Last Writes (28 page)

“If they took the children, they broke the law.”

Jovanic returned to the kitchen then and took his place at the table. “MVPD sent a deputy over to the Barton girl’s place. Someone came to the door and said there was no problem. No sounds of a child in distress. Nothing for them to investigate.”

“ ‘
Someone
’ answered? But who? Tabby? Rodney?” Claudia asked, frustrated.

“The deputy didn’t say, but he felt everything was okay there.” Jovanic turned to Oziel. “You said on the phone that you’re close to moving on the Jephthah house in Colorado?”

“Yes, Ms. Rose and I were just discussing that. That’s why we wanted her and Ms. Brennan clear of the Ark compound.”

Claudia figured she knew what he meant, but said it aloud anyway. “You mean in case there’s violence, don’t you?”

Oziel turned to her, his expression as bland as vanilla yogurt. “In case there are
any
problems. Now, one more question: Who would you guess might be the most vulnerable person there? Someone we might be able to turn?”

“What about Rodney? He might be willing to talk now that he’s left the Ark. Or Talbot, if you could track him down—the man who was just excommunicated.”

“We will be making an attempt to talk to Mr. Powers, but he hasn’t broken any laws that we’re aware of, so his cooperation would be strictly voluntary. His disagreement with his wife is not our concern. What does concern us is the Colorado temple and those missing children.”

Jovanic said, “Powers had planned for his daughter to go there; he might know something more about it.”

Claudia shook her head. “Every time someone started to mention it to me, they got cut off. It’s supposed to be secret from outsiders.”

Agent Oziel stood and picked up his briefcase, signaling an end to the meeting. “At least we can question Powers.”

Claudia followed him to the door. “Seems like Erin would have to have had a pretty compelling reason to lie to get us into the compound.”

“Being instructed by Harold Stedman would probably be reason enough,” Jovanic suggested.

Oziel turned, his hand on the doorknob. “These people are under the total influence and control of their leaders. You saw what happened to Ms. Brennan. They’ll go to great lengths to get what they want.”

“There’s an elderly woman at the Ark you might want to talk to. She was complaining about the Jephthah program. Her name is Oka Diehl and I can tell you, she
wanted
to talk.”

The two men exchanged a glance. Jovanic said, “Agent Oziel got word this afternoon that Mrs. Diehl passed away during the night.”

The news hit her like a sucker punch.“Oh God.It didn’t have anything to do with her talking to me, did it?”

“There was a kink in her oxygen tube,” Oziel said. “It’s a fairly rare occurrence, but it happens. The doctor wrote emphysema as the cause of death.”

“She was worried about something; she believed something odd was going on.” Claudia pictured the wizened little woman, dwarfed in her La-Z-Boy, and felt sad. Oka Diehl had been a character, but she was a smart woman.

As she told them about George Diehl’s involvement with the elders and his wife’s concern about the Ark’s food supply, Claudia caught Agent Oziel staring at her intently. She knew he was judging every word she said, making a determination about her credibility, and she had no doubt that he would check with his undercover operative to corroborate her statement.

 

 

 

When the door closed behind Oziel, Jovanic’s arms went around Claudia, drawing her to him. He cupped her face in his hands. “I missed you, baby.”

“I missed you, too.”

They shared a long, deep kiss, and it would have been so easy to just give herself over to the moment. But she knew her thoughts would be far from where they should be, where she wanted them to be. He released her and she stepped away. “Where does Tabby live, Joel? We have to go there. Right now.”

He rolled his eyes and gave a resigned sigh. “I
knew
that was on your mind.”

“We don’t know who it was that came to the door at her house.”

“It was probably Powers.”

“Or not. The sheriff didn’t even say whether the person was male or female, did he? And I bet you didn’t ask. Jeez.”

“If it wasn’t Powers, it was probably Tabby. It’s her house.”

“Tabby would have been unmistakable with that purple streak. The deputy would have mentioned if it had been her.”

“Okay, who else?”

“Erin could have called someone when she left Kelly’s. She might have got Tabby’s address from Rita or Stedman.” Claudia went over to the small table by the front door where she had left her purse and keys. “Everything might be fine, but I just have an intuition about it. . . .”

“And your intuition is never wrong?” Jovanic’s cop skepticism wasn’t even thinly veiled.

She opened the door. “You don’t have to come, but I’m going. Just give me the address.”

He took the keys from her hand. “Not so fast, Grapho Lady. I’ll drive.”

Claudia smiled back at him. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

 

They were speeding along the Pomona Freeway when Claudia’s cell phone rang.

Kelly’s voice, pitched high, furious. “Erin left some stuff behind in her room. I found a note in the trash signed by Rodney; completely different writing style from the one she showed us—I didn’t have to be a handwriting expert to see that. The little bitch was lying to us all along. It was a goodbye note—”

“I know,” Claudia interrupted. She told Kelly about her conversation with Rodney, and that they were on their way to Moreno Valley, where Tabby Barton lived.

“Where is it?” Kelly demanded. “I’ll meet you over there.”

“Stay home, Kel, I’ll call you when—”

“Are you crazy? This is
my
sister;
I’m
the one who got the most screwed in this whole deal. I’m gonna throttle her. In fact, that girl’s gonna experience some holy
terror.”

“That’s exactly why you need to stay home.”

“Listen to me, Claudia. Thanks to Erin’s little scheme I slept the whole damned day away and I don’t know what’s been put in my head. But I’m wide awake now, and in case you couldn’t tell, I’m pissed as hell. I’m in my car and if you don’t give me Tabby’s address, I’m going to the fucking Ark—I’m already halfway there—and I promise you, I
will
find out where she is. Now, give me the
fucking
address.”

“Where are you?”

“On the 210. I just passed the Sunflower exit.”

That meant Kelly was fast approaching the Orange Freeway, the 57. They were driving parallel, Kelly about ten miles to the north and a few miles east. She would soon be headed south and would arrive at a point where Claudia and Jovanic would pass about ten minutes later.

Claudia looked at the paper in her hand where Jovanic had scribbled the address. She recited it with reluctance. “Promise you won’t go in by yourself. Promise you’ll wait for us.”

“Bye-bye, Claudia.”

The call disconnected and Claudia looked over at Jovanic in dismay. It wasn’t hard to inject urgency into her tone. “We’ve got to get there first. I think she’s been drinking. There’s no telling what she might do.”

The speedometer was already at ninety and Jovanic was weaving through traffic with the skill of Steve Mc-Queen in
Bullitt.
“Too bad we don’t have lights and a siren,” he said. “Hang on, babe, and watch for the CHP.”

She could hear enjoyment in his voice as his foot mashed down on the accelerator. The old XJ6 flew; 170 horsepower handling like a brand-new machine. They were passing University Avenue in Riverside when a sea of red taillights ahead was a good reason to hit the brakes.

“Damn it! What’s going on?” Claudia switched on the radio.
“Traffic and Weather together on the Fives . . . Fender-bender on the Pomona has traffic backed up past Central. All lanes blocked, CHP responding. Expect fifteen- to twenty-minute delays.”

“Hell. I wonder if Kelly got ahead of that mess.”

Jovanic made a derisive noise. “I just hope she didn’t cause it.”

Claudia had privately been thinking the same thing, but hearing him say it out loud knotted her stomach with anxiety. “Damn it,” she said again. She had programmed Tabitha Barton’s address into her GPS and she now checked the display screen. “We exit at Perris Boulevard. It’s only another ten miles.”

“Right now we’re doing about five miles an hour. You do the math.”

By the time they had inched up to the accident, two Highway Patrol cars and a fire engine were in the fast lane. An SUV was on its side in the center divider. Three people talking with the cops and no ambulance at the scene—no injuries. Claudia gave a sigh of relief as they passed. No red Mustang meant no Kelly.

Once Jovanic was able to fully accelerate again, the Perris Boulevard exit came up fast. They went south and followed the GPS directions through a middle-class neighborhood that deteriorated as soon as they turned the first corner. Even in the darkness, Claudia could tell that the homes on this block were smaller and not as well kept.

“I don’t see the Mustang,” she said as they made a pass by Tabby’s address. “Thank God she’s not here yet.” Lights shone through the undraped front windows of the house. In the Inland Empire, the evening was still warm enough for front doors to be left open. A gray primed sedan with a crumpled hood sat in the driveway on blocks in front of a closed garage.

“We’ll drive around the block,” Jovanic said. “Check out the neighborhood before we go in.”

“I wonder what Erin was driving. It was a car from the Ark.”

Jovanic parked halfway down the block from Tabby’s house. “Let’s go see what we’ve got.” He checked the pancake holster he’d worn inside his pants, concealed by an unbuttoned shirt over his tee. “Stay behind me.”

“Don’t worry, I will.” Claudia couldn’t help feeling relieved that she hadn’t had to do this on her own. They climbed out of the Jaguar and walked along the sidewalk past an old dresser someone had discarded at the end of a driveway; past a freestanding basketball hoop in the street.

Tabitha Barton’s small rental house was in the middle of the block at the end of a cracked cement driveway. Jovanic double-checked the name on the mailbox out front on the sidewalk, satisfying himself that they were at the right place. He walked up the driveway, his arms slightly away from his body, staying loose. Claudia followed a few steps behind, making a right on the path, then a left that led to the front porch.

Jovanic mounted the two steps to the front door. Claudia waited below. From where she stood she could see part of the small living room through the screen. The room appeared unoccupied. There was a sofa with slouchy cushions set at right angles to a soot-blackened brick fireplace. A round, low wooden table held a Fisher-Price doll’s house and some children’s books.

He stood to the side of the door, rapped on the metal screen with his knuckles, and called out, “Tabitha Barton?”

“Did you hear that?” Claudia said quietly. “I think I heard something.”

“Shhh.” He put his ear near the screen and listened. Then he knocked again and called out, louder this time. “Tabitha Barton. Police officer.” He stepped off the porch; Claudia backed up behind him.

She counted to thirty while he waited for a response. When none came he told her to stay where she was and moved quietly to the front window and peeked inside. He eased around the side of the house, then returned a few moments later, shaking his head. Coming close to Claudia he said in her ear, “Shades are down in the back, but all the lights are on. I’d feel better about this if we had backup.”

He went back up on the porch and pushed open the screen. She hadn’t seen him unholster his weapon, but there was the Beretta in his hand, next to his leg, pointed at the floor. He moved silently inside.

With a few quick strides across the room Jovanic disappeared down a hallway. Claudia slipped inside and waited by the door. The interior smelled like an ashtray.

A second later, Jovanic called her to come. The urgency in his voice sent her rushing to the back bedroom.

A man lay prone on the carpet, gagged with duct tape. He’d been hog-tied, hands and feet bound behind his back, and he was struggling against his bonds. On the other side of a double bed that took up most of the space in the small room, a cot had been set up. A new-looking baby doll had been discarded on the rumpled blanket.

“No sign of Kylie.” Jovanic holstered his weapon and was kneeling on the floor, peeling away the duct tape that had been used to silence the man. He worked slowly to avoid tearing the skin around his mouth, but the man cried out as the last of it came off.

Jovanic set the tape carefully aside, piece by piece. Claudia knew he wouldn’t want to contaminate it and ruin any latent prints that might have been left behind. He took a penknife from his pocket and began to cut the cord restraining the man’s arms and feet behind his back. The knots could be evidence, so he would leave them tied.

She backed out of the room and hurried into the other bedroom, not wanting to accept what Jovanic had said about not finding Kylie.

As she went, Jovanic’s deep voice carried through the tiny house: “What’s your name, buddy?”

She could hear the shaky answer: “Powers, my name’s Rod Powers. Cut me loose. Hurry, please, hurry!” Rodney Powers’s voice rose, close to hysteria. “They took my little girl. Oh my God; they took her.”

Knowing in her heart the futility, Claudia checked the bathroom.
Nothing there.

Jovanic: “Okay, Mr. Powers, if you want me to cut you loose, you’ll need to calm down. I understand that you’re upset, but we’re here to help you.”

Claudia couldn’t hear the response. Check the kitchen.
Nothing.

Out of rooms to check and no sign of Kylie. Or Erin. Or Kelly.
Where are they?