A Necessary Evil(19)

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 brought this on yourself. If you’d only let me bring him in—”