He hesitated before finally acquiescing. “Fine but give me your name and number in case I need to follow up with you.”
She didn’t want to give him that information but how could she get away with refusing? She reluctantly told him. “My name is Penny Anderson,” she said, giving him the false name she’d come up with. “This is my daughter, Missy.”
He knelt down. “Nice to meet you, Missy.” He held out his hand to her but she quickly moved behind Penny’s leg.
“She’s very shy,” Penny explained. She didn’t add that she hadn’t always been this way or that she no longer spoke a word...not since the incident that had sent them running.
Thankfully, he didn’t ask questions about her daughter’s lack of social skills but it made Penny’s heart ache to remember a time when Missy would have peppered him with a hundred different questions instead of hiding behind her.
He stood and pulled out his notebook. “That’s okay. I guess I can be pretty scary, can’t I?’
She smiled at his attempt at humor. They knew scary and he wasn’t it.
“Your address and phone number?”
She gave him the number to the prepaid cell she’d purchased when she and Missy had fled Kentucky two months ago.
Now this had happened.
She’d let down her guard and come out into the open. Had the killer been waiting for her?
She shuddered and, to her horror, Caleb noticed.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” He reached out his hand and touched her arm. For a moment, she wondered what it would be like to be wrapped in his arms. It had been too long since anyone had offered her comfort or reassurance and she needed it.
But she couldn’t give in to it. Not when her daughter’s life was at stake. “I’m fine, but I really need to go.” She walked to the SUV and loaded Missy into the car seat. They had to get out of here.
“I’ll call you if I need anything else,” Caleb said.
She nodded, then slipped behind the steering wheel. Getting home was her top priority. Getting Missy to safety.
She quickly started the engine and drove away before Chief of Police Caleb Harmon could ask her any more questions or stretch her reserve any further.
The incident at the grocery store was still bothering Caleb a short while later when he made it back to the police station.
Seeing a pretty lady in town shouldn’t send up red flags but it had. Jessup wasn’t exactly a mecca of tourism. They were just a small town that got few visitors. She wasn’t the first out-of-towner he’d come across, but her demeanor had piqued his interest. He could see something was out of the ordinary the moment she’d flashed him a terrified smile as he’d passed her by on his way into Walker’s.
Then the car nearly running her down. Red flag number two.
Something just seemed off about the whole situation, though he struggled to put his finger on what had him uneasy. Maybe it was the fact that Penny Anderson hadn’t showed the appropriate outrage at nearly being hit by a car and nearly having her daughter hit too. Most people would have been calling for the driver’s head, but her main concern had been to get out of there.
He rubbed his jaw. He was probably overthinking it. She’d had a trauma, and everyone responded to that differently. She’d seemed worried about her daughter, which was natural enough. Maybe she just wasn’t the confrontational type and had been more focused on getting the girl safely home. There wasn’t anything suspicious about that—on the surface, anyway. But fourteen years of law enforcement and his gut told him something was off about the whole situation.
He checked in with Hansen, the officer on duty. “Anything pressing?”
“No, it’s a quiet day except for your call. What happened there?”
“A woman and her daughter were crossing the street when a car nearly ran them down. Didn’t look like he slowed down at all either. The guy was probably on his phone and not paying attention.” At least he was hoping that the explanation was that innocent, but Penny Anderson’s reaction screamed at him that something more was going on. “Any movement on the BOLO?”
“Nothing so far.”
“What about the license plate numbers I gave you?” He hadn’t been able to help himself. He’d jotted down her plate number along with that of the sedan and texted them to Hansen after she’d left the scene.
Hansen turned to the computer and pulled up a report. “One came back to a Charles Morton. Forty-three. No tickets or citations on file.”
“And the other?”
He pressed a button and another report appeared on screen. “Penny Jackson. Twenty-nine. A Lexington, Kentucky address.”
His heart sank. Just as he’d suspected. She’d been lying to him. “She told me her name was Penny Anderson.”
The fact that she’d given him a false name along with her odd behavior sent a third red flag up for him. He knew a woman who was running when he saw one. “Did you check for criminal backgrounds?”
“Nothing on Mr. Morton. He’s clean. Looks like she’s wanted for questioning by the FBI in connection to a string of bank robberies.”
Bank robberies?
If she was a wanted woman, it would explain her squirrelly behavior and her rush to get away from him. But instead of feeling like he finally had the answer, he was just left with more questions. He generally trusted his instincts and they were lit up now, letting him know that something about this woman wasn’t adding up. While her behavior at the scene had seemed inappropriate to the situation, she certainly hadn’t seemed like a bank robber. She’d almost seemed more scared than angry. Was someone after her? Was she hiding from someone? Even if she was a thief, maybe she’d been pressured or coerced into it—perhaps by the person she was now running from.
“You want me to respond to the BOLO, Chief?”
“No, I’ll take care of it.” Hansen handed him a sticky note with the FBI contact info written on it. “See if you can find out more about that BOLO,” he instructed Hansen. “I want to know what exactly her involvement is.”
He walked into his office and shut the door. He placed his cowboy hat on the desk and fell into his chair, still struggling to get a handle on the woman he couldn’t seem to get out of his head.
Obviously, she was on the run from something but, despite the BOLO, he doubted she was a bank robber. She just didn’t strike him as the type. A girlfriend of one of them maybe or a material witness.
He rubbed his face as the plight of this mom and her child got under his skin.
