Return to Red Creek Nathan Hystad (e books free to read .txt) 📖

“Dad, I am really sorry. I heard about the girl, and I had to come. I needed to know if it was back,” she said.

“I know, honey bear. I know.”

Taylor started for the kitchen, and Paul joined her, looking to the table where the rest of the household was sitting. Stevie was in the living room, sitting in Darrel’s chair, playing video games with the volume low.

Taylor stopped before sitting with them and set her hands on the young man’s broad shoulders. “Dad, this is Brent. He’s my boyfriend.”

The boy stood up, nervously wiped his hand on his shorts, and stuck his hand out. “Mr. Alenn, I’m so happy to finally meet you.”

Paul shook it and smiled. “Yes, finally. Taylor’s told us so much about you,” he joked, and the ice was broken.

Paul sat beside Terri, who patted him on the leg, and he couldn’t wait any longer. “Tell us about this journal you found.”

_______________

Tom glanced at the clock on the wall. It was one of those round commercial ones you only found in schools and police stations, with a metal grate covering it. As if they needed to worry about a perp fiddling with the time.

It was a quarter after six, and Tom was getting hungry.

“Deputy Rich will be here in a few with the burgers.” The sheriff peered down the hall toward the holding cell.

“He’s not going anywhere, Tyler.” Tom wanted to start the interrogation. Every minute they waited, Tom knew their chances of recovering any live victims dwindled.

Carl had wised up and demanded a lawyer. They were waiting now, so Tyler had suggested they bring food in. Tom was hungry, but he didn’t know if he’d even be able to eat. He was full of anxiety and caffeine, with a side of adrenaline.

“Let me in there with him before anyone shows up. Just five minutes,” Tom said, keeping his voice low. He didn’t want to come off as too intense, because then Tyler would never go for it.

“Hold on there, cowboy. This is my department, and we’re going to play this by the book. I’m not losing this guy because you decided to go rogue.”

Tom deflated, sitting on the desktop, searching for the time again. Six twenty.

The entrance to the office chimed, and in walked Deputy Rich, holding three greasy brown bags. “Dinner’s here,” he said. It was just the three of them in the building now, after Tyler had sent the rest of Gilden PD home, and the secretary as well.

Rich plopped the bags on the front desk and started filling the top with an assortment of burgers, fries, and sodas. “On the house. Chuck sure is a nice guy,” Rich said, and Tyler nodded. Tom noticed the big sheriff was still watching the hall, as if Carl would walk toward them at any moment.

The door chimed again as Tom picked up one of the heavy burgers. He’d been trying to cut back on trans fats, and whatever else made him put on weight that he had a hard time taking off. Once he’d hit forty, he found his metabolism had gone to shit.

Tom looked to the door, seeing a woman walk in. She had a cheap navy pantsuit on, and her hair was a little disheveled. Local lawyer, no doubt, probably called in from her day off where she was prepping her garden for spring. Tom liked to guess people’s stories, and as she approached, hand extended, he thought he saw traces of dirt under her fingernails.

“Detective Tom Bartlett,” he said, shaking her hand.

She knew the others, and Tyler gave her a curt nod. “Addy. Nice to see you. Wish it were under better circumstances.”

She gave him a sad smile and pointed to the hall. “Where’s my client? There?” she asked, and Tyler nodded. “Give me two minutes.” She was already fumbling with a faux leather briefcase, and Tom felt a sudden wash of pity for her. Small-town lawyer in way over her head here. Carl was a child kidnapper, likely a murderer. She wouldn’t have dealt with something like this before. He saw her pause at the start of the hallway and take a breath before stalking down the hall with authority, high heels echoing in even strides.

“What’s her deal?” Tom asked, his mouth half-full of juicy meat. Damn if this wasn’t one of the best burgers he’d had in a long time. Since living in Chicago, where he’d frequented a local watering hole after the divorce, probably too often. Sam had made the best burger in Illinois, or at least he claimed to. Tom wasn’t going to argue. This was up there with it.

“Addy Sinclair. She’s reasonable. Not one of the usual ones,” Tyler said, taking his own bite before closing his eyes. He was obviously enjoying the food too.

“I think she’s kind of hot,” Rich said, and Tyler glared at him.

Tom shook his head, laughing at the kid. He was feeling good about the catch today. His gut had led him to that condo building, and they’d walked away with the bad guy, but he needed the kids. Where were the children? Were Brittany and Fredrik still alive somewhere? Were they scared and alone, wondering what they’d done to deserve this terrible fate?

Tom threw away the last few bites of his burger, unable to stomach any more food after thinking about the missing children. “I’ve had enough. We need to talk to this bastard.”

Tyler set down his burger, wiped his mouth with a brown napkin, and clapped Tom on the shoulder. “Let’s get this guy. Rich, man the fort. You’re on phones. Anything pops up, let me know.”

A few minutes later, they were in a cramped makeshift interrogation room. File cabinets lined the wall behind the perp, and there was another one of those clocks with the wire cages, the second hand not ticking, but rotating around the dial in even movements.

Tom had another cup of coffee on the