“Did he threaten Bruce?” Seth asked.
“No.” Misty shook her head. “It was the other way around. Bruce told Travis if he bothered Amber Lynn again, he’d have to answer to him.”
Seth took her contact information. Travis White had just become the primary suspect. As Seth left her apartment, Carly was coming out of Mrs. Kaminsky’s unit with a purple-coated toddler on her hip and a diaper bag over her shoulder. Behind her the older woman carried a car seat and a shopping bag full of toys.
Seth took the car seat from the older woman. “Did you find a place for her?”
Carly avoided eye contact. “Yes.”
Her evasive posture set off Seth’s warning bells. “Carly?”
“My mother is going to be her temporary emergency foster.”
“What?” But what had he expected? He’d been the one to call her.
“Mom insisted. She called Judge Simmons at home.” Carly’s father had been the police chief of Solitude for decades. Patsy Taylor knew everyone in the county. No judge would turn her down for anything.
“So, basically she’ll be staying with us?”
“It’s almost Christmas, Seth.” Carly shifted the child’s weight. “I know we have a lot on our plates already, but this is just temporary. It’ll be easier on her because she knows us.”
Seth wasn’t convinced about the temporary part. Carly looked way too comfortable holding that baby. Once the Taylors took a creature under their collective wing, they tended to keep it forever. He thought of the rescued pygmy goat that followed his daughter around the barnyard like a puppy. But what could he say? “We don’t have time for a child in need, find a foster home”? Seth couldn’t do it. They both knew foster home placement was a roll of the dice. Some were far worse than the situations that put the kids in the system in the first place.
“It’s the right thing to do.” He leaned closer and kissed Carly on the lips. “I love you.”
“Me too.” She pressed her temple to his jaw for a few seconds.
Straightening, he tugged the child’s knit cap lower on her ears. “You’d better get her into the car.” And he had to get back to finding Bruce.
He secured the car seat in the back of Carly’s Jeep.
“I’m going to take the baby to my mother. Then I’ll get busy trying to find her family. Any leads in tracking down Bruce?” Carly strapped the baby in. She climbed behind the wheel and started the engine.
“No. But we’ve just started. I called Zane. He and Stevie are organizing a search in Solitude.” Seth leaned over and kissed his wife goodbye. “I found her address book. I’ll send you any relevant family contact information.”
Carly stared through the windshield, her face full of anxiety.
He touched her shoulder. “We’ll find Bruce.”
But will he still be alive? The odds weren’t in his favor.
With a grim nod, she closed her vehicle door and drove away.
Seth found Travis’s address in Amber Lynn’s book. He left another deputy in charge of guarding Amber Lynn’s apartment until the forensics team arrived, and searched for Travis’s record on the laptop in his car. Thirty-two-year-old Travis White was a scruffy dirty blond with a skinny build. He’d served nine months in prison for aggravated assault.
Phil followed Seth in the marked car toward a rural neighborhood just outside the city limits. Seth turned down a dirt driveway and emerged in a clearing. A surprisingly neat one-story house sprawled in front of a detached garage. A late-model extended cab pickup sat next to a beat-to-shit black Ford Escort that looked like it had been used in a demolition derby.
Thick chains and a padlock secured the garage door. Seth parked and got out of the car. Phil pulled up behind him. Seth peered through the garage window, expecting to see a meth lab. Tools and woodworking machinery filled the space.
“The house is owned by Luke White. Travis’s parole officer says he’s Travis’s brother.” Seth said as he joined Phil on the gravel driveway. Together they walked toward the front of the house. Seth spotted movement through the window. The screen door was shredded. Standing to one side, Seth knocked. Phil took the other side of the door, one hand resting on his weapon. No one answered, but the sound of two men arguing came through the door.
“I told you if there was any trouble, I’d throw you out on the street.”
“Don’t let ’em in.”
“Like hell. I’m not covering for you. You stole from me.”
“I did not!”
Footsteps approached. A man opened the door. About thirty-five years old, he was just over six feet tall, with blond hair and blue eyes. Callused hands, worn jeans, and steel-toed boots said he worked hard for a living. “Can I help you?”
Seth flashed his badge. “We’re looking for Travis White.”
The man stepped to the side and gestured for them to come in. “Come on in, Officers. You can have him.”
Hinges creaked and a door slammed.