Accidental Hero

Chapter 10 Am I a Suspect?

This time the questions were shorter and more pointed. No, I don't know the man. I've never seen him before. I don't know the boy. I don't know if the dog knows them, she's from the pound. How many different ways can you say it?
After only 20 minutes or so they took our personal information and let us go. I could see the boy with his hysterical mother over by the police cruisers. It's starting to feel like our peaceful Pennsylvania refuge is under siege.

I tried to shift the focus back to Morgan and her concert as we ate our picnic. But Abigail couldn't stop talking about Tracker and told the story to everyone who would listen. Morgan seemed quiet and thoughtful. As the girls headed off to cruise the park with their friends, a thread of worry wove its way into my heart. Who knows what harm is out there?

The next Morning was Sunday and after church we were out on the deck cooking lunch on the grill. Morgan's asking when we're going to open the pool when the doorbell rings. Detective Randalls is standing there dressed in jeans and a polo shirt. Tracker gives him the once over sniff test wagging her tail the whole time.

"Sorry to intrude on your Sunday, Ms Branson, but I was hoping we could talk." he says sheepishly, patting Trackers head absently.

"Please call me Eve. You're welcome to come in but I'm cooking on the grill just now. Do you like hamburgers?"

"Everyone likes hamburgers" he chuckles, "and since I'm officially off duty, you can call me Blake."

I study him a moment "Off duty, but here for work? Is this about the incident in the park yesterday?"

I turn before he can answer and head back toward the deck. As he follows he says, "I'm just curious. I guess a detective never really stops detecting. Sometimes it feels like the whole world is one big question I've got to get the answer to."

This is a side of Detective Randalls I never would've guessed. He's relaxed and charming and I'm disarmed by it. Slightly unshaven, sockless in a pair of loafers, his grey eyes seem to have more shine in them than steel. And the man talked about feelings? Really?

"So what answers do you hope I can provide? I've already told the officers everything I know. Which isn't much." Turning the burgers I place thick wedges of cheddar cheese on them. Then I stir the vegetables crisping in a grill pan coated with butter.

"God that smells good. I haven't cooked on the grill since last fall. Are you sure you don't mind company?" His eyes are slightly squinted as he inhales deeply." I'm surprised the man's not drooling.

Poking her head out the slider Morgan says, "No worries. Mom always cooks enough for an army." She shoots me a questioning look and I shrug an answer. "Six burgers for just the two of us. Then we have to eat leftovers for days. Please, save me from leftovers and eat em all!" With an impish grin she raises her eyebrows at me and says, "Call me when they're ready." Then disappears back into the house.

"Leftovers at my house consist of cardbord cartons from carryout most of the time. I like to cook but cooking for one kind of takes the fun out of it." He's looking out over the yard and I sense that wall of his threatening to return.

"So, eat first, talk later?" I suggest smiling quickly to keep the mood light.

Lunch was fun with him and Morgan bantering back and forth about everything from swimming pools to orchestra playing to adventurous dogs. Through the easy comradierie I could admire the subtle way in which he was gathering information. About us, about Tracker, about our lives. It seemed harmless and I hoped if he harbored any suspicions about us, they were answered.

After lunch he helped me clean up. Morgan went upstairs to facetime Paul and we went out onto the deck to talk. I could feel the easy mood slipping away as we sat down.

"So whats on your mind Det.....Blake?" Stumbling a bit in an effort to reorient myself.

Taking a deep breath he pursed his lips tightly and began, "I thought it was truly odd that you two found yourselves in the middle of another criminal case. In my line of work, coincidences are alarm bells telling me I've missed something. They're roadmaps whose trails lead to answers. You're the coincidence, Eve. You and that dog, Tracker." Meeting my eyes he looked almost apologetic as he continued. "But my gut is telling me that you're not involved. That whatever link there may be isn't something you're aware of."

My back stiffened a little as I began to feel like I was being interrogated. "I take it, detective, that you haven't found the person who hurt Jason Talbot. Do you think the man in Conaway Park could have done it? I have to admit the thought crossed my mind." My voice had flattened in defensiveness.

"It was my first thought." He acknowledges nodding his head slightly as he continues. "But that man, Devin Kindrick, has an alibi for the time in which Jason was taken. He was hunting with several other men at a lodge in the Poconos. Lots of witnesses, receipts, video. It couldn't have been him."

"So he really was Timothys uncle?" I ask skeptically.

"No, not at all. What he planned for Timmy we'll never know. He's not on the sex offender registry but the investigation into his background has just begun. The circumstances and his reaction both indicate he was planning to harm or abduct the boy. " His eyes look far away as if he's visting another moment in time.

"I know he meant to harm that boy. I could feel his intention and it was dark and menacing. Devin Kindricks is a man you need to watch. His malice runs deeply and he'll try again. If not with a child, with something." As soon as the words were out of my mouth I regretted it. The raised eyebrows on Blakes face and the steely look in his eyes revealed a very present and focused mind.

"How would you know that, Eve?" The quiet low tone of his voice underlined the seriousness of his question. His penetrating stare into my eyes made me feel like a bug on a petri dish.

"Well, I don't know exactly." My hands clasped together softly. "You just told me you had a gut feeling about us. It's like that but much stronger and more focused. You can't tell me you don't get feelings about people in your line of work."

An sea of silence washed between us as he considered my words. The awkward moment finally breaks when in that same low tone he says "Do you often get feelings about people?" I couldn't get a read on him at all. The walls had descended with impenetrable force.

"Yes, all my life, all the time. Except for you right now. You seem to be able to shut down completely. I can't tell if you're friend or foe. Am I a suspect for something detective?" There, I said it. I'm tired of playing games with this man, tired of hiding my true nature, tired of innocent people being victimized by monsters.

He lets out a long breath and says "No, you're not a suspect. But maybe you're one of those psychic people talking to ghosts and trying to save the world?"

"Certaintly not. Do not mock me detective. I get impressions of people's emotions, that's all. Now I believe this conversation is over. Let me walk you to the door. "