Splinter (The Machinists Book 2) (9 page)

Liam sighed. It wasn’t a book he could read for enjoyment. Not until he was finished transcribing it. He returned the book to the nightstand and, shortly thereafter, fell asleep to the steady hum of the spinning hard drive.

Chapter 10

“W
e lost them,” Nolan said. He leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and ran his hands through his hair. White flakes of dried hair gel fell, accumulating on the black leather chair.

Maddox pulled off his glasses and looked up from the case file. They were in the main level of the Portland FBI Field Office. Agents wearing black suits with black ties, short hair, and grim expressions worked at desks around them, hidden behind the half walls and glass partitions of cubicles. Maddox preferred working there. The steady rhythm of fingers tapping keyboards and the low murmur of conversation centered him. The ringing telephones and even the rattle of the central air system shook loose ideas like fruit from a tree. Other agents liked to talk about home, but the field office
was
Maddox’s home—he’d spent far more time here in his thirteen-year career than he had anywhere else, including his house.

“Where?” Maddox asked.

“Somewhere after the I205, I84 interchange.” Nolan leaned forward, sliding his computer over so Maddox would have a better view. The screen displayed a series of traffic cameras, each occupying a small window.

Nolan clicked on one, maximizing the image. “We picked them up heading south across the Freemont Bridge then backtracked them to I5 North, where they were stuck in traffic.”

“That area is always a parking lot,” Maddox said.

“Yeah.” Nolan rubbed his eyes. The man looked exhausted. His eyes, normally lively and alert, were red from strain and lack of sleep. Nothing could prepare young agents for the stress of working on real cases or the weight of responsibility that came with it. They began like bullets fired from a low-caliber gun, quick and hot, but they flamed out quickly, crashing to the ground like everything else. The agents who lasted, agents like Maddox, were like guided missiles—they didn’t burn out until they hit their targets.

Nolan pulled up another camera view. “Here they are merging from I84 onto I5, and here, we picked them up again using a traffic camera mounted to the overpass in the Hollywood District, but that’s where we lose them. Away from the heart of the city, the cameras just aren’t as numerous.”

“What happens if you go back farther?”

“We tried that. Here’s the problem.” Nolan clicked on another window. It was black. “The camera is down for repair.” He clicked on another. “And here’s the one from the I205, I84 interchange.” The image was blurry, obscured by a raindrop in the center of the screen.

Maddox cursed. “Don’t they have crews that clean that sort of thing?”

“They do,” Nolan said. “This is the footage from last night. The problem has since been taken care of.”

“Of course it has,” Maddox said bitterly. “What if we go back farther?”

“We tried that, too,” Nolan said. “But we’re talking about hundreds of cameras, extending over hundreds of miles, and a Lincoln Continental may not be the most popular car out there, but there are more than you think. And contrary to popular belief, these cameras aren’t powerful enough to capture license plates. So without being able to trace them back step by step, we don’t have a frame of reference, and the variables become overwhelming. It took me all night just to get this far.”

Maddox ran his hand over his bare scalp, feeling more prickly hair than he liked. He’d need to shave it again soon. “So what do we know?”

Nolan shrugged. “They traveled west on I84, likely coming from the I205 area. Gresham, maybe?”

“Or Hood River. Pendleton. Hell, they could be coming from Vancouver or Battleground, for all we know.” Maddox exhaled sharply, collecting himself. “What about the plates?”

“Registered to the same First Family Corporation.”

Maddox wasn’t surprised. Nothing else in the manor had any ties to any single person—why would the car? “Before you get too discouraged,” Maddox said, “we did catch one break. We finally got a hit on Kaplan’s father.” Joseph Kaplan had been the only missing piece to their list of known friends and family. He’d disappeared from the grid three years ago.

“Where?”

“You’re not going to believe it.”

“I’ve never known you to be dramatic, Agent Maddox.”

“Maybe you’re rubbing off on me.”

“Then you’re a lucky man.”

Maddox barked a laugh. “I guess that’s one way to look at it.”

“All right, enough already,” Nolan said with a smile. “Quit stalling and come out with it.”

“The Salem Pen.”

Nolan raised an eyebrow. “For what?”

Maddox handed Nolan the file he’d had in his hands. “It’s all in here.”

“Why didn’t this come up during our initial search?” Nolan began thumbing through the file.

Maddox shrugged. “Who knows?”

“The Pen is only an hour drive from here.”

“I know.”

“I take it we’re going then?”

“Get your coat.”

Agent Maddox felt as though he were looking at an older version of Allyn Kaplan. Joseph Kaplan was thicker than his son was, though much of his broad frame had gone soft with age. Gray peppered his dark hair and closely trimmed beard, and his black-rimmed glasses enhanced his already-large brown eyes. He sat with his elbows on the table, his shoulders slumped, the orange jumpsuit somewhat spoiling the comparison.

Agent Nolan stirred in his seat beside Maddox. The young agent had been a different man since entering the prison. His jovial, sometimes-sarcastic attitude had become subdued and almost depressed. His voice was soft, almost a whisper, and he wore a perpetual frown. Maddox bit back a smile. The reaction wasn’t uncommon during a new agent’s first few visits to the pen, but Maddox had never understood it. The visits were part of the job. They were in the business of putting criminals in prison, and sometimes that meant going there themselves. One of his previous partners—
Either Bradley or Jacobson, or maybe Livingston
—had once told him that it was unnerving to believe they were only one bad decision from occupying a cell down the block. Maddox didn’t understand that, either—worry, like regret, was pointless.

“Thank you for sitting down with us,” Maddox said, clasping his hands on the table. They sat in the middle of an empty visiting area, a dozen unoccupied tables surrounding them. Steel bars covered the windows along the far wall, and an overweight guard watched from the door.

“You said it had to do with my kids.” The older Kaplan’s voice was deep and raspy. Like his weathered face, it was likely the result of spending too many evenings inside smoky bars.

“When was the last time you saw your children, Mr. Kaplan?” Maddox asked.

“About a month ago. Why?”

“Allyn and Kendyl were
here
?” Nolan asked, surprised.

“Allyn and Kendyl?” Kaplan asked, his eyes narrowing. He exhaled slowly, looking at the floor. “I haven’t seen them in… twelve, maybe thirteen, years.”

“Then who…?”

“I remarried,” Kaplan said. “I’m sorry, what did you say this was about again?”

“We’re investigating a disappearance,” Maddox said.

“And Allyn and Kendyl are involved?”

“What can you tell us about them?” Nolan asked.

“It’s been a long time,” Kaplan said, leaning back in his chair and running his fingers through his hair. He seemed to be doing everything possible to avoid looking at them, and maybe it was Maddox’s imagination, but Kaplan’s eyes were growing glassy. “They were just kids when I left. And even before then, I wasn’t… I wasn’t around much. If this is about Allyn and Kendyl, I’m not sure how much help I can be.”

“Where were you?” Maddox asked.

“Hmmm?”

“You said you weren’t around. Where were you?”

Kaplan rubbed his hands together as if he were trying to wash them. “I was… I
am
… I’ve been sober for six-hundred ninety-seven days. I was drunk.” Then as if he were coming to a deep realization, he repeated, “I was drunk. Some men come home from work and play with their children or watch TV for an hour or two to decompress. I came home and found joy in the bottle. As you can imagine, it didn’t win me any father or husband of the year awards.”

“Did you and your wife fight?” Maddox asked.

“About what?”

“Anything.”

“Of course.”

“In front of your children?”

“Don’t judge me, Agent Maddox,” Kaplan said heatedly. “I accept the choices I made and where they’ve brought me, but that doesn’t mean I’m proud of them.”

“You didn’t answer the question.”

“Have you ever fought addiction, Agent Maddox?”

“No.”

“It’s a strange thing. When you can stop, you don’t want to, and when you want to stop, you can’t.”

“Poetic.”

“Did you write that?” Nolan asked. He didn’t seem to share Maddox’s distaste for empty words.

“No,” Kaplan said. “I read it in a book named
Candy
. But it’s the best description of addiction I’ve ever heard. I didn’t set out to live this life, to leave my wife and children behind. But when it got to the end, I couldn’t stop.”

“Your wife gave you an ultimatum,” Nolan said. “The bottle or them.”

Kaplan nodded and looked away, his breathing becoming shallow.

And you chose the bottle, you piece of shit.

“Kendyl is missing, Mr. Kaplan,” Nolan said.

Maddox glared at Nolan. The young agent was supposed to be following his lead, not taking control of the conversation.

“We tracked her to a mansion in the hills outside of Portland,” Nolan continued, ignoring or oblivious to Maddox’s disapproval. “But before we could get her to safety, our officers were ambushed, and she disappeared again.”

Kaplan swallowed a lump in his throat. His eyes
were
tearing up.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Kaplan,” Nolan said. “I know this must be difficult, but is there anything you can remember about Allyn that might give us a hint about his motive or his whereabouts?”

“Allyn is missing, too?”

“We believe he’s behind her disappearance.”

“Allyn? No.” Kaplan shook his head. “No, that’s not possible. He could be an argumentative little shit sometimes, but he wasn’t violent.”

“We have reason to believe otherwise.”

There’s an understatement
. Allyn Kaplan had been involved in the deaths of three officers and had nearly gotten Maddox and Nolan killed in the high-speed chase through northwest Portland.

“He would never hurt his sister,” Kaplan said. “They were inseparable.”

“We have witnesses placing him at the scene of the crime,” Maddox said.

“Then someone made a mistake.”

Maddox opened the folder on the table and pulled out a series of photographs. It was time to stop dancing around the issue. He tossed the photographs dramatically in front of Kaplan.

“What are these?” Kaplan asked.

“Your daughter was found tied to a bed, bound and gagged. And Allyn was one of two men apprehended at the scene. This is what is left of the squad car that was taking him to the station.” Maddox pulled out another picture and dropped it on top of the rest. Officer Grimes was hardly recognizable. His skin was blistered and red; his hair, singed and burnt. The upper half of his uniform was missing, and its frayed edges were black. “This is Officer Grimes,” Maddox said, pointing to a picture of the fallen officer. “The officer who had your son in custody.”

“I’m telling you,” Kaplan said, looking up from the pictures, “Allyn isn’t capable of this.”

“How would you know?” Maddox asked. “You haven’t seen him in thirteen years.”

Kaplan glared at him.

“A lot can change in that kind of time, especially for a man with such a traumatic childhood.”

“Leaving was the best thing that I could do for them,” Kaplan said. “Children follow their parents’ footsteps. I didn’t want my children to end up like me.”

“You don’t believe that,” Nolan said. “If you believed that children grow up to be their parents, you would have become the person you wanted them to be. But you left instead.”

“Addiction is a powerful villain,” Kaplan said helplessly.

Maddox wanted to backhand the man. He hated people like Joseph Kaplan. People who hid behind excuses, refusing to take responsibility for their choices. Regardless of what Kaplan believed, addiction was just another choice. He had chosen to drink every night. He had chosen to leave his family behind. Addiction was just the convenient way out.

“And maybe that’s what I’m doing now,” Kaplan continued. “I wasn’t as clearheaded then as I am today. I have to fix myself before I can fix the lives I’ve broken.”

Maddox slid the pictures back into his folder. “Why are you in here, Mr. Kaplan?” He took an exaggerated look around the visiting room. “Why are you incarcerated?”

Kaplan glared at Maddox, fury burning in his eyes.

Yes
,
your anger burns hot. Just like your son’s.
Maddox made a show of shuffling through his paperwork and finding Kaplan’s information. “Vehicular manslaughter. Killed a father on his way to pick up his daughter from dance practice, correct?”

“What’s your point?”

“Maybe your son ended up like you, after all.”

Kaplan stood abruptly, making the chair squeak across the floor. “Don’t give me that self-righteous attitude, you son of a bitch!” Kaplan leaned over the table, pointing his finger in Maddox’s face. “Buried somewhere inside you is regret. Guilt. I can see it! I can feel it!”

The guard was on Kaplan in an instant, and two more poured into the visiting area.

“Maybe you’re a terrible father,” Kaplan raged, “a terrible husband. I don’t know, but it’s in there, and instead of accepting it, you take it out on the world around you!”

The guards wrestled Kaplan to the ground, wrenching his arms behind his back and cuffing him. Kaplan screamed in pain.

Maddox closed the folder, stood, then strode over to where Kaplan was lying facedown against the dirty tiled floor. “Someday soon, I’m going to put your son away. Maybe he’ll be a few cells down, and you two can make up for lost time. Have a good day, Mr. Kaplan.”

Maddox turned to Nolan and nodded. They were done. Kaplan hadn’t answered the questions, but he’d given him answers of a sort. Regardless of what Kaplan believed, anger raged through their veins. Hot, uncontrollable anger. The elder Kaplan kept his in check through deep remorse and guilt, but the younger Kaplan, the man who’d lost his father at a young age and his mother only a few years later, didn’t have those safeguards. If pushed hard enough, he would snap. He had snapped.

“I hope he kills
you
, you worthless piece of—” Kaplan’s voice ended in a scream as one of the guards buried a knee in his back.

“What the hell was that?” Nolan asked, turning on Maddox the moment they were out of the visiting area. Kaplan’s screams and groans were still audible.

“Don’t.”