Promises in the Dark (Detectives Kane and Alton)

“Why, yes, that’s his name.” Phelps gave her a long considering stare. “They are the only complaints we have on record and anything else would be hearsay.”

Jenna pushed to her feet. “Okay, thank you for your assistance, we’ll let you get back to your nap.”

Outside the office, Jenna turned to Jo. “I don’t think we have to worry about Peter Huntley. His name hasn’t come up since I’ve been in Black Rock Falls. If he’d neglected his kids or caused a problem, I’d be the first to know. Since we busted a pedophile ring some time ago, the schools and social workers don’t take any chances when it comes to kids’ welfare. We’ll need to concentrate on Roger Suffolk. His place of employment is listed as the local blacksmith at the Crazy Iron Forge.”

“From the description of him, he fits the profile. Although he’s forty-five, that’s a bit older than I’d imagined.” Jo frowned. “Maybe we need to wait for Kane and Carter before we go see him. He might be dangerous.”

Jenna smiled. “Don’t worry. Nothing can possibly happen at his place of business. We’ll be fine.” She headed for her vehicle.

Eighteen

The Crazy Iron Forge lay on the outskirts of town at the end of a circular driveway wide enough to take an eighteen-wheeler and then some. Situated some ways from a ranch house, set back on sizable acreage, the forge was housed in a redbrick building with a massive chimney stack, billowing a heat haze into the summer sky. To one side of the building, horses’ heads peered over gates in a stable block. Jenna pulled up alongside the stables to keep her sheriff’s marked SUV out of sight; she didn’t plan on spooking Roger Suffolk. As they walked toward the forge, she could hear hammering on metal and then the hiss as the hot object was plunged into the barrel of water to cool. From the lineup of labeled farm machinery and implements leaning against a wall, Roger Suffolk was a busy man. A large white truck was parked outside emblazoned with the Crazy Iron Forge logo but no other vehicles were in sight. She turned to Jo. “I wonder if he works alone?”

“I guess we’ll find out soon enough.” Jo pushed open the door.

Jenna followed and stepped inside the huge building. Walls lined with tools met her gaze, and benches with a variety of machines. The place had a strange smell of fire, ash, and sweat hanging in humidity she could cut through. Mechanical bellows hit a raging fire making it roar and bright orange flames danced in the red glowing forge. As they stepped inside, a wave of heat hit her like a wall. In front of the fire a man with broad shoulders, wearing a blue T-shirt with a sweat stain down the middle of his back, turned a metal rod in the fire. As he lifted the glowing red rod he turned slightly and Jenna made out his thick leather apron, protective gloves, and mask. His glossy sweat-coated muscles bulged as he lifted a hammer from a bench and, after placing the red-hot metal on an anvil, struck it several times. She watched, mesmerized, as the metal appeared to curve and bend with each strike.

Keeping her distance from the man working with deep concentration, she raised her voice. “Mr. Suffolk?”

As he turned and regarded them with narrowed eyes, Jenna suppressed a shiver. It was an instinct danger was close by. This huge three-hundred-pound man beat on his wife and from the size of his hands, a slap would be like being hit by a truck. The thought lingered in her mind, that she should have taken Kane’s advice and loaded her weapon with hollow points. If this giant of a man came at her she’d like to take him down with one shot. She waited as Suffolk dropped the hot rod into a barrel of water. He was momentarily hidden by the steam as the water bubbled and hissed. Her heart skipped a beat as he emerged from the cloud, metal rod in hand, and started toward them. “Mr. Suffolk? May we have a moment of your time?”

“Are you selling something?” His voice was deep and rumbling. “If you are, get the hell off my property.”

“No, I’m Jenna Alton and this is Special Agent Wells, FBI.” Jenna stood her ground. “We’d like to speak to you.”

“Sure.” Suffolk tossed the metal rod on a bench, and removed his gloves and protective facemask. He looked from one to the other and shook his head slowly. “I can’t imagine why they allow women in the FBI to bring down criminals. You should be at home caring for your menfolk.”

Hackles on full alert, Jenna held his gaze. “We don’t have any menfolk to worry about, but that’s none of your concern.”

“I might have guessed.” Suffolk snorted and then seemed to gather himself. “What can I do for you, Agents?”

“You had a few problems with Isaac Wood after a counseling session and put in a complaint against him. We’re just following that up.” Jo flipped through her notebook as if she wasn’t interested in what he had to say.

“Isaac Wood?” Suffolk pinched the bridge of his nose. “He didn’t understand the way of things. Most of the families who live in Louan had the same upbringing as me. We have our own way of doing things. Not like some of the newcomers.” He leveled his gaze on them. “He told my wife she should leave me and was an equal partner in our marriage. I objected and gave him my opinion, is all. For that I was hauled into the sheriff’s department for questioning and by the time I’d gotten home, she’d gone. So yeah, I was pissed.” He swiped sweat from his brow. “It’s too hot here to talk. Come up to the house. Dawn will have my lunch ready.”

Jenna opened her mouth to decline but Suffolk just removed his apron, brushed passed them, and headed up a pathway to the house. She looked at Jo. “I think we’ve been ordered to follow.”

“What is it with him and the director of the CFSD? Do they belong to a cult or something similar?” Jo stared after the man with a concerned expression. “They treat their women like objects.”

Jenna shrugged. “I have no idea but I plan to find out. Problem is most times our hands are tied. We can assist any woman who needs our help but we can’t interfere with people’s choice of religious practices. If he comes from a sect that believes women should be beholden to men, we can’t get involved.”

“I don’t like this at all.” Jo stared after Suffolk. “He’s confident but there’s an underlying aggression. We’re walking into an unknown situation here.”

“Okay.” Jenna pulled out her phone and called Kane. “Hi, we’re at the Crazy Iron Forge out at Buffalo Ridge and heading into Roger Suffolk’s house and he’s a strange one. I thought I’d call it in just in case there’s a problem.”

“Send me the coordinates. We’re almost through here and I’ll head that way but if you get into a situation, call me or activate your tracker ring.” Kane sounded concerned. “What’s worrying you about him? Do you want us to come by anyway? We’re not far from your position.”

Jenna sighed. “Good to know. Yes, come by and I’ll explain later.”

“Any news on the search for Sophie Wood?”

“No sign of her.” Jenna chewed on her bottom lip. “Sheriff Crenshaw said he’d call if they found any trace of her. I gotta go. We’ll talk later. Bye.” She disconnected and looked at Jo’s worried expression. “The guys are close by and heading this way if we need backup.” She smiled. “And we’re armed. He might not realize we have shoulder holsters under our jackets. Come on let’s go, I don’t think he’ll enjoy us being tardy.”

The ranch house was about fifty years old and had a wide porch with a swing. Such a romantic thing for a man who didn’t appear to have one romantic bone in his body. An ancient gnarly pink rose bush, its trunk thick and woody, climbed over the wooden railing. The scent gave Jenna memories of her gran’s house. The front door stood open and through the fly screen, she could see straight down a hallway to the kitchen, and to the doors running off each side. The floor shone from layers of polish and the side table held a bronze statue of a cowboy.

“Don’t just stand there, wipe your feet and come in.” Suffolk waved them inside from the kitchen door.

Jenna wiped her feet on the mat and stepped into the house. It smelled like polish and fresh coffee. She led the way into the kitchen scanning the rooms each side of the hallway. A big family room, an office with a desk, and walls lined with books all as neat as a pin, not one speck of dust anywhere. The older style kitchen had a scrubbed wooden table and benches that sparkled. It was as if nobody lived there, no personal items, no photographs, or even the usual notes on the refrigerator or beside the phone. Her attention moved to the two women standing to one side. They were covered from neck to knee, with caps covering their hair, and wearing huge aprons. An older woman in her sixties maybe and a young woman, perhaps sixteen or a little older, looked at her as if she’d grown two heads. She smiled at them. “Hello, I’m Jenna and this is Jo.”