Ma’am. A despicable, disgusting word that made me feel like a senior citizen. I wasn’t even forty yet. “It’s not ‘ma’am,’ it’s ‘Miss.’ Miss Raine Hart.”
“All right. Miss Raine Hart. This isn’t a spectator sport.”
“I’m not a spectator.”
“You can’t be over here, and I expect you know that already.” He circled his fingers in the air. “I need you to turn around and go back to your car.”
“What’s going on down there?”
“Doesn’t matter. It doesn’t concern you.”
He was tall and muscular and bald. But unlike men who had the misfortune of losing their hair and not being blessed with a pleasant head shape, his circular one was the most perfect I’d ever seen. And he was good looking. Very good looking. I guessed his age was somewhere in the early to mid-forties range. His voice had a tough growl to it, but his pale-green eyes were compassionate and kind, which told me he might do a fair amount of barking, but he wouldn’t bite.
“Why has the freeway turned into a ghost town? Was there an accident?” I pointed in the air. “Why is a helicopter flying low around here?”
He shook his head like he couldn’t believe I was still standing there, not doing what he’d asked. “Like I said, I need you to return to your vehicle.”
“And I need you to answer my questions.”
He lifted a finger, raised his voice, and stabbed a finger in the direction of my car. “Return to your vehicle, Miss Hart.”
My direct approach wasn’t working. I need to try another way. “Please. If you could just let me explain why I’m asking so many—”
He tapped his gun holster with his thumb. “Not interested. Get moving.”
“Could you please stop doing that?”
“Excuse me?”
I pointed at the gun holster. “You’re fiddling with your gun. You’ve been thumping your finger against it since you charged at me. It’s making me nervous. I get it. You have a gun. It’s loaded. You don’t need to keep tapping it to make your point.”
He looked at his hand like he wasn’t aware he was even doing it. The thumping stopped, but his hand remained on the holster. “I’m not going to ask you again. If you don’t do what I’m telling you, I’ll stick you in the squad car, and you can sit there until I’m done here. Might be one hour, might be several hours. Want to find out?”
I crossed my arms. “I’m not leaving until you answer my question. I want to know what’s going on.”
He gripped my arm and pulled, yanking me forward. “All right. Squad car it is. Let’s go.”
“Hang on. Aside from not moving fast enough for you, I didn’t do anything. You can’t just put your hands on me.”
“Actually, I can. You refused to do what I asked.”
“Who are you, anyway? And how am I supposed to know if you’re really a cop? You’re not dressed like one.”
He released my arm, slid a hand inside his pocket, and dangled his credentials in front of my face. “Satisfied?”
“I guess so.”
“You know something? You’re a pain.”
I tried not to smile, but I couldn’t help myself. I pushed the badge out of my face and inspected it. His name was Will Ford, and he was a detective. At this point, I assumed there had been an accident. What I didn’t know was whether it had been a car accident, or something else, like a rock climber tumbling off a rock. A recreational accident wouldn’t stop traffic though, would it? And while I understood the need for the police, it didn’t explain why he was here, a detective.
“Please,” I said. “I’m looking for my sister. If you would just listen to what I have to say for a minute, I promise I’ll go back to my car and leave.”
“I’m busy. I don’t have time.”
“You’re not busy. You were just leaning against a squad car a moment ago, letting everyone else do the work.”
My last comment seemed to piss him off far more than my previous ones had. He reached for my arm again and escorted me to the police vehicle. I assumed his next move was to place me inside the car and shut the door. Instead, he hesitated, like he was trying to decide whether to do it or not. He ran a hand across his brow and said, “You have one minute. Not three. Not five. One.”
I accepted his offer. A speed round was better than no round at all, and to show my appreciation for his gesture of goodwill, I kept it brief. “My sister and my niece left Las Vegas early this morning. She was on her way to my house in St. George. She never arrived. I’ve tried calling her cell phone. She won’t answer. The last time I talked to her, she was entering the gorge, but that was hours ago. Something’s wrong. I know it is. I should have heard from her before now.”
He nodded and glanced at the chopper for a moment, but didn’t say anything.
“How many seconds do I have left?” I asked. “Because I can keep going.”
He raised a brow, grinned, and then tipped his head toward the waiting cars on the highway. “You ever consider she’s stuck in this mess? If you keep driving, I bet you’ll find her. If you don’t, you can go to the police station and file a report.”
“How long have all of these cars been sitting here?”
He shook his head, and I was beginning to think he liked the back-and-forth banter between us. It was a simple question anyone could ask. There was no reason he couldn’t answer it.
“Come on, Detective Ford,” I said. “Put me in the ballpark at least. If you can tell me how long these cars have been here waiting, I’ll know whether or not my sister’s up there somewhere.”
He crossed one leg in front of the other and glanced at a silver watch on his wrist. It looked expensive and like he’d taken the time to polish it before heading out for the day.
“Well, I can’t say when this whole mess occurred because we don’t know yet. We’re trying to figure it out now. But those cars have been sitting for about two hours or so. I’ve just been told traffic will resume in the far lane shortly.”
“If whatever is going on happened a while ago, she’s not in traffic. The last time I heard from her was around three thirty this morning.”
He raised a brow. “What does your sister drive?”
“A Mercedes C450.”
“What color?”
“Blue.”
“Light blue? Dark blue?”
“I don’t know. Medium blue, I guess.”
“New? Old?”
“She bought the car this year.”
My heart raced. A minute before, he hadn’t cared. Why the sudden interest now?
Something in his eyes told me he was struggling with the decision of what to say next, or how much to say. My attention shifted from him to a ten-foot gap in the railing behind the squad car. A gap big enough for a car to fit through. A gap that looked like something had plowed straight through it. I wrestled free of his grip, sprinting toward the broken railing. He chased after me and snatched my wrist.
I spun around and faced him. “There’s a car down there. Am I right? That’s why all these vehicles can’t pass. That’s why the helicopter’s here.”
His lips parted like he would answer the question, except he didn’t.
“Answer me!” I said. “Please!”
“There was an accident, yes. That doesn’t mean it’s your sister, though.”
“Let me look. I have to know if it’s her.”
“We haven’t even identified anyone yet. Even if you think it’s her, right now there’s no real way to identify—”
“Trust me. I’ll know.”
“If it is your sister’s car, it isn’t the kind of thing you’d want to see.”
“What if it was your sister? Your niece? Would you let anyone stop you from looking? Even if you didn’t want to know, you’d need to know, right? What’s the harm in letting me look? Give me peace of mind. That’s all I’m asking. If it’s not her, I’ll leave.”
He kicked the asphalt with his shoe, irritated. “All right. Fine. I’ll let you l
ook, but you stick by me, right next to me, and you don’t go near the broken railing. Understand?”
I nodded.
He pointed toward a section of railing still intact. “We’ll look from over there.”
He released my wrist, and we walked in that direction until we arrived at the lookout point. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and then opened them and looked down. A swarm of people stood at the bottom of the ravine, working together to secure a cable attached to a hook around the remains of a blue pile of metal. The helicopter hovered, ready to lift the car from the wreckage. The car may have been upside down and battered, but there was no mistaking it. I pressed my hands to my face, leaned into the detective’s chest, and screamed.
CHAPTER 11
Seth Granger sat on the front porch steps of the house he’d built with Juliette, knowing if his marriage was over, it would be impossible for him to remain there alone. It felt quiet and empty. Every painted wall, every stitch of fabric, every decoration reminded him of Juliette and Nora. They were everywhere and nowhere at the same time.
Over the last few hours he’d searched for his wife and daughter, not knowing where to go or where to look. He’d driven in circles just to keep his mind busy, calling her phone every fifteen minutes, hoping this time would be the time she’d cave and they could talk. But she never answered. Returning home, he’d spoken to a few of her friends and neighbors in the area. Everyone seemed shocked to hear she’d vanished in the middle of the night. Nothing made sense anymore.
He sat on the front porch, staring out into the street, hoping the next car he saw would be hers. He slipped a hand inside his pocket, pulling out the short note she’d left. He read it over and over again, poring over every word, wondering where it had all gone wrong, and if there were signs he had missed somehow, hints of her unhappiness and discord he should have noticed but didn’t. He had no reason to feel guilty, like what was happening was his fault, but somehow, he did. What had he missed? What more could he could have done? She’d never been good at communicating her feelings. She’d always been on the quiet side, pushing any discontent she felt so far inside of her, it was almost impossible to tell when something was wrong.
He thought she’d been happy, until recently, when he’d detected a sudden shift in her demeanor. She was more clipped with her words and attitude than usual, and when he spoke, he got the feeling she wasn’t listening. He’d asked what was wrong, and she’d shrugged him off, saying it was nothing major—just a headache, she didn’t feel well. And there had been one other oddity. Three days prior, she’d turned to him when they were sitting together on the couch and said, “You’re a good man, Seth. You could have married a woman so much better than me. Sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve someone as good as you.” Then she’d said she loved him. Just like she’d written in her note. To most happily married couples, declarations of love were commonplace. But he couldn’t recall the last time she’d said it without him saying it to her first. If what she said was true, how could she love him one minute and leave the next?
A familiar black SUV turned down his street, parking inside the garage next door. Seth thought about retreating inside the house. After the awkward conversations he’d had with friends and neighbors, he wasn’t interested in talking to anyone else, but when his neighbor exited his vehicle and headed in his direction, he realized it was too late to avoid him.
“Hey, Seth. How’s it going, buddy?”
Seth looked up. He had always admired how polished his neighbor looked—fitted suit, combed hair, trimmed beard—the guy always seemed to have it together. “Hey, Jonas. I’ve been better, man.”
“Weren’t you supposed to head out of town today?”
“Yeah. I called my boss and said I needed to take some time off. He found another truck driver to take my place.”
Jonas sat beside him. “You seem upset. What’s going on? Is everything okay?”
“I don’t know. No. Not really.”
They sat in silence. Seth didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing, hoping Jonas would take a hint and the conversation could be avoided until later. But Jonas remained at his side, legs outstretched, fingers entwined on his lap, waiting.
When the silence between them reached a level of discomfort Seth couldn’t handle, he said what he needed to say in the plainest way possible. “Juliette left me.”
Jonas paused for a long while, then, “What do you mean? When?”
“I woke up this morning, and she was gone. She took Nora with her and left me a note saying she didn’t want to be married anymore.”
“Doesn’t sound like something Juliette would do.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Have you tried calling her?”
“Yep. She won’t answer.”
“Have you tried looking for her?”
Seth nodded. “Been out looking most of the morning. Talked to a few of the neighbors on the next street and a couple of her friends.”
“Did anyone have any idea about where she may have gone?”
“So far, everyone is just as surprised as I am. I thought she might have gone to her sister’s house. I called her, and she swears Juliette isn’t there. I don’t know. I think there’s a chance her sister’s lying.”
“Why?”
“I told her I was going to call the police to report Juliette and Nora missing, and she asked if I would wait to see if she could get in touch with Juliette first. She said she’d call back and let me know. Haven’t heard from her yet, and in my opinion, if she didn’t know anything, she would have wanted me to call the police.”
“Makes sense. What’s Juliette’s sister’s name again?”
“Raine.”
“She lives in Utah, doesn’t she?”
“Yeah, St. George. Why?”
“No reason. Juliette mentioned her to me once or twice. They weren’t close, were they?”
“They’re off and on. Sometimes they talk about everything, and other times they’ll get busy and go a while before talking. Over the last few months, they’d been in contact more often.”
Jonas removed a joint from his front pocket. “Seems like it’s been a long day for both of us, and it isn’t even over yet.”
Seth looked at Jonas. “What’s happening with you?”
“Work stuff. Nothing I can’t handle.”
Jonas lit the joint, took a nice, long hit, blew it out, and handed it to Seth. “You look like you could use this more than me today. Go on, take it.”
Even though Jonas had never smoked in front of Seth before, Seth knew he did from time to time. Sometimes when Seth was outside, the pungent odor wafted into his back yard. He couldn’t stand the smell. It reminded him of skunk spray, but today he was almost tempted. Almost. “Thanks, but I don’t smoke.”
“You sure? It’ll make you feel better.”
“I just don’t get it, you know? She may not have been the best at speaking her mind, but to up and leave in the middle of the night like she did ... it’s crazy to me. And to take my freaking kid? It’s ... it’s just unbelievable. It’s like she’s having a midlife crisis and not thinking straight. She didn’t even take anything with her. Oh, except Nora, of course. But her clothes are still in the closet, most of her makeup is still in the bathroom. Strange, right?”
Jonas took another hit. “Hard to say what made her do what she did. Hard to say why women do anything. They’re complicated creatures, even the good ones. There’s a little bit of crazy in all of them, I think.”
Seth bowed his head, ran a hand through his hair. “You and your wife kept Juliette company when I drove the truck during the week. Did she ever say anything to you about being unhappy in the marriage?”
“I don’t know, man. I ... umm ... I mean, you know Juliette. She’s never talked much about how she feels about anything. I always thought it would be interesting to know what goes on inside her head. I mean, you can tell she keeps things all bottled up.” He looked at Seth and frowned. �
��I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said all that. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
He did mean something by it, though.
Seth could hear it in his tone. What wasn’t Jonas saying?
“This isn’t the time to spare my feelings. She obviously kept whatever is going on from me or I would have seen this coming. You sure she never said a word to you or your wife? If there’s something you know, I’d rather you just tell me.”
Jonas placed a hand on Seth’s shoulder. “I consider you a good friend. It wouldn’t be right for me to speculate. Only Juliette truly knows how she feels.”
There it was again. Jonas was avoiding something he didn’t want to say. Seth was sure of it.
“But she did say something, didn’t she?”
Jonas stared at the ground. “She may have mentioned a thing or two here and there. Nothing major.”
“Tell me what she said, Jonas. I need to know.”
Jonas shook his head like he wished he’d never opened his mouth in the first place. Too late now.
“I’m not sure how to say this, so I guess I’ll just be frank with you. Is Juliette taking any medication, or has she ever taken any medication?”
Seth couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Are you serious? Of course not. Why would she need medication?”
“She seemed different lately. I don’t know. Depressed, maybe.”
“Depressed? What do you mean?”
“Last week, she was having dinner at our house, and she seemed off. Ann even noticed. She had a couple glasses of wine. I walked her home, and we got to talking, and she asked me if I ever feel like giving up on things.”
“Giving up on what things?”
“At first I thought she meant giving up on marriage, but then she said she sometimes felt overwhelmed by life. I guess, I mean, it made me wonder if she’d ever been suicidal before.”
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