by Brenda Novak
“Standing still while someone takes a photograph doesn’t require a huge effort.”
It could, Micah thought. He had no idea what was involved. He only knew that some of those photographs had been stunning, had literally stolen his breath. “Maybe she misses you.”
The resulting silence led Micah to believe he’d surprised Ed with that suggestion.
“No, she would’ve been in touch if that was the case,” he said when he rallied.
“She could miss Randy...”
“He hasn’t heard from her, either.”
“Then I’m out of guesses.” It certainly wasn’t because she missed him, as much as Micah wished otherwise. No one liked the idea that the person they’d loved more than any other could walk away so easily and not regret it in the end.
“She’s staying with Paige for now,” Ed said. “But Paige told me she’s looking to rent a place, which means she plans to be in town for a while.”
Micah wasn’t feeling good about this call, and it went beyond Paige’s actions, since Ed was bound to find out Sloane was in town sooner or later, anyway. “Is that a problem?”
“Not unless she tries to stir up a bunch of drama.”
Micah leaned back in his chair. “And how would she do that?”
“She was so traumatized by her mother leaving that she’s always blamed me, prefers to believe I did something to send her mother away rather than face the truth.”
This was the closest Ed had ever come to referencing the reason for the rift between him and his daughter. “It is strange that no one has ever heard from Clara again, don’t you think?”
Dead silence. “What are you saying?”
The temperature had dropped by fifty degrees. “I’m not accusing you of anything—”
“That’s good,” Ed broke in, “because I wouldn’t take kindly to it.”
It didn’t take much to offend a proud man like Ed. The mayor felt he was above reproach. While that was something Micah could overlook when they were playing golf, Ed’s arrogance bothered him now. “I’m just trying to understand where she might be coming from. I’m looking at the situation from her perspective.” After all, Ed had been a grown man when everything went down; surely he had to have been in a better position to withstand the pain and psychological damage than his two children. Why couldn’t he be a bit softer, have a little patience and understanding instead of seeing only how it affected him?
Because he was too selfish? Or was there something more going on, as Sloane suspected?
“Losing a mother is hard on a child,” Micah said, “especially when you’re talking complete and utter abandonment.”
“I’ve never allowed Sloane or Randy to want for anything. They were fine without her.”
Ed had brushed Micah’s statement away as if it had no merit. But parenting wasn’t as simple as making sure Sloane and Randy had food to eat and clothes to wear. Ed couldn’t replace their mother.
Micah wanted to say so, but he bit his tongue. This wasn’t his fight. “I can’t imagine Sloane has ever accused you of not taking care of her basic needs.”
“I’m glad to hear she’s given me a little credit.”
“She isn’t a mean person.”
“Yeah, well, we’ll see. If you hear anything from her, you’ll let me know, won’t you?”
Micah hesitated. He was getting the impression that Ed was preparing for a fight with his daughter by making sure everyone in Millcreek stood with him. Micah didn’t have the best feelings toward his ex-girlfriend, but he couldn’t bring himself to turn on her, even if there was some validity to the argument that she deserved it. He would always act to protect her, if he could. Love did that to a person. “She has no reason to contact me, so I’m sure I won’t hear anything.”
As soon as he disconnected, Micah almost called Paige. He wanted to ask what the hell she was doing going to Ed’s office with the news that Sloane was back. He also wanted to know why she’d invited Sloane to stay with her in the first place. Sure, they’d once been close. But a lot had changed since then. Micah knew how terribly jealous his ex-wife could be, how many times Paige had thrown Sloane’s name in his face and blamed her for their marriage not working. Sloane was trusting the one person who hated her most in the world.
“You’d better be careful,” he murmured as if Sloane could hear him. He could imagine her assuming the best. She hadn’t been around for the past decade, had no idea that Paige might be less than committed to her well-being. But he wound up shoving his phone in his pocket instead of confronting Paige. She’d make too much of it, take his involvement as proof that he still had feelings for Sloane. And that would only make matters worse.
He pushed away from the desk. He needed to worry about his own life; it was time to go home and unpack.
CHAPTER FIVE
Mrs. Winters—or Vickie, as she now insisted on being called—kept a close eye on the window as she gestured for Sloane to have a seat in her blue-and-gold 1970s living room. She was so preoccupied with what was or wasn’t happening in the street that Sloane couldn’t help glancing back over her shoulder.
“Is everything okay?” Sloane saw nothing noteworthy.
Vickie’s dark hair showed significant gray at the roots, reinforcing the sense that she might be coming undone. “Fine.”
Sloane didn’t feel as though everything was fine, but, in an effort to be polite, she didn’t press the issue. “How’s Sarah?”
“She’s...okay, I guess. I had to put her in a facility in June. As you know, I did my best to care for her here at home. I had her with me for thirty-seven years, but her health was beginning to deteriorate—she has a congenital heart condition, among many other things—and I didn’t have the strength to continue lifting her and bathing her, that sort of thing.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It got very difficult there at the end. She started acting irrational, throwing fits, being temperamental. It wasn’t like her.”
Sarah’s father had been a wealthy trial attorney, but he’d left Mrs. Winters—Vickie, Sloane reminded herself—shortly after Clara went missing. So Vickie had been on her own with Sarah for much of her daughter’s life. “You’ve been an amazing mother, always so loving and kind.”
“Thank you. You were kind to her, too. Don’t think I didn’t notice. So many of the other kids were—” her gaze fell to the dated and well-worn carpet “—well, cruel.”
Sloane remembered the jibes and taunts chucked at Sarah like rocks. A few of her closest friends, even Paige, had been some of the worst offenders. I can’t believe you have to go to that retard’s birthday, she’d say. But Sloane had never felt that way. She’d always been grateful she didn’t have the same challenges, could never understand such a lack of compassion. “She deserved better.”
Vickie’s forehead creased as though the memory pained her. “You always tried to stick up for her.”
“I understood what it was like to be teased.” For her height. She hadn’t become attractive until she grew into her arms and legs and her braces had come off.
“Some people have to go through so much...” Vickie’s words trailed off as her attention suddenly shifted. “Ah, there he is.”
Sloane twisted around in time to see a silver Mercedes roll past the house. She couldn’t make out the driver’s face, but she didn’t need to. “You’ve been watching for my father?”
“Yes. He’s a little later than usual tonight. Something must’ve held him up.”
That Ed was just returning meant he hadn’t been home when Sloane fled his house. It was a relief to know that. But then...who’d quieted the dog?
Maybe no one. She found it a little hard to believe that her father’s German shepherd had given up so easily. But if no one else was there, she had no other explanation. “I’m glad he’s late. I was hoping to avoid him,” she said so
that Vickie wouldn’t think she’d gone to visit him and would now wish to go back.
“When I saw you hurrying to your car, I thought that might be the case. Did Simone come out and chase you off, then?”
“Simone?”
“The woman he’s seeing right now. I believe they met on some dating site.”
That explained the dog. Someone was home; it just hadn’t been her father. “They live together?”
“No. She has her own place in Dallas. Owns a PR company there, so they live mostly separate lives. Your father likes it that way. But she comes out every now and then to stay for a day or two.”
Vickie sure seemed to be keeping a close eye on Sloane’s father. Was there a reason? “I wondered if he was seeing someone.”
“Simone doesn’t always come to the door. She’s not from here, doesn’t seem to feel as though she should have to deal with the ‘locals.’”
“I didn’t knock. I wanted to see the old place without risking a confrontation.”
“Is that why you’re back?”
The directness of the question made Sloane shift uncomfortably. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Are you in Millcreek for a quick visit because you’re homesick? Or are you planning to stay?”
Vickie seemed to be digging for something.
“I’ll be here for several months, maybe longer.” Sloane didn’t address the reason for her return. Neither did she state that she was going to rent a house in the River Bottoms, which meant they’d soon be neighbors.
“That’s what your father said.”
Sloane gritted her teeth. Here was further proof that Ed had known she was coming before she arrived. “He mentioned I’d be visiting?”
“Yes. He also made a point of telling me that you may have some ‘foolish ideas’ in your head.”
“Like...”
“He didn’t explain, but I took it to mean he’s concerned you might be returning to search for your mother. He asked me to let him know if I heard from you.”
Sloane clasped her hands tightly together. It wasn’t much of a surprise that her father had guessed her reason for coming home, but she was taken aback by the fact that he was already working to poison the people of Millcreek against her and anything she might say. How many others had he spoken to? “Is that why you invited me in? So you can report back?”
“Lord, no,” Vickie said, but clearly she had some purpose. What was it? She seemed to be feeling her way along, making sure it was safe. “I’m guessing Ed wasn’t an easy man to live with...”
He hadn’t been. He was particular, autocratic, always right, proud to a fault and, when he spoke to his children, he had no filter. But there were worse fathers. If it was true what he claimed about their mother—that Clara had run off and abandoned them—Sloane owed him a lot more than she did Clara. At least he’d stuck around, provided for them, raised them to adulthood. Her brother had made that argument many times while they were growing up: What if he had left us, too?
But what if their mother didn’t return because she couldn’t return? What if they could’ve had the love they’d been denied? And what if Ed was to blame?
Sloane struggled to come up with a response to Vickie’s assertion that Ed hadn’t been an easy man to live with that fell somewhere near the intersection of honesty and diplomacy. She had to be careful what she said, had no idea what might get back to him. “He can be a...challenge.”
“A challenge...”
“Yes.” Sloane cleared her throat. “Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but what is it you want from me?”
Vickie seemed torn, but she soon scooted forward. “You were always a nice girl, so I’m going to take it on faith that you’ve turned into a nice adult and be up front with you. I’m not your father’s biggest fan. I let him put a campaign sign in my yard when he was up for reelection. We live on the same street, after all. But I’ve never voted for him, and—” her chest lifted as she took a deep breath “—that’s because I believe he had something to do with your mother’s disappearance.”
Sloane felt her eyes open wider. She’d only been back a day, and she’d already found someone else who doubted her father’s story?
“I realize that might be shocking to hear,” Vickie continued, “but I thought you might also suspect. I thought that might be at the root of the problems between you. Forgive me if...if I’m wrong. It’s a difficult subject to broach.”
She wasn’t wrong. But Sloane still struggled to admit the suspicion she’d hidden for so long. She’d be accusing her father of murder, a man who had no criminal history—the mayor, for crying out loud.
She didn’t want to ruin his reputation if she was wrong.
But she’d known she’d have to risk being wrong, and all the attendant damage it would cause, when she chose to return to Millcreek. There was no way she could take up for her mother without attacking her father’s explanation of that night.
A bead of sweat rolled between her shoulder blades even though it was plenty cool in Vickie’s house. “What makes you believe he might’ve been involved?”
Vickie got up and began to pace. “I saw something that night. But if I tell you about it, you’ll have to keep it to yourself. It wouldn’t be enough to bring him down, so there’s nothing to be gained by letting him know I’m not the friend I pretend to be.”
“If what you saw is something the police should know, I’ll be duty-bound to speak up.”
“No, you won’t. Not yet. You’ll have to gather a lot more than what I’m about to tell you for it to make a difference, especially around here. So there’s no use getting him all riled up at me, making my life more difficult than it is already.”
Sloane stood, too. “I’m not out to make life harder for anyone.”
Vickie pivoted at the edge of the room and came back. “I believe that.”
“I promise, even if I have to divulge what you tell me, I’ll do all I can to protect you as the source.”
“That might not help. The information alone might be enough that he can guess. But it’s not as though I can remain silent any longer, anyway.” She mumbled that last part mostly to herself. “It’s getting to where I can scarcely live with myself. Someone needs to do something—at least look at the possibilities.”
Sloane tilted her head to catch the older woman’s gaze. “You’re right about the rift between me and my father. That’s why I’m back—to figure out exactly what happened to my mother.”
Vickie hurried over and grasped her hands. “But instead of encouraging you to dig into the past, I should be trying to talk you out of it.”
“Why?”
Her voice fell to a harsh whisper. “Surely, you realize it’s not safe. He could kill us both. Make it look like an accident.” She abruptly released Sloane. “Heck, given who he is, he might not even have to make it look like an accident. Look what he did to your mother! He simply said she disappeared. It didn’t matter that it would be highly unlikely for a devoted wife and mother of two to leave her family—on foot, no less—in the middle of the night, never to be seen again. He’s never had to account for that!”
Sloane’s heart began to beat so loudly she could hear it thudding in her ears. She still loved her father, hated to believe he might be dangerous, especially to her. But if some part of her didn’t already believe that to be true, why was she still having nightmares? “I understand the risks.”
There it was. The naked truth. She was afraid her father wasn’t the man he pretended to be, that he was a calculated and cold-blooded killer—cold-blooded enough to come after her if he felt sufficiently threatened. Until this moment, she’d only ever admitted that to Clyde.
Vickie accepted her words with a solemn nod. “Okay, then, we might as well sit back down.”
An ominous feeling crept over Sloane as she perched on the edge of the c
hair she’d been using a moment earlier. This was the point of no return. Her next question could very easily be the question to open Pandora’s box...
“What’d you see the night my mother went missing?”
* * *
Ed McBride stood with one hand holding a glass of scotch and the other stroking the head of his dog while staring out the front window of his living room at the white Jaguar parked down the street. “She came here?”
Simone Gentry, who was curled up on the couch in her robe, took a sip of her own drink. Whenever she stayed over, and he had to work, she spent most of her time sleeping. She was one of those manic people who worked for days with little sleep and then crashed for an extended period, and when she crashed she often came to Millcreek because she didn’t know anyone here, didn’t feel any pressure to do anything. “She walked around in the yard. She didn’t ring the bell—not that I could hear above the ruckus Ruger was making.”
So she hadn’t come to see him. That caused him to tighten his grip on his glass. Who did Sloane think she was? Not even Randy dared to treat him as if he didn’t matter. And Sloane’s unexpected professional success only made things worse, because it made her feel powerful enough to take him on.
He’d show her that was a mistake. He wouldn’t allow anyone to get the best of him, even one of his kids—especially one of his kids. They owed him too much. “She went around back, you said?”
The ice in Simone’s glass clinked as she set her drink on the coffee table. “Must have. Someone shoved that old toy box in front of the doggy door so that Ruger couldn’t get out.”
“How long was she here, snooping around?”