by Lisa Harris
Cassidy had lived a lot of bad nights in her life. Nights hiding her little sister from her mother’s drunken rages. Nights hiding herself from her mother’s lecherous boyfriends. Nights in new foster homes where she didn’t know where a threat would come from, but knew one would. Nights on the run, all alone, after Hallie’s death.
But she’d never had a night like this one.
The nausea hit an hour after she’d settled in to sleep. The sandwich hadn’t settled well, but she blamed the nausea more on the pounding headache. And she blamed the headache on the strain of trying to think. And the gunshot. And the lump she’d discovered on the back of her head.
Even though she told herself a hundred times that thinking about what happened could wait until morning, the fuzzy memories wouldn’t let her go.
Between bouts of throwing up, she’d closed her eyes and drifted to sleep, only to be yanked awake by nightmares and images and phantom sounds. The noise they’d heard the first day. The missing food. The feeling of being watched. The terror of climbing the cliff. The empty cave.
And suddenly, it came back to her. The gunshot.
The horrifying crack, the searing pain. The way she’d fallen back, her head bouncing against the stone wall behind her. The shock of hitting the ground. All of it had been overridden by the terror in the moment, but now that she was safe, it seemed her mind needed to process it all.
A thousand times, she relived it.
Over and over, she prayed and slept and awakened with a gasp, covered in sweat, until, finally in the small hours of the new day, she’d fallen into a deep sleep.
The sound of knocking woke her. When she moved, everything hurt. Her side. Her back. Her head. Her stomach. Realizing where she was, she bolted up to find a uniformed man looking down at her, his expression hard. Groggy, she pressed the button to lower the window. But the car was off. She unlocked the door and opened it.
“Ma’am, you can’t sleep here.”
When she looked up at him, she blinked in the rising sun behind him and tried to think through the fog of sleep and the fear pounding in her chest. Did he recognize her? She should’ve donned the sunglasses. Now, she’d go to jail. Ella… Ella would die. All because she’d slept too long.
“You’ll have to move along,” the man said.
“I was waiting…” What was her story? Where was she? “A flight. A friend was supposed to… I was supposed to give someone a ride.”
The cop didn’t seem to care. At least he’d come to the clean side of the car. She’d thrown up out the opposite door. “You’ll have to wait somewhere else,” he said. “There’re plenty of hotels in Laconia.”
Wait. He wasn’t asking for ID? Pulling out handcuffs?
She read the patch on his uniform and realized… Not a cop. A security guard. He worked for the airport.
Thank God. Thank God.
“I’m sorry. I thought it would be an hour or so, but I guess… I’ll find somewhere else. Sorry about that.”
He nodded and stepped away.
She breathed through the fear pounding in her head. Fear and… pain.
She’d deal with that in a minute. She climbed into the front seat, started the car, and drove away, one eye on the security guard in her rearview mirror, who watched until she turned the corner.
Mercifully, there was a Dunkin’ Donuts nearby, where she used the restroom, cleaned up, and got a cup of coffee. Her stomach growled, but she’d bought granola bars at the grocery store. After the nausea, the last thing she needed was a donut.
Back in her car, she ate a protein bar, sipped her coffee slowly, and then followed Route 3 south, thinking it would take her back to the interstate. She’d lived in New Hampshire for the first seventeen years of her life, but she’d never owned a car and didn’t know her way around. She needed a place to rest for a minute, a place away from the rent-a-cop at the airport, who might, at any time, realize hers was the face of the woman wanted in connection with a kidnapping and murder.
Finally, she reached I-93 but stopped at the outlet mall before getting on the highway, parking between two cars and praying nobody would notice her.
Praying the airport security guard hadn’t made a note of her license plate.
Praying for guidance. What should she do now?
The day before, she’d told herself that today, she’d process what happened on the mountain, and that after processing it she’d have direction. Now, after hours of nightmares and not enough sleep, she only knew that she was forgetting something. Something very important.
She closed her eyes and allowed her mind to return to the cave and the passageway. She’d climbed out, just like she had years before, only this time, she hadn’t had to coax Hallie to join her.
She forced herself to think about, only about, the day before. She’d climbed out and dropped from the cave opening to the ground. Then, she’d called back through the passage to James, who’d said he wouldn’t fit. They’d decided to meet, and then…
She’d seen something. A flash of color on the ground. She’d bent, picked it up, called to James.
And then the boom. The pain. But the thing she’d found…
She leaned back in the driver’s seat and dug her hand in her pocket and felt something soft that didn’t belong. She pulled it out. It was a hot pink hair tie. Clean and bright and dry, as if it hadn’t been exposed to even a single night on the mountain. It wasn’t large enough to fit Cassidy’s hair. It was smaller. Made for a child.
Ella.
Cassidy imagined the photograph that had been circulated of Ella. The girl had worn a huge smile in the picture, her head tilted to the side, her shoulders up just a bit as if she were embarrassed. She had long brown hair braided in two strands.
This hair tie would be perfect to secure a braid.
Ella had been in that cave. This hair tie was proof. If only Cassidy had thought of it it in time to tell James. Then, he could have told the police.
But what had it been doing there, near the secret entrance? Cassidy considered the area. If the kidnapper had taken Ella out of the cave and down the other path, the slow way, he’d have had to pass that spot. Had Ella dropped the hair tie on purpose? Had she hoped someone would find it?
Cassidy pulled the new no-contract phone from her grocery sack and turned it on. It was a cheapie, but the map would get her back to Coventry and Mt. Ayasha. She didn’t know yet what she’d do when she got there. She’d figure that out on the way.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
How come James could sleep better on a rocky hillside than on a thin mattress?
Because no bars had kept him on the mountain.
He shifted on the crappy bed and squeezed his eyes closed, telling himself to go back to sleep.
There were no windows in this cell, but the clock on the far wall told him it was seven o’clock. Despite the thoughts buzzing like flies, he’d slept for a few hours.
Had Cassidy? Where was she?
Not for the first time since he’d last seen her, he lifted a prayer for her. When he’d been tossed into the cell, when he’d heard the click of the lock, he’d understood the fear he’d heard in her voice when he’d suggested they call the police. He understood in a way he never had before. The bars, the charges, the people in authority looking at him as if he were a felon…
He had to get out of there.
But he couldn’t leave. That was the most stressful part. Not the angry looks he’d gotten from the cops, most of whom he’d known all his life, but the fact that he couldn’t leave. Being in jail was like the longest, most boring high school class in history, only he had no idea when the bell would ring.
And what a… a foolish, childish way to look at it. James had thought himself an adult, but one night in jail had broken him.
No.
He sat up. Unbroken. Alive and well and determined to do the right thing. Lord, what is the right thing?
No answer. Not an audible one, anyway, but James wasn’t surprised.
He’d hardly been on speaking terms with God for a decade. That he was now was a testament to his desperation. And his hope. Because, while these walls seemed to be closing in on him, they weren’t. And while Ella was still missing, her body hadn’t turned up. She was out there, and God knew exactly where she was. And while Cassidy had disappeared again, the police hadn’t found her. If they had, she’d be in the jail cell next door. God was good and had a plan for all of this. He had to. Right, God?
Again, no answer, but Scriptures James had memorized years before had been flitting through his brain all night long. Promises like I will never leave you or forsake you reminded him he wasn’t alone. Promises of justice and righteousness reminded him that God cared as much as James did, more, he figured, that Hallie’s murderer be held accountable for what he’d done. That Ella be rescued. The verse he kept coming back to was from John. Simple, powerful words. The truth will set you free.
What was the truth, though? Cassidy hadn’t kidnapped Hallie, but who had? And where was that person now? Where was Ella?
He didn’t know, but he was going to find her. If he ever got out of there.
At eight-thirty, he was taken by a uniformed police officer he’d never met to appear before the judge in the courthouse next door. The attorney he’d called the night before entered a plea of not guilty, and the judge, after hearing arguments on both sides, set his bail at fifty thousand dollars.
Because, apparently, they feared James would skip town with Cassidy.
Never mind that the judge had been a friend of his father, that James had known him as long as he could remember.
Never mind that he’d graduated with the city’s attorney.
Never mind that he owned property and a business in Coventry. He was associated with Cassidy. Therefore, he wasn’t to be trusted.
While his attorney filed paperwork, James tried to decide whom to call to post his bail. He couldn’t very well call Reid.
Vince was the one who’d put him in there in the first place.
He had no family nearby.
He’d felt alone since his mother had died, but he’d never truly been alone. He’d had an entire town full of people who cared for him. Again, Cassidy’s plight felt more real to James than ever.
He thanked his lawyer before the uniformed officer led him out of the courtroom. They walked the short hallway connecting the courthouse to the police station. When they entered the older building, another cop called, “Don’t bother locking him up. Someone’s posting bail now.”
James looked sideways at the cop who held his arm in a tight grip. “Who?”
“I’ll guess you’ll find out in a minute.”
It was more than a minute, but James didn’t complain as he sat, handcuffed to a bench, and waited.
Finally, he was freed from the cuffs and led through the doors and into the police station’s entry.
Vince pushed himself off the wall. “You ready?”
“What are you doing here?”
Vince opened the glass door that led outside to freedom. For now, anyway. Though, accessory-after-the-fact was a serious charge. It was likely James would be back in jail—no, prison—when this was over.
“I put you in here as a cop,” Vince said. “I’m bailing you out as your friend.”
James hadn’t been sure where their friendship stood the day before. As he stepped out the door onto the sidewalk in downtown Coventry, gratitude rose up. He turned to thank Vince but was yanked around by a solid grip on his arm.
The fist came out of nowhere.
He stumbled back, crashed into Vince. Face on fire.
The stream of curse words shocked him more than the voice that delivered them.
“I should kill you!” Reid lunged toward him again, but Vince shoved Reid away.
Reid lifted his fist.
“Back off.” Vince’s voice carried the same authority he’d used the day before with James. “Unless you want to end up in jail for assaulting a police officer.”
Reid stepped back, shaking his right hand.
James rubbed the jaw he felt sure was broken. Didn’t seem to be, but it probably hurt a lot worse than Reid’s knuckles.
Reid was still glowering at him over Vince’s shoulder. “You let her get away!”
“We were looking for Ella.” But Reid wasn’t listening to James any more than Vince had the day before. “Cassidy didn’t kidnap your daughter.”
“Then where is she?” Reid’s gaze flicked to Vince, who stood aside but seemed ready to jump in again if necessary. If not for the cop, James was certain he’d be feeling another right hook. And he wouldn’t fight back. Not against his best friend, not considering everything Reid was dealing with.
“I don’t know,” James said. “Probably still looking for Ella. She’s determined—”
“She murdered your sister.” Reid’s voice, no longer shouting, was filled with vitriol. “She murdered Addison, and now she’s gonna murder Ella. And you had her.”
“She didn’t—”
“If my daughter dies, I’ll kill you.”
“Careful, Cote.” Vince squared up against Reid. “The last thing I wanna do is throw you in jail, but I will if I have to.”
Ignoring Vince, Reid glared at James. “You better watch your back.” He turned and stalked away, pushing his way through the crowd James only now realized had gathered.
Townspeople looked on. People he’d considered friends the day before glared at him. He could feel their disappointment, their hatred. It was as hot as the morning sun beating down on them. He feared, like the sun, it would grow hotter before it cooled.
If he and Cassidy didn’t find Ella, his friends’ feelings of betrayal would never cool.
“Move along, people.” Vince grabbed James’s upper arm and led him to his SUV.
They were halfway to James’s house before Vince spoke. “You ticked I didn’t arrest him for assault?”
“I’d be ticked if you had,” James said.
“Everybody who knows anything about this case thinks your girlfriend did it, James. You’re the lone holdout.”
“She didn’t—”
“And it’s possible”—Vince continued as if James hadn’t spoken—“that you’re biased in her favor. I’m not saying you’re wrong and I’m right, but I want you to consider something.”
James watched the familiar landscape slide past the windows and waited.
“Isn’t it possible that those old feelings you had for Cassidy and the guilt I know you felt after Hallie’s body was found—guilt because someone you’d trusted had killed her—have deceived you? Isn’t it possible you don’t see what the rest of us see because you don’t want to?”
“Thank you, Dr. Phil, for that insightful analysis. I feel much healthier now.”
“I’m just trying to help, man.”
“Isn’t it possible that you guys all decided Cassidy was guilty not based on any real evidence but based on the fact that her mother was in prison for murdering her little sister? Isn’t it possible that this town’s bias against her has clouded everybody else’s judgment?”
“Could be, if she hadn’t run away.”
“Seems to me, based on how everybody is behaving, that she was smart to run. There’s no evidence linking her to Addison’s disappearance or Ella’s, only the fact that the crimes are similar, and yet she’s suspect numero uno. But you accuse me of bias?”
When Vince parked in James’s driveway, James yanked open his door. He started to slam it, but paused to say, “Thanks for bailing me out.”
“Don’t you wanna know what we found on the mountain?”
“You went up there?”
“Believe it or not, I want to find Ella as much as you do.”
James glanced at his front door. He wanted a shower, a cup of coffee, and a meal.
Vince climbed from his car, and James walked toward its rear, not eager to invite Vince inside. When he passed the SUV’s cargo area, he glimpsed a rifle sticking ou
t from beneath a tarp-covered mound.
Vince saw him looking. “Unfortunately, we didn’t find anybody up there, though I went prepared.”
“What’d you find?” James leaned on the back of the truck. Birds sang overhead, celebrating what seemed would turn out to be another beautiful day. Sunshine, puffy white clouds. Tourists would enjoy the lake and mountains, fill the restaurants, spend money in the tourist traps as if all were well.
Vince perched beside him. “The cave, right where you said it would be. Empty, just as you claimed. Recent footprints, but nothing usable, and they were probably yours and Cassidy’s.” James didn’t miss the quick look of censure before Vince faced forward again. “Outside the passageway you said Cassidy squeezed through, though I can’t imagine how—”
“She’s pretty slim.”
“We found a spot a bullet might’ve hit. A hole, a little blood. We got samples of everything. Shooter must’ve retrieved the bullet. We also found blood on the ground nearby.”
The memory of that moment filled James’s empty stomach with acid. Where was Cassidy now? Was she safe? Was she well?
Vince continued. “We looked but never found where the guy took the shot from. I mean, I think I know where it was, but there were no casings or footprints. Whoever he is, this guy’s smart.”
“But you know she was shot.”
“I know somebody was shot.”
“You think I’m lying?”
Vince said nothing.
“He’s out there,” James pushed off the tailgate and turned to face Vince. “He saw us on the mountain. He recognized Cassidy as the only person who knows what happened ten years ago. She’s the only person who can identify him. So he tried to take her out.”
“You may be right. If you are…” He looked down, shook his head, looked up again. “If that was where the killer kept his victims, there’d have been some trace. And, even if the killer is that good, good enough to hide all evidence he’d been there, he’s gone now. He won’t go back.”
“In other words, we blew it,” James said. “By going into the cave, by showing our hand…”
Vince lifted one shoulder, let it drop.