Ominous

by Lisa Jackson

  “And I’ve got to get the girls to dinner,” Ruth said, grateful for a reason to duck out. “Thanks for watching them, Mom.”

  Forty minutes later, Ruth was relieved to step into the cool air of the diner, where Cordelia, the no-nonsense waitress, let the girls take the last available booth. Before leaving with the girls, Ruth had spent a few minutes explaining her confrontation with Cal Haney to Fiona, and Jessica’s mother had shared her sense that there was something off about the man.

  “I’ll lay down the law,” Fiona said. “Jessie is never to go there again.”

  Ruth had also gone over the need to stay close to the house and use caution around strangers. This time, both girls had listened quietly and promised to follow the rules. Now, as she sank onto the cool vinyl upholstery and sipped her ice water, Ruth looked over at her daughter with pride. The incident this afternoon could have been worse if Penny hadn’t been cautious. She was a good kid, and she deserved the simple, wholesome childhood that Prairie Creek had to offer.

  “How are you doing tonight, Cordelia?” Ruth asked the waitress when she came to take their order. Cordelia greeted most guests with a deadpan look, though she seemed to have a soft spot for Penny.

  She shrugged. “I’ve had better nights. Everyone here’s feeling the strain right now.”

  “Too hot for you?” Ruth asked, noticing that the usually animated restaurant did seem a bit subdued tonight, with diners murmuring in low, doleful voices. An elderly woman across from Ruth frowned down at her plate as her husband stared off sadly, hands tucked under his chin.

  “It’s not the weather as much as the bad news. We got one girl missing and another one …” Cordelia nodded toward the girls. “I don’t want to ruin anyone’s meal.” She poured water into three glasses on the table. “It’s a real heartbreak.”

  “I heard about Addie Donovan,” Ruth said, trying to stay calm. “Do you know her?”

  “She’s been in here with her family. A good kid.”

  “I hope they find her.” Ruth tried to sound positive.

  Cordelia nodded, pressing the bridge of her nose as if to stave off tears. “She was just out riding, and her horse came back without her.” She looked away. “Her parents, Deb and Jeremy, were freaking out last night, and now, with this other girl …” She took a calming breath. “It doesn’t look good.” The waitress walked off, replacing the water pitcher at the service stand.

  Something was wrong … very wrong. Now Ruth noticed the subdued voices at the tables around her. Bad news had obviously hit the diner, one of the centers of town gossip. What was the story with the “other girl”?

  She checked Penny and Jessica to see if they were curious, but they were pointing out items on the dessert menu, making big plans. Scooting out of the booth, Ruth stepped away from the table and followed the waitress toward the kitchen.

  “Cordelia,” Ruth called, pulse pounding. “Who’s the other girl you mentioned?”

  “Oh, they found a kid who went missing years ago. You just moved here, so you wouldn’t know her.” Cordelia didn’t realize that Ruth had attended high school in Prairie Creek.

  “My parents have lived here for years. Did they find one of the girls who disappeared fifteen years ago? Is she all right?” The look on Cordelia’s face said it all, and suddenly Ruth knew. They hadn’t found a girl. They’d found a corpse.

  “One of the deputies found the remains of a young woman up on the ridge near the Tate land this afternoon. They said she might be Courtney Pearson.”

  Chapter 14

  Ruth didn’t know how she made it through dinner that night. The tacos seemed leathery and tasteless, and the hot sauce started a burn in her throat that lasted throughout the meal and beyond.

  One girl dead and another girl missing …

  Actually, Courtney Pearson wouldn’t be a girl anymore. Older than Ruth by a couple years, she would have been in her early thirties had she lived. Memories of that summer long past consumed Ruth. Thank goodness Penny had Jessica to keep her occupied, because her mother was about as responsive as a zombie.

  She couldn’t stop thinking of Courtney Pearson. Although Ruth’s family had been living in Prairie Creek for only a year or so when Courtney went missing, the girl’s disappearance had made an impression on Ruth because of the way so many people had written her off. Granted, the girl was no angel, but she caught everyone’s attention in the hall at school or when she walked in town. With her trampy clothes, big hair, multiple piercings, and loud laughter and shrieks, Courtney filled a room.

  When she first disappeared, most of the kids at school thought that a larger-than-life person like Courtney couldn’t have been hurt, that she had simply left town and hitchhiked her way to excitement in a city like Denver or Vegas. People like Ruth’s father passed judgment in a different way, claiming that Courtney deserved whatever happened to her because of her bad behavior. That condemnation had seemed wrong back then. Now, Ruth knew it was deplorable. Today, a kid like Courtney was exactly the kind of girl Ruth wanted to reach.

  “Chocolate tacos?” Jessica rolled her eyes, drawing Ruth’s attention back to the here and now. “That’s just crazy.”

  “Can we get dessert, Mom? Please, please, please? I know it’s not a weekend, but I’ve never had a chocolate taco.” Penny’s brown eyes were so earnest that Ruth couldn’t help but suspend the family rule.

  “We’ll make an exception tonight.” Anything to prolong a feeling of normalcy. Ruth knew that the moment she stopped gathering memories from her high school years, she would have to face the tough reality that held an imminent threat.

  An eighteen-year-old girl was missing. Some monster was out there.

  Again.

  Could it be the same man who had struck fifteen years ago, taking Rachel, Erin, and Courtney? She wondered if the same kidnapper had been the masked attacker from that summer night.

  Wide girth, furry skin, thick hands …

  No! There was no proof that the same man had taken those other girls, and Ruth wasn’t going to make this about herself. She had gone through steps toward her own recovery, acknowledging her trauma, accepting support, moving on, and now giving back. She was here in Prairie Creek to give back to the community, not to impose her personal fears on it. While there was a slim chance that her attacker had gone after Addie Donovan all these years later, Ruth had to remember that she hadn’t returned to Prairie Creek to start a police investigation; she was here to help. Maybe the best way to start was to offer support to Addie’s parents, though she needed to find an entrée to the couple.

  When Cordelia came by with the check, Ruth asked her what she knew about the circumstances of Addie’s disappearance.

  “I don’t know about the details.” Cordelia nodded to a table by the window, where a couple Ruth’s age sat with two children, one in a high chair. “Ask Jimmy.”

  Jimmy Woodcock, the most recent owner and editor of Prairie Winds, sat texting on his phone while a sullen-faced woman talked at him. He and Ruth had talked on the phone when he was gathering information for two short blurbs about her local practice and the hotline, but she doubted he’d remember that. Ruth hadn’t recognized him at first, as he’d grown a mustache that gave him a cowboy look, but he was still a big man, a T-shirt stretching over his chest and biceps. From the look of those soft hands, she doubted that he’d ever even been on a horse, though his hands did seem strong, with short, thick fingers.

  Strong hands, wide girth …

  She was about to turn away from the broad-shouldered man when he caught her looking.

  He lifted his chin, arrogant as ever, and smiled, his eyes shining dark over his mustache. The woman looked up in annoyance, chewing in silence as he motioned Ruth over.

  “Well now, if it isn’t the minister’s daughter. Ruthie McFerron.”

  “It’s Ruth Baker now,” she said, a bit surprised that he knew who she was. After the rape, she had kept a low profile in high school. “I went to California, got married,
and had a kid.” He studied Ruth intently as he introduced his wife, Desiree, and kids. Desiree nodded but suddenly seemed more interested in wiping the baby’s hands.

  “That’s right. I did a piece on you, right?” he asked. “About you moving back.”

  “We talked on the phone.” Ruth turned to the bland wife. “I’ve moved back for good, with my daughter.” She nodded toward the girls. “I’m working as a therapist, setting up a small practice. I’ve got an office next door to Emma’s shop.”

  “Yeah? It’s gonna be a real small practice here,” Woodcock said. “Plenty of crazies, but none of them know it. Trust me, I’ve seen it all, covering the local news.” He held up his phone. “See that? Something breaking right now. Just when you think Prairie Creek might be a nice, peaceful town, some shit breaks.”

  “And ruins your dinner,” Desiree said with a scowl.

  “Is that about Addie Donovan?” Ruth asked. “I was wondering if you knew the details of her disappearance.”

  “He knows everything,” Desiree bragged. “Gets updates straight from the Sheriff’s Department.”

  “That one’s a simple story. Girl, eighteen, went riding alone, and her horse came back without her. The boyfriend was out of town, so the parents thought it might be a ruse to get with him. He says no, but off the record? These things are always about sex. Looking for love in all the wrong places.” He grinned—not a wholesome “dad” smile, but the sort of inviting look you might get in a singles bar.

  “I see.” Ruth folded her arms across her chest. Apparently Jimmy didn’t have a lot of respect for his wife and kids. “So the police think she’s safe with her boyfriend?”

  “I’m working on confirming that right now. In fact, I’m going over to the office to get some confirmations and post the story. Got to keep the website updated. It’s the only way for a newspaper to survive these days. Subscriptions are down, but there’s money to be made through advertisers on the web.” Jimmy pushed his plate away and tossed down his napkin. “You want to come see, Ruthie? Check out the operation and get the latest on the story?”

  She didn’t. The last thing she wanted was to spend time alone in a hot office with a guy who had all the charm of a lizard. Ruth suspected that a look under the table would prove that Woodcock was living up to his name.

  “I need to get the girls home,” Ruth said, gesturing toward the door with her thumb. “But thanks for the information. And sorry to interrupt your dinner.” This was directed more toward Desiree, but the woman was chastising the baby about something. Ruth backed away, glad to escape the dour couple.

  *

  He watched her leave the diner, her head held high and those voluptuous breasts leading the way.

  Well, aren’t you looking pretty, Ms. Ruthie McFerron Baker, the minister’s voluptuous daughter. Ripe as Eve just kicked out of Eden. He had busted the cherry on that one when she was just a filly. His only regret was letting her get away. He should have kept her when he had the chance, dragged her to his place and added her to his collection.

  But too many things had gone wrong that night. Wrongs that still had to be righted.

  He watched from the shadows of Main Street as she guided the two young girls. Now that she had a daughter and a full, ripe woman’s body, she would have so much more to offer. She would know how to use those hands and that mouth to tease him to a frenzy.

  His cock was a rocket in his pants, aching for release. That girl in the shed was just not enough. He needed more, and here was the minister’s daughter, ripe for the picking. But she was older now, smarter. This time he would have to plan carefully if he wanted to hold on to her.

  For now, he would watch, wait, and find another way to relieve himself. He pressed a hand to the hard rod between his legs and smiled. You had to love Prairie Creek. Come into town for dinner, and you got so much more.

  *

  When Addie Donovan was not found by Saturday, the police announced that they were working with nearby law enforcement agencies to broaden the search, but that was little consolation to the people of Prairie Creek. The newspaper website reported that some folks were beginning to lock their doors, kids were having nightmares, and the sheriff’s office was advising young people and women to travel in groups, especially at night.

  Ruth was feeling the crunch at home, with Penny worrying that a bad man was lurking in the cluster of bushes across the street from their house. “What if he’s living there, watching me from the bushes?” Penny asked one night as Ruth sat in bed beside her, reading yet another chapter of Junie B. Jones aloud to soothe her daughter. “What if he catches me and takes me away, the way he kidnapped Addie?”

  Those damned bushes! Ruth had been attracted to the rental home because it faced a tall wall of trees that allowed privacy from the small park beyond it, but now both she and Penny were beginning to see potential danger in each dark space.

  “You’re safe in our home,” Ruth assured her, not wanting to reveal any more facts than Penny needed to know. It wasn’t easy to mask her own fear and insecurity, but she didn’t want her daughter to be traumatized by this. “Addie went riding alone, something you will never do.”

  “But I still want to learn to ride.”

  “I know, pumpkin. You’re all signed up for lessons. You and Jessica start this week.”

  “Do you think it’s safe?”

  From the mouths of babes … “You’ll be with an instructor the whole time, at the Dillinger ranch, where people will be around.” She rubbed her daughter’s thin shoulder and kissed her forehead. “Totally safe.”

  “So maybe I can be a cowgirl after all.”

  Ruth smiled, thinking that it was an odd goal for the daughter of a therapist and a software engineer, but Penny had always taken to the horses and animals whenever they’d visited here. Such a country girl! Sometimes it was the little surprises from her daughter that reminded Ruth of the light in the world.

  That week, Ruth received the first call on the hotline. It rang through to her cell phone late Thursday night as she was washing up for bed. Fortunately, Penny was fast asleep. Suddenly alert, Ruth blotted her face and answered the call.

  “This is Ruth, and you’ve reached the Sexual Assault Support Line.”

  There was silence on the line, a heavy silence that made it clear someone was struggling, suffering.

  “I know this is hard, but you need to tell me what happened to you,” Ruth said. “I’ve been there myself. You can talk about anything you want if it helps you get started. Tell me about the weather, your pet turtle, your favorite kind of music.”

  “You can call me Lily.”

  “Lily, I’m glad you called. It takes a lot of courage to do the research to find someone like me. But it takes even more courage to make the call.”

  “I’m not brave. I’m a coward.”

  “Why do you say that, Lily?”

  “Because I didn’t turn him in. He raped me, he kidnapped me and …” Her voice cracked with a sob. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

  “No rush,” Ruth said in a calm voice. “Take a breath. Take all the time you need. I’ll still be here.”

  After a moment, Lily went on. Guided by Ruth, she told her story. One minute she was hanging out down by the creek; the next minute he was there, dragging her away to his lair, some old hunting shack in the wilderness. Once in captivity, she was raped, forced to let him use her body so that he could release his sex drive and escape arrest “out there,” he had told her.

  “You’re calling on a phone, so I’m assuming you got away from him?”

  “Yes, but I feel so guilty that he’s still out there. I know it’s terrible, but I couldn’t stick around to report him. I wasn’t the only one.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I had to get away, I couldn’t stay!!”

  “Many of us don’t have the resources or strength to go after an attacker,” Ruth said. “It’s not your fault, Lily.”

  A heavy pause. Ruth sensed th
e woman’s high emotion and silent tears.

  “I need to go, and … I’m sorry I bothered you,” Lily said glumly. “Talking about this won’t solve anything.”

  “But talking about it can help,” Ruth assured her. “Talk therapy is an effective way of working through issues.”

  “It won’t help. Nothing helps.” And then the line went dead.

  Ruth exhaled heavily. She noted the call and content in her log, hoping that the woman would call back. She had a bad feeling about her comment that she wasn’t the only one. Did she know of more victims?

  *

  On Sunday, Ruth joined her mother to hear her father deliver the sermon at the Pioneer Church, a newly rebuilt edifice that used to be on Kincaid land before it was deeded over to the church. Truth be told, it was only the second time Ruth had heard her father speak from the pulpit since she’d returned, as she preferred to attend the Unitarian Church, where the mission was more about living together in peace than damning the errant soul to hell. But today she had come with a mission of her own. Her mother had promised to introduce Ruth to Addie Donovan’s parents, regular patrons of the Pioneer’s Sunday services.

  At the door, they stepped out of the bright sunshine to be greeted by two men in the cool, shadowed vestibule.

  “Hey, Bev.” An older man with a bulbous nose and a rubbery smile, whom Ruth recognized as the pharmacist, handed them programs. “Come to see Rob today?”

  “Haven’t missed a Sunday with my husband yet,” her mother said, chatting with the man.

  When Ruth turned to the other man, she realized he was closer to her age and—and extremely familiar. Tall with broad shoulders, thick dark hair that curled off to one side, and clear eyes that seemed to see deep inside her.

  She had heard he’d left town, but here he was, the object of her teenage fantasies: Ethan Starr.

  Her throat tightened as he handed her a paper fan with an advertisement for the Mercer Funeral Home printed on one side, and she noticed his hands, which were calloused, with long, graceful fingers. Oh, thank God, her instincts about him had been right. She had only been in a discussion with him a handful of times, but she had sensed kindness in his low, gravelly voice.