Dark Harvest (A Holt Foundation Story Book 2) Page 8

  “That doesn’t mean he did it.”

  “You still think he’s innocent?” Henry asked, shaking his head. “He didn’t want the kid. He was screwing her friend. He would have hit that girl if the other guy hadn’t stepped in, which shows he’s capable of violence.”

  Seth knew the psychological argument—the kind of guy who hits a wall is also the kind of guy who would punch a person. In his experience, though, punching a woman was a much bigger psychological barrier to overcome.

  “What more do you need?”

  “Evidence.”

  “Spoken like a cop.”

  “Old habits die hard.”

  “Don’t you ever just go with your gut?” Henry asked.

  “Do you ever do anything but?” Seth countered and shot him a hard look. Henry half grinned and turned back to his screen.

  They weren’t playing games. These were people’s lives they were mucking with, and it was their responsibility to get it right. How could someone as smart as Henry miss the point?

  “Guess what I’ve got,” Henry said, looking like a kid on Christmas morning.

  Seth groaned, afraid to ask. Henry redirected the video display to the big screen. It was the surveillance video from the Babies’R’Us store where they found Becky’s car.

  “Did Garcia send it over?”

  “You’re kidding, right? She hasn’t shared anything, and I got tired of waiting, so I hacked into the server where the store keeps their videos. We have a ping from Nathan’s phone on a nearby cell tower, so I wanted to check to see if I could spot Nathan’s car, but the outside footage was useless. The camera was coated with ice.”

  Seth shook his head and swallowed back a retort. If anyone needed a lesson in procedure, it was Henry, but why waste his breath? Explaining ethics to Henry would be like trying to teach a frog to sing.

  “Okay. Show me.”

  Henry pushed play, and the video streamed to the large flat screen monitor mounted at the far end of the conference room.

  “I’ve watched it a bunch of times. I don’t see any sign of Maddox, or that girl, Maya,” Henry said.

  “I’m not looking for them.” Seth kept his eyes on the screen.

  “Then who?”

  Seth shushed Henry, and watched the scene play out. He motioned for Henry to pause and pointed to the monitor.

  “When does that woman enter the store?”

  “Who? The redhead?”

  “Yeah.”

  Henry switched to the door camera. He backed things up and ran through the footage again.

  “Just after Becky.”

  “Look. She’s texting someone.”

  “So? She’s probably asking her husband if they need more diapers.”

  “But she never looks at anything.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If she was there shopping, why isn’t she browsing the aisles after she talks to Becky? See there,” Seth points at the screen. “Becky heads to the car-seat aisle. She waits, then follows her down.”

  “So what? Maybe she needs a car seat too.”

  “Watch her. She’s not looking at the shelves, she’s watching Becky.”

  Henry fell silent and watched the woman on the screen. His face screwed up, and he scratched the scruffy red beard on his chin.

  “Okay, so then Becky leaves with the car seat, and what does she do?” Seth said.

  The woman typed another text on her phone before exiting through the main entrance.

  “Well, shit,” Henry said, dumbfounded.

  “Did you happen to glimpse her in Nathan’s best-of reel?” Seth asked, thinking about the photos posted to Nathan’s private social media links.

  Henry shook his head. “I’ll look again, but she doesn’t look familiar.”

  “Still worth checking. Can you get me a printout of the woman’s face?”

  Henry pressed a few buttons on his keyboard. “On its way to the printer now, boss.”

  Seth grabbed his coat and headed for the door.

  With Nathan in police custody, the last thing that Linda Garcia wanted to hear was that they now had another suspect. He would have to tell her, but he figured he’d do a little more legwork first.

  Chapter 12

  This was total bullshit. Nathan sat with his arms folded, trying hard not to twitch. They were watching all right. Letting him sit here and stress about what they were about to lay on him in hopes he’d crack and confess. And to what? To sleeping with a girl and maybe getting her pregnant?

  How the hell had he gotten himself into this predicament? Weren’t all girls on the pill? He’d thought she’d at least taken precautions. He wouldn’t be in this situation at all if she hadn’t been so stupid.

  The skin on his arms itched like there were ants crawling up and down them. Nerves. Or maybe it was the Percocet. Old narcotics still had enough kick to dull the pain in his hip, but they had a nasty side effect of itching like hell. Just his luck they’d peak now, with the cops outside the interrogation room watching his every move.

  He’d kill Amahad for selling him expired drugs.

  Every minute he sat there and twitched, he looked more guilty.

  Unable to stop himself, he raked his fingernails up and down his arms. His knee jiggled, and he wondered how long they would keep him there. Waiting. Wondering what they had on him.

  Stupid wasn’t a crime, but stupid could get him in a shitload of trouble just the same. Bad press could kill his ranking in the draft.

  Nathan glared sullenly at the surveillance camera in the corner and pictured the smug look on that cop’s face—the bitch who had barged into his room and fucked up his life.

  He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of seeing him sweat.

  He jumped a little when the door was yanked open. In she walked, along with some other dude he didn’t know. The guy was older than Garcia—black hair, bronze skin, and dark eyes. He had the build of a former athlete.

  “Nathan, this is my boss, Lieutenant Alvarez,” Garcia said.

  Alvarez stuck out his hand. Not wanting to look an asshole, he shook it.

  “Nathan,” he said, “I know you’ve been here for a while. Would you like something to drink? Some food? We don’t have much here, but there are some vending machines down the hall.”

  “I’m good.”

  He wasn’t really. He was starving. He usually ate right after practice, but between his scuffle with that dickwad Baker and the scene at the quad with the girl, there had been no time. The police had been waiting for him at the frat house. But taking the lieutenant up on his offer would only make him look weak.

  Nathan crossed his arms, sat back in his chair, and waited for the onslaught to begin.

  “You said you were home the night Becky disappeared. Is that right?” Garcia asked, wasting no time.

  “That’s right. My frat brother, Travis, will tell you.”

  Nathan didn’t like the guarded expression on Garcia’s face one bit. She looked like a television lawyer luring a witness into a trap. His stomach rumbled, and he scratched his neck, continuing to hold her gaze.

  “All night?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Her thin lips pursed. She shot a knowing gaze at her boss that sent nervous tremors shivering through Nathan. Were his eyes dilated from the Percocet he’d downed? How much did they know? If he looked stoned, then she’d not only think he was a liar, but a junkie too.

  “Did you lend your car to anyone?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Your phone?”

  He sat up straight at the mention of his phone.

  “I told you, I lost it.”

  “In the locker room. So you said.”

  He could tell that she didn’t believe a word he was saying. He hated her for that. For making him feel small.

  Garcia opened the file folder in front of her and removed a photo. It was a grainy shot from a traffic camera that showed a car with his plates crossing an intersection. Garcia tapped the
timestamp on the printout.

  “This is your car in Tukwila the night Becky disappeared. How can that be if you were where you said you were, in your room all night?”

  A shock jolted through Nathan. He stared down at the picture, his mind scrambling to come up with a plausible lie. Before he could utter a word, she pulled out another report. A series of numbers were slashed through with yellow highlighter.

  “You know what this is?” Garcia asked, stabbing the paper with her red-tipped pointy fingernail. Nathan shook his head, feeling too sick to answer. “Let me show you. Your cell phone pinged off several cell towers in Renton and Tukwila within an hour of this photo being taken. Someone driving your car and using your phone was in the area where Becky disappeared. You want to hear more?”

  “It had nothing to do with Becky.”

  “You pinky promise?” Garcia flashed a mean smile. “And we’re supposed to believe you because you haven’t lied to us about anything so far?”

  Nathan tore his gaze away from the report on the table to the dirty floor between his feet, trying to think. It was hard with his head spinning from the painkillers and the panic roaring in his ears. Not to mention the way she looked at him, like he’d just gang raped her little sister.

  She was trying to push his buttons. Crucify him. He scratched his scalp and slowed his breathing. Tried to stay calm.

  “I had no reason to hurt her.”

  “No reason,” Garcia scoffed. “Did you know that homicide is the second leading cause of death among pregnant women in the US?”

  “Homicide?”

  Fuck.

  Nathan hunched in his chair. He needed a lawyer. There was that girl in his poli-sci class. Julia? Jules? Her father was a lawyer. He overheard her bragging about one of his cases. He should call her now, before things got any worse.

  “Linda, would you give us a minute?” Alvarez asked.

  The bitch cop looked pissed. After a few seconds of tense silence, Garcia rose and marched out of the room. The door slammed behind her.

  Alvarez pulled something from his pocket. He slid the protein bar across the table toward Nathan. Nathan looked at it, but made no move to pick it up.

  “Come on, you must be starving.”

  Nathan reached for the bar, tore through the packaging and took a bite. It was just a crappy Clif bar, but right now it tasted like the best thing in the world.

  “Look, I know you never wanted any of this to happen,” Alvarez said. “You weren’t in an exclusive relationship with the girl, she gets pregnant, and now you’re trapped.”

  Nathan nodded his head vehemently. He held up his finger while he swallowed. Alvarez slid a water bottle toward him. He twisted off the cap and took a gulp.

  “I never hurt her,” he repeated, hoping this cop would believe him.

  “You know, I saw you play in the Stanford game. You caught eight passes for almost a hundred yards. You were on fire.”

  “Thanks.” Best game he’d ever played, bar none. He needed a few more of those under his belt before the end of the season.

  “That catch on the forty-yard line with their cornerback in your face . . .”

  Alvarez held his hands up like he was reliving the moment, reaching for the ball over his shoulder, and Nathan grinned.

  “That guy was hard to beat.”

  “Yeah, but you made it look easy. And that hit you took in the end zone.” Alvarez winced like he could feel the bone-crushing blow.

  “Yeah.” Nathan rubbed his hip. That particular hit had started his hip problems. Weeks of rehab along with pain meds from the team doc kept him playing. Missing time in his final college season would affect his ranking in the draft.

  “I won’t lie. I’m a Cougar’s fan myself, but I like to see the home team win. You’re a big part of the Huskies offense.”

  “Thanks.” Nathan had worked his ass off this year to earn his spot and own his position.

  Most people didn’t understand what it took to be a student athlete. The grueling hours of practice while still trying to keep up on your course load. So when his injury hadn’t fully healed, he’d self-medicated and toughed it through. He wasn’t the only guy to do it. He knew other players on the team were doing worse things. Not only was heroine easier to get and cheaper than prescription drugs, it was in and out of your system faster, reducing your chances of getting caught in a drug screen.

  “That’s why this whole situation sucks,” Alvarez said, shaking his head sympathetically. “A baby is a huge responsibility, and for a guy like you who has worked his ass off to get where you are, no one could blame you for not wanting to drag a lot of extra baggage along for the ride. Level with me, Nathan, you didn’t want the baby.”

  Nathan choked and almost spat the half-eaten protein bar across the table. Slapping a hand across his mouth, he chewed the dense matter slowly, giving himself time to think before he spoke, something he needed to do more of if he was going to get out of this fucked up situation.

  “I don’t want a kid, but that doesn’t mean that I would do anything to hurt Becky. I’m not even sure that baby is mine.”

  “Are you planning to get a paternity test when it’s born?”

  “Yeah,” Nathan said, washing the last bits of the protein bar down with a swallow of water. They’d never discussed a paternity test. He was kind of hoping that if he ignored Becky long enough that she would go away.

  “So if it’s not your kid, whose baby do you think it is?”

  “There are a lot of guys who hang around that place.”

  “That place?”

  “Jimmy Macs, you know, the place where she works. No way I’m the only guy she slept with.”

  Alvarez regarded him with a thoughtful look and leaned back in his chair.

  “I hear you. It’s always the guy who gets stuck looking bad in a situation like this.”

  “Exactly.”

  “But you did sleep with her? On a number of occasions?”

  Nathan nodded. There was no point denying it. The cops seemed to know all about their relationship anyway. So did a lot of other people.

  “So you could be the father.”

  Nathan slouched forward into his chair and dropped his head into his hands. Again, he nodded.

  He was fucked.

  “I was with Maya that night,” he admitted, hoping a little truth might save him.

  “Becky’s friend from work.”

  “Right.”

  “Here’s the thing, Nathan. Maya wasn’t the only member of the Hellraiser gang you met that night, was she?”

  Oh shit.

  If they knew about Maya and Namir, then they knew about the drugs. If that got back to the UW coaching staff, he’d be suspended from the team and maybe even forced to go to rehab. He’d miss the bowl game, and his whole career would be fucked because of Becky and her goddamned baby.

  “Did you know that your two Hellraiser buddies are being investigated in a homicide down in White Center?”

  “That has nothing to do with me,” Nathan blurted, desperate to distance himself from Maya or anything her crew might have been into.

  “Well, if I was looking for a way to make my problem disappear, then those are the kinds of folks who might be able to arrange that sort of thing. In fact, Detective Garcia is talking to Maya right now.”

  Oh fuck. Oh fuck.

  Things had gone too far. He had to stop them now. Before everything got worse.

  “I want a lawyer.”

  Alvarez had the same disappointed look on his face Nathan’s father had the day he’d told the old man he’d totaled the Accord. The cop closed the file and shook his head as if he knew what kind of shit storm was raging inside Nathan’s head. He rose to his feet and stood at the end of the table, looking down on Nathan’s hunched form.

  “You can call your lawyer, of course. We’ll get you a phone. But if you want my advice, in a situation like this one, it’s always better to be the first guy who makes a deal.”

 
; Chapter 13

  Blaring. In the far-off distance, Becky heard something blaring. An alarm clock jarring her from the deep grasp of sleep. She tried to reach out and hit the snooze button, but her arm was too heavy. Sleep pulled her down into its currents, and she drifted there.

  But the noise wouldn’t stop. Sharp and nagging, it prodded her to wake up. Move.

  She groaned.

  If it wasn’t for the incessant bleating forcing her back up toward the surface of consciousness where another day waited, she would gladly float on the rippling waves of shadows and light forever, but the noise made it impossible.

  The phone?

  Work? Was she late?

  “No,” she told her mother. “I’m not going to work today.”

  But the alarm kept ringing. Becky opened her eyes.

  A blazing light, like the blinding rays of the midday sun, scalded her vision. She squinted, tried to raise her hand to shield herself from the glare, but she couldn’t. Her arm wouldn’t move. It weighed a thousand pounds, and she was too sleepy.

  Must be the television. She should turn it off, but she couldn’t.

  Slowly her eyes adjusted to the light and the room slid into focus. Something wasn’t right. This wasn’t her room. Hospital lights? Panic burned away the dusky fog of sleep. She scanned her surroundings, trying to piece together where she was. A monitor hung suspended over the bed. Numbers flashed and the alarm whined.

  The baby.

  Becky reached for her swollen belly to the baby growing there, but her hands jerked to a halt inches away from the bedrails. They lay pinned by her side like lead weights. She didn’t understand what was happening—why she felt so weird.

  “Nathan,” she called out, but the scratchy sound that emerged was little more than a whisper. “Mom?”

  Surely if there was something wrong with the baby, both Nathan and her mother would be there with her, but no one came.

  Becky turned her gaze away from the bright hospital lights toward the door, and she was hit again by the otherworldly feeling like she’d stepped into a time warp. The old wooden door looked just like the one in the bedroom where she stayed at her grandmother’s farmhouse in Spokane, but that’s where the similarity ended. Her grandmother’s house was cozy and this one . . .