Harlequin Intrigue July 2021--Box Set 2 of 2

by Carol Ericson

There was no Fallon, there was no tent, there weren’t even signs that a fire had once been used for warmth, light and a few s’mores.

  She had hoped it would be that simple.

  That Fallon had gone off on his own and now realized it was time to come home.

  But it wasn’t that simple.

  Just like asking for help at the sheriff’s department hadn’t been simple either.

  Detective Lovett had done exactly what Millie had been afraid he’d do. He hadn’t listened.

  Millie let out a defeated breath and moved closer to the center of the clearing.

  If Fallon wasn’t here, then where was he?

  She let her gaze unfocus and let her mind wander. She propped the bat against her leg. The weight of mental exhaustion weighed her down.

  But not so much as to keep her from jumping when a rustling sounded behind her.

  Millie spun, taking her bat up again, and let the flashlight’s beam scatter among the trees to her right. For a moment she expected to see her tall, dark and smiling pain-in-the-butt brother but, for a second time that night, her hopes were dashed.

  Then fear took their place.

  The man was tall and wispy. Like the wind could take him if it blew hard enough. He had on a pair of dark green coveralls and orange work boots. His dark hair was shaved close to his head. Millie guessed he might have been in his midthirties. What she couldn’t guess was why he was out here, of all places, and at night.

  Staring at her like he wasn’t surprised that she was there.

  Millie took a step back but kept the flashlight beam on his body.

  He smiled. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to hurt you,” he greeted. His voice was stronger than he looked. “You work at Dobb’s, right?”

  Millie nodded on reflex.

  She didn’t recognize him from the grocery at all.

  “I saw you there last week,” he continued. “You had one of those big orange clips in your hair. Reminded me of my mom.”

  He took another step forward then stopped. A smile pulled up a corner of his mouth. Millie gripped the bat tighter. There was enough light in the clearing to lose the flashlight if she had to, but if she ran into the woods without it, she’d be in trouble.

  Still, she readied to do it all the same.

  Drop the flashlight.

  Put both hands into swinging the bat with all the power that she had.

  Run only after he was down and out for the count.

  “Who are you?” she asked. There was no tremble in her voice, but there was also no emotion in it. The man’s eyebrow rose.

  “I’m just trying to be a friend is all.” His smile vanished. “I’m looking for Fallon. But it doesn’t look like he’s here. Just you.”

  That put a temporary hold on her fear.

  “You know Fallon?”

  The man nodded slowly. “We go way back. I thought it was high time I do my part and help look for him. Because I don’t know where he is.” The man started to walk forward. “And I’d really like to.”

  The fear came back.

  Millie felt like she’d been zapped by lightning. Every nerve in her came to life with a pulse of energy and one thunderous boom of thought.

  No one knew she was out in the woods.

  Not Larissa. Not Fallon.

  No one.

  Suddenly she saw what her trek into the woods alone was. Desperation of a terrified heart. Desperation that had led her into the darkness without a soul in the world knowing where she was.

  Annie McHale’s smiling face popped up into Millie’s head, followed by Fallon.

  Just another disappearance in the town of Kelby Creek.

  So, Millie did the only rational thing left to do in the irrational situation she’d already gotten herself into.

  She swung the bat with all she had.

  Then she ran.

  * * *

  FOSTER LOST MILLIE right outside the neighborhood. One second he was watching her book it out to the main road and the next he was following her in his truck.

  But she was fast and had a lead on him.

  Once she was out of the neighborhood, it was like the world had gone to sleep.

  He sat idling at the corner of Melrose Street and Lively Drive, trying to figure out which way the woman had gone. There was no car, no headlights and no Millie Dean behind the wheel, damn determined to do something.

  Something with a bat.

  Which was not good.

  Foster looked off to his right. He mentally traced the road to the heart of town. He turned to his left and looked out at the street as it slipped off into darkness.

  Not only did Millie have a bat, but she also had a flashlight.

  She was going somewhere she didn’t feel safe and somewhere she needed light.

  The woods.

  Nothing good ever happened at night in the woods.

  What Kelby Creek lacked in big-city amenities and attractions, it more than made up for in back roads that looked straight out of a horror movie. Networks like reaching fingers branched off from the street Foster was on and led to the woods and the town limits. Some had older streetlamps, marking roads of gravel and dirt. Most had nothing but the moonlight to show their paths.

  When Foster and his friends had been teenagers, they’d been fans of the twisting darkness with its almost-secret roads. It made their field and creek parties and hangouts private and easier to get away with when the law inevitably came to break them up. Or someone’s parents. It was almost comical watching cars filled with teens scattering down different roads while the adults tried to remember from their own youth which roads led to where. Yet, as one of those adults now—and law enforcement too—Foster saw what a pain in the backside the most rural part of Kelby Creek really was.

  It took him almost fifteen minutes to find the road that Deputy Park had said led to the clearing Fallon had been found in years ago. The same road that led to the spot where William Reiner had been struck by a car, effectively ending his career.

  Foster should have found the road much sooner but he didn’t.

  And, when he saw Millie’s car parked on a patch of grass along the shoulder, he hoped the delay wouldn’t cost him. Foster didn’t think Fallon was in trouble, but he couldn’t deny his curiosity and concern had slowly turned into a sense of urgency.

  One that pulled him out of his truck with his service weapon in his holster, his badge around his neck and his cell phone tucked into the pocket of his jeans. He didn’t know what was going on, but he planned to ask Millie when he found her.

  When he found her safe and sound.

  Yet, no sooner had he thought about a potentially angry Millie asking why he was there than something happened that sent his sense of urgency blasting through the roof.

  A scream split the night air.

  A woman’s scream.

  It was brief but loud, carrying through the trees and up to Foster like a wave coming to shore.

  He was off and into the darkness without a second thought.

  Bark bit into his palms as he slapped his hands against the trees he passed, trying to keep from stumbling without losing his momentum. The light from the night sky left him wanting. Just like the flashlight on his truck’s floorboard.

  The gun in his holster was heavy against his hip.

  Pulling it out now would only run the chance of accidentally harming Millie, and he wasn’t going to risk that.

  Foster kept on his trajectory for a few more seconds before realizing the world had quieted again. He slowed, tilting his head and trying to figure out where Millie was. When he heard nothing new, he called out.

  “Millie?”

  It didn’t take long after that.

  Something in the distance started crashing through the underbrush. Foster couldn’t tell if
it was coming to him or away from him but he strode out, ready to chase if needed.

  “It’s Detective Lovett,” he yelled out. “With the sheriff’s department!”

  Whoever was making the ruckus ahead of him was keeping a distance between them despite the call. Foster might have grown up in Kelby Creek, but he was in uncharted territory at the moment. He tried to pull up a mental map of the area to figure out where Millie was running to or where the person who made her scream might be headed, but he was coming up short. There were too many variables and he had no idea what was going on even if there hadn’t been.

  That only became clearer as something barreled between the trees from behind him.

  Foster skidded to a stop and pivoted, muscles already in overdrive.

  In the dark he could barely make out the dark eyes of Millie Dean, wide and searching. The soft click of a flashlight caused the immediate area to come to life.

  Millie had a sheen to her skin and a look that said she was somewhere in her flight or fight mode. She no longer had her bat.

  When she spoke her words were strained and low.

  “Wh-why are you out here?” she whispered.

  Foster didn’t have time to explain. He could still hear someone behind him running away. That had to be the reason Millie screamed. So he pivoted the conversation too.

  “Why did you scream?” he asked. “Who attacked you?”

  Millie’s eyebrows turned into each other. Shadows transformed her look of panic into one of confusion. She titled her head to the side in question.

  “I didn’t.”

  Foster matched her confusion.

  “You didn’t get attacked?” he asked. “Then why did you scream?”

  Before Millie could even say another word, Foster knew without a doubt that his first week back in Kelby Creek was about to get more complicated.

  Millie shook her head. A bead of sweat slid down her cheek as she answered.

  “I didn’t scream. Which means there’s someone else in danger in these woods.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “You weren’t kidding when you said you were itching to get to work, huh?”

  Sheriff Chamblin had his badge pinned to his belt and sleep in his eye. He’d also donned a pair of cowboy boots, something Foster hadn’t seen the man do since he was a teen watching Chamblin and his dad heading out to go fishing.

  The image was at first a flash of comfort, thinking of his father. Then that badge reminded him that the time between then and now had stretched and twisted. Chamblin was in charge and Foster wasn’t some rebellious teen anymore. His expertise was valuable to the sheriff.

  Even if that expertise wasn’t exactly getting any answers at the moment.

  “I told you when I came aboard that I was going to be as transparent as a thin sheet of plastic,” Foster answered. “So here I am. Thin sheet of plastic.”

  Foster swept his arms out wide with the tree line behind him. His truck hadn’t moved since he’d parked it two hours ago, and neither had Millie’s Nissan. The only change of scenery was the addition of the sheriff and a patrol car with two deputies who didn’t look any more enthused than they had when they’d first been called in.

  Which was to say not at all.

  Apparently Deputy Park wasn’t the only deputy with trust issues when it came to the Dean family.

  Now the sheriff moved his gaze to the woods right before a deep sigh rumbled out. Whether it was the poor lighting from his headlights or because the man had obviously just been woken up, Chamblin looked much older than he had that morning.

  “So no one could find the woman who screamed.”

  It was a statement and one that Foster didn’t like agreeing with.

  “I couldn’t find the man Millie said she talked to either,” Foster added. “But I found a pretty decent footprint in the clearing. I took a few pictures while Deputy Park and Deputy Juliet looked around. But you know as well as I do that the Kintucket Woods are a beast all their own. I need a better search party.”

  Chamblin shook his head then lowered his voice.

  “You think the woman who screamed is still out here somewhere?”

  “I wish I knew,” Foster said. “But if she isn’t out there, then there’s a good chance the man could have taken her. Which is even more reason for us to look for evidence or something that could lead us to one or the other.” Foster let his voice drop so low that the sheriff leaned in to hear better when he continued. “As far as the public is concerned, this could be another Annie McHale situation in the making. A woman, now missing, in trouble in the woods? They’ll eat this up if we don’t handle it with every bit of attention we have.”

  The sheriff didn’t like that.

  “This is only an Annie McHale situation if I was the one to kidnap the girl and everyone and their dang mamas helped cover it up. And I sure as hell didn’t do that,” he said with a shake of his head. Disgust. Written across his expression just as it had been in his voice at the press conference announcing his acceptance of the role of interim sheriff. Anyone who respected the law and the duty to protect their people had deep anger and disbelief at those who had put Kelby Creek on the map for the worst reasons.

  It was still a sore subject to the sheriff now.

  Movement came from Millie’s car. Before the deputies had shown up she’d been at Foster’s side, helping him search the immediate area and clearing while recounting her conversation with the man in the coveralls. He’d already sent a description to the department but, like the deputies he spoke with in person, he’d been met with a hesitation once Millie’s name came out. Since the deputies had shown up she’d gone to her car. Now she opened the door and stepped out. Yet she kept her distance.

  Chamblin smiled her way but stayed in their conversation.

  “We have no evidence that a crime was committed and a witness who has been labeled as suspect,” he said matter-of-factly. “What if it was Millie Dean who screamed? What if she lied to you, Love?”

  Foster had already had the thought. He wouldn’t be a good detective if he hadn’t.

  Had Millie screamed? And if so, why?

  To distract him from whoever was running through the trees?

  Or had what made her scream been something she wished to keep secret?

  It was easy to hope that everyone was good and honest, but the harder pill to swallow was to admit that everyone lied about something.

  The question now became: Was Millie Dean lying about this?

  Foster could give the answer he hoped was true but decided to play devil’s advocate instead.

  “And what if she didn’t lie?”

  Chamblin nodded. “Even if we wanted to, we can’t ignore this. Not after Annie McHale.” The sheriff pulled his phone back out. “Tell Juliet and Park to keep searching. I’ll call Rudy in since he’s pretty familiar with the area to help go over it again. I’d call in our K-9 unit to be fast but, well, there isn’t one anymore.”

  “Another repercussion of Kelby Creek’s fall from grace,” Foster muttered. Chamblin nodded.

  “Send Millie home but tell her to come in tomorrow to make an official statement. No use losing more sleep tonight.”

  “I can go in with Rudy when he gets here,” Foster offered. Rudy Clayborn was the oldest deputy on the Dawn County Sheriff’s Department’s roster and an expert hunter. He had been longtime friends with Patricia Stillwater, the reigning champion of all things nature in Kelby Creek before him.

  Before The Flood.

  Now she was buried in the Kelby Creek Memorial Cemetery and Rudy was their go-to man when it came to combing the woods.

  “Sounds like a plan,” the sheriff responded, eyes trailing to his phone.

  Foster felt the excitement of a plan start to unfurl within him. Plans either worked out or didn’t. Either way, they got results. Sti
ll, Foster paused before enacting the new one.

  “By the way, what’s your take on her and her brother?” he asked. “Everyone at the department seems to already have an opinion.”

  It was easy to see what the others thought of the Dean family, but Chamblin had always been an introspective and politically conscious man. He didn’t stir any pots unless he was sure of their ingredients.

  The sheriff sighed, chest deflating. A look of sympathy folded into his expression.

  “Whatever Fallon Dean did or didn’t do, the fact is that there’s always been one person who couldn’t avoid the fallout.” He glanced over to Millie. “And she’s still standing. I surely won’t be the one who tries to knock her down, so I’m going to keep doing my job. We need to get this all figured out ASAP.”

  It was a good answer. It was also the end of their conversation.

  Foster went to the woman still standing.

  Dark eyes watched his every move until he stopped across from her.

  “We’re going to keep searching this place, but you’re free to go home,” he told her. “I just need you to come into the department tomorrow to make an official statement. The sooner the better.”

  “I work at the grocery store tomorrow but not until lunch,” she said with a nod. “I can come in in the morning.”

  “Good. That’ll work.”

  A moment of quiet fell between them. Millie looked unsure of something and Foster could feel his own questions trying to convince him to interview her fully right now on the spot. But unsure wasn’t the only feeling that came across her expression. Foster could tell she was tired, afraid and worried.

  So, he decided to wait until the next day to dig deep.

  He might not have known Millie Dean, but something in his gut told him although she was trouble with a capital T, she wasn’t malicious.

  He hoped he could trust her.

  “I’ll see you in the morning,” he added after a stock smile.

  Foster started to turn but a hand stayed his elbow. When he looked back at the woman, she dropped her touch and met his gaze.

  “I was hoping Fallon would be here, that he had really just gone on his own six months ago and had finally decided to come back on the anniversary. He’s an artist, so I thought he might try to be poetic about it. But I knew deep down that he wouldn’t be there. Still, it was nice to have hope.” Millie’s body tensed visibly. She glanced toward the trees, then back. “I don’t understand why that man was out there looking for Fallon tonight, but I don’t think he was out there looking for hope.”