Christian's Hunt Page 2

  “It’s fine,” she responded.

  “So, she’s married to Vallore?” Hogan asked. “For how long?”

  “Not long. Maybe a few months. I know they kept it a secret for a while.” Her lips tightened as she shifted her chin forward and stiffened her jaw. She concentrated on a print of her daughter, Kelly. She’d set up a small shrine near the window. “I didn’t find out until the funeral.”

  Mrs. Winters sought to hold a lid on her anger. It infuriated her when Addison got married under her nose and made a clown of her in front of friends and family at the funeral. She still hadn’t forgiven her daughter, and they were amid a massive fight.

  “Have you met your daughter’s spouse?” Hogan took out a notepad and pen from his back pants pocket.

  “Yes, at her sister’s funeral. He came with her.” She frowned, Kelly’s death fresh. She paused a few seconds to recover herself before speaking. Holding a hand on her heart, she softened her voice. “He was a really good-looking guy. Dark hair and the loveliest set of blue eyes.”

  She fidgeted with the collar on her button-up blouse as she watched out the window. Through the sheer draperies, she got a hindered view of the street. “Almost like a wolf. I won’t forget his eyes. They were crystal blue.”

  “And did they seem—” Hogan sighed, irritation in his tone as he hesitated. He peeked at his associate, who rubbed the surface of the pop can and checked out of the conversation. Hogan tapped his pen on the paper as he talked. “—loving toward each other?”

  “I guess so.” She squinted as she studied the eight-by-ten photograph of Kelly in the middle of the altar. It was her high school portrait and ten years old. “But he looked way out of her league. He was intelligent—rich—and boy so smooth he could persuade anyone. He was the human definition of silver-tongued.”

  “That’s Vallore,” Valentine uttered.

  “But still—” She paused, her brow wrinkling at an inner thought. “He seemed controlling. He watched her like one would their child in the front yard. He had to know where she was all the time and sized up everyone that came over to talk to her.”

  She gave a sideways smile, her lips tight as she crossed her legs. “Maybe it’s just me, but I found that quite odd.” She draped her arm over her knee and turned her body toward Valentine, her toes touching his calf. “Her daddy was like that with me. The barefoot and pregnant type. It wouldn’t surprise me she’d have the same taste in men.”

  Her eyebrows raised as she puckered her lips and spoke in a higher tone, her words meant to mock. “She was a little daddy’s girl, after all.” When she took a sip of her coffee, she shuddered at the unpleasant taste.

  “Any abuse in the family?” Valentine asked as he spoke into his can.

  “We gave them the belt, if that’s what you mean.” The question enraged her. She straightened as she rolled her shoulders back several times. “You can’t do that anymore. Damn kids get away with everything nowadays.”

  Hogan responded to a few domestic calls at her house in the past and knew both her husbands were abusive. A few months ago, he came when her husband smashed her nose in when she forgot to buy beer.

  Thankfully, Hogan changed the subject. “Back to Addison.” He cleared his throat and nose. “You’re right to be doubtful of the union. Vallore’s involved in criminal activity, ma’am,” Hogan replied, “but we didn’t know he married your daughter. There’s no report of her getting married.”

  “So, you think it’s a sham marriage?” Troubled, her gaze narrowed on him.

  “Looks like it might be,” Hogan spoke as he jotted down the information.

  “I knew it.” She growled and noted a new stain from Kiki, her Pomeranian, under the coffee table. Still damp, she worried the detectives might smell piss. “I told Josh that Vallore looked like a bad guy, but he swore to me he wasn’t. My Josh works at the Vallore manor near here. In Monte.”

  “Did he introduce Addison to Vallore?” Hogan asked as he scooted to the edge of the couch. The keys on his belt jangled, the thick leather strap crunching with his movement.

  “No, she met her husband in Pargon. Terrance, I think. He asked her to work on some paintings.” She talked to Valentine instead, as she examined his face. He had remarkable eyes, veins of yellow and green in his irises and a distinct black ring around them.

  She giggled as she flapped her hand and made her bracelets jingle. She wore a lot of jewelry, a ring on every finger. “And we both know that’s not what he wanted. He wanted my Addy. Got her at a good time, too.”

  “How so?” Hogan asked as he tapped the end of his pen on his notepad.

  She continued. “He’s big into the arts and so is Addison. She had an awful time adjusting there because she couldn’t speak Sarvonese. She was homesick. Actually—” She halted to reflect. “She hadn’t been on her own before then. She had a tough time with it. In such a pitiful state, she was easy prey for this Vallore guy.”

  Hogan tried to talk. “Do you—”

  Mrs. Winters cut him off. “Before him, she latched on to some other boy.” She snorted as she set her hand on Valentine’s thigh. “A repairman. Can you believe that? My cultured little girl marrying a common Mr. Fix-it. What a ridiculous match.”

  Valentine stiffened his jaw and turned to the side. He’d checked out again.

  “What was his name?” Hogan returned to the interview, his pen at the ready to note the name.

  “I don’t recall. James? Or was it John?” Puckering her clenched lips, she fixated on the blank television screen as she grappled to recall. “I’m not sure.” She turned to Hogan. “Addison found out he was an addict and that ended it. Maybe Vallore swept her up after that heartbreak. I’m not sure. She went out with that boy a few times and he could speak Caronese. Josh described him as the blond surfer type. Gym rat. You know, the stereotyped kind you meet in films and such.”

  “Like me,” Valentine muttered, his brow furled. He took offense to the remark.

  “I suppose so.” She clutched his leg, the golden bangles on her wrists chiming as they hit each other. “No offense, honey.”

  “None taken.” Valentine forced a smile, but it was only a polite reply. Inside, he felt the opposite.

  “We’ll check him out.” Hogan narrowed his eyes on her as if wary of Addison’s ex. “You mentioned he was a repairman. Where did he work?”

  “At the church that she painted a religious mural. I don’t recall what the name was.” They bothered her with this series of questions. Addison’s little mistake shouldn’t even consider him a lead. She answered despite that. “Addison said he worked for a temp service. She didn’t date him long. But—”

  She held up a finger and stayed still for a few seconds as she recalled another thought. “There’s something else peculiar about my baby girl and Vallore.”

  “Like?” Hogan wrote on his tablet but didn’t meet her eyes.

  “I do remember overhearing Addison talking to her brother about Vallore before all this happened. Her former boss lived at that fancy estate of his. It’s supposed to be like a paradise there. Beautiful on the inside and full of artwork. Like a five-star hotel. Full service, too. It’s got little suites in it and some of Vallore’s friends stay there.”

  She scrunched her nose in disgust as she set her hands over her knee. “But Addison said they had orgies at the manor. She’s one of those stiff types and doesn’t believe in that kind of thing. Her brother, well—”

  Rolling her eyes, she released a snort as she shook her head. She pointed to Valentine, her mood lighter. “—he loves the place, so they argued all the time. He wanted to work there since he was a kid. Don’t blame him. I’d love to have a peek inside that white castle.”

  “What were Addison’s other thoughts on Vallore?” Valentine asked as he examined the living room. Anxious, his gaze didn’t settle.

  “Well, she—” The next word hissed off her lips. “—hated Vallore. Like despised him. She called him many horrible names. Apparentl
y, he was screwing her boss and gets around with the ladies. She said he toyed with women for fun.”

  “Sounds like Vallore,” Valentine said under his breath.

  She continued. “And that project she worked on him for in Terrance—" She waved a finger as she talked, her other hand clutching her sweater. “She refused to work directly for Vallore and demanded to work with one of his associates. That’s why it astonished me Addison married that guy after what she said about him.”

  “Which associate?” Valentine’s gaze settled on her.

  “This fellow named Darien, I think. Addison still works with him."

  “Darien…” Valentine looked out the window as his voice trailed.

  “That’s strange,” Hogan was slow to release his words and drew them out. His brow creased as he studied her as if he’d find an answer in her eyes. “Why do you think she married him then?”

  “No idea.” Mrs. Winters shrugged and pushed her jaws together, her lips disappearing when they curled inward. She straightened the sweater she wore over her blouse. “But he is a rich, handsome billionaire, so—”

  Hogan interrupted. “Do you have any photos of Addison and her spouse?”

  “No.” She shook her head.

  “Pictures of Addison?” Valentine held the can to his mouth and plucked at the edging as he shook his foot. He mustn’t be well, yet.

  “Sure. I have plenty of those.” She flapped the question aside with her hand.

  “May we see them?” Hogan asked.

  “Oh, of course.” She stood and went to the bookcase surrounding the television. “Maybe she went with Vallore because she’s easy to manipulate. My Addy is naïve. Always was. She’d never recognize the bank robber from the policeman, I tell you. A guy like Vallore could easily sway her with his charms, I bet.”

  She chose a few photo albums from the shelf. “Her school told us she had that ADD. You know when kids are careless and do silly things. They said it’s what gave her a hyper-focus on her art and made her creative. She always did well in school, and it never troubled her much. She was just too dreamy-eyed and excitable. Sweetest damn little thing you ever did see though. Ah…” she sighed as she scanned her television stand housing memorabilia. It covered the wall, her television the older tube-type and outdated.

  She took the books over and set them on Valentine’s lap. Her hand brushed against his rock-hard thigh. The thought made her grin as she sat and opened the album.

  She pointed to the adolescent in the picture. “There’s my Addy. Such a darling, isn’t she?” Addison was twelve and posed with Josh and Kelly. Despite their drastic differences in personality, the twins were inseparable.

  In the photo, Addison wore a school uniform and Josh was in baggy clothes holding his skateboard. It was the first day of school, and they both wore backpacks. Kelly was older than the twins and stood further from them. Oh, her Kelly was a looker.

  Hogan sat on the arm of the chair near Valentine and examined the pictures. “Any recent ones?”

  She slid the album off Valentine’s lap and set it on the coffee table. She opened one under it. “Here are newer pictures. They are only three years old so they’re pretty recent.” She leafed through the pages and discovered a few of Addison. “Ah…here’s some.” She pointed to a picture of Christmas. Addison sat next to Josh and held a blank canvas. “See? She’s with Josh again. Best twins that I ever did see.”

  “She’s beautiful.” Valentine touched Addison’s picture, his fingers fluttering over her. “Her smile is—” He hesitated, then sniffed. “So tender. Like she lights up the room when she’s there.”

  “That’s my Addy. Sweeter than candy the girl is.”

  “You give her too little credit. She could land any guy she wanted.” Valentine flipped the page and checked out more photos. “I bet she breaks lots of hearts,” he muttered, his jaw stiffening. He shot her a smile sweetening his next caustic comment. “The pretty ladies always do.”

  “Addison’s not the heartbreaking type. She dated some, but I’d say she was timid with men. She’s only had a handful of boyfriends I can recall. I assumed she’d be the one to be the mom and make me all the grandkids. She’s a picket fences type.”

  “The good ones,” Valentine joked.

  “Honey, if she was single, my Addy would love you.” She set her hand on his bicep and squeezed. It drove her to blush, a girlish giggle escaping her mouth. “A big handsome cop like you would sweep her off her feet.”

  Annoyed with her flirting, Hogan coughed before addressing her. “Do you have any more of that coffee? I could go for a mug.”

  “Oh, of course.” She stood. Touching her thighs, she chuckled to break her worry. “That’s rude of me. I should have offered you some.”

  “Thank you,” Hogan answered. “I take mine with loads of cream and sugar.”

  Valentine flipped through the picture book. He clenched his soda with an iron grip, but light entered his eyes again. He was bouncing back.

  She fled to the kitchen with her own mug and took several minutes to brew the coffee. When she finished, she brought a coffee mug to Hogan and a fresh cup for herself.

  Stamped on the exterior of his mug was a copy of one of Addison’s paintings that she did of her cat Martian. The twins found him in a garbage can when they were little and brought him home.

  They hid him for a few weeks before Mrs. Winters discovered the scrappy thing. They named him Martian because he was odd-looking. His ears were too big for his head, his body long and thin, and his tail skinny like a whip. She hated cats, but their dad let the kids keep it. It devastated the twins when he died.

  She spoke to Hogan as she pointed to the cup. She gave it to him on purpose to show off her daughter’s work. “My Addy did the painting on there.”

  “Really?” Hogan studied the design on the mug. Martian wore a space helmet, the background generic. “Outstanding job. She’s a talented lady, Mrs. Winters. She like cats?”

  “Yeah. That’s her cat, Martian. I couldn’t stand the thing.” She stiffened her chin and crammed her bottom lip upward to form a grimace. “Probably why she gave me the cup.” She gestured to the mug. Annoyance entered her tone as she gestured to Valentine. “So, what’s this about?” She peeked at the photo book and back at Hogan. “Her husband’s in trouble? For what? Like financial matters?”

  “He sells forgeries of antique art,” Hogan explained. “We think it involves Addison.”

  “No! No!” Mrs. Winters snapped, ire in her tone. “My Addison isn’t a bad girl. She wouldn’t commit that kind of scandal. She loves art. Appreciates the creations of other artists. She’d never do it. You mentioned Addison’s husband was in trouble, but it’s not why you’re here. You consider my daughter a criminal.” She was hot now, her voice raised as she accused one man than the next. “My little girl is not a criminal. Not my Addison.” She formed an X with her arms. “Absolutely not.”

  “No one claimed she was a criminal. She’s a good person. We realize that.” Valentine’s words were low. “But we’re highly concerned with her safety. She’s in danger. Vallore isn’t how he’s portrayed in the news. He’s wanted for questioning in several unsolved homicides.”

  “Murder?” Horrified, she placed a hand on her breast. She shrieked, her tone high-pitched. “Oh, my God, he may kill my daughter?”

  Hogan attempted to interject, but Valentine interrupted.

  “Yes.” Valentine’s approach was serious. That meant Addison was in real trouble. “It’s urgent we locate her and make sure she’s safe. Take her into protective custody if need be. Can you call her for us?”

  “Right now?” Her brow softened, confusion in her voice.

  “Yes,” Valentine replied as he palmed the album.

  “Okay, I’ll try.” She plucked her cell from her pocket and dialed a number in her contacts.

  “Place it on speaker,” Valentine added, “and don’t let her know we’re here. She’ll become suspicious.”

 
Mrs. Winters put the cell on speaker and held it in a limp hand. The phone buzzed, her hands shaking as she gripped it. It rang several times, and she worried Addison wouldn’t respond. After all, she’d dodged her calls for the past two weeks.

  But Addison picked up. “Hey, Mom.” She was out of breath as if she ran for the phone. She had a gentle, upbeat voice like a kindergarten teacher. Her sweet nature would make her a terrific mother. She hoped she did nothing stupid to screw up her future as one.

  “Hey, baby, how are you?” Mrs. Winters spoke into the cell.

  “Busy. How are—”

  “What you up to today?” Mrs. Winters spoke.

  She read what Valentine wrote on a paper.

  Ask her where she is.

  “So, what exotic place are you at now?” Mrs. Winters was nervous but sought to disguise it from the police with a happy voice and a smile.

  “Pargon.”

  “Where in Pargon?”

  “Jenson,” Addison answered, “I’m working on a few restorations with Father Caspian.”

  Mrs. Winters smiled at the officers, but they didn’t reciprocate. Valentine grunted as he scribbled on the sheet.

  Mrs. Winters continued. “Sounds like fun. How’s your new husband?”

  She studied what Valentine wrote.

  She’s lying.

  “He’s fine, I suppose. Off doing work or whatever he does when he’s gone.” Addison followed with a shift in the subject. “How’s your husband?”

  Mrs. Winters frowned. Here it came. Another argument. “He’s great.”

  “Still pissing away Dad’s money on his bar tab?” Addison’s words were smart, revealing a rift between them. She despised her stepfather.

  “So, you gonna be coming to visit again? I’ve been lonesome since Kelly passed.” Mrs. Winters tried to ease the tension.

  She read what Valentine wrote.

  Ask for her address. You need to send her the sketchbooks you found.

  “Sure, I’ll let you know if I’m in town,” Addison said.