Protector - Laurel Dewey [97]
“It’s also used by the mob.”
“Are you saying this is the Texas mob?”
“I’m saying it could be any mob and I’m not saying that a mob is involved.”
“Why not?”
“What link would the mob have with this little family?”
“Maybe it’s worth looking into. I can put Chris on it—”
“Don’t bother Chris right now.” Jane took another drag on her cigarette. “He’s got his own suspect theory going.”
“What’s that?”
“Right about now, I imagine he’s doing background checks on Dr. James Dobson and Pat Robertson. You know? The infamous ‘Christian Cocaine Cartel.’ ” Weyler looked askance. “Don’t worry, boss. Let him make a fool of himself. He wants to solve this thing and fuck the consequences.”
“What do you want to do?”
“I want to make sure nothing bad ever happens to that kid again.”
“Really? I was under the impression that you and she had no connection whatsoever. Isn’t that what you told me?” Weyler was testing Jane, goading her to see when she’d bite. “You know, I would never accuse you of caring for someone like Emily. But I have to assume that you’ve developed some extraordinary bond with that child for you to suddenly get off your ass, leave your house for no known reason and save that girl’s life. How do you explain that?”
Jane searched the ground for answers. Her head spun as she recalled the disjointed, disembodied dream of Emily screaming for help. “I can’t explain it, boss.”
Weyler nodded. “Okay.”
There was a moment of tense silence. “Boss?” Jane hesitated. “I haven’t been completely up front with you.” Weyler waited, a little uneasy. “Today, before I went down to DH to talk to that nutcase that Chris questioned, Emily told me something.”
“Such as?”
“A third voice. She recalls her parents fighting and then hearing the sound from downstairs of a third voice.”
“What was the voice saying?”
“Something about an accident. That was the way he got the Lawrences to let him into the house. You know, ‘My cell phone’s dead. Can I use your phone to report the accident?’ Emily said she heard the footsteps of the stranger walking into the kitchen for a brief period of time. That’s where the Lawrences’ phone is located so it might fit.”
“The crime scene evidence proves that the perp’s feet were covered, he wore gloves and a mask. Certainly, he didn’t show up at the door in that garb?”
Jane quickly started to formulate possible scenarios. “He didn’t. He had it hidden somewhere on his person. When he was in the kitchen, he could change into it quickly and then reemerge. Emily remembered hearing a lot of yelling after the stranger walked back into the living room.”
Weyler considered Jane’s theory. “If that’s what occurred, then this guy is premeditated to a fault.”
“This was not some dime store kill. Powerful people needed the Lawrences dead . . . But the Lawrences don’t seem to know anybody.” Jane tossed her cigarette on the ground, crushing it with her boot heel. “Anyway, I didn’t tell you what Emily told me and so there it is. That’s all she’s been able to remember, but . . .” Jane began to struggle with the concept. “But I think she’s going to remember more. When you send her to Cheyenne, make sure she gets some help, okay? She’s gonna need it.”
“Her aunt and uncle are not willing to take her back right now.”
Jane was stunned. “Why not?”
“They’re scared. Actually, they are terrified. They feel that whoever is after the kid is going to keep after her until one of them is dead. And after tonight, it only proves that whoever else might be with the child would also be in danger. They’re not willing to take that chance right now.”
Jane moved closer to Weyler, angered. “So what happens to Emily?”
“Do the math, kiddo.”
“Protective custody?” Jane could hardly get the words out.
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“I’m not sure. Until we figure out this whole thing.”
“You may never solve it! What’s the kid supposed to do? Hide out in some town with a bunch of FBI agents until she’s old enough to vote?”
“You’ve got the ‘hide out’ part right. But I’m keeping the FBI out of this.” Weyler looked Jane in the eye. “There’s only one