What She Found (Tracy Crosswhite #9)(9)

Tracy had spent the remainder of the afternoon going through the cold file. Lisa Childress had initially been classified as a missing person before the court declared her dead and the file was transferred to the Homicide Unit. As Anita Childress said, the two detectives didn’t appear to venture too far from the theory that the husband was the perpetrator. As far as Tracy could tell, they hadn’t looked seriously into any of the four stories Childress said her mother had been working on.

“That you, Mrs. O?” Therese called out, using her abbreviated version of Dan’s last name, O’Leary. “We’re upstairs on the bed.”

Tracy climbed the stairs and entered her bedroom. Therese knelt at the side of the bed, whispering to Daniella, who sat atop the comforter in her diaper and T-shirt, her belly sticking out.

“Who is it?” Therese asked her. “Who’s here? Who’s here?”

“Mama. Mama.” Daniella smiled and held out her arms. Along with “dada” and “dog,” or at least what sounded like “dog,” the three words composed Daniella’s vocabulary.

Tracy kissed and nuzzled her daughter’s cheeks, making Daniella giggle. “We were playing with the dogs,” Therese said.

“They jump on the bed and Daniella tumbles. She laughs uproariously.”

Rex glanced up at Tracy as if to say, I have no idea what she’s talking about. Sherlock would not meet Tracy’s gaze and lowered his head to his paws.

“You’re teaching them bad habits, Therese. They’re not supposed to be on the bed.”

“They’re protective of Daniella, that’s for sure,” Therese said, her Irish accent strong. “I’d like to see the bloke who could get past these two. Too bad we can’t count on them to be around for when Daniella starts dating.”

The dogs would be long gone by that time. The thought made Tracy think again of Anita Childress, as she had for most of the afternoon. She thought of all the moments Anita and her mother should have shared—moments Tracy looked forward to with Daniella: her first period, her first date, first heartbreak, her proms, maybe sports, graduations. Someone had robbed Anita of each memory as much as they had robbed her mother. And no father, no matter how devoted, caring, and loving, could fill that hole. It was simply too deep.

Maybe that was why Anita Childress was willing to potentially sacrifice her relationship with her father. Maybe she’d come to realize the hole in her life could never be filled, so she might as well find out what truly happened. The disappearance might not have been a premeditated act. It could have been an argument that got out of hand, a single blow the husband could not take back.

“Sorry, Mrs. O.”

Sherlock lowered his head between his paws. Rex remained upright, unflinching and uncompromising.

“Not your fault,” Tracy said. “That was a habit ingrained by Mr. O’Leary before my time. Dan home? I saw his car in the drive.”

“Come and gone already,” Therese said. “He went for a run.”

Tracy checked the time on her Fitbit. “Without me? Or them?” It was standard duty to take the hounds to tire them out and ensure a better night’s sleep for all.

“I didn’t see much of him. In and out quickly. I think he’s in a bad mood. Something at court, if you ask me. You might be able to catch him? Depending on how fast you want to run?” Therese said. “I’m sure these two would track him down.”

Better to let Dan run off his anger. “You go on,” Tracy said. “I’ll take over from here. Has she eaten?”

“Like a little monster. Macaroni and broccoli strewn all over the kitchen. These two were in dog heaven.”

“I’ll give her a bath, then. You have a class, don’t you?”

Therese was a talented painter. “I do,” Therese said. “There’s hamburger meat in the fridge. I’ll make some patties and a salad, and you can take over when Mr. O gets back.”

Tracy picked up Daniella and took her into the bathroom, turning on the spigots and testing the temperature with her hand.

She’d only fill the tub a few inches. Just enough for Daniella to play and get clean.

Half an hour later, she hoisted a protesting Daniella from the water and wrapped her in a plush towel. The back door closed with a bang, and the two dogs alerted, barked, and thudded downstairs.

“Tracy?” Dan called out.

“Upstairs.”

Dan came up the stairs as Tracy carried Daniella from the master bathroom to the bedroom. “Hey,” she said. “How come you didn’t take the dogs?”

Dan shook his head. “I just needed to get out and run.”

“What’s going on?”

Dan sat on the edge of the bed. He’d taken his shoes off and left them on the porch to avoid dragging in dirt. He used his shirt to wipe sweat from his brow. Given the dark perspiration rings around his neck and armpits, his run had been ambitious. “You remember that case I was preparing for trial . . . Ted Simmons—the young man who was sexually abused by his foster father?”

Tracy did. Dan had filed a complaint against the state foster-care system. “Did the judge make a bad ruling?”

Dan shook his head. “That I could at least deal with. Two days ago, Simmons called and told me to settle the case. He didn’t want to go to trial, didn’t want to testify and have his two sons hear what he went through.”