Six Seconds (18 page)

43

Blue Rose Creek, California

The paramedics took Maggie to Inland Center Hos pital, where the emergency staff worked on her.

Afterward they put her in a private room with a large window and through her tears she counted the clouds sailing by. Her stomach and throat hurt from the gastric lavage but her deepest pain was her ache for Logan. To say she was sorry. For in desperation, she had done what she had vowed never to do.

Abandoned her search.
She had not intended to kill herself, according to the psychiatrist who’d left her room a little while ago after assessing her. Maggie had reacted to a deluge of “stress ors”: the abduction of her son by her husband, pro phetic visions, a funeral, painful gossip.
“Accidental overdose,” the psychiatrist called it.
Maggie wiped her eyes and took stock of her hospital wristband, the IV tube in her arm.
Her life.
How had it come to this? She and Jake used to be so happy.
Crazy in love, he called it.
Dancing in the gym under the crystal ball. “Hey, Jude.”
Tears in Jake’s eyes on their wedding day. His chest swelling with pride when Logan was born. Crazy in love.
Iraq had damaged him.
What really happened over there? He came home a changed man. Did he find someone else? Was it true? Why was this happening?
She wanted her life back.
For better or for worse, because it was the only life she had.
She would fight for it.
She would go home and pick up the pieces. She’d demand more information from Dawn Sullivan’s hus band and somehow she would find Jake, find Logan.
Find the truth.
And somehow she would live with it.
Maggie lost count of the clouds and reached for her hospital cup.
It was empty.
“May I have some more water please? And more tissues?”
The young woman sitting with her set aside her textbook.
“How are you doing, Maggie? Still a wee bit sore, I bet?”
Her name tag said, Hayley, Student Social Worker.
“Yes. Thank you.” She accepted the cup and tissues. “Can I ask you a question?”
“You sure can.”
“How did I get here? I don’t have any friends or relatives.”
“You mean who found you?”
“Yes.”
“You’re very lucky. A police officer just happened to come to your house. When he found you on the floor, he called 911 and gave you CPR. Our emerg people said that if it wasn’t for him—well—he’s the one who saved you. See, God sent your guardian angel into the game.”
“What officer just ‘happened’ to come by my house?”
“The Mountie from Canada.”
“A Mountie?”
“I think his name is Graham.”
“Where is he now?”
“Uhm.” Hayley bit her bottom lip, looked to the door and flushed from the sudden fear that she may have revealed more than she should have.
“I want to talk to him. He’s here, isn’t he?”
“I’m not sure if the doctor wanted me to say.”
“Hayley, where is he?”
“He’s been here all this time. Waiting to make sure you’re all right.”
“Find him. Bring him in. I want to see him.”
“I’d better find the doctor first. I’m not sure if you’re supposed to have any visitors before they discharge you. I think—”
“Hayley. Find the Mountie and bring him in here. I
need
to talk to him now.”

44

Blue Rose Creek, California

Graham was running out of time.

As he flipped through his umpteenth tattered
Newsweek,
an emergency intern carrying a clipboard ap proached him in the waiting room.

“You’re the officer here with Maggie Conlin?” “That’s right. Will she be okay?”
“She should be fine, but we’re trying to locate a

relative.”
“Did you try her husband, Jake Conlin?” “We’re not having much luck, any suggestions?” “Sorry, I don’t know the family,” Graham said. “But

I’d like to talk to Maggie as soon as it’s possible.” “The psychiatrist is assessing her. We’ll have to see
if she advises visitors. Can you hang in for a bit longer?” “Sure.”
“Good job with the CPR, by the way.”
The intern left Graham to return to the magazines
and his dilemma.
All Graham had wanted was to follow up Tarver’s
Blue Rose Creek notes by talking to Jake and Maggie Conlin. See what came out of it. Finding Maggie Conlin on the floor of her home near death was unexpected. As he considered his next steps, his cell phone vibrated and
he went outside to take the call.
“Graham.”
“Corporal Graham, Vic Thompson, county sheriff’s
department. Sorry we had trouble hooking up.” “You’re swamped, I understand.”
“We’ve caught a triple homicide and I’m about to get
on a plane to San Francisco to interview a witness.
You’re at the hospital with Maggie Conlin?” “Yes. What can you tell me about the Conlins?” “For starters, you shouldn’t have gone to Maggie’s
door without talking to me face-to-face. I don’t think
you would like me doing that in your backyard.” “I called in with my regimental and stated my busi
ness. They said you were too busy to meet me.” “I confirmed your particulars. Aren’t you a tad out
of your jurisdiction?”
“Look, if you want an apology, you’ve got it.” “Just so we’re clear. It’s good you found her. I would
have alerted you to her instability. Now, we’ve got a
deputy at the Conlin house in Blue Rose and he’ll be
heading to the hospital for your statement.”
“No problem.”
“He said there’s no sign of forced entry. Did you kick
the door?”
“The back door was unlocked,” Graham said. “I
understand the Conlins were in a domestic situation?” “It’s a parental abduction.”
“A parental abduction?”

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Rick Mofina

“About five, six months ago, Jake took off with their nine-year-old son.”
“Where?”
“We don’t know. We’ve got a warrant out for him. He never notified anyone with an address, never initi ated divorce action, nothing from the school, the doctor, phone or financial records.”
“He’s gone underground with his son?”
Graham’s phone beeped with a call-waiting tone. He ignored it.
“Looks that way. Jake’s a long-haul trucker. They could be anywhere. And he’s likely changed their names. We’ve alerted the FBI, got them in NCIC, and such. We don’t think Jake’s violent or will harm his son. But anything’s possible. Like most of these cases, this one’s a mess. Maggie took it hard but at first she didn’t want to press things. Didn’t want to make it worse. She thought that if we could find Jake she could talk sense into him, be a happy family again.”
“What happened?”
“They had their troubles. Jake had publicly accused Maggie of cheating on him with Logan’s soccer coach. Some of the other parents told me that Jake seemed paranoid ever since he got home from a contract truckdriving job overseas. Could be a post-traumatic stress thing happening.”
“Where was his contract job?”
“Iraq.”
Iraq.
That stopped Graham cold.
Iraq.
Would that have anything to do with Tarver’s story?

Six Seconds
281

“So tell me again why you’re here,” Thompson said. “Your message said it was some kind of accidental death insurance thing. Are you pulling my leg?”

“It’s complicated.”
“Uncomplicate it fast, we’re starting to board.” “I’ve got a family from Washington, D.C., whose

members appear to have been killed recently in a wil derness accident in a river in the Rockies near Banff. Got three confirmed dead, a mom and her two children, a boy and a girl. We haven’t located the dad yet. Ray Tarver. Heard of him?”

“Doesn’t ring any bells. What’s the insurance part?”

“The death benefit is large, so I’m checking back ground.”
“Right, like maybe the dad did it? Or had help, since you haven’t found him. Maybe he’ll stumble out of the woods to collect?”
“Or maybe someone killed them.”
“What’s your evidence?”
“A lot of circumstance and a gut feeling.”
“Not the best ammunition for court. Is that what brought you here?”
“The dad was a reporter, a bit of an oddball who chased wild conspiracy theories. The Conlins’ name and address in Blue Rose Creek came up in his files. The reporter may have been onto a big plot story at the time his family died in the mountains. This Iraq thing is new to me. What do you know about Jake Conlin’s time there?”
“Not much. It was dangerous. He drove in supply convoys that often came under fire. What was the reporter’s plot story?”
“It was vague about a terror group developing a new weapon.”
“Really. Like what? A dirty bomb or something? We’re boarding now, I gotta hang up.”
“I don’t know. Could’ve been a fantasy he was chasing.”
“Did you pass what you have to the security people in D.C, Homeland, the FBI, let them connect the dots and figure it out?”
“There’s a Secret Service agent the reporter was in touch with. I’ve been talking to him.”
“Look, Graham, you give me your word that if you find anything you keep me in the loop.”
“I will.”
“I’ll do the same. I’m not sure what we can do, but I’ll help where I can, just call. I gotta go.”
The line went dead.
When Graham turned to go back into the hospital, a pock-faced girl with braces, wearing a white lab coat with a name tag that said, Hayley, Student Social Worker, was waiting for him.
“Excuse me, Corporal Graham?”
“Yes.”
“The officer who brought Maggie Conlin in?”
“That’s right.”
“She’s awake and wants to talk to you.”

45

Blue Rose Creek, California

As Hayley led Graham to Maggie’s room, his cell phone vibrated.
Caller ID indicated it was his boss.
“Hold up, Hayley, I have to take a call.”
He stepped back outside and answered.
“What’re you doing in California, Corporal?”
“Following the case.”
“I never authorized you to travel there.”
“I got a strong lead on the last thing Tarver wrote in his journal. Let me give you a case status report.”
“No. I’ll update you. First, you piss off the Secret Service in Washington telling an agent he’s a suspect.”
“We cleared that up.”
“Don’t interrupt. Then you fly to California without my knowledge or authorization. Imagine my delight to be surprised with a call from a Captain Emillio Sanchez of the county sheriff’s department. It seems a Detective Vic Thompson complained that you’d exceeded your ju risdiction and broke into a house to question someone.”
“That’s wrong. I arrived to find my subject had over dosed. I’m at the hospital about to interview her. And I spoke with Thompson. We straightened it out.”
“Well, your assignment down there is over.”
“Over? Why?”
“We’ve found Tarver.”
“What?”
“A couple of boys at a Bible camp way downriver found him this morning washed up against the rocks. The body was in bad shape. Found his wallet on him. So get yourself home, do the paperwork and clear this thing.”
“Wait. We’re going to autopsy Tarver, right?”
“Just as soon as we can. We’ve got other cases. Got to autopsy a woman and her baby killed in a ranch fire outside Pincher Creek. We suspect her husband shot them before torching the place. After them, the M.E. will process Tarver, confirm his ID. This Tarver thing is looking like what we suspected. The D.C. reporter and his family died in a mountain accident. End of story.”
“That’s it?”
“Look, you had a good hunch and I let you follow up on it. Turns out it was a goose chase. Now, we need you back here.”
A few seconds of silence passed between them without Graham’s response.
“Dan?”
“Give me a day or so to wrap some things up, all right?”
“Wrap it up and get back here, ASAP. That’s an order. No more surprises.”
The call ended.
That was it.

Six Seconds
285

Graham ran his hand over his face.
Was he right to pursue this the way he did? To the point that he’d stepped into a domestic whirlwind with a parental abduction and a near suicide. Had he let emotion and speculation serve as substitutes for evidence? In reality, a lot of threads never made sense in a case.
In life, we never get all of our questions answered.
But he was convinced the facts in this case just didn’t add up.
It didn’t matter now. It was over.
Graham noticed Hayley waiting a respectful distance away. He gave her a little smile. Might as well wrap things up. Check in on Maggie. Say hello and goodbye. Reaching into the back pocket of his jeans for his leather-bound notebook, he joined Hayley and she escorted him to Maggie’s room.
A nurse was standing at Maggie’s bed, reviewing a chart. Graham introduced himself, showed his ID. The doctors had already cleared him to visit.
“I’d like to talk to Officer Graham alone, please,” Maggie said.
After the nurse and Hayley left, Graham sat in the chair next to Maggie. Her skin was pale, raw. Her reddened eyes reflected her anguish. Her knuckles whitened as she clenched and unclenched a tissue she held in her fist.
“They said that I would’ve died if you hadn’t found me.” A fragile smile flashed. “Thank you for saving my life.”
He nodded.
“I guess they told you a bit about my situation,” she said.
“A bit.”

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Rick Mofina

Graham summarized what he’d learned from Detec tive Thompson, then Maggie told him the rest, ending with questions.

“Why did you come all this way to my house? Does it have something to do with my husband and son?”
“I’m not sure. Do you know of a reporter from Wash ington, D.C., named Ray Tarver?”
“A reporter in Washington? No. Has this got some thing to do with Jake?”
“I don’t know.”
Graham told her only what he could about the Tarvers, starting with the tragedy in the mountains. Maggie brushed away more tears. Then Graham ex plained how his discovery of Jake and Maggie’s name and address in Tarver’s notes led him to California.
“I needed to talk to you, to Jake, to see what the connection might be. What do you know about your husband’s time in Iraq?”
Maggie thought for a moment.
“Sometimes his convoys came under fire. Some thing happened to him over there, but he refused to talk about it. He had nightmares, he brooded and there was the outburst.”
“What do you know about the types of missions he drove on?”
“Nothing. He never talked about it the whole time he was back. And, as far as I know, nothing got in the press. He was damaged when he came home, he was withdrawn, mistrustful. Not the same man. It took a toll on me and Logan.”
Maggie stared at the ceiling looking for the rest of the words.

Six Seconds
287

“We tried hard to work things out. Now he’s gone. He took Logan and now I have no one.
I have nothing.
It’s like they died.”

Maggie’s whispered voice cracked.
“I just want to find them. I need to find them.” “I know.”
“Help me, please.”
“Help you?”
“Help me find my son and husband.”
“Me? But I can’t get involved. I’m sorry. I wouldn’t

know what to do.”
“
You found me.
You came all the way from that river
in the mountains and you
found me.
Please.” “I’m sorry.”
“Please help me!”
Maggie released a heartbreaking shriek. Graham
glanced at the door.
“I have no one, please!”
He shifted awkwardly in his chair.
“Will you help me? Please help me!”
He tried to calm her, to stem her rising hysteria. He
took her hand.
Like Emily Tarver in the Faust River, this woman was
drowning.
Graham had to make a decision.
And he had to make it now.