Daddy Soda (A New Hampshire Mystery Book 1)

by Mira Gibson

  “Is that what you’ve claimed?”

  “On my good days, yes, that’s what it feels like.”

  “I wish I lived in your world.”

  “We live in the same world, Hannah. Your corner of it just happens to have a few more shadows, but they’ll clear.”

  Cody brought his mug to his lips, drank.

  “Tea’s cooled off.”

  She drank hers, but couldn’t take her eyes off him. He was beautiful, a good man with a pure heart.

  Who would she have been if she never left?

  Would he have saved them? Her?

  Would he have made her so strong that Hannah could’ve saved Mary and Candice, Kendra, maybe even Dale from himself if such a thing were possible?

  Becoming whole, she liked the sound of that.

  Hannah set her mug on the tiles next to the tub and rose to her feet, water cascading off her every curve. At first Cody appeared dumbstruck, staring at her, eyes widening and brows rising, forming a dopey smile he tried to repress. But she held her gaze on him and remained. She didn’t feel embarrassed or exposed or self-conscious about her figure that usually felt skinny and unattractive to her. She wanted to be seen, for him to look at her, because the way he did often made her feel not only remarkably beautiful, but appreciated, cared for, and cherished.

  On his feet, he asked, “Towel?”

  “No,” she said softly. “Just you.”

  He went to her, coming in close so that the length of him was met with her dripping body. Delicately, he grazed his hands up her arms, angling in, his cheek so near hers. Then his hand held the nape of her head, his other at the small of her back, and he held her, gentle but sure of himself, finally sure they might have what they both wanted.

  Cody embraced her tightly and lifted her out of the tub. No sooner than her feet touched tiles, his lips were on hers and Hannah melted into him, kissing and holding him as securely as he held her.

  Then she faintly breathed, “Take me to your bed.”

  “What if it swallows you?”

  “It won’t.”

  ***

  Hannah rose before the sun. Cody’s room was dark, but its shadows didn’t threaten her. She glanced at him sleeping - cheek smushed against his pillow, brown hair a mess of cowlicks, shoulder rising and falling with each breath. She slipped from bed, threw on one of his old sweatshirts and a pair of pajama bottoms, and quietly padded through the hallway then down the stairs.

  She felt familiar here, as though she was intimate with his home simply because she knew him so well. She helped herself to his coffee, popping the lid off the canister and setting a fresh filter in the maker. Once it started gurgling and dripping she stalked through to the sliding glass door, which opened out onto the back porch.

  The crisp, chilly air brought her to life and she observed the sun warming up the sky. Morning dusk. Holding the banister, she gazed out at the lake, smooth as glass, and took in the hardy sight of it all. A pair of loons paddled along the water's edge, nuzzling each other at times, mated for life.

  Off in the distance, she spied the rickety dock she'd grown up with, the shack behind it. She stared at it. That house wasn’t to be trusted.

  Decisively, she cut back through the living room and passed out the front door, found her purse in the passenger’s seat of her Taurus and brought it inside. The coffee maker hissed on the counter and steam puffed out of its top, indicating she could pour herself a mug, so she did, splashed some cream in then grabbed her cell and brought both outside.

  When she rested her coffee on the banister she was already dialing. As she listened for the line to open up, she scanned the water's edge wondering where those loons had shoved off to.

  “Hello?” A groggy voice came through.

  “Cranston?"

  “Christ, is this Hannah?” She heard rustling like he was checking the number on his cell. “Hannah?”

  “Yeah, I need a favor.”

  “It crossed your mind that I’m in bed, right? That I’m sleeping?”

  “Yes, it crossed my mind,” she grumbled. “Sorry.”

  He groaned. She pictured him working sleep out of his eyes.

  “What do you need?”

  “Can you look into my biological father? I need his name, address, well everything that comes up. He was married to Kendra Cole if that helps.”

  “Yeah, I can do that when I get to the station.” He didn’t sound pleased.

  “If you could make it a priority, I’d really appreciate it.”

  “I’m sure you would. I’ll call you when I have something.”

  “Thanks,” she said, breathing a sigh of relief.

  She waited for him to hang up then set her cell on the ledge in exchange for her coffee.

  As she drank, she studied the shack across the water.

  Whatever was truly going on over there, Hannah was determined to find out.

  Chapter Seventeen

  It was a nine-inch nail.

  The kind that had nailed Jesus to his cross.

  She’d hid it in her boot, under her pants. The metal had dug into her ankle, chaffed over the bone. It still did.

  They hadn’t checked her for it and it hadn’t fallen out when they blindfolded her, shoved at her up the stairs.

  When that sweet autumn air hit her and she knew she was above ground it’d been like walking through heaven’s gates.

  But it hadn't lasted. Soon she was tucked away in a brand new hellhole.

  They’d tied her down, drugged her up something nasty, and took her ears, all the while Jesus’ nine-inch nail stayed with her.

  But she hadn’t taken her shot. Blindfolded and hogtied and zinging from painkillers, ever suffering with exquisite pain where her ears used to be, she hadn’t trusted the moment was right.

  It would come. She just had to hold tight and keep the faith.

  She wondered where all her body parts were going and for some reason it made her laugh. She’d always had a quiet laugh, breathy and silent, her smile anchoring wind over reeds. Maybe they were being used as the centerpiece in some kind of satanic ritual. Or maybe they were tossed in the town square meant to remind Sanbornton’s residents there was no place you could hide that the devil wouldn’t find you. That’s who was doing this, right? Satan himself?

  Peering out the bottom edge of her blindfold, Kendra spied shadows and not much else, but the smell of rubbing alcohol and mothballs, bleach and formaldehyde told her she was in a hospital, probably not a real one though. Abducted by mad scientists, that made her chuckle a bit too.

  She was laid across a steel table, tied down, but her arms weren’t bound together, nor were her feet. She tested how much leeway she had. Arching her back indicated less than a few inches. Lifting her legs yielded the same give. Exerting that much effort had her heart rate up so she stopped experimenting to catch her breath.

  Hannah’s face filled her mind. At any age the girl had looked so much like her father Kendra could barely stand the sight of her and even now the way she stared at her in her mind's eye, beady blue eyes slicing Kendra in half, was horrific.

  The day Hannah had left, Kendra didn’t fight her. She'd kept secret from Mary and Candice that Hannah had packed her bags that morning. She’d kept the girls occupied, while Hannah made trip after trip, carrying her belongings to the beat up Volvo she’d scrimped and saved for, working at the DQ and the bowling alley after school just so she’d be able to afford it.

  Like one big happy family they’d gone to Hannah’s graduation, sat in those miserable folding chairs and tried not to squirm, as Kendra’s eldest daughter walked across the stage, accepted her diploma with her left hand and shook the principal’s hand with her right. All the while, she'd counted the minutes, knowing Hannah was set to go. No, Kendra hadn’t fought her one bit. She'd lied to the girls that Hannah would meet them back at the house. She hadn’t stayed to watch Hannah say goodbye to her friends, which was a farce in the first place since she didn’t have any.
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  The last moment she'd ever seen her daughter the girl was screaming at Dale, getting up in his face real aggressive like, eyes fierce like a wild animal’s. Then she’d pointed her finger so close to his eyeball Kendra was certain he’d break it off her hand. She was warning him about something, but the entire exchange had been beyond earshot.

  She wondered what she’d said to him. She wondered if he’d heeded it or if he'd made sure to do it just to spite her.

  All things considered he'd likely ignored her warning. Mary was evidence of that.

  If Kendra had one regret in life it was the fact she’d turned her back on that child. But she just couldn’t hear it.

  If she'd had to face how she’d married the same man all over again, it would have broken her.

  But here she was, broken just the same.

  It’d been a month to the day. She thought about it sometimes. Mary’s hysterical confession about secrets Dale made her carry - September 1st. The evening she got lured out to the dirt path beyond her corner of the lake - October 1st.

  Maybe today was November 1st and maybe she’d fight her way out of this.

  Or today could be her death day. If it was the first, then it was sure to be significant.

  She was filled with a second wind to fight thinking about it and it compelled her to wriggle her shoulders and arch her back, getting the nylon strap to give as much as it would. She had to press the back of her skull hard to the table, but she managed to hold the bend. Then she lifted her shoulder to where her ear used to be, pulling her right arm up as far as it would go, shifting and bucking and working it out from the strap. But when her elbow reached nylon she realized it wasn't going to come. Grunting, she let it go and took to experimenting with her legs.

  Knowing she’d tucked the nine-inch nail down her left boot, she bent that knee, sliding her foot up easily until her boot got caught on the strap. She paused, made herself breathe getting focused, and lifted her head off the table, craning to see what the trouble was. The big floppy tongue of her boot was t-boned against the nylon strap.

  Her mind started racing for how to fix this as a sudden swell of urgency came over her. She was lucky to have been left alone for this long. Something about this place, she could just tell the walls would close in and when they did it’d be fast as hell.

  She straightened out her leg until it met the table then inched towards the foot of the table until she was sure her heel hung off the edge. Then, bending her knee slightly, she got the heel of her boot to clip the table’s edge. Gently, she bent her knee more moving ever so slowly to ensure the heel would stay clipped. Her heel pulled off from the sole, kept slinking out then she lost hold, her boot slid back up the table, but she stopped it, preserving the few inches she’d gained.

  Before trying the same method, she shook her boot some, felt the nail loosen up. All she had to do was get the nail to drop on the table then she could set down on it, shifting and rolling to guide it north, work the nail up to her hand. She was so Goddamn close she could taste it.

  Certain to keep her boot well over the table she jiggled her foot. The boot was all loosey-goosey, and the nail felt more trapped by her pants than anything else. She was sure her boot no longer bound it, though so she dug her heels into the table, bending her knee as much as possible.

  The nail clanked. Metal against metal.

  “Thank you, Jesus,” she said under her breath.

  She began working the nail up along her underside, slow as molasses. When she got it in the ballpark of her knees, she heard voices coming through the wall at her head.

  “I have no control over what he does!” That was Travis. She recognized his voice.

  Then she heard a digital one. A robot? “Your time has come.”

  “No, no, wait.” He sounded panicked like he was about to be pushed off a cliff. “I’m not my cousin. Just because Blake ratted- Hell, we don’t even know who you are! What would it matter what he says?”

  “You betrayed me.”

  “What? I didn’t!”

  “You all betrayed me.”

  “Look, man, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Kendra felt the nail against her upper thigh. She lifted her hips and felt for it, swiping her fingertips carefully over the table, straining, praying, and keeping faith alive. She felt its head on the pad of her middle finger and breathed a sigh of relief. Sweat beaded across her hairline, over her upper lip. She scraped her nails into the head, drew it up. And she had it!

  She held it firm in her grasp just as the door opened. Travis tripped inside, though she could only get a sense of him through the crack beneath her blindfold.

  Then the door closed and the digital voice said, “We’re going to take her eyes.”

  “You’re a fucking psycho, man,” Travis exclaimed, voice trembling, weakening then he cried, “you’re out of your mind.”

  “Hold her here,” the digital voice instructed then Kendra felt strong hands pressing her shoulders down. She held in the scream that was trying to get out until he took his hands away.

  “Just kill me, man,” he whimpered. “I don’t want to do this.”

  Without making any sudden movements, she slowly lifted her chin, spying the kid. She sensed more than saw that the other man was to her right so she kept the nail hidden under her rear, her palm held flatly to it, ready.

  Then the man crossed through to the far end and she realized there was a table there. He lifted some kind of ghastly instrument up to what little light there was, inspecting the blade. But his back was to her.

  It was clear Travis wanted out. This would be the way.

  Kendra willed the kid to look at her. He was hunched in a gut-wrenching sob, straining to keep quiet. She grasped hold of the nail, prayed to Jesus, and tapped it once on the table.

  Travis perked up, lifting his head.

  She eyed the man, but he hadn’t heard so she grazed the nail slowly, faintly, over the table then stopped.

  Travis was all eyes, staring at her. Then he glanced over his shoulder. The man was investigating another option, holding a curved knife to the light.

  Keeping his steps soft, the kid used long strides to reach her then squeezed her hand, taking the nine-inch nail.

  All of a sudden, she heard a fast click at the side of the table and the nylon strap across her chest went slack.

  Movements followed, boots stomping, Travis yelling, the digital voice blaring static, but Kendra sprang up, tearing the blindfold off.

  Travis plunged the nail into the base of the man’s neck, as he stabbed his knife into Travis’ leg, a bad hit.

  She fought terror as she yanked her legs free and leapt off the table. Her palms slammed against the door and she scrambled for the handle, but soon she was thrusting it open, tearing through. She managed to glance over her shoulder to see Travis on the floor, caught sight of the man starting after her.

  She kept going.

  A basement. She was in a basement organized like an office. As she ran, her gaze darted left and right, desperately scanning for a way out.

  Another door!

  She threw it open.

  Stairs!

  She tore up them, all the while she could hear the man’s boots stomping after her, his stride long, but she reached the landing.

  Christ, it was a house. Nice things. The man had money. A leather sofa, oak end tables, alabaster light fixtures, windows - finally it registered this was a living room. Where was the front door? Frantic, she ran through, rounded a kitchen, tore through it.

  Screaming static at her heels when she finally found the front door. She threw it open, barreling out.

  It was blinding!

  The sun in high afternoon, she stumbled, palms smacking earth, its sweet smell. She scrambled to her feet, trying to sprint off but her legs felt wobbly.

  That’s when she saw it - a lake. Her lake? Hermit Lake? There was a road ahead. She ran for it, took to yelling and screaming bloody murder, anything to dra
w attention.

  Suddenly, he grabbed her from behind. Together they fell, her head smacked hard against the cold earth, and once again Kendra’s world went dark.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “You’re not taking my girls!” He was charging towards her from the hall, but Hannah filled the doorway, standing her ground, palm flexed at him in case he didn’t stop.

  “Dale, I am!”

  Behind her, Candice was in a absolute frenzy, plucking tchotchkes off her shelf and throwing them in her backpack in-between grabbing sensible garments - a sock, two sweaters, the other sock, all her underwear, a pair of jeans, flip-flops? Who cared, tossed them in as well. She squeaked and squealed, turning this way and that on her heel, yanking at her hair as though she hadn’t already come undone.

  “Get out of my way.” Dale seethed, breathing down on her like a raging bull.

  Without taking her eyes off him, she ordered, “Candice, hurry up!”

  “You’re not getting out of this house with them, I promise you that.”

  “What are you going to do?” Hannah dared to get right up in his face so close she could smell sour beer rolling off him. Then she spoke low, serving him a cold dish of severity. “I know what you’ve been doing to Mary.” His gaze hardened like he wouldn’t be rattled, though he was. She stepped in closer so he had to lean back. “You will never see these kids again and if you try I’ll kill you.”

  Dale’s jaw clenched and his face turned all kinds of colors she’d never seen on another human being. “I got news for you. Mary doesn’t want to go anywhere.”

  “Get out of my way.” She shoved him into the hall then whipped Candice’s door closed, yelling, “Keep packing. Don’t let him frighten you.”

  Dale was on her when she started up the hall, but he turned for Candice’s room.

  As soon as she heard Candice's door bang open, Hannah rounded back, found him throwing her backpack against the wall. She grabbed hold of the back of his shirt and pulled at him.