Callahan And McLane: Targeted Part 15

"Well . . . he's from a very rich family."

"Bingo," said Mason. "Jayne can smell other people's money a mile away. You need to give this family a heads-up. If this guy has access to any accounts while he's in there, believe me, Jayne will figure out how to tap into them for her own benefit."

"But he's married," argued Heidi. "I've seen him with his wife. They're still in that newlywed phase. The whole reason he's here is to get cleaned up for her."

Mason wondered if Heidi had just crossed that patient confidentiality line. "Jayne doesn't see wedding rings. If she wants something, she plows through everything until she gets it. She doesn't care who she hurts. I'm sure your doctors have tested her and realize she's a narcissist, right?" In his own bits of research, he'd found Jayne to fit the textbook definition of the word.

Heidi was silent.

"You brought this to my attention because you know there's something wrong. I'm telling you that your instincts are right and this patient's family needs to take some precautions."

"It creates a bit of a delicate balance for us," Heidi said slowly. "These patients are here because the families want them in a safe place where they can focus on their healing. It's the reason you chose us for Jayne, correct?"

"Yes. You're saying that you don't want to warn his family that trouble might be coming from another patient? Because that would indicate your staff can't keep him safe," Mason said dryly. It was the same in all businesses: How do I cover my a.s.s?

"He's not in harm's way," Heidi stated.

"Not physically, no," agreed Mason. "But I can a.s.sure you he'll be a sh.e.l.l of the man he is now if Jayne decides he has something she wants."

"I understand, Detective Callahan. I'll see what I can do on our end."

"Say, I forgot to ask Dr. Kersey last night, but do you know if anyone has called or come to the center asking for Jayne? Ava's had a couple of encounters with an older man who's shown an odd interest in finding Jayne. He claims it's because of her artwork, but Ava and I have our doubts."

"What do you think he wants?" Heidi asked.

"That's what we're wondering. It's very possible Jayne owes someone money, but that's just an educated guess."

"I'm not aware of any inquiries for Jayne. You know we'd never reveal if a patient is a resident during a phone call or to someone who walks in off the street. We have strict guidelines on patient privacy."

"I know you wouldn't. I'm primarily curious to know if this person has managed to track her."

"I'll check with our receptionist. All general calls go through her."

"Can you check right away? We'd like to know as soon as possible."

Heidi promised and wrapped up the phone call. Mason slowly replaced his receiver.

"Jayne strikes again?" Ray asked.

"Not yet. But I'm afraid she's up to something."

"Are you going to tell Ava?"

Mason didn't answer. He didn't know the answer.

"If you tell her," said Ray, "is there something she can do to help the situation?"

"That's just it. I don't think so. We're powerless on the outside. The only solution is for the staff to keep the two of them separated or else convince him or his family that he shouldn't be around her. I don't see either of those things happening."

"Will Ava be affected if Jayne messes with this other man's head?" Ray asked pointedly.

Mason understood his friend was trying to help him look at the problem logically. "Not really. She'll be disappointed in her sister, but that's nothing new."

The repercussions for Ava from Jayne's behavior couldn't be predicted.

How did you estimate the effect on a heart that'd been destroyed countless times?

Ava strode past the doors in the long hallway. The large office building stood in a nice area of southwest Portland with ample parking and quiet streets. Her a.s.signment was to interview the director of the philanthropic organization that Denny and Louis Samuelson had both volunteered with. Mason had been on the organization's board for a good decade. It was similar to the Big Brothers Big Sisters programs. This one paired cops with at-risk youth, both boys and girls. Mason had volunteered for several years before his ex-wife pointed out that the program's children saw more of him than his own son did. Ava spotted the door that read COPS 4 KIDZ and pushed it open.

The office s.p.a.ce was large and quite bare. She was pleased to see the nonprofit hadn't sunk its funds into designer furniture or fancy water features for the waiting room. Half of the furniture in the room was kid-size and appeared well used. Crayons, games, and books filled a large table in a corner. No signs of electronic entertainment.

Ava approved.

The receptionist greeted her and told her she'd let the director know she'd arrived. Ava had barely sat down when Scott Heuser entered the waiting room and held out his hand. She took it, slightly surprised at his youth. He looked like a fraternity pledge. Mason had spoken highly of Scott Heuser in the past, saying he'd infused the organization with fresh blood and optimism.

He introduced himself and invited her back to his office. The back area of the business was as bare as the front. No frills here. He ushered her into a small office and gestured for her to take a seat. "I've found what I can on those two officers." Candid brown eyes met hers. "You understand we try to keep track of who does what, but we have so many volunteer events it's nearly impossible to track everyone. People are supposed to sign in and they don't. Others promise to attend and then don't show up." He held up a hand as she opened her mouth. "I'm not criticizing. We're all very busy and either forget or overextend ourselves. Even I don't follow through on all my promises."

Scott flipped through a few sheets of paper on his desk. "Captain Schefte volunteered for almost twenty years. I'm impressed."

"I can see him doing that," Ava said. "He was very active outside of his job. What did he do for you?"

"He mostly coached our sports teams. Basketball for ages five through high school. Boys and girls. He also did one-on-one mentorships a few times. He hasn't done any for the past several years."

"That's where you pair a cop with a child who needs another adult influence, right?" Ava asked.

"Yes. Over two-thirds of the kids we work with come from single-parent homes . . . most of those are missing a father. The organization has more male volunteers than female, so it's worked well to pair up men with high-risk children over the decades."

"But what about proper training for these volunteers?" Ava asked. "They aren't experts in child psychology." She'd volunteered only at the big fund-raisers, which didn't have child involvement. She hadn't helped out on the true front lines.

"We have cla.s.ses for the volunteers before we pair them up. We're very frank about some of the situations they might be walking into. A child might have an addict in the family or have been abused." Scott's face was stone-cold serious. "We tell them to use common sense and understand that most of the kids simply need positive attention. If they see signs of the child needing medical or psychological help, we have resources. The majority of our volunteers have been patrol cops at one point or another; they're already used to looking for the signs."

"Very true," said Ava. "They've learned on the job."

"It makes for an excellent pool of volunteers," said Scott. "Cops 4 Kidz wasn't originally intended to rely on police officer expertise; it was started because cops saw a need. Every day. Most police officers picked that profession because they want to help people. Our organization adds another opportunity to provide that help. Often on a more personal level."

"Most police officers?" Ava questioned.

Scott sighed. "You know as well as I do that some are more about their own egos. Once they realize that we don't pat them on the back for their service and that this can be heartbreaking work, they leave. We need people who have a deep desire to give and give."

"Are you saying some of them cause problems?"

"Oh, no. I didn't mean that at all. There's a level of quitting that we completely expect. We know it will happen. We try to screen our one-on-one volunteers very carefully so we don't let a child down when the volunteer decides this isn't the right fit for them. It's not for everyone." He looked at his papers again. "Captain Schefte was a very popular one-on-one volunteer. I wonder what made him step away?"

"How long ago did he quit doing that?"

"The last time he was paired up with a child was three years ago. I see he was a.s.signed to fifteen different children over two decades. That's a lot of wonderful service."

"What about Louis Samuelson?" she asked.

Scott studied his second sheet. "Trooper Samuelson helped in one of the after-school homework clubs. Looks like he's good with middle school math."

"No, thank you," said Ava.

"Me neither," added Scott. "He also did mentoring. Looks like he was currently working with a fifteen-year-old boy." His mouth turned down. "I wonder if the boy has heard of his death yet. I think I better reach out to the mom and see what kind of support they need. Fifteen is a tough age for boys."

"Girls, too. All those teen years can really be difficult," Ava said. She was impressed with the director's level of personal involvement and hoped it was genuine. "You don't have Vance Weldon in your database as a volunteer?"

"I don't. That name doesn't come up anywhere. But it doesn't mean he hasn't helped out. There've been plenty of events where officers recruit their friends to come help. We don't care who shows up at the fund-raising events . . . the goal is to get out the word about our organization to struggling families. The more helpers the better. We keep precise records for the mentoring. We're very particular when we link an adult with a child."

"As you should be," Ava said. "I'll ask Vance's wife if he ever helped out. We're searching for a common thread between the three men, but this seems to only include two of them."

"I think over half the cops in the state have donated their time or money to us," said Scott. "I'm not surprised that there's a connection. Even you've helped out."

Ava nodded, mildly surprised he'd checked her out.

She stood and shook his hand. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Heuser. You have a good organization here."

"Only because of people like you." He smiled and Ava realized he'd make a good politician. She was glad he used his talent to help kids instead. She had a small flash of guilt that she gave too little of her time to his worthy cause. But everyone has a personal gift with which to help the world. Working with kids was not in her comfort zone. Her gift was the determination to stop a cop killer.

18.

After leaving her interview with Scott Heuser, Ava headed southwest toward Oregon's "wine country." She'd promised to meet Mason and Cheryl at a winery in Yamhill County. Cheryl had twisted Ava's arm to convince her to drive the extra hour out to the venue. "It's perfect for you two. It's small and intimate and offers stunning views. And there's wine. Lots of wine." Cheryl had winked.

Ava wondered if Cheryl counted the number of wine bottles in their curbside gla.s.s recycling bin every other week. Or maybe she'd winked because Ava offered her a gla.s.s of wine every time she came over. Their backyard had been perfect for a quiet gla.s.s in the evenings this summer. She and Cheryl had spent many evenings sitting outside, enjoying the warm summer nights when Mason had to work late. Ava had been recovering from her injury and infection. Cheryl had proved herself to be a good listener. Other times she'd simply sat in companionable silence when Ava didn't want to talk.

Today the gray skies had burned off in the afternoon, and Ava put on her sungla.s.ses as she sped through one of the smaller cities that dotted the highway out to the country. Suddenly golden fields and filbert orchards spread out on each side of the highway, and she relaxed for the first time in days.

It was stunning outside the metropolitan area. Rolling hills. Blue skies with fluffy clouds. Dozens of informational signs that directed visitors to wineries. If not for the fall nip in the air, she would have believed it was the middle of summer. She glanced at the clock on her dashboard and was pleased to see she'd be on time. The days were getting shorter. She would be driving back to the other side of Portland in the dark.

She took a few turns, following the directions of her GPS and enjoying the winding roads. The road straightened and she spotted a wooden sign with the name of the winery. She looked to her right and caught her breath at the Tuscan-style building at the top of the hill. She turned at the sign and drove between the fields of grapes. b.u.t.terflies danced in her stomach.

Cheryl might have found it.

At the top of the hill, she parked next to Mason's car and looked around, the b.u.t.terflies growing stronger. Mason stepped out from the double doors of the winery, a big grin on his face. "What do you think?" He had a gla.s.s of red wine in his hand. Ava turned in a circle, taking in the views.

"It's stunning."

"And you're still in the parking lot. Come inside." He grabbed her hand and led her through the doors. Inside, Cheryl was talking to a man with a man-bun and neatly trimmed beard in a long room. The ceiling was lined with rustic beams, and huge windows looked to the west. Outside the windows was a patio with iron tables and chairs that begged her to sit and relax with a gla.s.s of wine. It looked out over the vineyards. In the distance the Coast Range separated the green fields from the blue sky.

"It's perfect," she mumbled to Mason. One of her eyes burned and she rubbed it. "It's perfectly perfect."

He pulled her tightly into his arms and held her. "I thought so, too."

Over Mason's shoulder she saw Cheryl hold up her gla.s.s of wine in a silent toast, her grin stating she knew she'd hit a home run.

Ava took a deep breath and moved out of Mason's bear hug. "It feels right. It's not pretentious. It's real and down-to-earth, and I could sit on that patio and stare at the mountains all day long," she told him, watching his eyes. He looked happy, and she realized it was the first time she'd seen him excited since he'd packed to go to fishing at the coast.

"But we have to do it on a sunny day," Ava said. "It wouldn't be the same if it was raining and we couldn't see ten feet past the patio."

His face fell, but he nodded. "I know. That crossed my mind. The wow factor won't be the same without the right weather."

She held his gaze. "Then we're talking about next summer. Can you wait that long? I wouldn't trust May for good weather. June is almost as iffy. July or August would be a safe bet."

"Is that what you want?"

I don't know.

Doubt must have shown on her face because worry filled his expression and he took her hands. "Do you want to wait that long?" he asked firmly.

"No," she whispered.

"But this is the right location?"

"Yes." She hated the dilemma she'd just brought to the table. "It feels right, doesn't it? And I know that I don't want to look at any more locations. I'm done. We found it."

"What about doing it at Christmastime?" Mason looked around the long but cozy room with its couches arranged in snug groups to facilitate conversations. It was charmingly decorated in a country Italian theme. "I'm sure it's gorgeous here at Christmas even if the weather isn't great."

Ava pressed her lips together. Nine times out of ten it rained on Christmas. She couldn't count on the weather's being clear. Snow was rarely in the holiday forecast, which was a good thing considering the winding roads and hills she'd traveled to get to the location. "I don't know. A lot of people aren't in town during Christmas."

She wanted sunshine. Blue skies and warmth. Views. Cheryl joined them and took a close look at Ava's expression. "You want it on a sunny day, don't you?"

Ava nodded, her frustration stealing her ability to speak. She wanted to marry Mason soon.

Cheryl patted her arm. "At least we made some progress."

Micah wondered where the man was going. He'd definitely broken his usual habits this afternoon by taking a long drive out of the city. Micah followed, a small ball of excitement growing in his stomach. The last few times the man had done something different, they'd been the most fascinating nights of Micah's life. He sat in his car and waited for the man to come out of the shop, fighting the urge to wander in and pretend to b.u.mp into him.

They hadn't talked for several months. Every now and then he got a polite email from the man, asking how things were going, but it felt forced and disinterested. Not like the caring and personal contact of the past. It'd been one of the reasons Micah had started his surveillance. Something had changed with the man and he wanted to know what.

Since he'd started following him, Micah had been stunned by the big changes in the man's life. His life had grown complicated. He'd always been dedicated and worked hard, but now he seemed preoccupied. He was more concerned with fixing something that Micah wasn't sure was broken.

He still didn't know why the man acted as he did. Watching every unusual move made Micah wonder if the man was heading for a breakdown. No one could continue as he had and not crack. He'd need someone there for him when that time came.

Micah stuck close, knowing the opportunity would come.

The man had helped him so much. He had a feeling his time to reciprocate was getting very close.

Ava's phone rang as she followed Mason's vehicle back toward Portland. She hit the b.u.t.ton on her steering wheel without taking her gaze from the road. Zander's voice greeted her.

"Can you come back to the office tonight?"