Deadly Deception (15 page)

In the kitchen, Frankie pulled out a chair for Missy and looked her over for injuries but found nothing other than what she'd already noticed. 

"Missy, you need to call the police."

"No, that's the last thing I should do.  They won't do anything then he'll really let me have it when he gets home!"

"I'm going to make some coffee and then we're going to talk about why you should reconsider calling the police."  Frankie slipped a coffee filter into her coffeemaker then poured the coffee grounds.  Once it was filled with water, she tapped the "on" button. 

"I'm sorry, but I already called the police.  A deputy is on his way."  Lane said as he sat at the table with Missy.  He held up his badge.  "Besides, I am the police."

"Oh my God.  Who the hell are you?!”  Missy sobbed uncontrollably into her hands.  Through her hands, she asked, “You called the police?”

Frankie motioned for Lane to leave the room.  He went to the living room window and watched for a deputy to arrive.  Suddenly a truck whipped into Frankie's driveway, brakes squealed as the driver stopped the vehicle.  A man leapt out of the truck and ran to the front porch.  Lane met him at the door.

"Is Missy here?" The man looked around Lane into the house.  The guy was a couple feet away, yet Lane could smell the beer on his breath.

Lane moved onto the porch and closed the door behind him.  "Let's calm down and talk about what's going on."

"Who the hell are you?  Where's Missy?  I know damn well she's here 'cause that's her car."

Lane pulled out his badge which made the man take a step back.  He motioned to one of Frankie's wicker chairs and the man sat down just as a county sheriff car parked in front of the house. 

In the kitchen, Frankie set a mug of hot coffee in front of Missy along with a box of tissues.

"I did the de-escalation steps you showed us.  He was so angry that I'd burned his dinner he left the house for the tavern.  By the time he got back, he'd had too much to drink and was still furious about the meal.  But I did what you taught us. I angled my body so that it was about forty-five degrees from him to make myself a smaller target just like you told us.  Then I held my hands up at chest level with my palms forward."

Frankie reached across the table to hold Missy's hand.  "What happened next?"

"I was really scared, but I tried to appear as calm as I could. I started talking to him slowly and calmly.  I kept softly saying his name, without anger.  But when I asked him to please leave, he belted me.  Then he grabbed me by the arms and I stomped on his instep as hard as I could.  It gave me time to grab my purse and drive here."

"Missy, you did a good job.  But you have to talk to the police.  You have to let them help you." 

"Do you really think this is my first rodeo?  Do you think I haven't called them before?  They talk to him and he turns into Mr. Congeniality who has a totally different story than the one I gave them.  They always take his side."

“This time is different.  You have dark bruising on your neck and arms.  This is evidence, Missy.”

Lane entered the kitchen with a deputy in tow.

"Missy, this is Deputy Jerry Thomason. Please talk with him and tell him what happened tonight." 

Frankie immediately moved toward Jerry and shook his hand.  He was one of the best deputies they could have sent for a domestic call.  He cared about victims and did all he could for them.  Too many deputies were burned out about domestic calls.  They'd been attacked by too many victims as they hauled the abuser away. 

Lane touched Frankie's elbow and nodded toward the living room.

"The husband's here.  He's on the porch with Jerry's partner," he whispered.

"You're kidding.  He followed her here?" she asked, clearly surprised.

"Yes.  He's drunk and he's limping.  He claims Missy did something to injure his foot."

"She defended herself."

She started to walk into the kitchen, but Lane grabbed her arm. "Frankie, do you think you could throw on a robe or something before these deputies get as turned on as I am?"   He stared at her breasts.

Frankie looked down to see her emerging nipples jutting out of her thin tank top and ran to her bedroom.

Frankie, wearing a thick, terrycloth robe, re-entered the kitchen.  Jerry was now sat next to Missy who was showing him her injuries as he jotted notes on a small pad.  Frankie poured him a mug of hot coffee and placed it on the table. 

She then poured another and joined Lane in the living room, handing him the mug.  She sat with him until Jerry emerged from the kitchen.  “I'm going to talk to my partner, and then we'll arrest the husband.  He's going to jail tonight for assault.  She needs to go to the emergency room, so her injuries are documented.  She's calling her sister now to come here to follow her to the hospital.”

Jerry went outside.  Soon there was a loud commotion so Lane followed.  He stepped onto the porch as Jerry and his partner wrestled with Missy’s husband to get the handcuffs on.  He kicked and screamed in the back of the deputies’ car.

Later, Lane and Frankie sat in the wicker chairs on her front porch and watched as the upper edge of the sun appeared on the horizon.  Missy and her sister had left for the hospital only an hour before.  They both knew trying to sleep was a useless endeavor.

"She'll go back to him.  I'll give her forty-eight hours," said Frankie. Most cops had the sickening knowledge it was likely the abuse victim went back to her abuser during that time frame.

"I know. When I was a deputy, I once jailed a guy that had beat his wife so badly her face look like a pizza by the time he was through.  I'd never seen anyone beaten like she had been.  She checked herself out of the hospital and appeared at his court hearing to bail him out of jail."

"And then the cycle continues until he kills her or she gets out."  Her words were laced with her frustration.

"Unfortunately."

"Once they make up, Missy will blame me for interfering in their relationship.  He'll make sure she stays angry with me.  He'll probably tell her that I'm trying to break them up.  She'll quit my self-defense class which is the worst thing she could do."  She shook her head with disappointment.

"She got in her car and drove over here because she knew you would help her, Frankie."

"That won't matter," said Frankie as she sighed.  "She said she'd get counseling, but I doubt if she will.  Most of them don't. "

"The only person who has control of this situation is Missy.  It's her life and her decisions.  We can only hope she starts making better ones."  Lane stood up and took Frankie's hand.  "I'm making us the best breakfast you've ever had.  Make the coffee while I do the rest."

"Coffee?  Oh, hell no.  I want some of Lane Hansen's coffee made with the new cappuccino maker.  Whipped cream on top, please."

"You're on."

Chapter Five

Dr. Eric Caine looked across his glass desk at the couple sitting in front of him.  The husband was big as a barn and could’ve been a pro football player instead of a mortgage investor.  He obviously wasn't batting a home run in the fertility department either or he wouldn't be here.

The wife looked like she walked off a Victoria Secret runway.  His eyes were transfixed.  She was everything he lusted for in a woman.  For one thing, she was blonde and natural blonde at that.  She sat in front of him in a white linen sundress that accentuated her smooth, lightly tanned skin as well as the rise of her firm high-perched breasts.  Her facial structure was delicately formed with high cheek bones, and full lips. As she talked, her eyes glittered under long dark lashes.  He was grateful he was wearing his starched, white lab coat because right now he had a boner hard enough to hammer nails.  Damned inconvenient, considering if the husband noticed, he could probably wipe the floor with him.

"We've been married three years," Frankie began, fully aware that the doctor was undressing her with his eyes.  Sex appeal was one of her go-to weapons in her P.I. arsenal.  Inwardly she smiled a little as she thought of how she'd like to use it to bring this murdering, baby trafficking bastard to his knees.

She sat up a little straighter, pulled her shoulders back, and continued, "We have all we want at this point in our lives — the house, the cars, the vacations.  But what we really want is a bundle of joy that would make our lives complete."  Fully entrenched in her role as the loving wife, she ran her index finger down Lane's arm as she looked adoringly at him.

"According to your application, you've been trying to get pregnant since your honeymoon?"

"That's right.  According to our doctor, Lane, here, is shooting blanks."

Lane shifted in his seat and stared at Frankie. 

"Oh, I see," said Dr. Caine.

"Your adoption agency has a wonderful reputation as I'm sure you know.  Do you think you have a baby for us?"

"I'm certain we can work something out, Mrs. Henderson." 

"One of the things we need to discuss is money.  I'm not sure if you're aware, but our agency provides medical care, food, and lodging for young women throughout their pregnancy.  In today's economy, you must realize that those expenses are not cheap.  Therefore, we ask for a deposit of $50,000.  Another $50,000 is due when your baby is born."

"
Our
baby.  Lane, honey, isn't the sound of that just wonderful?"  Frankie cooed as she patted Lane's hard thigh.

Lane grabbed her hand and squeezed as he faked a smile.  He was still annoyed about the "shooting blanks" remark. This acting stuff was harder than he thought it would be.  He looked at the doctor, who was checking Frankie out again. That was the part that bothered Lane the most.  The good doctor couldn't keep his eyes off of Frankie, whether it was her cleavage or her long legs, and it pissed him off.  Lane wanted to fly across the desk and deck him.  He clenched his jaw and spoke, "The money is not a problem.  When can we expect our baby?"

"I cannot give you a definite date, but it should be soon.  Let me walk you to my assistant's office who will take your check.  I hope to be contacting you very soon."

Outside, the early summer sun toasting their skin, Lane led Frankie with his large hand planted firmly on her backside, to the SUV.  Once they reached the vehicle, he unlocked and opened the passenger door.  Then, just as she was getting in the car, he bopped her soundly on her butt.