Linda Castillo - Sworn to Silence

“I see.” The timing of Detrick’s marital situation didn’t elude John. “Does he have a study or home office?”

She blinked, clearly surprised by the question. “Why on earth do you need to see his office?”

“I need to ascertain his whereabouts. It might help me figure out where to look. If he keeps a record of his patrol grid.”

“Wouldn’t he keep that at the sheriff’s office?”

“Time is of the essence, ma’am. If you could just show me to his office.”

“Oh. Well. I guess you could take a look. I just don’t see how that will help.” Pressing her hand to her stomach, she started down the hall. “Are the rest of the deputies out looking for him?”

“Every available man.”

“How long has he been missing?”

“About two hours now. We can’t get him on the radio or cell.”

“Oh, no. My goodness. That’s not good.”

He followed her down a hall, the walls of which were adorned with dozens of framed photos. Detrick’s kids, he thought, and wondered how a father, a cop, could lead such a dark double life.

She entered a room and turned on the light. A study, John thought, taking in the desk topped with a banker’s lamp. Beyond, a floor-to-ceiling bookcase was filled with books and knickknacks that weren’t quite pretty enough for the rest of the house. Several law enforcement plaques adorned the walls.

“What exactly do you need to see?” Lora asked.

Ignoring her, John went directly to the desk. Locked. He’d reached the point of no return. He gave the housekeeper a hard look. “Where’s the key?”

“I don’t understand why you need to go through his desk. This doesn’t make sense. Why are you doing this?”

Picking up a letter opener, he knelt behind the desk and rammed the point into the lock, breaking it.

“What are you doing?” she cried.

He rifled the drawers. Within minutes, he’d searched the entire desk, but found nothing. “Where else would he keep personal papers and things?”

“What’s really going on here?” she asked. “Who are you?”

“We’re trying to ascertain his whereabouts.” John put his hands on his hips and looked around. “Where does he keep his personal effects?”

“I think you should leave.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

“I’m calling the police.”

“The police are out looking for Detrick, ma’am.”

That stopped her, but John knew it wouldn’t last. “I need to know where he keeps his personal effects.”

When she didn’t answer, he crossed to her, grabbed her arms and shook her. “Where, goddamnit!” he shouted.

She gaped at him, her mouth quivering. “He keeps some things in the attic.”

Leaving her, he took the steps two at a time to the second level. All he could think about now was Kate. The time they’d spent together. The note of utter certainty in her voice when she’d told him about Detrick.

He found the attic door at the end of the hall. He heard the housekeeper behind him. “I want you to stop right now and tell me what’s going on!” she cried.

John went up a narrow stairwell, opened the door and hit the light switch. A bare bulb dangled from a rafter, illuminating a small attic crowded with boxes, an old metal file cabinet, a half dozen folding chairs, a collapsed patio table umbrella.

“I’m calling Deputy Jerry Hunnaker right now,” Lora said.

John looked up to see her standing at the door with a phone in her hand. “You do what you have to do.” Spotting a beat-up file cabinet, he crossed to it and yanked on the drawer, but it was locked. “Where’s the key?”

“I don’t know.” She punched numbers into her cell phone.

John looked around for something to break the lock with. Finding an old umbrella, he rammed the metal tip into the lock.

“What are you doing?” she screamed.

He hammered away at the lock until the top drawer rolled open. He saw files near the front. At the rear he found several Tupperware containers and a shoebox. He started with the files. Bank statements. Utility bills. Meaningless forms and warranties. Finding nothing of interest, he pulled out the shoebox and found photos. He knew immediately they were police file photos. Hundreds of them. Dead bodies. Homicides. Suicides. Horrific accidents. The one thing they had in common was that all were violent.

John reached for one of the Tupperware containers, opened it. He found a pair of women’s panties. He went to the next, found a black bra. A sheer kapp, the kind worn by an Amish woman. Souvenirs, he realized. “Christ.” The one thing he hadn’t found was something that would lead him to Kate.

He started toward the door, nearly running over Lora, who stood in the doorway. “I called Nathan’s office,” she said. “They don’t know anything about him being missing. I told them what you were doing. They’re on their way.”

“If Detrick was in trouble, where would he go?”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

Before he could stop himself John grabbed her shoulders, put her hard against the wall. “If I don’t find him, he’s going to kill someone! Now where the fuck is he?”

“Kill someone?” She stared at him, her mouth agape and quivering. “You’re crazy! Nate wouldn’t hurt anyone! He’s a police officer! He wouldn’t do that!”

“He already has!” John shouted. “Is there someplace private he goes to be alone?”

“H-he never mentioned a place!”

“Does he have a cabin? Anything like that?”

“I don’t know!”

Struggling for control, he released her and stumbled back. For several seconds they stared at each other, then John turned and took the stairs two at a time to the ground floor. He went through the door and ran to the Tahoe. By the time he climbed behind the wheel he was shaking. Snatching up the phone, he called Glock. “Detrick’s our man.”

“How do you—”

“I just left his house. I went through his office. He’s got souvenirs.”

“Jesus, Tomasetti.”

“Where are you?”

“North side of Painters Mill. I’ve checked two farms on the list, but I’m batting zero.”

“They could be anywhere.” John grabbed the list of abandoned properties off the console. “We gotta find her, Glock. She’s in trouble.” Starting the engine, he pulled onto the street. “Where do I look?”

“There’s an abandoned motel off of Route 62 out of Millersburg. I’m heading that way now. You’re closer to Killbuck. There’s a house there that’s on this list.”

John squinted down at his list, frustrated because he wasn’t familiar with the area. “Goddamnit, we need more manpower.”

“Pickles and Skid are out looking. We’ll find her.”

John ended the call and made the turn onto State Route 754. The township of Killbuck was ahead, the abandoned house just beyond. The snow made for agonizingly slow travel. Visibility had dwindled, making it difficult to see the road. Even the telephone poles and road signs were invisible. In a few hours travel would be impossible.

He squinted through the windshield at the swirling maelstrom beyond. “Where are you, Kate?” he whispered.

The only answer was the steady beat of the wipers and the echo of his own fear.

CHAPTER 35

I watch him remove my boots. Around me, the old house creaks and moans against the storm raging outside. Even with the heater turned on high, the room is cold. My legs and arms shake uncontrollably. I can no longer tell if it’s from the cold or from the endless stream of terror coursing through me. I recall my last conversation with John, and I wonder if he believed me about Detrick. I wonder of he’s looking for me. If anyone’s looking for me. Or if I’ll end up like the others.