Ominous

by Lisa Jackson

  “I’m not calling for help. Nobody can help me more than I’ve helped myself by getting away.”

  “Distance can help facilitate healing,” Ruth agreed. “I did that myself. Left Prairie Creek and went off to college and didn’t come back for a long time.”

  “But I’m never going back anywhere near Prairie Creek.”

  “I’m not trying to pressure you to return,” Ruth said.

  “That’s good, because it would be a lost cause. Like I said, I’m only calling you to warn you. I do Internet searches on Prairie Creek news every day. Kind of sick, I know, but it’s the only way I can stay in touch with my home. When I read about Courtney Pearson and Addie Donovan, I had to warn someone.”

  Ruth stilled. “Do you have information about the crimes? Something the police should know?”

  “I’m not calling the police, if that’s where you’re headed. The last thing I need is them tracing my number and dragging me back there.”

  “What’s your warning, Lily?”

  “There’s a crazy man out there. He kidnaps girls and takes them to a cabin in the wilderness. Keeps them as his personal sex slaves. He did it to me, but I got away when … when I had the chance. I just know he kidnapped Courtney Pearson.”

  She sounded a bit belligerent, as if she felt Ruth wouldn’t believe her.

  “Did you see Courtney at the hunting shack?”

  “No, but I just know it was him. He wants victims in his lair at all times. Once Courtney died, I’ll bet he reeled in that high school girl, Addie Donovan.”

  Ruth shivered at the startling accuracy of Lily’s theory. “May I share your warning with the police?”

  “That’s the point of me calling, isn’t it?”

  “I appreciate your courage in calling, Lily. Do you want to talk about ways I can help you?” When the young woman sucked in her breath, Ruth added, “Strictly over the phone. We can talk about different types of therapy, different ways to cope with trauma in your life. Ways to cope so that trauma doesn’t hold us back from happiness.”

  Lily scoffed at that. “It’s too late for me.”

  “It’s never too late to try.”

  “I passed that road a long time ago. But I’ve got a kid, and she’s the one I worry about. Well, not a kid anymore. She’s in high school now, and she’s a really good kid, but it’d destroy her if she found out that … that …”

  “That she’s a child of rape?” Ruth asked carefully.

  The quick end to the call was all the answer Ruth needed. Lily had been pregnant when she’d escaped.

  God bless her.

  *

  Although Ruth usually used Fridays to catch up on case notes and paperwork, today she dropped Penny with the grandparents for dinner and drove into town. It was the beginning of the holiday weekend, and she had agreed to meet Ethan at the Lazy L Café to discuss Penny’s progress and the possibility of continuing lessons. With Kit as his sidekick, he had taken over the lessons for the week, much to the delight of Penny and Jessica, who had enjoyed their time with the two expert riders with very different personalities.

  Although Ruth was meeting Ethan at the Lazy L Café, she drove past the restaurant and stayed on Main Street for five more blocks, pulling up in front of the dingy storefront that housed the Prairie Winds. She felt that Woodcock’s inappropriate behavior the other day had to be addressed. A few phone calls had confirmed that this was no anomaly, and she had to call him on it.

  She pushed her way in the door, and Jimmy Woodcock peered out from around his computer monitor as the old bells jingled.

  “Ruth! You came back.”

  “Only to drop off the check for the ad,” she said, marching into the office and holding up a printed page with a check clipped on to it. “Remember the ad? You were going to get me a flier or a form or something. But you got distracted.”

  “You pay full price?”

  “You never gave me a discount,” she reminded him coolly.

  He waved that off like it was a bothersome fly. “Have you heard the latest on Courtney Pearson? The forensic investigators don’t think the killer took her eyes out. Get this: they think they were plucked out by buzzards.”

  “I’m not here to get your latest scoop. I wanted to pay for my ad and tell you that I know about your porn problem. Your screen saver. Your collection of magazines. You spending hours on end alone in this office with nothing to show for it.”

  Woodcock squinted, a half smile on his face. “You’re crazy.”

  “I talked to Audrey Cartwright, your former secretary. Remember Audrey? The gal who was with the paper from the beginning when your father founded it? She told me she had to get out. She couldn’t tolerate your behavior.”

  “She’s an old bag.”

  “And your wife isn’t too happy about it, either.”

  “Desiree? You called my wife?”

  “I ran into her at Molly’s when I was getting coffee.” The truth was that Cordelia had tipped her off that Desiree came in every morning with the kids, but Jimmy didn’t have to know that. “For the sake of the children, we had a discreet conversation, but she confided that you’ve promised to address your problem, many times, to no avail.”

  Woodcock’s face hardened into a sour scowl, and he tugged at his beard. “Have you heard of privacy, Ruthie?” He said her childhood name as if it were a taunt. “I would think any worthwhile therapist would know a thing or two about giving people their space.”

  “I know socially unacceptable behavior when I see it, Jimmy, and I will not be a part of your dysfunction. Do yourself and your family a favor and find a twelve-step recovery program in Jackson. At the very least, get yourself a therapist to take you through some Cognitive Behavioral Therapy.”

  “I don’t have a problem.”

  “Denial, Jimmy. Best-case scenario, you’ll alienate your family and friends and community people like me. Worst case? A large percentage of rapists report looking at porn. Do you want to go there, Jimmy?” She stood her ground, hands on her hips as her eyes met his cold stare. “Or maybe you’ve already been there?”

  His expression darkened. “I think you’d better leave.”

  “I’m going.”

  *

  By the time she joined Ethan at a table in the window of the café, the tremble that had riddled her body had quieted to a shiver. The waning sunlight did nothing to penetrate the deep chill she felt at facing off with Jimmy Woodcock, but she was glad she’d done it.

  Someone had to stand up to him.

  As a mental health professional, a mother, and just a basic citizen, Ruth wasn’t going to tolerate offensive behavior that objectified and devalued women.

  “Hey, there.” Ethan smiled up at her as she slid into the booth across from him, and the vestiges of the boy she’d crushed on years ago softened her brusque mood.

  She had planned to stick to water, but the frosty mug in front of him sold her on beer. She pushed her sunglasses back on her head as the waitress headed off to get her drink. “What a day.” It felt good to have a peer to talk with. “I just read Jimmy Woodcock the riot act.”

  He squinted. “The newspaper editor?”

  “Editor and porn addict,” she said.

  “What?” He winced. “Sorry. It’s not that I don’t believe you. It’s just the way you blurted it out, as if it’s a club or a job title.”

  “I should probably be more sympathetic and supportive, but I am fed up with the men in this town. Present company excluded. The Prairie Creek I grew up in seemed to be a quaint town. Yes, there were a few quirky personalities. Some eccentrics and local color. But now that I see this place with adult eyes, I’ve encountered a handful of men who are significant threats.”

  “Here in Prairie Creek? We live in the safest town this side of the Wind River Mountains.”

  “It’s pretty much the only town this side of the mountains, so that’s not saying much. I’m not naïve enough to believe that anyplace is truly safe, but when I brough
t my daughter here, I wasn’t expecting to find death and kidnapping. Courtney Pearson’s body recovered after being held captive for fifteen years? And Addie’s disappearance … these things are a mother’s worst nightmare.”

  As she spoke, her eyes lit on two cowboys walking down the street, both wearing black Stetsons and sunglasses. Recognizing one of them as Rafe Dillinger, she slid her sunglasses over her eyes and held the menu up to cover the bottom of her face. “Speak of the devil. There’s Rafe Dillinger, looking like he’s on his way to The Dog.”

  “Probably because he is. Friday night out.” Ethan glanced toward the window.

  After the two men passed, Ruth stared after the second cowboy, who was the same height and build as Rafe. “Who’s that with him?”

  “Looks like Scott Massey. He’s a trick rider. He was in the rodeo with me, but he works on the Kincaid ranch now, or he did. You’ll probably see him performing at the rodeo exhibition on the Fourth.”

  “Are you going to be in the parade?” she asked, thinking of the times she’d seen him riding down Main Street atop a majestic horse.

  “Not this year. I’ll be behind the scenes, horse wrangling for the Dillingers. Someone’s got to take care of the animals.”

  “That was a bad scene on Monday.” Ruth thought back on it, Rafe falling down drunk and still taunting her. “Does Rafe blame me?”

  “He’s acting like it never happened. Davis has had him out riding fences, especially mornings when the girls are around. He hasn’t been a problem since then, but he owes you an apology.”

  Ruth raked her bronze hair back. “I chewed Davis out for assigning a man like Rafe to teach eight-year-old girls.”

  Ethan nodded. “He felt bad about that, but he’s between a rock and a hard place. One of the female riding instructors went off to teach at a summer camp, and the backup teacher is Addie Donovan.”

  “Oh. That’s awful. He didn’t tell me that.”

  “He didn’t want to spook you, but he never should have assigned Rafe to the girls. Actually, I would have been uncomfortable taking the girls on without Kit along. You have to be careful when you work with children. It’s best to be cautious, for everyone’s sake.”

  “I agree on that. It’s one thing to take some chances on your own, but when kids are involved, you’ve got to keep them safe.” She looked up and thanked the waitress, who placed a mug of beer in front of her. “I worry about Penny. But I came here with a mission, and I think I’m making some progress. Do you realize that the closest mental health professional is in Jackson?”

  “That’s pretty far, though it’s not surprising for a town this size.”

  “But Prairie Creek has grown, and it’s growing still. People in this town who need therapy are going to go without because they can’t make the trip. I’m here to change all that.”

  “You’re moving at a pretty good clip. You’ve got your office set up next to Emma’s dress shop, and your hotline is up and running. I heard about it at Molly’s.”

  “I’m glad the word’s getting out.”

  “Any calls yet?” When she nodded, he smiled, his blue eyes glimmering with light from the late-afternoon sun. “I wish you luck. And once school starts, I’ll put the word out there. I have a pretty strong network of guys—mostly athletes—who come to me when they have issues. I’d like the girls to know there’s someone they can turn to.”

  “Any way you can get my name out there, I’d appreciate it,” she said, “and no woman should worry about paying for counseling. Chrissy Nesbitt, the mayor’s wife, has convinced a charity to subsidize my services for clients in need.”

  “That’s great, especially if this town is as crazy as you say.” Only the glimmer in his eyes hinted that he was poking fun at her.

  Sipping the cold beer, she took a moment to enjoy the glow she felt in his presence. Throughout the week, she had tried to stay low key, but she had found herself looking forward to the brief moments she spent with him when she went to the ranch to drop off or retrieve Penny. Maybe it was because they had both left Wyoming and returned, or maybe it was just meant to be. She’d spent years holding back, suspicious and wary of men, and now, back at the source of her trauma, she’d found a man who filled the air around her with magic and warmth.

  There was still wonder in the world.

  “What are you thinking about with that lazy smile?” he asked.

  “I’m thinking that you’re probably the only reasonable person left in this town. Besides me, of course.”

  He ran his fingers over the condensation on his mug. “Does that psychobabble mean you like me?”

  She laughed, feeling a flush of embarrassment. It was so “high school,” but then that was where it had started for her. “Well, yes.”

  “Good, because I like you too. I’m hoping you and Penny will stick around awhile.”

  Basking in the light of his eyes, she took another sip of beer and promised him that they weren’t going anywhere—even if Prairie Creek was riddled by threats.

  “Who are these menacing figures you’ve encountered? If that’s not confidential.”

  “One is a client, so I can’t talk about that. Then we have one of my parents’ neighbors—” She looked around to make sure none of the other early-dinner patrons were listening. “Calvin Haney. Do you know him?”

  “Is he a member of our church?”

  “He is. My mother says he’s an upstanding citizen, but I like to think of him as Creepy Cal.” She told him about the hose incident with the girls and Cal’s subsequent suggestive remarks. “Then there’s Jimmy Woodcock—you know about that. There’s the client and, of course, Rafe Dillinger. You know that story.”

  “You’ve had more than your share of local color, but I have to say you’re pretty perceptive about people. Why do you think they’ve targeted you?”

  “I …” She couldn’t tell him about the rape, although that was the source of her overriding caution. “I don’t know. Just a hunch,” she said with a shrug.

  “What can I do to make your welcome back to Prairie Creek smoother?”

  “You’ve already done a lot,” she said, opening her menu. “I’d like to buy you dinner as thanks for jumping in on the riding lessons.”

  “That’s a nice gesture, but no.” He watched her intently. “I’m old school on some things. The guy pays for the first date.”

  So it was a date. Something young and hopeful trilled inside her, and she looked down at the menu to mask her unadulterated joy. “Okay, thanks.” She smiled up at him. “In that case, I’ll have steak.”

  *

  From the Prairie Dog Saloon, he stared out through the warped, nicotine-stained glass at Ruthie McFerrron, the little girl with the big, round tits. There she sat, smack in the window of the café, a sitting duck. Maybe he should go back to her because after a suck-ass week of following Shiloh Silva from hill to dale, he was ready for something new. Damn Shiloh. She wasn’t the wild risk-taker she used to be. Now Beau Tate stuck to her like white on rice. She never went anywhere without him or the younger girl.

  He was getting sick of sweating in the hot sun, his throat parched and gritty as he waited for the right moment to snatch up Shiloh. Damned tired. But maybe the waiting game was over.

  Ruthie here was a woman alone. She lived with her daughter in a quiet area at the edge of town. Not even a dog to make things challenging. And her body was ripe and ready, with hips widened by childbearing, and those big, round plums with rosy nipples that would brush against him when he pinned her down.

  Lifting the long-necked bottle to his lips, he let the cool liquid stream past his teeth as he willed his dick to behave for now. Finishing the beer with a grunt, he waved down the waitress and ordered another.

  Just killing time.

  *

  That night, Ruth still basked in sweet recollections of her dinner with Ethan as she stood in the doorway of Penny’s room and watched her daughter sleeping. Penny’s small body was turned away, hugging he
r fluffy white dog, but the steady rise and fall of her shoulder was like a soothing mantra to Ruth.

  Keep breathing.

  Stay safe.

  Stay alive.

  Ruth’s contact with her new clients, women like Lily and Addie’s mother, had reinforced her purpose in coming back to Prairie Creek. And yet, at the same time, the close brush with crisis was a reminder that catastrophe struck every life at one time or another.

  It wasn’t a matter of if, but when.

  Ruth’s first priority had always been keeping her daughter safe. Now, with the knowledge that there was a kidnapper and a killer out there, Ruth had become hypervigilant. She would be Penny’s shadow and protector until this sociopath was found.

  A breeze passed through the upstairs, stirring Ruth’s nightgown around her bare legs. The cool wind felt good after the evening thunderstorm that had broken the three-day heat wave. She blew her daughter a silent kiss and trod down the stairs barefoot to close and lock the windows for the night. As she pulled down the dining room window, something moved outside, stirring the branches of the tall yew that bordered the neighbor’s fence.

  She froze, listening as she stared into the darkness. An animal? When she was a kid, her mother had nurtured a hedge of flowering arborvitae that was visited by a family of raccoons at night. Shining the beam of a flashlight on their gleaming eyes, she had felt intrigued and frightened at the same time. Nonetheless, she would check the hedge in the morning to make sure that nothing was nesting near her house.

  She was closing the living room windows when she heard a buzzing sound from the kitchen. Her cell phone was ringing on the kitchen table, and it was a call from the hotline.

  With a deep breath, she tried to muster a calm, professional tone as she answered. “This is the Sexual Assault Support Line,” she said. “My name is Ruth. How can I help you?”

  No one answered.

  She kept the phone pressed to her ear as she closed the kitchen window and walked back toward the front of the house.

  “Hello?” she said, stepping out to the screened-in porch. The cool air brought goose bumps to her skin, and the cement floor felt gritty underfoot as she padded to the front door, double-checking the lock. Maybe that was silly, as a home invader could simply slice through one of the screens, but checking the locks and windows was one of her nightly rituals.