CHAPTER THREE
Brent scowled at the officers staring at him with weapons drawn. “Detective Cal Taylor of homicide was supposed to contact you about my presence at the scene.” He lay on his stomach, his face turned toward a horror-stricken Rowan. One of the officers grabbed his weapon, then cuffed him. He’d better be getting back the sweet Ruger soon. That Ruger was his favorite weapon.
“No,” Rowan protested. “He came with me to help my sister. Brent didn’t break in and shoot Heather.”
“It’s okay, Rowan,” he said, voice mild even though he was ticked off. Yeah, he got it. Brent was an unknown danger in the middle of a crime scene. Still, didn’t these guys listen to their superiors? If his operatives did that, he’d send them back through training or fire them. That was better than the alternative—dying because you refused to listen, not something Brent wanted on his conscience.
A brush of fabric told Brent that his friend, Cal Taylor, had arrived. About time. “Get those cuffs off him,” the detective snapped.
The officer unlocked the handcuffs and stepped back, face flushed.
Brent rolled to a crouch, gaze locked on the cops who were still twitchy. He shifted into a better position to protect Rowan. “Tell your boys to lower their weapons and I want my Ruger back, Cal.”
His former SEAL teammate motioned for the uniforms to lower their Glocks. “As soon as the ballistic test rules your Ruger out as the weapon used to shoot our vic, I’ll make sure it’s returned. Of course, I might do some target shooting with it first.”
Brent scowled. “Get your own, buddy.”
The sandy-haired six-foot detective shifted his gaze to Rowan. “Rowan Scott?”
“That’s right.”
“Sorry to meet you under these circumstances.” He knelt beside her, avoiding the pool of blood. “I can take over here if you want to go wash your hands.”
Rowan glanced down at her hands and noted the blood staining her skin. She paled. “Thanks.” Rowan stood and hurried into the bathroom across the hall.
“Sit rep,” Taylor demanded of Brent.
“We arrived five minutes ago, found Heather. She has a six-year-old daughter I haven’t been able to locate. Heather regained consciousness for a minute and told Rowan someone took Alexa.”
“Did she identify them?”
“Slipped back under before she could say.”
Rowan gave the uniforms a wide berth as she returned to the room and rushed back to her sister’s side.
Taylor grabbed another towel. “Simmons, start searching this house for the child. Blanchard, go wait out front for the ambulance. Should be here in a minute.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Rowan, do you know what happened here? Was this a domestic dispute gone wrong?”
“I don’t know.” She sandwiched Heather’s hand between her own. Cold and clammy. That couldn’t be good. “Heather didn’t say. But if it was a domestic dispute, Jay wouldn’t need to kick down the door.”
“If he was angry enough, a locked door could have triggered the aggression.” Brent almost hoped Jay Maxwell was to blame. At least then, they’d know where to start looking for Alexa. “Heather may not have admitted they’d been fighting. Her pattern has been to conceal the truth from you.”
“The Maxwells have marital problems?” Taylor asked, glancing from Brent back to Rowan.
“Heather hasn’t been happy, but she won’t say a bad word against her husband, Jay.”
“I’ll run a check, see if we’ve logged a domestic disturbance call from this address. What’s your opinion of the husband?”
“He’s sleazy. I wouldn’t be surprised if Jay was hurting Heather.”
Again, Brent wondered just what this creep Jay had done to Rowan. Though she’d promised to tell him if Jay touched her again, he didn’t know that he altogether believed she would. He had a feeling the lady preferred to handle things on her own. Not an option with man like Jay. If he didn’t treat is own wife with the respect and care she deserved, Brent doubted Rowan’s complaints or confrontation would be received well.
Blanchard returned with the EMTs and Taylor moved out of their way. “Wait here,” he said to Brent. “Blanchard, go back out front and set up a perimeter. I don’t want the neighbors to destroy any possible evidence in the yard.” He left, returned a minute later with clean hands and stood to the side, watching the medical personnel work on Heather and placing a call to request a crime scene team.
Brent helped Rowan to her feet. “Come on.” He nodded toward the wall where Taylor waited. “Let’s move so the EMTs have room to work.” When she turned that direction, he circled her waist with his arm for support. She looked shaky to him, though she wouldn’t appreciate him saying that out loud.
“She has to be all right,” Rowan whispered, her gaze locked on her sister. “Alexa needs her. Can you image what would happen to that sweet baby if her father was responsible for her upbringing?”
“You said he never abused her.”
“That I know of. I could be wrong.”
Taylor clipped his phone to the holder on his belt. “Rowan, I need an updated picture of the child.”
“Her name is Alexa,” Rowan said. “Heather has a picture of her that was taken last month. Will that work?”
“That’s perfect. Children grow so quickly, the more recent the picture, the better.”
The EMTs lifted Heather to the stretcher and strapped her down.
“What hospital?” Brent asked.
“Southern Hills is the closest.”
“Will you take me?” Rowan asked Brent. “I need to be with her.”
“After you give me information about Alexa,” Taylor said. “The faster I get what I need, the quicker we’ll have her description over the air and every cop in the city looking for her. You can’t do anything for Heather, but you might make the difference in helping us find Alexa.”
After a lingering glance at her sister as the EMTs pushed the stretcher into the hall, Rowan said, “Come with me. Heather has several pictures that will work. I’ll let you choose which one is the best for reproduction purposes.”
Taylor motioned for her to proceed.
With his arm still around her, Brent accompanied Rowan to Heather’s room where he’d searched for Alexa earlier. He’d noticed that the room only contained Heather’s belongings. Guess Heather and Jay didn’t share a room. Lent credence to Rowan’s belief there was trouble in the marriage. Unless the room contained Heather’s overflow of belongings that wouldn’t fit in the master suite. He was more inclined to believe this is where Heather slept. The room was stamped with her personality, not bland like a storage room.
Rowan headed straight for the bookshelf where colorful paperbacks weighed down the shelves along with many framed pictures of an adorable black-haired girl with beautiful brown eyes.
Alexa Maxwell took his breath away. His lips curved. She took after her aunt. Rowan did the same thing to him. Yep, he was a sap, all right. But a man would have to have a heart of stone not to be mush inside at the sight of this little one.
Rowan reached for a picture of Alexa in a white dress with a yellow hat perched on her head. The girl’s eyes appeared to sparkle with happiness. Might just be a trick of the photographer’s lighting. Brent hoped that wasn’t the case. “This is the latest picture. Will this work?”
“Oh, yeah.” Taylor took the picture from the frame. “I’ll make sure the picture is returned. I need to make copies. Do you know what outfit Alexa was wearing today?”
“Maybe. One thing I’ll say about her father. The man doesn’t mind spending money on his daughter. That girl has more clothes than Heather and I do put together.” Rowan bit her lower lip. “I’ll have to go back into Alexa’s room.”
Brent wanted to protest, knew that he couldn’t if Rowan’s discomfort would give him and Taylor another lead to find Alexa. No way was he leaving the investigation up to Metro’s finest. They were overworked and understaffed, and their equipment didn’t hold a candle to what he used at Fortress.
The detective held out a pair of rubber gloves. “Put these on in case the person who took Alexa left prints.”
Rowan did as directed and retraced her steps to Alexa’s room. She headed to the dresser and began riffling through the contents of the drawers. Next, she avoided the pool of blood on the way to the closet.
The closet was as large as the one in his bedroom, Brent mused. Hardly necessary for a six-year-old. No doubt she would need that much space and more when she was a teenager.
A minute later, she returned. “Alexa is wearing pink overalls and a white shirt with pink trim and white tennis shoes.”
Brent stared. “She has more clothes than a department store in this room. How do you know what she’s wearing?”
“I gave her the outfit. It’s her favorite and it’s missing from the closet. And before you ask, I also checked the clothes hamper. The outfit isn’t here.”
Simmons returned, a grim look on his face. “I can’t find the girl, Detective. There’s no sign of her.”
“Thanks. Go help Blanchard with crowd control.” Taylor turned back to Rowan. “I need contact information for Jay Maxwell.” When she provided the information, the detective used his cell phone to call Maxwell. “No answer. Does he usually ignore phone calls?”
“I have no idea.” Rowan shuddered. “I don’t contact him for anything.”
Anger simmered inside Brent. He was definitely going to have a talk with this guy. No woman should be afraid.
“Will Fortress help?” Taylor asked Brent.
“Count on it. What do you need?”
“Have one of the tech geeks ping Maxwell’s phone. Let’s see where this guy is. Maybe we’ll get lucky and find Alexa with him.”
Brent released Rowan and grabbed his phone. He called the direct number for the comm center, placing the call on speaker phone, and was relieved to find Zane was still on duty.
“Murphy.”
“Z, I need you to ping a cell phone.”
Over the phone’s speaker, he heard the tapping of computer keys. “What’s going on, boss?”
“Possible child kidnapping.”
“Name of the vic?”
“Alexa Maxwell. She’s six. Black hair, brown eyes, looks like the poster child for cherubs.”
“Clothes?”
He described Alexa’s coordinated pink outfit.
“Where are you and what number am I pinging?” Once Brent supplied the information, Zane said, “Are we on the case alone or has the FBI been called in?”
Brent scowled at the thought of the alphabet agencies. “Right now, Taylor is working the case. Guess he’ll have to call in the feds soon.”
Taylor winced, then gave a short nod. “After we locate and question Maxwell. Don’t want to call in the feds on a domestic unless he’s kidnapped his own child. Hurry, Zane. Alexa is not in the house. I want a location on the father before I call in the feds.”
“Hold.” More keys clicking. “The signal shows the phone at your location, Taylor.”
“Can you pinpoint where?”
“Nope. System’s not that good.”
Brent considered his options. “Is the satellite in the right position to do an infrared scan?”
A pause, then, “We’re in luck. What am I looking for?”
“A small form lying down or huddled somewhere in the house or nearby.”
“Give me a minute.”
“You have access to a satellite?” Rowan asked.
“Yes, ma’am. I’m Zane. Who are you?”
“Rowan Scott.”
“Nice to talk to you, Rowan. Would you be the famous Coffee House Rowan?”
Brent’s cheeks heated. Looked like Claire would be a widow soon because he planned to kill his longtime friend. “Shut up, Murphy.”
A chuckle came over the speaker. “Yes, sir. Satellite images are up. Lots of activity around the house and neighborhood. Looks like you have a cop or two searching the house, Taylor. No small forms. From what I can see, Alexa is not in the residence or hiding outside. I don’t know anything about kids, but is it possible she wandered away? If so, how far can she walk?”
“Alexa’s mother said someone took her daughter.”
“I was afraid of that. What else can I do to help, boss?”
“Tap into the security system. See if you can get a picture of the person who took Alexa.”
“Copy that. I’ll get back to you as soon as I find something we can use.”
“Can he really hack into the security system?” Rowan asked, her eyes wide.
Brent’s lips twitched. “Zane is a man of many diverse talents, but he is a first rate hacker. He should have results for us soon.” He glanced at Taylor. “Doubt Maxwell would leave his phone here unless he didn’t want to be tracked by it.”
“Agreed. Simmons didn’t see Maxwell in the house during his search for Alexa.”
And he and Rowan as well as the cops would have seen the man if he’d been in the front yard. That left the back. “Backyard been checked?” he asked his friend.
“Doubt it. Let’s go.”
The three of them traipsed downstairs to the patio. Brent breathed easier when he didn’t see a pool Alexa could fall into. Taylor turned on a powerful flashlight. “Not Metro issued, buddy.”
A snort. “I prefer the Fortress equipment. So sue me.”
Brent chuckled. “Glad I can equip one of Metro’s finest. If you’d give up the fame and perks, you could play with these kinds of toys all the time.”
“Yeah, yeah. I hear you. I’m also ignoring you for now. Stop nagging me.”
“You won’t be able to resist forever, Cal.”
The beam from the flashlight swept the yard.
“Hold up.” Brent pointed to the right. “Go back.”
Taylor redirected the light and stopped at the corner of the yard, near a row of bushes. He hissed, then turned to Rowan. “Stay here.” He jogged across the remaining distance to the bushes.
Since his friend hadn’t issued him the same order, Brent followed. Dread grew in his gut as he drew nearer. A body. Taylor checked for a pulse, glanced at Brent, shook his head. After patting down the victim, the cop pulled a wallet from the vic’s pants pocket.
“Jay Maxwell.”
He crouched beside Cal. “Please tell me you don’t need Rowan to identify him.” The head shot hadn’t left much to identify Maxwell with and he didn’t want her to have that memory.
Instead of answering, Taylor reached into another of Maxwell’s pockets and pulled out a cell phone. The last call that came in showed it was from a private number.
Brent recognized it as Taylor’s. “Good. Guess we have our answer without subjecting Rowan to this horror.” Looked as though Brent wouldn’t be having that talk with Jay Maxwell after all. At least Rowan and Heather didn’t have to worry about being safe from this clown. “I assume this will now be your case since there’s a homicide involved.”
“Would have been anyway.” Taylor stood and tossed Brent the flashlight. “See if you can find Alexa out here. Try not to trample any clues in the process.”
“Right.” He stood and retraced his steps to Rowan.
“Who is it?” she whispered, her gaze clinging to his.
“It’s Maxwell.”
“Oh, no. How am I going to tell Heather?”
“Don’t worry about that right now. Taylor wants me to search the yard for Alexa. Will you be okay right here?”
She looked at the detective, still crouching beside Maxwell’s body. “Do I need to identify him or something?”
“Not necessary. In fact, you’ll want to stay as far away from the body as possible so you don’t contaminate the scene.”
Rowan eyed him a moment. “That bad?”
Smart woman. He brushed her bottom lip with his thumb. “Not something you need to see, sweetheart.”
“I want to help you look for Alexa. If she’s hiding, she might not come to you.”
With a nod, he laced his fingers through hers and began the search of the outskirts. Despite Rowan calling Alexa’s name and their careful search, he and Rowan didn’t find the girl.
By the time they returned to the patio, the crime scene team had arrived as well as the coroner. Across the yard, Taylor looked his direction. Brent shook his head. The detective said something to one of his co-workers and walked to the patio.
“No luck, Cal.”
He sighed. “Guess I don’t have a choice but to call in the feds.”
“Glad I don’t have to work with them,” he muttered and handed Taylor the flashlight.
A roll of his eyes, and Taylor stepped away from them, cell phone pressed to his ear.
“I want to keep looking for Alexa, but I also know Heather will be frantic with worry. I don’t want her at the hospital by herself.”
“Come on.” He led her to his SUV and helped her inside. “We’ve been looking for Alexa for almost an hour. The cops are covering this neighborhood, looking for her. They have a better chance of finding her than we do because of sheer volume.” Brent cupped her cheek with his palm. “Zane should be getting back to us soon. In the meantime, you can give your sister some badly needed moral support.”
She pressed her face against his hand for a moment. “You’re right. I need to be with Heather.”
With a nod, Brent dropped his hand and closed the door. His gaze scanned the area, taking in the buzz of activity and crowd of neighbors craning their necks to see if they could glean some tidbit of information to share.
His hands clenched. Where was Alexa?