Little White Lies (The Keepers Book 3) Read online

  LITTLE WHITE LIES

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Other Books

  About the Author

  Little White Lies

  Copyright © 2018 by Rita Herron

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, transmitted, or distributed in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without specific written permission from the publisher. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher are illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Beachside Reads

  Norcross, GA 30092

  Cover Design: Jeffery Olsen

  Cover Photo: 123RF.com

  Print Design: Dayna Linton, Day Agency

  eBook Interior Design: Dayna Linton, Day Agency

  ISBN: 978-1-949178-06-7 (eBook)

  First Edition: 2018

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Printed in the USA

  To Stephane Bond for being the greatest critique partner ever!

  New Year’s Day – 1995

  New Year’s Eve was always a bear when you were a cop.

  Last night proved no differently. Detective William Flagler rolled over and groaned at the sound of his phone.

  Dammit, he was tired as hell. He hadn’t gotten home till after seven a.m. He was getting too blasted old to pull all-nighters.

  Although crime on Seahawk Island usually consisted of underage drinkers, DUIs, an occasional accident, domestic call, or someone setting a bonfire on the beach, everyone had been on alert last night. New Year’s Eve always brought the partiers and the crazies.

  A break-in at an apartment near the beach turned out to be a bunch of students looking for a place to ring in the New Year. Then some poor guy threw himself off the bridge at the pier because his girlfriend had dumped him. The Coast Guard reported they found the man alive.

  Then he’d busted up a bar fight that had broken out over rivalry football teams. At four a.m. when he thought he was done, a couple called frantic that their sixteen-year-old son hadn’t come home. Will found the kid passed out drunk in the park and drove him home. His parents had been relieved he was all right but threatened to ground him for life. They’d also thanked Will profusely for not arresting him. No need to saddle the boy with a record when he was just being young and stupid.

  Will had been young and stupid himself once, too. Another officer, his boss and Chief of Police now, had cut him some slack. Will was paying it forward.

  His phone buzzed again, and he snatched it up. “Flagler.”

  “We got a call. Three teenage girls missing.” Chief Rodney Mantino said.

  “How long?”

  “Not even twenty-four hours, but the parents are freaked out. Sure something bad happened.”

  Will’s gut tightened as an image of his own fourteen-year-old kid, Piper, flashed behind his eyes. If his daughter was missing, he’d be calling out the damned National Guard.

  He threw his feet over the edge of the bed, grateful that he was alone, although not a day passed that he didn’t miss having a wife.

  Betsy had missed him, too. So much that she’d replaced him with a pool guy named Eddie. Now Eddie got to spend his nights in her bed.

  No way on God’s green earth would he let Eddie replace him as Piper’s father though.

  Last night he’d tried to devise a plan to win his family back. But Betsy had demanded he leave his job.

  Could he?

  “Flagler?” Mantino’s gruff voice jerked him from his thoughts.

  “I’m on my way.” Will headed to the bathroom.

  “I’d meet you there, but I think I caught a stomach bug last night.”

  More like too much brown whiskey. But hey, his boss was close to retirement and who was Will to judge?

  “No problem. I’ll keep you updated once I talk to the parents. Hopefully the kids just snuck out and they’ll turn up by the time I get there.”

  “That’s what I was thinking.” A pause. “Sending you the name and address now.”

  A voice echoed in the background, a female’s voice. So Mantino wasn’t alone. Hell, good for him. At least somebody should get laid on New Year’s Eve. It sure as hell hadn’t been him.

  He hung up, jumped in the shower for a solid three minutes, then dried off and dressed.

  He checked the information his boss sent. Howard and Phyllis Darling. Three daughters: Candace, Deborah and Polly. Parents hadn’t seen the girls since the night before when they left the girls home alone and went to a party.

  It was possible they’d snuck out to meet friends, gotten wasted and hadn’t yet found their way home.

  Still, three teenage girls alone at night could spell trouble.

  A number of scenarios raced through Will’s mind, none of which led to happy endings.

  He strapped on his weapon, snagged his keys and new police issued cell phone, then headed outside to his black SUV. He’d pick up coffee on the way.

  Will checked his watch as he parked at the Darling house. Two p.m.

  If the Darlings had discovered their daughters were missing this morning, why had they waited so long to report it?

  Suspicions immediately reared their ugly head. But he had to refrain from jumping to conclusions until he talked to the family. There could be a logical explanation.

  He didn’t know what that would be, but he would see what they said.

  The small brick ranch was situated on a side street and had been built in the 1950’s. Weeds choked the front lawn and flowerbeds, and the back was patchy and had been left natural. Wood shavings and rocks covered the brittle grass.

  Badge in hand, he surveyed the drive and carport as he approached the steps to the front door. An ancient blue Chevy pick-up was parked beneath the covering along with assorted tools, an old lawnmower, spare tire, and three bikes that must belong to the daughters.

  He raised his fist and knocked. Seconds later, footsteps sounded, and a weathered looking man who looked mid-forties answered, a lit cigarette in hand. Gray streaked his wiry brown hair, and his eyes looked bloodshot.

  He flashed his badge. “Detective Flagler. Mr. Darling?”

  The man nodded but didn’t quite make eye contact. “Howard.”

  “You reported your daughters as missing,” Will said.

  “Yeah, that’s right.” Darling’s voice cracked slightly.

  The older man looked upset, confused. As if he hadn’t slept? Or maybe he’d imbibed too much the night before?

  “May I come in?” Will asked.


  Darling made a low sound in his throat, then stepped aside and motioned him in. “My wife…she’s having a hard time…”

  “I understand,” Will said. “Can she speak with us?”

  Darling scraped an arthritic hand through his hair. Fresh scrapes streaked the man’s knuckles, stirring more questions in Will’s mind. A sob echoed somewhere close by, and Darling’s jaw tightened.

  “Phyllis is in the den.”

  Will followed the man to a small living room cluttered with threadbare furniture, newspapers, and laundry. Mrs. Darling sat hunched on a faded plaid couch, a tissue knotted in her hands. Her chin length brown hair was as disheveled as the tattered blue shirt and jeans she wore. She looked up at him as if lost in a nightmare.

  He introduced himself and claimed a seat in a chair facing her. Mr. Darling sat down beside her and rubbed a hand across her shoulders to soothe her.

  “Have you heard from your daughters?” he asked.

  Darling and his wife both shook their heads, and she swiped at more tears.

  “Have any of the girls disappeared or run off before?” Will asked.

  “Our girls are good girls,” Mrs. Darling said in a broken voice. “They never snuck out or anything like that.”

  Or if they had, she didn’t want to admit it. Parents often lied when first interviewed, afraid of being perceived as bad parents. “Let’s get something straight,” he said. “I’m not here to pass judgment. I have a teenager of my own, and I’m well aware that as parents we don’t always know what our kids are up to or thinking. They’re adept at hiding things from us that they don’t want us to see.” He paused. “My daughter says it’s just little white lies. But little white lies often lead to bigger secrets.”

  Mrs. Darling shot up from the sofa and glared at him. “Our girls are not like that. They don’t hide stuff from us. We’re a happy family.”

  Her defensive reaction said the opposite. There was trouble at home with the Darlings. He automatically conducted a visual sweep of Phyllis Darling’s face, arms, and hands for bruises or signs of abuse.

  Mr. Darling coached his wife back onto the sofa. “Phyllis, calm down. He’s here to help. We have to cooperate.”

  Her face crumpled, and she collapsed in her seat again. But this time she reached for the glass on the table. Vodka.

  Will preferred whiskey himself. But it was a little early in the day.

  Under the circumstances though, he guessed he couldn’t blame her for having a drink. Although he wanted her clear headed.

  “I assume you checked with the girls’ friends and their families before you called the police,” Will said.

  Mr. Darling worked his mouth from side to side. “The girls don’t have friends. At least none that come over here. They got each other.”

  Will arched a brow. No friends? Seriously. Teenagers were social animals.

  “We thought they might have gone to their grandma’s,” Mrs. Darling interjected. “But we called her, and she hasn’t seen them or talked to them.”

  He leaned forward with his hands clasped. “All right. Let’s start from the beginning,” Will said. “Tell me about your daughters. What are their names and ages?”

  Mr. Darling stood and removed a photograph from the side table, then pushed it toward Will. “Deborah is the oldest, sixteen. Candace is the middle one, fourteen.” He paused and swallowed hard as he looked down at the third girl. “And that’s little Polly. She just turned twelve.”

  “They’re pretty girls,” Will said in an effort to create some camaraderie.

  Mr. Darling nodded, and Mrs. Darling sniffled and lifted her vodka with a hand that trembled.

  “I promise you I’ll do everything I can to find your daughters and bring them home safely,” Will said. “We already alerted authorities to look for them. If I can get a picture of the girls before I go, we’ll pass that along to law enforcement agencies.”

  Emotions twisted the mother’s face while Mr. Darling squeezed his eyes shut for a minute. Then the mother rose, walked over to the desk in the corner and returned with three school photographs.

  Will’s heart gave a pang as he studied their faces. Candace had long wavy blond hair and looked confident in her pose with her head tilted slightly upward. Deborah, the middle daughter, had auburn hair, and freckles dotted the bridge of her nose. Polly was a mixture of the two of them. Small framed, she hadn’t quite hit puberty as the other girls had.

  “Why don’t you walk me through what happened last night and this morning,” Will said.

  The father released a weary sigh. “Last night Phyllis and I went to a party at the American Legion in Brunswick. Our group had been collecting blankets for the homeless and the veterans.”

  “And the girls stayed home alone?” Will asked.

  Mr. Darling’s face tightened. “That’s right. Candace offered to babysit so we left her in charge.”

  “Does she babysit a lot?”

  Darling narrowed his eyes as if he didn’t understand the reasoning behind the question. “Not really,” he finally answered. “But if we ask her to, she would.”

  Will wondered if Candace had a plan in mind when she’d offered that night. “Do you think the girls might have invited friends over for a little party of their own?”

  Mrs. Darling looked alarmed at the question. “I told you our girls weren’t like that. They were good girls.”

  So, she kept saying.

  “They didn’t have anyone over,” Mr. Darling said. “Like I said, they didn’t entertain friends at the house.”

  “Did you notice anything different when you arrived home?” Will asked. “Anything out of place?”

  Darling shook his head no, grim faced.

  “You keep alcohol here.” Not a question but a statement. “Could they have snuck into it, gotten drunk and decided to go somewhere and hide until they sobered up, so you wouldn’t know.”

  “Why do you want to keep insisting that our girls did something bad,” Mrs. Darling shouted. “Someone must have taken them and you’re suggesting they’re off partying somewhere!”

  Will strived for a calm tone. “Ma’am, I’m not trying to offend you. As a detective, I have to consider all angles,” Will said in an effort to calm her. “As I mentioned, I have a teenager myself.”

  “Well, if these are the kinds of things she’s doing, maybe you should go home and be a better father to her.”

  Will clenched his jaw. Her verbal blow hit home.

  “Now, Phyllis,” Mr. Darling murmured in a placating voice. “He’s just trying to help.”

  “If he wants to help, then he should go out and look for our girls.” The woman lurched up and staggered down the hall, ranting that she didn’t like his accusations.

  Mr. Darling dropped his head into his hands. “Sorry about that. She’s just upset and scared.”

  Will nodded, although he couldn’t shake what she’d said.

  His wife had accused him of putting his job before her. Of putting it before their family.

  Of missing out on Piper’s life because he’d rather chase criminals than be a father.

  Will didn’t have time to think about his own family right now. Three girls were missing, and it was his job to find them.

  He cleared his throat. “So, you and your wife went to the party and you got home at what time?”

  “Not till about three this morning,” Mr. Darling said.

  “That seems late for an American Legion function,” Will said.

  “Yeah, but it was New Year’s Eve, and they had a dance, and everyone was having fun...and Phyllis didn’t want to leave till the end…” He let the sentence trail off.

  “What happened when you got home?”

  The older man looked down into his hands as if they held answers. Or maybe he was remembering something, that he’d used his
fists against his wife or daughters?

  “Phyllis had a little too much to drink and went straight to bed.” He rubbed at his leg. “By then my arthritis was acting up, and I was dog tired, so I went, too.”

  “You didn’t check on the girls?” Will asked.

  Darling shook his head. “Door was closed. We figured they were asleep and didn’t want to wake ‘em.” His expression turned contrite. “I guess we should have. But they were old enough, I didn’t even think about it.”

  Will decided to let it slide. Either he or his wife always checked on Piper before turning in. Was Betsy’s boyfriend looking in on her now?

  A sour taste filled his mouth at the thought. “So, you went to bed and woke up at what time?”

  “Wife slept in till about ten. I took a pain pill for my leg and overslept, too.”

  “Were the girls usually up early?” Will asked.

  “Nah. On the weekends, we have to make ‘em get up and do chores.”

  “Did you hear any noise this morning? Their voices or the TV?”

  He scratched his head. “Not that I recall.”

  Will glanced at the loaf of bread on the counter. “How about the kitchen? Were there signs that they’d made breakfast or eaten anything?”

  He mumbled no.

  “Didn’t you think that was odd?”

  His gaze shot to Will’s. “I thought they were still in bed. Went to wake them up. That’s when I found their beds empty.”

  “What did you do then?”

  “Checked the house then outside and looked for their bikes. Thought they might have gone for a ride.”

  “But the bikes were still under the carport?”

  “Yeah. I ran in and got Phyllis up. She figured they’d gone to her mama’s house, so she called her.”

  “But the girls hadn’t gone there?”