With every step he took, anger and frustration thrummed through him. He’d said more than he’d intended, and in doing so he’d told Charleigh something he never should’ve. Not that he’d said it outright, but the implication was there and she was a smart woman. She’d put it together and either think Holden was behaving like a jilted lover—therefore lying—or she’d know the truth.
For years, he’d remained silent about a lot of things. Too many things. The reason why he’d left her was at the top of the list. Paul cheating on Charleigh was a half-click down. Something Holden never understood was why, after Paul finally got what he wanted, did he defile it in the worst way? The fuck of it was, Paul hadn’t been careful. It seemed that anytime the asshole had shown up where Holden was, he’d made a whole production out of picking up a woman. For the life of him, he could never figure out his play.
Why would a man deliberately try to sabotage his marriage? Unless he wanted Holden to tell Charleigh so Paul could deny it, accuse Holden of lying, and drive the wedge in deeper. It had been unnecessary, Holden had done that all by himself. There wasn’t a wedge between him and Charleigh, there was an abyss of pain between them.
A chasm that Holden had dug with one incredibly bad decision.
How had his life spiraled so far out of control?
The vibrating stopped only to start again, and with a petulant sigh, he yanked his phone out and saw Nixon’s name on the display.
“Yeah?” Holden rudely snapped.
“I’m not even gonna bother asking what’s crawled up your bunghole because I’m fairly certain you’re finally coming to terms with the multitude of ways you fucked up, which would mean that stick that’s been up your ass is being twisted.”
“Is there a reason you called?” he asked as he crossed the intersection.
“Jonny’s here.”
“Know that. I’m looking at his truck.”
Holden continued to scan the street and saw Chasin’s Charger and Weston’s Jeep parked in front of the office.
“We’ll wait for you to brief.” Nixon hung up and Holden slowed his pace, needing all the extra time he could get before he faced his friends.
By the time Holden entered the office, his thoughts were no less heavy.
He’d screwed up again. Damned if he did, damned if he didn’t. There was no winning this battle and his best course of action was to stay away from Charleigh. He’d caused enough turmoil and pain.
“Conference room,” Nixon unnecessarily called out.
Holden shoved all thoughts of Charleigh to the back of his mind and locked them up where they belonged—in a box marked, do not open. Unfortunately, the padlocks were weak, the catches too flimsy to keep him from accessing the memories anytime he wanted. Which was daily. He had an unhealthy fixation on his past. It had been the only time in his life he’d truly been happy. It was hard not to lie in his bed and remember all the reasons why he’d fallen for Charleigh. And when the pain of losing her inevitably came, he used it to punish himself for being such a bastard.
“What’s going on?” Holden asked when he entered the room.
Everyone was there: Weston, Jameson, Chasin, Nix, Alec, Jonny, even Micky was sitting at the large table with her laptop open in front of her.
“Jonny’s got a case he needs to work through,” Nix answered.
This wasn’t unusual. Gemini Group had worked with the Kent County Sheriff’s Department many times.
“This is technically Vaughn’s case but something’s not sitting right,” Jonny started.
Vaughn Holbrook had been on Alec Hall’s team when they’d served in the Navy. They’d been stationed in San Diego so Holden had never crossed paths with the man. But Nixon had when he’d gone to California for training. Vaughn had separated from the Navy before any of them had and spent years wandering around until Alec had reached out and pulled him into the fold. Nixon offered the former SEAL a job at Gemini Group but he’d declined and joined the sheriff’s department.
One could say Vaughn wasn’t open to connections. The man made Jameson look friendly and in comparison made Holden seem well-adjusted. However, by all accounts, Vaughn was a good deputy who simply enjoyed solitude and isolation. Holden could understand the need for both. That was one reason he lived alone in his Airstream.
“Does this have to do with the two girls from a few weeks ago?” Holden inquired.
They’d found the girls, unharmed but freaked the fuck out. They’d been no help identifying the man who’d taken them.
Jonny scrubbed his hands over his face, and when he looked up, regret was clearly visible. “We’re missing something. The pieces are all here.”
“What’s your gut telling you?” Jameson inquired.
“Not sure. But something is not right.”
Jonny slid a file folder to the middle of the table. “This is from a year ago. A report was filed by the parents of a seventeen-year-old girl. They waited until she was two hours late for curfew, then they started calling her friends. An hour later, they called the KCSD to file a missing person report. She was found a few hours later sleeping in her car.”
“Out drinking and didn’t want to go home and get busted by her parents?” Weston tossed out.
“If her shirt hadn’t been torn, two fingernails hadn’t been broken, and pure terror wasn’t in her eyes, I’d say yes. But that was the story she gave to us and her parents.”
“Her parents didn’t question how her shirt was torn?” Nixon asked as he picked up the file and opened it.
“They did. She told them she was at a party with some girlfriends and they were jacking around and she accidentally ripped her shirt. The parents were overcome with relief that their daughter was safe, they didn’t question whether or not she was actually unharmed.”
Holden glanced at the report Nix had pulled from the file and waited for Jonny to continue.
“Next one, missing person report filed by parents when their sixteen-year-old was three hours late coming home. She showed up when the deputies were there taking the report. Unfortunately, both officers were in the house so they didn’t see the car that dropped her off. Her story was, she had a boyfriend who lived in Delaware, they’d lost track of time. However, the deputy noted her makeup was smeared and it looked like she’d been crying. Her skirt had blood on it, and she wasn’t wearing shoes. In that case, the dad was so pissed he asked the officers to leave. The last thing they noted was faint bruising on her wrists and ankles.”
Jonny paused and pulled out another file.
“This one.” He stopped again and cleared his throat. “Was my case. Six months ago, I was on shift and got called out to a noise complaint out on Perkins Hill Road. The caller said it sounded like cars were racing. Something that happens on that stretch of road a lot. We went out there, and indeed there was a group racing, but there was also a large gathering of cars in front of the Morgan residence. Two squads took care of the boys racing and I went to the house. The Morgans were out of town, leaving their eighteen-year-old son, Tyler, home alone. Kids scattered like cockroaches, a few were given alcohol citations, and the two twenty one year olds were given a summons for distributing alcohol to minors.”
Jonny looked around the table, shook his head, then glanced back at the report. “Molly Buchannan. I found her outside about thirty feet from the main house, behind a barn. When I walked up she was adjusting her clothes. I gave her a moment to get herself presentable and walked her back to the house. Mascara was running down her cheeks, she had scratch marks on her arms, and she was visibly terrified. She was also sober. She swore she was just embarrassed she’d been caught with her boyfriend and nothing had happened. Since she was sober, not breaking any laws, I had no reason to detain her. I did follow up with her parents and they said she was upset with herself because her friends had talked her into going to the party and there was drinking going on. I had no evidence a crime had been committed so there was nothing further I could do. But there are some things you jus
t know in your gut but can’t prove. Whatever had happened to her was not consensual.”
“Playing Devil’s advocate here,” Weston said. “But getting caught by the cops having sex with your boyfriend would probably freak any teenage girl out.”
Undeterred by Weston’s comment, Jonny continued.
“Three months ago, a fourteen-year-old girl was reported missing at midnight when her mom heard a car stop in front of her house. The way the mom tells it, she had a bad feeling and went to check on her daughter. She found her daughter missing, the bedroom window unlocked and left open a couple of inches. The mom wasted no time calling the KCSD. The girl called her mom at five the next morning asking her to come pick her up from McDonald’s. Her story was, she’d snuck out and gone to a party in Queen Anne county. She refused to give any names because she was a freshman and they were seniors and she didn’t want to snitch. She’d rather take the heat from her mom than be shunned at school. Kimberly Lot committed suicide last month.”
Jesus fuck.
“Any prior issues with mental health?” Holden asked, then followed up with, “How did she look when you picked her up from the McDonald’s?”
“No prior issues on record. It was a shock to her teachers, coaches, and family.” Jonny held Holden’s gaze and he braced for Jonny’s next answer. “We took Kimberly’s mom to pick her up and all it took was one look at the girl’s dead eyes to tell she’d been violated. We brought in a female deputy and social services but Kimberly insisted nothing had happened, she was just scared her mom was going to be mad since she snuck out. And she said she was upset because the girls she thought were her friends left her at the McDonald’s instead of driving her home.”
Before Holden could process the horror of a young girl taking her life and the possibility of what could’ve been done to her that night, Micky spoke.
“You have a pattern. Every three months to the day.” Micky looked up from her laptop. “You also have a type. All blondes, all in high school. There’s a reason these girls aren’t reporting what happened to them. My guess would be he’s much older and someone in a position of power, or perceived power. The girls are scared of him—he likely threatened to harm them if they talked, maybe told them no one would believe them, or he could’ve threatened their families.”
“That’s my opinion as well,” Jonny agreed. “And the two girls we found, they were taken three months after Kimberly. Both blondes.”
“If you’re working a profile, Elliana and Ayla don’t fit. They said they were together the whole time.”
“Upping the thrill factor,” Jameson tossed out, and Holden’s stomach revolted at the suggestion.
Holden hadn’t been with Jonny, Nixon, and Weston when they’d found the girls but he’d heard the story they’d given Jonny and it didn’t add up. From start to finish, it sounded like bullshit. The girls said they’d been at a bonfire with a group of friends when they’d wandered off and gotten lost. Holden and Jameson had searched the stretch of beach they’d claimed to have been at and there was no evidence of a bonfire or a party. And there was the small detail that the road they’d been found on was over ten miles away from where the party had supposedly happened. Not to mention there were a lot of hours unaccounted for between the mid-afternoon when neither set of parents could get ahold of their children and when the party started. And another long stretch of time from when they’d wandered away from their friends and when they were found.
“Have they changed their story?”
Jonny frowned and nodded. “So many times, I’ve lost count.”
“What about the nine-one-one caller?” Nixon inquired.
After hours of searching, they’d caught a break when the 911 call came in from a motorist that two young girls were walking down a dark country road in the wee hours before dawn. The caller was a man, had told the dispatcher he didn’t want to approach and scare the girls but he’d keep them in his sights until units could arrive.
“His name’s Cory Saddler. He said he didn’t see anything. No other cars on the road, he didn’t pass anyone else walking. Just Elliana and Ayla.”
“Do you know this guy?” Weston asked.
“I know of him,” Jonny answered. “His daughter, Miranda, graduated a few years ago. Went to Ole Miss on a full ride.”
“Academic?” McKenna rejoined.
“Soccer. Cory coached rec soccer until Miranda went to the high school, then he started coaching there. He still does.”
A tingle of concern hit Holden and he glanced at Nixon. The apprehension he saw there confirmed he wasn’t the only one who didn’t like the sound of the 911 caller having ties to the high school.
“What was Cory doing out on Caulks Field Road at four in the morning?”
“Leaving for work. He lives in Rock Hall and works in Annapolis. He leaves early to avoid the Bay Bridge traffic.”
“That’s mighty early,” Weston noted. “As in two hours earlier than he needs to. Is he married?”
“Divorced.”
“Did you ask his ex-wife if this was normal?”
Jonny’s face bleached and he shook his head. “No. I didn’t question anyone in regard to Cory. Why would he call in the sighting if he had something to hide?”
“Cover. Establishing doubt,” Micky started. “He’d call it in to do exactly what you’re doing right now—dismissing him.”
“I’ll contact his ex-wife.”
“What do you need from us?” Nixon shuffled the papers in front of him.
“I need a fresh set of eyes. If this is what I think it is, we have just about two months before he’ll find his next victim. Something happened to one or both of those girls and they’re lying through their teeth. Something also happened to the other four girls but they’re shit scared and won’t talk. Vaughn and I are working it on our end but Kent County’s experiencing a crime wave and we’re low on resources. I can’t give this case the manpower it deserves. I need your help.”
“Anything you need,” Alec joined the conversation. “How open is Kimberly Lot’s mom to talking to the police? She might be the key.”
Jonny’s guilt-ridden gaze went to Alec and Holden felt bad for the man. This last year had not been good for him personally, and by the sound of it, he was taking hits professionally as well.
“She is, or she was, a single mom. Kimberly’s father lives in Florida. As expected, she’s completely undone. We offered victims assistance and she turned it down. Her house is on the market and last I heard she wants away from Cliff City as fast as that can happen. She might be open to talking, but I recommend sending in McKenna.”
“I can do that. I’d be interested in looking around Kimberly’s computer and phone.”
“Appreciate your help on this. I’ll leave the files. Let me know if you need anything else. Vaughn knows I was coming here today to ask for help. He’s good but he’s new, so he appreciates the help as well.”
Jonny stood and the rest of the men followed. Holden and Chasin stayed in the conference room with Micky while the rest of the team walked Jonny out.
“How’d the talk go?” Holden looked at his friend and shook his head. His conversation with Charleigh still churned in his gut, the bitter taste of his words still on his tongue.
“We’re not going there.”
They were stuck in a never ending circle of grief, and no matter what Holden did, he couldn’t find the off-ramp. He had no clue how to end their misery. She needed to move on and find a good man, not only for her but for Faith as well.
Saliva pooled in his mouth at the thought.
And with all due haste, he hightailed his ass out of the office.
7
“So,” Kennedy started, and I turned from watching Tank chasing Faith around the backyard to my friend. “Time to spill.”
“What?”
“I’ve given you ample time to get to know me. You trust me with Faith. So, now it’s time you spill the beans.”
She was asking about
Holden.
Shit.
The last thing I wanted to do was dig through painful memories—not only because the shame that came with that time in my life was something I’d tried hard not to think about. I glanced back at my daughter and my heart started to throb. My daughter was the best thing that had ever happened to me. But the heartbreak that surrounded her conception still stung.
“You’re hurting and stressed out,” Kennedy went on. “I can see it, we all can. But today it’s worse. Did the Towlers do something new?”
I needed a friend. I had to talk to someone about what was going on or I was going to explode.
With one more glance at Faith to make sure she was happily occupied with Tank, I launched in.
“Holden came over.”
“Today?”
“Twenty minutes after you left. He showed up, said he wanted to talk, and pushed his way inside my house.”
Kennedy gave me big eyes and said, “I kinda thought he was avoiding you. I know, you know, that we all know, you and Holden used to be together, then you…well…you…um…”
“Got pregnant and married Paul. Who happened to be one of Holden’s teammates and friends,” I offered in an effort to put her out of her stammering misery.
“Well…I’m sure it’s way more complicated than that. I’ll be honest with you, I was curious, I mean we all are about what happened. I asked Jameson but he wouldn’t tell me anything. McKenna knows some, but obviously not directly from Holden.”
I was surprised to hear that. I’d actually thought that Holden would’ve happily painted me as the bad guy.
“You’re surprised to hear that,” Kennedy noted.
“Yeah. I figured the way things ended, he’d be all too happy to make me sound like a cheating bitch. Which I’m not. I never cheated on him.”
I fidgeted on the wrought iron chair, pulled my scarf tighter, and wondered if I was doing the right thing. Kennedy was married to Jameson. Holden and Jameson were close, they worked together. It probably wasn’t right unloading my burdens on her.
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