Lisa Gardner - Touch & Go

Sophie had learned the hard way that adults couldn’t always protect her. There was nothing Tessa could do or say about that now.

“What else would you recommend?” Tessa asked her daughter.

“You should check the windows for a sign. Maybe the word help . You can write on dirty windows, you know. Just lick your finger and use your spit to draw each letter. Except you have to keep licking your finger, and after a while, your finger doesn’t taste so good.”

“Got it.”

“They might need food. You should bring snacks. Kidnappers don’t like to feed kids. Especially bad kids, and when you’re scared, it’s hard to be good.”

A small ache tearing into Tessa’s heart. Trying hard not to think too much about what her daughter must have endured two years ago. Keeping her own voice steady and resolute: “What kind of snacks should I bring?”

“Chocolate chip cookies.”

“Okay. I’ll stock my car with blankets and chocolate chip cookies. Maybe a thermos of hot chocolate?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you, Sophie. That’s very helpful.”

“Are you going to shoot someone, Mommy?”

“I’m not planning on it.”

“But you’re going to bring your gun?”

“Yes.”

“Good, Mommy. I think you should.”

Now, Tessa couldn’t help but think that Chris Lopez’s triple-decker appeared cold and dark. And the lower windows were very dirty, the kind that would make a finger taste particularly awful when smearing out a message for help.

Tessa placed her right hand inside her open coat, on the butt of her gun. She turned her body slightly sideways, to make it less of a target.

Then, she nodded once to Wyatt, who raised his left hand and knocked.

A BLACK LAB OPENED THE DOOR. Older dog, with a graying muzzle that stood out in sharp contrast to his sleek black coat. He released the rope that had been tied around the door handle, then sat, staring patiently at Tessa and Wyatt while thumping his tail in welcome.

“Hello?” Tessa called out.

“Say, good dog,” a man’s voice called from upstairs. Chris Lopez.

“Good dog,” Tessa muttered. The black Lab thumped his tail a couple more beats.

“Good dog, Zeus,” the voice called from upstairs.

Tessa still had her hand on the butt of her gun, slowly scanning the shadowed interior for signs of other life. “Good dog, Zeus,” she repeated.

The dog yawned. Apparently, her voice wasn’t too convincing.

“Chris Lopez?” she called out. “It’s Tessa Leoni, Northledge Investigations. Got a couple of questions for you.”

A few seconds later, the staircase creaked, then shuddered as Lopez went rat-a-tat down the upper half. When he rounded the lower landing and spotted Wyatt as well, his steps slowed. He was holding a rag, wiping what appeared to be white clay from his fingers and forearms. Now, he gripped the rag tightly, coming to a halt two steps from the bottom.

“Do you have…news?” He spoke the words tightly, as if already anticipating that any word that took two investigators to deliver wouldn’t be good.

“No. Just more questions. May we come in?”

“Yeah. I guess. I mean, sure. Couldn’t sleep, so just, um…been grouting the upstairs bath. Give me a sec. I’ll wash up in the kitchen.”

He gestured toward the back of the house, and Tessa and Wyatt followed him through the entry, past the staircase to the rear-facing kitchen. Zeus, the elderly guard dog, plodded along beside them, apparently content to join the party.

The kitchen turned out to be gutted. Stripped down to the subfloor, with a lone refrigerator, jury-rigged sink and several sawhorses topped with plywood serving as counters. In the corner sat an old blue card table big enough for four. Chris nodded toward it, so Tessa and Wyatt each grabbed a metal folding chair and took a seat.

“Sorry for the mess,” Lopez said as he banged on the faucets, started scrubbing the grout from his hands. “I bought the place two years ago. Figured I’d have it fully functional in eight months. You’d think, as a construction professional, I’d know better.”

“Doing the work yourself?” Wyatt spoke up.

“Exactly.”

“Licensed?”

“’Course not. But I got buddies who are. They already helped update plumbing and electrical. Now, I’m mostly down to finish work. In theory, I can manage that.”

“You like carpentry?”

“Most days, more than it likes me.”

Zeus circled the table. Handsome dog, with broad head, silky ears. He stopped in front of Tessa, cocking an eyebrow in clear expectation. Tessa’s husband, Brian, had had a beloved German shepherd. Her own experience with dogs was limited, making her uncertain. “What does he want?”

“What does any man want? Your undying devotion and a decent back scratch.”

Tessa held out a hand. The dog moved until his head was underneath. She took that as a hint, and rubbed between his ears. The old dog closed his eyes and sighed contentedly.

“You can have a dog even with your travel schedule?” she asked Lopez. He’d stopped scrubbing and moved on to rinsing.

“For starters, Zeus is hardly a dog. He considers himself human, plain and simple. Two, he lives with my neighbors. But they work most weekends, so if I’m around, Zeus hangs with me. We hammer things, sand floors, belch. You know, guy time.”

“And he can open doors?” Wyatt, with a touch of awe.

“When he’s not fetching beer. Hey, these are valuable life skills.” Lopez banged off the faucet, grabbed a roll of paper towels to dry his hands and crossed back to them.

Zeus opened one eye at his approach, then resumed sighing blissfully beneath Tessa’s touch.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Lopez muttered. “So much for the code of brotherhood. Keep that up, and I’ll have no choice but to rat you out, buddy. Mention to the pretty girl that, sure, you can open doors, but walk over a metal sidewalk grate? Cross a suspension bridge? Turns out, Mr. Handsome is afraid of heights, which I learned the hard way, having to carry him down the Lion’s Head trail on Mount Washington as he trembled like a baby. Hiking up, all good. But then, turning, looking down… Black Labs can turn green. Don’t let anyone tell you differently.”

Zeus didn’t seem to care that his deepest darkest secret had just been revealed. He placed his head on Tessa’s lap and sighed again.

“You’re a hiker?” Wyatt again.

“When I can. Gotta say, this project’s keeping me busy.”

“White Mountains?”

“Yep.”

“Favorite trails?”

Lopez rattled off several. By the sound of it, he knew his way around the Presidential Range. Interesting, given the location of Justin Denbe’s jacket in northern New Hampshire.

But if Chris Lopez was damning himself, he didn’t seem aware of it.

“So,” Lopez said shortly, “I’m kind of thinking you didn’t come all the way here to ask me about hiking.”

“Nope,” Wyatt agreed.

“What can I do for you?”

Tessa decided they might as well get straight to it: “Tell us about Kathryn Chapman.”

The effect was immediate: “Ah, shit. Do you mean my stupid niece? Or my boss’s even stupider ex-girlfriend?”

CHRIS’S SISTER HAD ASKED HIM FOR A FAVOR: Could he find a job for her daughter, Kate, at Denbe Construction? Unfortunately, given that business was slow, there was a temporary hiring freeze. But then Chris heard that the building’s travel agency had an opening for a receptionist. Perfect. He got his niece an interview and a couple of weeks later, Kate was employed and Chris’s sister was happy.

“All I wanted,” Lopez emphasized slowly, his dark eyes still snapping, “was to get my niece a job. So I got her a job. Not in my company, but in my building. End of story.”