Stolen Read online

  STOLEN

  Everyday Heroes Series Book Five

  Margaret Daley

  Stolen

  Copyright © 2019 by Margaret Daley

  Smashwords Edition

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.

  All texts contained within this document are a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons (living or dead), is entirely coincidental.

  I’m dedicating this book to Abbey and Aubrey.

  My appreciation:

  I want to thank Aubrey for her patience and persistence

  in taking the photo of the dog on the cover.

  Chapter One

  At eight-thirty Thursday morning, Cimarron City Detective Nick Davidson, the lead on the new case, and his partner, Brad Thomas, approached the crime scene, a one-story, red-bricked house. Nick scanned the street, noting a few people watching them from nearby yards or porches. Had one of them seen something that would help him solve the crime he was sent to investigate? He hoped so.

  Nick nodded to the officer standing guard at the door. “Where’s Officer Brown?” He put on his latex gloves.

  “He’s at the back door.” Officer Nelson gestured toward in that direction. “The victim, Mary Phillips, is in the kitchen. She was stabbed numerous times with probably a butcher knife. We couldn’t find the murder weapon. The medical examiner was called, and the scene is secured. We didn’t find another body. Other than the blood trail, the living and dining rooms and the kitchen were clean and orderly, but the master bedroom and the one across the hall were ransacked. The third bedroom wasn’t touched that we can tell.”

  “Thanks.” Nick signed the log, waited for Brad to do the same, then opened the screen door. Concealed from view except for a couple of neighbors directly across the street, the front door had been breached by the murderer. Nick examined it. The intruder had kicked it in. There wasn’t a doorbell with a camera, so he couldn’t pull footage from it. He took pictures of the damage, hoping there were cameras inside.

  After moving into the foyer, Nick turned to his partner. “I know the officers have gone through the house, but check it again while I follow the blood trail.”

  Brad nodded. “Will do.”

  While Nick headed right, his partner went left. Nick made his way through the living and dining rooms, following the red drops into the kitchen while taking photos as he went. He’d been a detective with the CCPD for six years and had been to numerous murders, but he still wasn’t immune to the violence. And never would be. It reinforced why he’d become a police officer.

  From the primary information he’d received on his way here, a young woman had been stabbed multiple times while fleeing from an intruder. A neighbor saw a man jumping over the rear fence. The lady next door called Mary Phillips, but when she hadn’t answered, the neighbor called 9-1-1.

  When Nick entered the kitchen, Officer Brown stood by the back door. Nick scanned the room, noting the island in the center blocking his full view of the scene. His gaze fixed upon an arcing spray of blood on the counter and cabinets near the refrigerator. The odor of death filled his nostrils while his heart pounded against his ribcage. He walked around the island and came to a halt several feet away from the body of a woman, face down in a pool of blood, smears of it on the tile floor as if she’d tried to crawl away from the killer.

  “Are the crime scene techs on the way?” Nick put his fingers against her neck to feel for a pulse. There wasn’t any sign of life, but that was what he had expected.

  “Yes.” Officer Brown kept his gaze focused straight ahead, away from the dead body.

  The young cop’s face had a gray cast to it. In the ten years Nick had been a police officer, he remembered his own struggles dealing with violent crime scenes. “Is this your first murder?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  As Nick took a series of photos of the victim, a metallic taste coated his mouth. “Focus on the fact that we’re going to find her murderer.” After documenting the four knife wounds on the victim’s back—none of which would have been deep enough to cause her death–he gently turned her over. When his gaze locked on hers, he swallowed hard. Cloudy blue, lifeless eyes stared at him.

  Nick tore his attention from her face and let it sweep down her body. He found several defensive cuts, but the fatal stab wound had been into her heart. It looked like she first encountered the killer in her living room entrance and fled toward the rear of the house, which accounted for the slashes on her back. But in the kitchen, she must have turned toward the assailant. Why didn’t she keep going toward the door that led outside? Was there more than one intruder who blocked her escape? A lot of questions and few answers.

  “I understand Officer Nelson said there wasn’t a sign of a murder weapon—a large butcher knife most likely. Is that right?” Nick asked as he continued to document the crime scene with pictures and notes.

  “Yes. I checked for the weapon in the knife block on the counter and in the utensil drawer. There was no trace of blood on any of them.”

  So, possibly, the murderer brought his own weapon, or he used a knife from here, wiped it clean, and put it back into place. The crime scene techs would examine each knife in the house. Nick needed to check the house thoroughly as he expanded his search outward from the body. After taking his close-up photos and jotting down notes on what he saw, Nick stood and began his survey of the area around the victim before working his way outward. He’d found murder weapons in myriad places like under the floorboards, in a wall, in light fixtures, taped to furniture, in a toilet tank, and many other spaces.

  On the counter, he found Mary Phillips’s purse and carefully withdrew each item. He flipped through the photos in her wallet and found various pictures of a little girl with blond hair and blue eyes similar to the victim. Probably her child. If so, where was she? At a friend’s? Taken by the killer? Nick checked the clock on the wall. Nine o’clock. This was fall break, the time that allowed the teachers to go to their state convention, so being at school wasn’t a possibility. Unless she was visiting overnight with a friend or relative, the little girl should have been at home.

  His investigation quickly shifted to include finding a missing child. He called his partner, who was going through the bedrooms. “Have you found a child’s room?”

  “I’m standing in it. From the frills, pink walls, and dolls, I’d say it belongs to a young girl. It’s a mess as Officer Nelson said.”

  “A top priority will be finding the child.” After he talked with Brad, he called the station and let his captain know about the missing girl. “I need someone there to research what they can about Mary Phillips. I went through her wallet, and she has several photos of a little girl about five or six. If I can get into her cell phone and find a good picture of the child, I’ll send it to you right away so you can send out an Amber Alert if needed. I’ll search for anything here that will help us find her.”

  When Nick disconnected his call, he picked up a cell phone on the counter near the victim’s purse and clicked it on. He didn’t expect it would open up for him to search, but a fingerprint would probably allow him in. He walked back to Mary Phillips, lifted her hand to place a finger on the screen, and gained access. He first went through the photos, found several recent ones of the little girl, and sent them to his e-mail address and the police department. Then he went through the phone and jotted down any information he thought might help him to solve the victim’s murder. Next, he scoured through her current e-mails and texts for any help finding people connected to the family who could assist w
ith finding the child, and he jotted their names down. Some of them he knew through his church. He also skimmed for any threatening messages. None. But he’d give her computer and cell phone to tech support to check for deleted e-mails, texts, and anything else that would help solve this case.

  As he finished his search of Mary Phillips’s phone, the medical examiner and crime scene technicians came into the kitchen. Nick finished his search of the room and made sketches and notes of the scene, taking photos from all angles.

  When his partner entered the kitchen, Nick headed outside, eager to talk with the neighbors as well as follow up on a man seen jumping over the back fence. His captain had said he would deal with the missing child possibility while Nick worked the murder crime scene. He would process the scene and comb the neighborhood for answers, but he couldn’t get it out of his head that a little girl could have been kidnapped. It reminded him painfully about his best friend in elementary school who’d been abducted coming home from school. Ben was never found, and Nick wouldn’t ever forget that. The memory provoked all the feelings, from anger through to grief, that he’d processed over the years.

  He walked up to the house on the left of the lady who called 9-1-1. Nick hadn’t heard back from headquarters yet about where the victim’s daughter might be. An urgency gripped him. A little girl’s life might be at stake, and he was determined to find her as well as her mother’s killer.

  * * *

  Dr. Sarah Collins rose from her chair as her patient stood. “I’m glad to hear you’re getting a lot out of the survivor’s group. Continue to exercise and write your thoughts down in your journal. You need a way to vent your anger and stress. Facing death and surviving isn’t easy. The feelings you’ve experienced shouldn’t be suppressed. The bombings we had several months ago affected a lot of people in Cimarron City. Nancy, you’re progressing. It will take time. Have you decided to get a dog or cat? Pets can comfort people who are anxious and tense.”

  Nancy grinned. “A cat. A friend has one that gave birth to a litter of six. I’m taking two of them when they’re big enough to be separated from their mother. Hopefully I’ll be able to pick them up soon. Now I just have to convince my husband it’s a good idea. Mark isn’t keen on having a pet, but,” she shrugged, “he doesn’t think I need a therapist either.”

  Sarah walked with Nancy Byrd to the exit. “I’m glad to see you’re acting on my suggestion. I hope it works out for you.” Her patient left through the private side door. Someone rapped on her main one. “Come in.”

  Her secretary, Allie Johnson, entered. “Your next client, Nate Sommers, has canceled. He called to let you know he’s sick.”

  “Thank you. It’ll give me time to catch up on my notes.” Sarah hated Nate missing an appointment. He was dealing with a lot of anxiety from the death of his child. She would call and check in on him.

  Allie remained. “There’s another problem. I just got an Amber Alert on my phone for Mary Phillips’s daughter.”

  One of her patients. “Oh, no. I’m surprised I haven’t heard from her.” Sarah crossed to her desk, grabbed her purse in the bottom drawer, and withdrew it. “I’m going over to Mary’s house. If she needs me, I may rearrange some of my other clients scheduled today.” She hoped it had nothing to do with Mary’s ex-husband finding them and kidnapping Candy.

  Sarah hurried toward the private entrance into her office, swung the door open, and stepped out into a side hallway. She nearly stumbled over a bouquet of pink carnations in the middle of the exit. She clutched the doorframe to keep herself upright. Her heartbeat increased. No card had been left with the gift. This was the second flower arrangement from an unknown person she’d received in the last two weeks. She hadn’t been concerned with the first one because occasionally a client would give her a present as a thank you. But for the time being, she couldn’t think about the mysterious bouquet of carnations, her favorite flower. Mary might need her.

  After quickly putting the vase on a cabinet near the door, she continued her trek to her car in the parking lot. She slipped into her red Chevy and placed a call to Mary. No one answered. Mary had to be distraught over Candy’s disappearance, especially if the child’s father took her. She couldn’t even begin to know what Mary was going through, but she intended to be there for her.

  She started her engine, and a thought struck her. The flowers weren’t there when Nancy left by the private entrance. Only a couple of minutes had passed when Sarah opened the door to leave her office. A shiver snaked up her spine. She just missed seeing whoever left the bouquet because normally she wouldn’t be leaving right after a patient. She shook her head, trying to rid herself of all thoughts except that Mary might need her.

  As Sarah drove from the parking lot, she turned on the radio to see if she could get any information about Candy’s disappearance. Two streets away from Mary’s house, the news came on, alerting Sarah to the murder of her patient. She pulled over to the curb to digest the announcement. Dead. Murdered. Why? Who would kill her?

  Her stomach knotted with the thought that Mary’s ex-husband fulfilled his promise to her. He wanted to make her pay for what she did—filing charges against him for abuse and divorcing him—and to take his daughter away from Mary.

  “If anyone has information concerning Candace Phillips, a six-year-old with long blond hair and blue eyes, please contact the police.”

  She was only a couple of blocks away. Should she go to the scene of the crime?

  Yes.

  She continued her trip to Mary’s house. She had information that might help the police. And if what she knew could assist them to find Candy, she would help the best she could to find her murdered client’s daughter.

  When Sarah arrived on Mary’s street, she parked several houses down from her patient’s home because of the police vehicles. As she walked toward the crime scene, the sight of the yellow tape roping off the area around the place where Mary had been killed made the news of her death concrete. She’d hoped the news had been wrong.

  Sarah slowed her steps. A lump lodged in her throat as she desperately tried to keep her emotions in check. She paused on the outskirts of a small crowd that had formed. Several people from church stood in the crowd, and one person was a patient of hers.

  She paused next to Andrew Ford, who lived down the street from Mary. “Do you know what happened?”

  “Not much other than what I heard on the radio. The police are still inside. They just took her body away. I’ve heard Candy’s missing, and I’m here to help. A couple of the other neighbors and I want to start a search for Candy. We’ve got to do something.”

  “I agree. That’s one of the reasons I’m here.” She spied Detective Nick Davidson, a parishioner at the church she attended and a casual acquaintance. He lifted the yellow tape, and ducked under it. Andrew was timid and needed to be encouraged to do what he wanted. “Let the police know you’re happy to help. Call the station and see what they’re organizing.”

  Andrew nodded. “I will.” He turned and walked away from her, pulling out his phone.

  Sarah continued her trek toward Nick, her pace increasing as the seconds ticked away. His gaze swept the crowd. She waved toward him as he covered the distance between them. He signaled a uniform cop to let her through the barricade.

  “Why are you here? Did you know Mary Phillips?”

  “Yes, I knew her. She’s a patient of mine. What happened to her daughter?” She’d find out the circumstances surrounding Mary’s murder, but right now, Sarah’s priority was finding Candy.

  “She isn’t at the house. Headquarters is getting calls from friends of Mary and Candy. No one has come forward to say she’s with them, so at this point, we have to consider that the killer took Candy. Do you have any idea who would murder Mary and kidnap Candy?”

  “Her ex-husband, Jack Coleman. He doesn’t live here. She’s worked hard to stay under the radar because he was a bully and liked to use Mary and even Candy as a punching bag. They escaped seve
nteen months ago with the help of a women’s shelter. I’ve been working with Mary for the past sixteen months. She was doing well until the bomber struck. She was in the grocery store when it went off.”

  Nick ran his fingers through his short dark brown hair and kneaded his nape. “Do you know where Jack Coleman is?”

  “Mary used to live in Houston. He might be there.” Bits and pieces of her conversations with Mary popped into Sarah’s mind—especially concerning how Mary was trying to protect herself and her daughter from her ex-husband. She’d cut all ties with Houston and lived under an assumed name. She was missing something important. She listened to so many patients in the course of a week. That was why her notes were so important to her.

  “Sarah? Do you remember something?” Nick furrowed his brows and narrowed his gray eyes.

  “I want to help you. Mary had a rough life. I want to make sure the person who killed her is caught and brought to justice. I feel like I’m missing something. I’m trying to think through what Mary’s said to me over the past year. I have notes from her weekly sessions that I can go through and see if there’s anything that might point to a person besides her ex-husband. That will take a while. Is it possible for me to walk through her house? Something might trigger my memory.” She didn’t think anyone would have a motive besides Jack Coleman.

  “Not at the moment. My partner and I are interviewing the neighbors. The crime scene techs are still processing the house. After that I can go with you through the place, but it’ll be at least an hour or two depending on what tips we get.” He withdrew a card from his pocket and handed it to Sarah. “Call me if you come up with anything that can help. When I’m finished, I’ll let you know. I appreciate any insight into Mary’s life.” Nick took another card from his pocket and handed it to her. “Write your phone number on the back of this card.”