A Necessary Evil Page 6

  “I’m sorry, boss. I was able to trace him to within a ten-mile radius, but that could be anywhere in Lexington. And it’s a burner phone. Not registered to anyone, and there’s no way of tracking the purchase. If I’d had more time, perhaps.”

  He waved her off, but the words were caught in his throat. He grabbed the back of a chair to steady himself as his mind swam with images of all the things he’d done over the last thirty years or so. Some of the faces of his victims were still clear in his mind, but not many. Guilt was not an emotion Franklin Cartwright felt often. Every choice he’d made, he’d made for the furtherance of his family and his empire. Every choice, that was, except for one.

  The memory slapped him in the face and left him breathless. In an instant, he knew why his granddaughter had been kidnapped. He knew what he had done to deserve this torment.

  Once again, it all came back to Addie.

  Chapter 9

  Kurt

  This was one conversation he was not looking forward to. Not one iota. Speaking to victims’ parents was always the hardest part of a detective’s job, especially when he still had no answers to give them. But this wasn’t just any victim’s parent. It was Kitty. Franklin Cartwright’s only daughter and the girl who might have been Kurt’s goddaughter, had things turned out the way they were supposed to all those years ago.

  Kurt could still remember that warm Saturday in July when they were ten years old, fishing by the Kentucky River. Frankie had cut his thumb on a fishhook, and they’d both gawked at the ooze of crimson spilling from the tiny tear in his pale skin. Without hesitating, Kurt had pulled his Swiss Army knife out of his jeans pocket and pricked his thumb. They boys had smooshed their thumbs together and sworn to be brothers for life. But that was before.

  Now, not only was Kurt not Kitty’s godfather, they were virtually strangers. So to say Kurt was nervous as he walked up the pavers lining the walkway to Kitty’s front porch would be an understatement. There was a pit in his empty stomach as he climbed the steps and rang the doorbell. Kurt ran a hand through his closely cropped gray hair then undid the top button of his shirt.

  The door swung open seconds later, revealing a thin woman with a messy blonde bob and dark circles under her hazel eyes. She looked surprised to see him at first, but when Kurt held up his badge, the woman gestured for him to come inside.

  “Detective Kurt Jamison,” Kurt said as he stepped into the foyer. His eyes were immediately drawn to the large canvas portrait of Mollie which hung smack in the middle of the wall to his left. Her high school senior picture, he guessed. She was leaning against a birch tree, her head was cocked playfully to the side, and her arms were crossed loosely across her chest.

  “I know who you are,” Kitty said, refocusing Kurt’s attention. “Daddy said you’d probably pay a visit. Please, come inside.”

  Kurt stepped deeper into the foyer and looked to his right. On the wall opposite the senior portrait were dozens of pictures of Mollie in frames of varying shapes and sizes, arranged in a neat collage. There was no disputing the fact that Mollie was well-loved.

  Kitty turned and shuffled down the hallway and took a left. Kurt followed her closely. The next room they entered was the kitchen. The cabinets were painted white, the countertops were made of gray and white marble, and the brand-new appliances were stainless steel. It didn’t take a detective to deduce Daddy had helped a bit with the house and its furnishings. There was no way a single mom who worked as a part-time secretary at a law firm could have afforded a house like this.

  “Would you like some coffee? Tea? I have both,” Kitty offered with a wan smile.

  “Some coffee would be great.” It was going on three o’clock, and Kurt hadn’t had a bite to eat since before Frankie had stepped into the precinct. He’d been managing on a steady diet of caffeine and nicotine all day, but one more cup couldn’t hurt, could it?

  The coffee pot trembled in Kitty’s frail hand as she poured two cups of joe. “Cream and sugar?”

  “Black, thanks.”

  Kitty handed him a full cup, and Kurt noticed Kitty’s manicure had taken a beating. The ends were chipped, and he could only guess she’d been chewing on them since last night.

  “I’d like to talk to you about Mollie,” Kurt blurted. No need delaying the inevitable, and there were only so many hours in the day.

  “Of course.” Kitty set her own coffee cup back down and leaned her waif-thin hip against the counter. “Please tell me you’ve found something, anything that will bring Mollie home safe and sound.” Her bottom lip quivered as she spoke, and tears threatened to spill across her high cheekbones.

  “I’m sorry,” Kurt said. “I wish I was here with better news…any news at all, actually. We’ve run down the only couple of leads we have so far, and we’ve come up empty. I wish I had more to tell you. In fact, I was hoping I could take a look at Mollie’s room.”

  “Her room?” Kitty’s eyes widened, and her hand flew to her heart. “But why…”

  “You never know,” Kurt said quickly. “I doubt there’s anything in there that would be of much use to us, but it’s worth a shot. At the very least, I can learn a bit more about Mollie.”

  “Oh, sure, sure. Right this way. It’s upstairs.” Kitty pushed herself from the counter, walked around the kitchen table, and opened a door Kurt hadn’t noticed until then. “When Mollie started college, she took over the attic upstairs. She converted it to an apartment. Follow me.”

  Kurt followed Kitty up the steep wooden steps. When they reached the summit, they turned a corner, and the room opened up into a large area with slanted ceilings, common in old cape cods like this one.

  “She did it all by herself,” Kitty commented proudly. “Well, she and Daddy, of course.”

  Of course, Kurt thought.

  “He put in a bathroom, a mini fridge, and even a little stovetop for her.” Kitty pointed at the amenities in the attic. “But Mollie did all the decorating herself.”

  Kurt stepped past Kitty and glanced around the room, his hands on his hips and his brow furrowed. The walls were painted light gray, and the comforter, furniture, and curtains were all pure white. Tiny white Christmas lights were strewn up along the perimeter of the ceiling, which added a warm glow to the room. Kurt walked over to an antique vanity situated in the corner and bent over, the better to see the Polaroid photographs tacked to the frame of the mirror.

  “Who are these people?” He pointed at the first picture, which showed two teenage couples, dressed, apparently, for prom. Kurt could pick out Mollie in the long, flowy, baby blue dress with sequins on the bodice, but he didn’t recognize the other three kids.

  “Oh,” Kitty said with a wistful smile. “That’s from her senior prom. The boy next to her is Dalton Cooper. That was her high school sweetheart. They dated until midway through her freshman year, but…” Kitty trailed off. “Anyway, the other girl is Shiloh Duncan, a good friend of Mollie’s, and the boy is her boyfriend, Zach Byers. They had such a good time that night. I don’t think she got home until three in the morning.”

  Kitty sat on the edge of Mollie’s bed and picked up one of her pillows. She held it to her face and drew in a deep breath. “My God. It still smells like her.”

  As Kitty cried into Mollie’s pillow, Kurt was unsure what to do next. He wanted to comfort her, but wasn’t sure if she wanted him to. Instead, he continued looking around the room and gave her the time and space she needed to gather herself.

  The other pictures on the vanity were mostly of Mollie and her best friend, Laurel. Arm in arm at the beach standing by the ocean, at a football game huddled under a blanket, and smiling cheek to cheek in front of their lockers. There were other knickknacks on the dresser, including a bottle of Katy Perry perfume, some makeup, a mirror, and a hairbrush.

  “Ms. Cartwright, can you—”

  “Kitty,” she said, looking up from the pillow. “You can call me Kitty.”

  “All right, Kitty. Can you think of anyone at all who w
ould want to hurt Mollie? Did she have any enemies at school? At work? Anyone at all you can think of? Think hard. This is very important.”

  Kitty shook her head vehemently. “No. I’m telling you, Detective Jamison, there’s no one. Everyone loved Mollie. She never made an enemy in her life.” She paused briefly then looked back up at him. “Well, there was this one kid…someone at work. She made a few comments about a boy who was driving her crazy, leaving little love notes and things in her locker, but I—”

  “We’ve checked with Macy’s, and no one there seems to know anything about this boy. Are you sure he worked there?”

  “No,” Kitty admitted. “I’m not sure. She only mentioned it a couple times, and she didn’t seem worried, just annoyed. Maybe he didn’t work there. Maybe he was a customer. I really don’t know.” She sobbed again into the pillow, and this time Kurt moved toward her and laid a hand on her shoulder.

  “I know,” he said in the same soothing tone he used with all victims’ parents. “I know it’s hard. But we’re doing everything we can to find her. Using all our resources. We’ll find her.”

  She looked up at him. Her eyes were red and swollen, and her face was wet with tears. “Do you promise me you’ll find her?”

  Kurt didn’t answer at first. This was a tough one. He tried to never make promises he couldn’t keep. It always made things harder, especially for the parents of the other six girls who were still missing. But there was something in Kitty’s eyes. Something warm and familiar and desperate that made him nod.

  “Yes,” he said. “I promise. I’ll find her.”

  Kurt’s cell phone rang in his pocket, and he assumed at first it was Lonnie calling him from the cruiser, telling him to hurry his old ass up. He’d convinced his partner to stay in the car and let him talk to Kitty alone, so as not to overwhelm her, but Kurt knew how impatient his young partner could be. He almost ignored it, but thought better of it and slid it out of his pocket and held it to his ear.

  “Detective Jamison,” he said.

  “Kurt, it’s Frankie. We need to talk. Now.”

  “Why? Did you find something?”

  Kitty looked up at him. “Did they find her? Where is she? Is she alive? Is she safe? Oh, my God. Let me talk to her!”

  Kurt covered the receiver. “No, it’s your father. I’m sorry. Nothing yet.”

  “My father? But why—”

  “What’s so important, Frankie? I’m here at Kitty’s house, looking at Mollie’s room. I need to make sure we—”

  “Get your ass over here to the Tribeca, Kurt. I know who took Mollie.”

  Kurt heard his heart pounding in his ears. He nearly dropped the phone but managed to catch it in an amazing display of acrobatics.

  “Kurt? Did you hear me? I said I know who—”

  “Roger,” Kurt said out of habit. “I mean, yes. I heard you. I’ll be there in ten.”

  Kurt pushed the END button, slid the phone back into his pants pocket, and looked at Kitty. “I’ve got to go. Your father has a lead.”

  “What is it? Please take me with you. I can help. I need to be there. Please.”

  “I need you to stay here, Kitty. What if Mollie comes home? You want to be here, right?” It was flimsy reasoning, but it did the trick. Kitty nodded.

  “Yes, you’re right. I’ll stay here.”

  “Good. Now, I promise to be in touch as soon as I can. In the meantime…” Kurt turned on his heel and walked toward the top of the steps.

  “I’ll stay put.” Kitty nodded and held her chin high. “By the way, I know you and Daddy were friends once. He told me.”

  Kurt stopped dead in his tracks, and his stomach lurched. Without turning around, he said, “What did he tell you?”

  “Everything. He told me everything. About how you and he were friends as boys. About how you grew up together. About Addie…”

  Hearing her name again was a knife in his heart. He wanted to ask her more. Ask her if Frankie told her the whole story…the truth, but he didn’t have time. It was a conversation for another day, perhaps. Instead, he nodded tersely and said, “Right. I’ll stay in touch.”

  He looked back at where Kitty was sitting on the bed and felt guilty about cutting her off and ignoring her. She looked so sad, so lonely, so desperate as she sat there hugging Mollie’s pillow tightly to her chest. But just as he was about to look away and head down the stairs, something caught his eye.

  Right by Kitty’s foot, underneath Mollie’s bed, was a book. It looked out of place, as if it’d been stashed there in a hurry in a vain attempt to hide it. Kurt turned around and walked over to the foot of the bed, bent over with a grunt—he’d suffer for this later—and slid the book out slowly. He glanced at it and saw at once that it was a journal of some sort. It was made of red leather and was tied together with thin leather straps.

  “What’s this?” Kurt asked Kitty, holding the book for her to see.

  “I have no idea,” Kitty said, eyes wide as saucers. “I’ve never seen that before in my life.”

  Kurt quickly untied the leather straps and lifted the front cover. On the inside flap, written in squiggly black letters, was an inscription.

  “Private diary of Mollie Anne Cartwright.”

  Chapter 10

  Frankie

  “How’s it coming, Lynx?” Frankie asked the spindly girl still typing away at the keyboard, her eyes focused sharply on the screen only inches from her face.

  “Almost got it,” she answered without looking up.

  “Yo, boss,” Bruno said as he pushed through the swinging door to the back room and stood staring at Frankie blankly. All the lights were on, but it seemed no one was ever home in poor Bruno’s mind.

  “Yes, Bruno?”

  “You got a visitor. Some pig called Jamison.”

  “Send him in.”

  Seconds later, Kurt Jamison walked in with his badge clearly displayed on his belt. “You said you know who took Mollie,” he said without preamble.

  “I think I do,” Frankie said. “Come. Sit down. I’ll explain.”

  Kurt hesitated for a beat before walking over to Frankie’s table and pulling out a chair. It appeared Kurt’s back was bothering him by the way he slowly lowered himself into it.

  “What’s this all about, Frankie? How’s it you’ve already figured out who took her?” Doubt played plainly on Kurt’s face.

  “Because he called me.”

  “Come again?”

  “He called me.”

  “When?”

  “About half an hour ago.”

  “Who is it?”

  Frankie let out a deep sigh and leaned back in his chair. “That’s the hard part. It’s about Addie.”

  The look on Kurt’s faced betrayed the pain he felt every time he heard his twin sister’s name. He stared at Frankie without blinking. “What about her?”

  “He said he took Mollie because I took a father away from his son. He rambled on about past sins and revenge, and at first I didn’t understand, but then I thought about it, and it hit me.”

  “What hit you? Frankie, spit it out.”

  “He’s Julian McAllister’s son.”

  Kurt didn’t respond. Not verbally, anyway. His head jerked back. He worked his jaw side to side as if chewing on something tough.

  “I know. It’s a name neither of us ever wanted to hear again, let alone speak. But it makes sense. Julian had a son back in 1978. He was just a baby then, but apparently he’s spent the past thirty-eight years dreaming of ways to get his revenge for what I…what happened.”

  Kurt still wasn’t speaking. Frankie could almost see the fire burning behind his eyes as he glared across the table at Kurt.

  “Say something, man.”

  After another few seconds of drawn-out silence, Kurt’s mouth finally opened. “I told you. Back then. I told you to let the police handle him. But no, you had to handle him your way. Now look what’s happened. Mollie doesn’t deserve this, but the truth is, Frankie, you b
rought this on yourself. If you’d only let me bring him in—”

  “Enough!” Frankie slammed his palm down on the table, but Kurt didn’t flinch. There was a thickness in his throat, and his face was tingling. It wasn’t just anger Frankie was experiencing, it was shame too. He knew Kurt was right, but there was nothing he could do about it now. It was the right decision at the time. How could he have known Julian McAllister’s son would grow up to be a monster just like him, bide his time for nearly forty years, then kidnap Frankie’s granddaughter to extract his pound of flesh?

  “Look,” Frankie said, breathing deeply, trying hard not to yell. “I know you don’t agree with what I did. But if I’d let you take him in, he’d have gotten off on a technicality or gotten out in three years. After what he did to Addie, I couldn’t stand by and do nothing. I couldn’t watch that happen. He had to pay, Kurt. For God’s sake, she was your sister.”

  “You don’t have to tell me who Addie was to me, Frankie. And I know why you did what you did. Hell, I wanted to kill the bastard too. I could have done it with my bare hands and slept like a baby that night. But this is exactly why you can’t go serving up justice yourself to everyone who wrongs you. Payback’s a bitch.”

  Frankie leaned forward and rubbed his face. Nearly forty years had gone by, and he could still feel the pain that ripped through his body when he’d been told Addie was dead. Not just dead, but brutally murdered. The knowledge that the son of the man who’d killed her now had his precious grandbaby somewhere out there doing God only knew what to her made him sick with grief and anger. But nothing Kurt said was going to make him regret killing Julian McAllister. In fact, he was already dreaming of what he’d do to his son once he got his hands on him.

  “Oh, no.” Kurt shook his head. “I know what you’re thinking. You can’t do it again. This time, I won’t sit by and let you kill another human being. I know what he’s done, and by God, if I get to him first, he’s going to wish he was dead. But things have changed, Frankie. I’m a cop now. It was one thing to turn my head when I was eighteen years old and mourning the death of my twin sister. It’s quite another to stand by and let you hunt this man down and kill him too. I can’t. I won’t. You need to let me and Lonnie handle this.”