by L. T. Ryan
Bear let the blinds slip closed and scratched his nails through his beard. He couldn’t stop thinking about what the sheriff had showed him the day before. All those gravestones from the last fifty years. So many people dying young. If there was a reason, some sort of conspiracy, why hadn’t anyone spoken up about it? Especially with all those kids missing.
Fear made people do crazy things. Like keep their mouths shut. If they knew anything about what happened to their neighbor’s kid, they wouldn’t say something for fear of what would happen to their own. But that kind of thinking only took the spotlight off you and yours. Some other poor sap would end up biting the bullet instead.
A dog barked outside, and Bear split the blinds again. A young couple with a cocker spaniel walked by, glancing up at the house. The woman pointed at the window. They must’ve seen him staring out because they ducked their heads and rushed off. For as much time as Bear had spent home over the last month, he’d never seen them before. How far had they walked just to get a glimpse of the house?
He backed away from the window. The urge to get out intensified, even if it meant risking someone tracking him down or asking him questions. He was a ticking time bomb, and every second he spent inside meant the pressure continued to build. He wasn’t doing himself any favors worrying about what would happen next. He was always better at taking action and dealing with the consequences.
Considering he’d have a night to himself, Bear jumped in his truck and headed to the grocery store. A nice steak, a couple of potatoes, and a bottle of vodka would do the trick. Not enough to make him sloppy, but enough to take the edge off. He’d relax tonight, get a good night’s sleep, and then regroup tomorrow. Soon enough, he’d decide one way or another—stay and figure out what the hell was going on or leave and find him and Mandy a new place to settle down. Preferably a less eventful town.
As soon as Bear entered the grocery store, he knew it had been a mistake. Both cashiers, two blonde teenagers, silenced their gossip at the sight of him and followed his every move as he grabbed a basket and headed down the first aisle. He could feel their gaze boring into the back of his head. It seemed some people did know who lived in that house.
Bear ignored the looks and the whispers. He felt more comfortable sticking to the shadows, but that wasn’t an option in a well-lit grocery store. Which meant he needed to get his stuff and get out. Go home. Eat. Drink. Sleep. Regroup.
His task list in mind, Bear grabbed the two largest russet potatoes he could find and tossed them into his basket. He added some onions and mushrooms to top his steak. If he weathered this storm, he wouldn’t have to come to the grocery store for most of this stuff in the future. It’d be in his back yard, ripe for the picking. Too bad you couldn’t grow steak from the dirt, too.
No one approached him until he was standing over beef cuts, trying to decide if he wanted to go big or go home. He saw the woman walk up to him from his side, but he kept his head down. She wasn’t being subtle, and he didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of thinking he had noticed her in any capacity.
It was only when she cleared her throat and tapped him on the arm that Bear looked up. She was about ten years older than him, with bottle-blond hair, a heavy face of makeup, and a wedding ring she hid behind her back as soon as she realized Bear had noticed it. One of her front teeth had a faint smear of lipstick.
“Hey,” she purred. She batted her eyelashes like Bear couldn’t see right through her performance. “My name is Sheila.”
Bear didn’t respond. He stared at her like he was mute.
She cleared her throat, some of her confidence draining away. “I just wanted to say I’m so sorry about what happened at your house the other day. What a tragedy.”
“Why are you sorry?” He screwed his face up into a puzzled expression. “Are you the one who killed her?”
Sheila took a step back. “No, of course not.”
“Oh. Then why are you apologizing?”
“I’m just, you know, sorry that it happened to you.”
“No, you’re not.” Bear couldn’t help but enjoy the way he’d thrown her off-kilter so easily. “I’ll give you credit, though. You were the only one brave enough to come up to me. Everyone else is just whispering behind my back.” He pointed at an elderly couple who startled and shuffled off in the other direction. Bear threw a pair of steaks into his basket. He didn’t even care if they were a good cut or not. “But it’s not going to happen, lady. I’m not interested.”
“Interested in what?”
Bear looked her up and down, then brushed by her. “Any of it.”
On his way to the registers, he rearranged his face into a scowl and broadened his shoulders so he’d look even bigger. The girl behind the counter didn’t make eye contact with him. She scanned his items while the other one bagged his groceries, and he was out of there in less than two minutes. It was a good thing he had vodka at home, because he wasn’t in the mood to stop anywhere else.
If Bear hadn’t already thought leaving was a mistake, by the time he pulled into his driveway, he’d confirmed it. A man stood in his front yard, snapping pictures of the house on a professional camera. Bear launched himself out of his truck, barely putting it in park first, but the man was too fast. He blurred as he sprinted off to the woods. He knew where he was going, aiming for the street parallel to this one on the other side of the trees.
Bear grabbed his groceries and stormed through the door. He tossed the bag on the counter and worked his way through the entire house. There were no surprises waiting for him. He walked the perimeter of the backyard and found everything undisturbed. Then he spent the next hour walking from window to window, peering through the blinds to make sure no one else spent longer than ten seconds looking at his house.
He glanced at the clock. Just past one in the afternoon. It was going to be a long evening, and no amount of steak or vodka would make it better.
12
Mandy sat in Laura Lynn’s basement with her knees to her chest and her arms wrapped around her legs. They were watching some terrible horror movie about a zombie cowboy. Laura Lynn kept falling asleep. Her head would drift to the side until the screaming started, then she’d jolt awake and pretend like she hadn’t missed a thing. Sure enough, two minutes later, she was asleep again.
But Mandy didn’t mind. This was the first sleepover she’d ever had. It was exciting to have a friend like Laura Lynn, even if Laura Lynn didn’t know everything about her. She wanted to tell Laura Lynn about everything she’d seen and experienced, but not because she wanted to brag. She wanted someone other than Bear to talk to. Someone her age who would be impressed and scared and sympathetic.
For all Bear did to keep Mandy safe, a lot of this stuff wasn’t a big deal to him. Sure, she’d caught him anxious or afraid or angry, but he knew how to deal with it. Roll with the punches, as he liked to say. Even though Mandy felt older than her fourteen years, sometimes she wanted to act like a kid. She hated the fact that she had to sit with her back against the wall or keep people in her peripherals, or check every room in the house before she could settle down for the night. It was exhausting.
The zombie cowboy ripped someone’s arm clean from its socket, and the man screamed in such a high-pitched voice it made Mandy giggle. Laura Lynn jolted awake again. She laughed along with Mandy, but her eyes were already drooping.
Mandy hit pause on the movie. “Okay, this movie was your idea, and you’re not even watching it.”
Laura Lynn groaned and pulled the blanket up over her head. She offered a muffled response, but Mandy couldn’t make out any words.
Mandy pulled the blanket back down. “What?”
“I’m sorry.” Laura Lynn looked like she meant it. “I’m so tired. I haven’t been sleeping well lately.”
“Why not? What’s going on?” Mandy lowered her voice. “Is it your dad?”
Mandy had only met Laura Lynn’s dad once, but she didn’t like him. He was always stressed out and an
gry, and he took it out on the rest of his family. He never hit them, at least as far as Mandy knew, but he was mean. Laura Lynn’s mother got the brunt of it, but Laura Lynn couldn’t escape it either.
“I don’t know.” Laura Lynn put her arms across her stomach. “I just haven’t been feeling very good lately. I keep getting cramps. Sometimes I throw up.”
Mandy lowered her voice even more. “Is it your period?”
Laura Lynn shook her head. “No. No. Definitely not. I thought maybe it was something I ate but then it kept getting worse. Perhaps I’m allergic to something?”
“That’s why you haven’t been eating lunch.” Mandy reached past Laura Lynn and grabbed her glass of water. “Here, chug this. I’ll go get some more. You might be dehydrated.”
Laura Lynn took a tiny sip and then hugged the glass to her chest. When Mandy narrowed her eyes at her, she took a few more sips before setting it down. “It hurts if I drink too much too fast.”
“Have you told your mom about it yet?”
She shook her head. “Don’t want to bother her with it. Figured it’d go away by now.” She blew a piece of hair from her face and turned to Mandy. She put on a brave look, but Mandy could see past it. “Anyway, how are you? We didn’t really talk about school today.”
Mandy looked away. Her first few classes had passed by in blissful ignorance, but when lunch rolled around, she couldn’t ignore the whispers anymore. It felt like every single person had been talking about the body Bear had found in their backyard. She’d even heard people referring to her as Septic Tank Girl. It made Mandy want to punch something. Or someone.
And she almost did. Pete had apparently not learned his lesson the first time around because it felt like he was leading the pack. He spread insane rumors that people would realize were lies if they took more than two seconds to think about them. Like saying the girl was Mandy’s sister or that Bear had buried the girl in their back yard and then felt so guilty, he called the police on himself. Most people didn’t seem to believe the rumors, but they still spread them from person to person anyway. And it all led to everyone looking at her like she was a charity case. She hated that feeling.
“It’ll blow over soon,” Mandy said, more for herself than Laura Lynn. “They’ll get bored, and something more exciting will happen, and they’ll forget about me.”
“More exciting than a dead body?” Laura Lynn winced and clutched her stomach tighter. After a few breaths, she seemed to relax. “I doubt it. Especially if Pete is out to get revenge. He’ll do anything to make the whole school hate you.”
“I’m not worried about it.” A half-truth. She didn’t need everyone to like her. Laura Lynn and Marcus were enough. “Besides, he’s in as much trouble as I am. He’s going to get even more detention when they find out he’s spreading the rumors.”
“How was detention today?”
Mandy shrugged. “Got all my homework done. Even with Pete shooting spitballs at me every time Mrs. Turner looked away.”
Laura Lynn opened her mouth to say something else when she closed her eyes and groaned. Mandy didn’t think it was possible, but she turned even whiter than before. Laura Lynn shot to her feet, and then just stood there. She looked torn between running out of the room and just collapsing on the spot.
“I don’t feel good.”
Mandy didn’t have time to ask her what was going on before Laura Lynn rushed to the bathroom and hunched over the toilet. She didn’t even bother closing the door. Next came the sound of heaving. Mandy rushed over and pulled Laura Lynn’s hair away from her face. She wasn’t sure what else to do.
After a few minutes, Laura Lynn slid away from the toilet and laid her head on the cool tile floor. If it wasn’t for her heavy breathing, Mandy might’ve thought she was dead. She reached down and checked Laura Lynn’s pulse. It was racing, and her wrist was slick with sweat.
“I’m going to get your mom.”
Laura Lynn groaned. Mandy thought she heard the world no somewhere in there.
Mandy hesitated. She didn’t want to get Laura Lynn in trouble, but she was worried about her friend. Maybe if she just drank more water and threw up a few more times, she could get it out of her system. But when Mandy turned to leave and grab her glass, she caught sight of the toilet, and her stomach clenched at the amount of blood.
13
When the doorbell rang, Bear intended to chase off whichever news reporter or nosy neighbor had been bold enough to see if they could get some answers out of him. His mood had soured to the point of active hostility. Part of him was glad Mandy wasn’t home to see him brooding, but the other part knew he would’ve kept it together better if she were here.
When he opened the door, he found himself face to face with McKinnon. He wasn’t sure if she was a welcome distraction, or if she’d end up making his evening worse. It depended on whether she came bearing bad news or good.
“Evening, Sheriff.” He didn’t bother reining in the gruff of his voice. “What’s up?”
“I’ve got some additional information on the girl. Thought you might like to hear it.”
Bear studied her face. It didn’t seem likely she had ventured to his neck of the woods to keep the homeowner informed—she wasn’t required to do that. It appeared as though she had invited herself over to see if she could shake any information loose. After yesterday’s events, he could see why. If her theory was correct and the conspiracy was as big as she thought, she could trust few people. Normally, you wouldn’t lean on the new guy in town, but he might be her only ally.
“Yeah, come in.” He stepped to the side, then shut the door and led her to the kitchen. “Tonight’s drink is vodka. You in?”
She tipped her head to the side in contemplation. “Yeah, I’ll have one.” She took it with a nod of thanks. “Rough day?”
“Assume you’ve seen the news?”
“Yeah. Sorry about that. We tried to keep it quiet, but people talk. Small town and all.” She sipped at her drink, then made a face. “Strong.”
“Puts hair on your chest.” Bear slammed his drink back and poured another. “I went to the store earlier and came back to a guy on my front lawn, snapping pictures like he works for Better Homes & Gardens.”
“Get a good look at him?”
“Not really. Tall, skinny. Dark hair. Fast.”
“Could be anyone.” McKinnon pointed at a kitchen chair, and when Bear nodded, she pulled it out and sat. “If they give you too much grief, call me. I can assign one of my guys to watch your house.”
Bear scoffed. He had to work his face back to a neutral position. “Appreciate the offer, but there’s nothing they can do that I can’t.”
“Legally?”
He shrugged. It was a slow, arrogant motion. “They won’t find any evidence. There’s nothing to find.”
“They don’t know that.”
“It’s more a pain in my elbow than anything. But I appreciate the offer.” Bear took a sip of his drink, topped it off, then sat down across from her. “What kind of information did you dig up?”
“Finding that piece of hair was a huge break. We’re very lucky it stayed preserved. Wouldn’t know half of what we do without it.” She let that sink in for a moment. “Her name was Katie Lamoureux. She was twelve years old. Almost thirteen.”
“Christ.” Bear tipped his drink back but stopped short of finishing it in one go. He knew she was young, but putting a number to it made it ten times worse. “She one of the missing persons?”
McKinnon nodded. “Went missing a couple days before her thirteenth birthday. Her parents said she wasn’t the kind of kid to wander off, but her best friend at the time said they had been planning to run away. Police looked for a bit. They figured that’s what happened when she didn’t show up. The best friend maintained Katie wouldn’t have run off without her.”
“Any connection between the Lamoureux family and the guy who owned this place—Olson?”
“Other than the fact that they both work
ed at HealTek, no. They were in different departments. Were they friends? Did they hang out? Grab lunch together? There’s no way of knowing, really. It was almost fifteen years ago now.”
“How’d she die?”
McKinnon pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket. “That’s where it gets interesting.” She unfolded it and spread it out between them. “She was poisoned.”
Bear leaned forward, trying to read the toxicology report. “There are worse ways to go.”
“I’m not so sure.” She pointed to the page. “Hypernatremia. She was dehydrated. Hyperkalemia. Too much potassium. Hyperglycemia. Too much blood sugar. The list goes on.”
“So, she was either a very sick kid, or—”
“She was poisoned.” McKinnon shook her head. “Her friend, Eileen, had stated she was having cramps and throwing up before she disappeared. The police didn’t think much of it since they determined way too soon she ran away.”
“Frequent vomiting explains the dehydration.”
“Hyperglycemia can cause vomiting. Too much potassium can make you weak.”
“I doubt she fell into that tank on her own,” Bear said. “Maybe someone poisoned her so she wouldn’t put up a fight?”
“She was a tiny kid.” McKinnon shook her head. “And from what I’ve read, pretty quiet. Kept to herself. Did well in school. Never got in trouble. I don’t think an adult would have to do much to overpower her or convince her to come with them.”
“So, intentional poisoning then.”
“The problem is, we don’t recognize what it is.” McKinnon folded up the paper and stuffed it back in her pocket. “I had my guys go through it three times. They matched these issues with the other trace elements in her system. Nothing adds up to any common poisons.”