Missing in Conard County

by Rachel Lee

  “Or maybe tonight is just too damn cold and you opened a warm door.”

  “Entirely possible.” He sighed, then settled cross-legged on the floor. “I’d feel like a monster throwing him out if he’s too cold but we do have a dog in here.”

  There was that inescapable fact. Just because she’d never seen Bugle chase squirrels or rabbits or anything like that didn’t mean he wouldn’t suddenly take a notion. “So you raised Regis, huh?”

  “Well, I wasn’t going to leave him to starve to death.”

  She was loving this view of Al. Hand-raising a squirrel? Letting the animal ride with him sometimes? The squirrel trusting enough to come inside even though there was a dog in here?

  She looked at Bugle, who was still eyeing the animal as if unsure how to react. “Bugle, okay. Relax.” Relax was a word she’d been using with him for the last few years and she had no idea if he grasped the concept. She was sure that dog understood more English than anyone realized, but she couldn’t always be certain which words made sense and how he might interpret them.

  Bugle shifted from one side to another, watching the squirrel, which seemed to be regarding him with at least some suspicion. He lowered himself slowly, reluctantly.

  “Solution,” said Al, rising. He walked out into his small kitchen and returned with a custard bowl full of sunflower seeds. “This’ll keep Regis happy. As for Bugle...we could take him and his rawhide into the bedroom with us if you’re still interested.”

  Still interested? She felt like a pot simmering on low heat, just waiting for the right time to boil. “Oh, yeah,” she answered.

  He smiled and held out his hand. “Not exactly the most romantic way to start out.”

  “I’m not looking for romance.” And she wasn’t. If there was ever to be any romance between them, it could come later. Tonight she wanted passion, fire and forgetfulness.

  Bugle picked up his bone and followed them into the bedroom. Behind her, Kelly could hear the squirrel cracking sunflower seeds.

  It was indeed as if she had entered a whole new world with Al, and when he drew her into his arms, she went with a leaping, eager heart. Had she spent all this time avoiding her attraction to him? Because it felt as if it had been deeply rooted in her forever.

  Impatience was winning, however. They’d spent enough time dealing with dogs and then a squirrel. She wanted him and wanted him now before anything else happened.

  He laughed quietly as she pulled at his shirt, and as their eyes met she saw both heat and delight in his gaze. He was as eager as she, and with every touch she seemed to lift out of herself until she felt she was floating in space.

  Their clothes vanished, although she couldn’t remember how and didn’t especially care. At long last came the moment when they tumbled onto his bed in glorious nakedness, nothing left between them but bare skin.

  The feeling of skin on skin was beyond compare, like nothing else in the world. She could feel the shackles of the everyday world letting go, could feel the freedom of being naked with a man and free to touch however she chose.

  An amazing exuberance filled her, joining the growing heat that made her breasts ache and caused her to throb hungrily between her legs.

  Running her hands over him, enjoying the way he moaned softly at her touches, she felt scars and signs of old injuries but ignored them for now. Nothing, absolutely nothing, was going to get in the way now. There would be later.

  His small nipples were already hard, as hard as hers seemed to be, and she couldn’t resist tonguing them and nipping gently, causing him to writhe and grab her shoulders. So much here to explore and discover. Sliding her hand down over his flat belly, she reached for his groin and found him stiff and ready, jerking at her lightest touch.

  Excitement rushed through her, stronger than ever. She had wakened this in him. The sense of power and delight overwhelmed her.

  She held him, stroking his silkiness softly, teasingly while she continued to torment the small buds of his nipples.

  Then he apparently had enough.

  He rolled her over and suddenly he was above her on his elbows, and the drowsy smile on his face promised more tortures to come. Tortures for her.

  His tongue trailed over her neck, at first making it warm, then a chill followed, a delicious shiver. She’d never guessed her neck could respond that way. She grabbed his shoulders, feeling as if she would fall over a cliff edge if she didn’t hang on for dear life.

  Evidently he was as impatient as she, because soon he trailed his kisses to her breasts, sucking gently at first, then so hard she felt as if he were going to consume her. With each movement of his mouth, he sent another wave of desire racing through her, making her feel as if electric wires joined her breasts and her loins. Like being strung on a welder’s arc, she burned for him.

  His fingers found the sensitive nub between her legs, and at his first touch she learned that pain and pleasure could be the same. He rubbed her, his touches growing harder until her hips bucked helplessly, and moans escaped her. She had become a mindless bundle of need and want and he seemed to know it.

  Then, at last, he slid over her and into her, filling her until everything inside her clenched with pleasure. Yesssssssss...

  His thrusts were powerful, each one causing another happy moan to escape her. She felt as if he were pushing her, driving her ever higher into a world of magic, a place where stars exploded and filled the night with wonder.

  Then came one last endless, almost painful moment when everything inside her seemed to pause in an infinite time of anticipation, where she almost feared she wouldn’t tumble over the edge into satisfaction.

  But with one last thrust, he brought her more pleasure and pain, the ecstasy of completion. Her world seemed to turn white like flame, and satisfaction rolled through her whole body like a powerful wave.

  A cry escaped her, then him, and she felt him shudder as he followed her over the cliff into completion.

  The world had slipped away, leaving her spent and happy, and secure in his arms. Nothing could be more perfect.

  Chapter Twelve

  The night passed too swiftly, yet not swiftly enough. Kelly slept better than she had any night since the teens disappeared, but even before the sun was up the anxiety began to fill her. The storm would arrive later today or early tomorrow. If they hoped to get any forensic evidence from where Misty had found that bone, this might be their only chance for a while.

  The girls’ lives might hinge on their speed.

  Al appeared to feel pretty much the same. They’d managed to put the pizza in the fridge last night before it could spoil, and now he pulled it out. “Cold pie okay? I wanna start calling.”

  “Absolutely.” Instead of feeding herself immediately, she took her bag into the bedroom and pulled out her fresh uniform. Bugle, who had spent the night at the foot of the bed, behaving himself, at once became alert. He loved to work.

  Once she’d dressed and straightened herself up in his small bathroom, she emerged to smell coffee, to see a squirrel watching the world from his artificial tree and to hear Al on the phone. Now he was talking to Gage.

  “It was Kelly’s idea. She’s thinking that Misty might remember where she found the bone, and I agree with her. Dogs don’t lose their bones.”

  Gage must have agreed, because a minute later Al was on the phone with Misty’s owners. It was early yet, but not as early as it might have been with the winter sun rising so late. The Avilas were agreeable to sharing their dog. They didn’t know exactly why, and she gathered that Al had never mentioned the bone to them. They were, however, glad to do whatever they could to help with the search.

  Good. They didn’t need to be feeling uneasy around their dog because he’d been playing with a human bone. He was just a dog, making no moral connection to the idea of not disturbing a corpse.

  They scarfed the p
izza down with unseemly speed, and Al filled an insulated bottle with the fresh coffee before turning the pot off. Then he opened the door. “Out, Regis. You can’t stay inside all day.”

  “Will he make a mess?” Kelly asked.

  “He already has with those seed shells, but that’s not what I’m worried about. He needs to be out doing squirrel things or I’ll start to feel like I’ve deprived him of a real life by hand-raising him.”

  Kelly flashed a grin even as her stomach turned over nervously in anticipation of the day ahead. “You made sure he has a life. Right now he looks pretty happy.”

  But Regis was still a squirrel at heart, and with the door open he dashed out into the cold day. A wind had begun to batter the world, heralding the coming bad weather.

  “I hope this storm doesn’t show up earlier than expected,” Kelly remarked as she pulled on her gloves and her watch cap.

  “We’ll do what we can. I’ll catch up with you once I have Misty. The place where we found her?”

  “Best place to start.”

  He caught her at the door before she could slip out and pressed a hard kiss on her mouth. “Later,” he said. “Tonight.”

  Oh, she had no problem with that idea.

  Bugle leaped up eagerly into his cage, and Kelly closed him in. He was going to need booties and his quilted vest today, she thought as the wind turned her cheeks almost instantly to ice.

  It was a relief to climb into the cab of her truck and get out of the wind. She suspected the heater would take a while before it started blasting. Worse, she saw that snowflakes were falling again. Lightly. Almost like a promise more than a threat.

  She had to face something, she realized as she drove back to the place on the country road where she’d found Al trying to corral Misty: finding the remains might not tell them a damn thing.

  She’d been hoping—she supposed everyone was still hoping—that they’d find the remains and find a clue. A clue as to what had happened, a clue as to who had done it. Would they? With a sinking stomach, she seriously feared they wouldn’t learn a single useful thing, and maybe not in time to save the other girls even if they did. How long would forensics take?

  No answers. They were racing into the teeth of a winter storm to gather evidence that might not save a single life. That might not help them find the perp.

  This was the part of police work she most hated, finding evidence that didn’t lead to the perp. Evidence that would be useful only once they found the baddie. Great in court, but no lighted road to the door of a killer or rapist.

  Nor any guarantee that they would find something to lead them to the other girls, if the bone did indeed come from one of them. No guarantee they could save their lives.

  No guarantees at all.

  * * *

  JANE AND CHANTAL huddled together beneath the stinking blankets. Upon awakening, Jane had remarked that there was more food and water. The thinnest stream of light that came through a crack in the boards over the window had become, for the girls, almost as bright as a midday sun. It was the only light they ever saw, and somehow they adapted.

  They found, too, that they’d each had one hand released from the chains. They used the slightly increased mobility to double the blankets and give themselves a little more warmth in their cocoon as they downed the power bars with the aid of water. Neither of them cared anymore if the water was drugged. Sleep was now preferable to wakefulness.

  “We’re never going to get out of here,” Jane said.

  “We can’t be sure.” But in all honesty, Chantal figured she was going to die in this hole. All eating and drinking did was forestall the inevitable. But she didn’t want to say that to Jane. Having both of them suicidally depressed would help nothing at all.

  She pushed up as best she could to pick out the place where they’d stuffed strands of yarn from her bright green sweater. Only one strand appeared to be left in the crack. Not enough to be seen by anyone.

  “Finish that bar,” she said wearily to Jane. “We’re going to unravel some more of my sweater, make a bigger flag to shove out there.”

  Jane merely sighed, as if an answer required more strength than she had. Minutes passed before she appeared to find energy to reply. “You tear down that sweater too much and you’re going to freeze to death.” She paused. “It doesn’t matter, does it?”

  “Of course it matters or I wouldn’t be trying. We’re going to make this as big as we can fit into that crack. This color ought to stand out like neon.” The winter countryside now was so washed out with shades of winter brown and gray-green that any bright color ought to catch attention. She pulled at the yarn, trying to gather her exhausted thoughts into an idea of what to do with this to make it more noticeable. That crack, after all, wasn’t very big. Long streamers had evidently been pulled out by the wind. So maybe a big ball to anchor them. She yanked more yarn out of the sweater.

  Then Jane caused a new and different kind of chill to run through Chantal. “When he brought this last water and food, I saw his face. If we could get out, I could identify him.”

  Chantal stared blindly into the near darkness, her fingers growing still. If he hadn’t concealed his face, he meant for them to die here. She’d begun to suspect it but facing the reality made her quail deep inside. She didn’t want to die. She was only eighteen. There were so many things she had always wanted to do. A tear burned in her eye, but it was wasteful and she was almost perpetually dehydrated in the icy air, despite the water bottles. The tear never escaped and she sought to stabilize her reeling emotions. “Jane?”

  “Yeah. I know. God help me, if I get a chance...”

  “Who is he?”

  “We saw him playing pool at the tavern with another guy. I could point him out. I could describe him. So could you. He was the shorter one.”

  Chantal flashed back to what had since become the last happy moments of her short life, and she did indeed remember. Ick. What a creep! Was she going to let him win?

  Sudden strength infused her limbs and she started pulling at the yarn of her sweater once again. “We’re going to get out of here, Jane. Our parents won’t quit. They won’t let anyone quit. We’ll get out of here if I have to knit us booties for our feet with my teeth. But right now we need to poke out the biggest flag I can put together. Someone will see it because I swear they haven’t stopped looking.”

  “Maybe not,” Jane said tiredly. “Mary Lou...”

  “We can’t afford to think about her now. I’m afraid...”

  “Me, too.” Jane fell silent, then said, “Want me to try to braid some of those strands?”

  “Good idea. The wind’s probably getting strong enough to blow them around. Let’s make them longer and fatter.”

  As she ruthlessly ripped yarn from her sweater into long lengths, she sawed it with her teeth to separate it so Jane could braid it.

  “I never imagined,” Jane muttered, “that braiding my horse’s mane for the county fair would come in useful.”

  Under any other circumstances, Chantal would have laughed. But some creep had stolen her laughter. She wanted it back.

  * * *

  THE CREEP IN question had closed the shutters over the windows of his ramshackle house to better withstand the coming storm. He pulled his pickup into the lean-to that would provide some shelter. He’d already stocked up on supplies, and even had extra thanks to all the energy bars and water he’d bought for those girls. So if he got snowed in and for some reason lost the use of his water pump, he’d be fine.

  And they’d be dead.

  Crazy, he thought. He’d wanted to make them his slaves, to whip them into line and make them serve him in any way he decided. Now they were going to die because of Spence’s stupidity and a coming storm that would probably suck the last life out of them with its cold.

  He ought to be furious. Instead he only felt two things
: fear that he might have left evidence on that stuffed rabbit he’d overlooked, and a strangely warm feeling about those girls dying.

  Odd, he’d been mad when he killed the first one. She’d infuriated him and gotten her just deserts. He hadn’t felt then what he was feeling now: a kind of pleasurable delight not unlike sex.

  Those two girls would die on his say-so because he refused to set them free. They were totally at his mercy, and he liked that. Although he could have let them out, he supposed. They’d die quickly enough in their thin clothes with nothing but slipper socks on their feet. He’d made sure that they had no warm winter gear for protection.

  Once that storm started howling, he could throw them out into its fury and let it erase them until long after they were dead. By the time anyone found them, they’d probably be as chewed up as the one he’d already tossed aside. He kind of liked that image, too. On the other hand, forcing them to lie in that basement and just die because he wouldn’t let them go appealed to him even more. He was the man in charge, in charge of something more important than shoveling manure and fixing old cars for the first time in his life.

  A few nights ago he hadn’t been able to resist visiting the body of the first girl. He wanted to see what the animals and elements had done to her. Bones had been tossed about, little flesh was left at all, and the only thing that caught his eye was a small gold necklace with a cross that he’d missed at the outset.

  He considered taking it, then decided it didn’t matter anymore if they identified the body.

  They wouldn’t be able to trace it to him. Let her family have that stupid keepsake...if they ever found the body.

  He was sitting there, enjoying a longneck, patting himself on his back mentally, thinking just how smart he was.

  Then there was a hammering at his door.

  * * *

  MISTY FOUND THE BONES, all right. At first she seemed to have no interest in helping, as if she couldn’t understand what they expected of her. But then Kelly decided it was worth a try and retrieved the target bags. The bags containing pieces of clothing from the girls. Just maybe Misty would remember the scent and along with it the bones, although her hopes weren’t really high.