

Where had he found to hide? How many hiding places might there be in a town the size of Osceola, Nebraska? Maybe the guy was in Mexico right now. His cohort in crime, Lex, definitely was in jail at the department.

Mark drove at a slow pace through the convenience store gas lanes. Just to be snarky. He loved to observe the kid, who had seen him, duck his head and elbow his friends—as if they were stealing. Maybe they were, but it worked. They always rushed to the cashier, paid, lined up outside—like a police line-up—and waved at him.

Funny kids.

The renovations after the accident—especially the gas pumps—had taken time, but the store was back in action. Some repairs still needed to be completed on the building, but things were coming along fast. He wouldn’t stay and gawk every day … like some people. So progress seemed obvious.

Back to Phil.

Mark’s mind reverted to when he used to play hide and seek with his little cousins. They squeezed into the smallest corner or crevice between bookshelves or in closets and might never have been found until somebody’s tummy growled and they all raided the kitchen for cookies.

Where was Phil?

He shook his head. How could a man drive head-on into the car where his own daughter was strapped into a car seat—into Katty’s vehicle at the gas station? It might have been so much worse.

Worse than that though, Mark would kill the man if he ever caught him hurting little Bea, which had apparently been the man’s plan all along. Yes, he seemed to stalk Katty, but his actual target pointed to Bea.

Again, if people in the area knew what really went on in their region, Polk County News would be twice the size newspaper that it was now. Mark knew of every crime, every case all across the land, but especially in Polk County. It would shock people to know how much went on.

Here he was again, driving past the trailer park where Katty lived. Did that make three times tonight?

He declared himself crazy and called into dispatch to tell Chantelle he was going on break.

Katty’s car wasn’t home, anyway.

“Did ya find your girl, Mark?”

Damn! Chantelle, too?

He grinned.

“I’m heading to Shelby, to the store over there. Need anything?” He put his blinker on at the highway and stopped. Good to do business all over the county. Pizza wasn’t available at the convenience store, yet, anyway.

“Naw. I’m good. Fixed a big pot roast last night, so I snagged some meat for a sandwich.”

He turned onto the highway. “Damn, that sounds good! Okay, well, let me know if you need anything else. Soda? Chips?”

“I’m okay. Thanks.” Chantelle clicked off. She always did her job and did it well. Never messed around on the clock.

Time for food.

And a stretch.

Of course, the convenience store was busy.

Of course … always Katty’s luck.

Not even a parking place.

There. A car’s back-up lights flashed on.

She backed up to give it room, but mainly to get the space. She could feel another car hovering behind her. Checked her rearview mirror. Yep. She flipped them off and stood her ground—or rather parked her ground. She wasn’t gonna lose that parking space.

The car kept backing.

Damn!

She shifted and her car lurched forward.

“s**t!” She stomped on the brake just in time to avoid hitting the other car.

Then backed up again. “What do they want … the world?”

The car finally cleared the parking space and drove on.

Katty glimpsed an arm swinging out the driver’s window, third finger waving.

“Same to ya, Jerk!” She quickly shifted into drive and claimed her space only to have her foot slip off the brake, making the car bounce up over the curb.

“Mommy?”

“Not now, Bea.”

Reverse. Reverse. Brake on, then put it in reverse and back off the curb.

She backed up carefully and made sure the car rolled down off of the curb and slammed it into park. “There. I didn’t kill anyone.”

“Mommy?”

Bea’s voice sounded hoarse, breathy. Well, why not, with all the screaming she’d done earlier? The whole day had been a mess. Bea had been a little stinker and well, Katty hadn’t been … she blinked. She … bad old days were back.

Bad Mommy was back.

“What Bea?”

No answer.

Katty stretched up to check Bea in the rearview mirror.

What?

She turned around, her good arm flopped over the back of the seat. Bea wasn’t teasing her. She wasn’t even in her car seat.

She couldn’t have …

Katty faced the windshield.

Damn, she was going crazy!

Right. Right. She’d left Bea at home, watching Daryll and Dumpty.

Whew.

Opening the car door felt like an elephant was pushing against it from the outside. Tougher than usual to open today—especially with the cast on her arm. She kicked at the door and shoved with her other hand, just when a car pulled in on her left, just missing her door.

She swirled in her seat, stepped out onto the concrete, as the woman driver walked in front of her on the sidewalk. “Didn’t you see me?” She slammed her door. “You almost hit my leg!”

The woman barely acknowledged Katty, except to mumble, “Then watch when you open your car door. You should’ve checked behind you … before you opened your door.”

A moment of silence.

“Bitch.”

The woman jerked to a stop. Her shoulders rose and fell. Chin jutted out. But not a word spoken. One more deep breath and she stomped into the store.

Katty wanted to scream at the woman. Scream every dirty, filthy word that had been flung in her own face.

What was wrong with her? Stop. Stop the words. Stop the thoughts. Stop those voices.

Stop everything.

Katty put her hand to her forehead. She had to have a fever. A breeze made the wet spots on the back of her shirt cold, which on most days would have felt good.

Not today.

And … Bea was home alone.

Katty held her breath and slowly blew it out.

Mom used to leave me home alone when I was that age, so … I guess I can do it, too.

And don’t forget her candy. Don’t forget Bea’s candy.

She shivered as a soft gust of wind lifted her hair off her face, like an oscillating fan had just turned her direction. Almost sounded like the buzz of her phone on vibrate.

Only, it sounded like, “Mommy?”

Damn. She was going crazy. How long do crazy people live?

As she stepped onto the sidewalk, she stumbled. She pushed herself off the hood of her car and stood for a moment, moving her shoulders up and down and breathing, hoping she didn’t see anyone she knew. She patted her bun. Good thing the hairstyle was unkept these days, because she guessed that’s what hers was.

A man pushed the door open from inside and spotted her. He stepped through and held it for her, even though she was a few steps away.

“Thanks. Uh. Thank-shou.” She put on her sweet girl smile and nodded. “Have a nice day.” Only the man didn’t hear. He was almost to his truck.

Breath test. She coughed into her hand. Not great. Not terrible either. Booze was never a good breathalyzer.

As she entered the outside door, an old lady pushed the inside door open and her cane bounced against Katty’s foot. Her plastic shopping bag bumped against her leg.