“I . . . have one in my wallet,” he replied, pulling his ball cap on over his head before reaching into his back pocket. “It was taken a year ago. It was just a stupid selfie that she took on her birthday, but it was beautiful and I . . . I made her get it printed out and . . .” Trailing off, he stared at the small photo he held in his hand.
My chest squeezed as I listened to him. “Why don’t you sit down and I’ll get you something to drink,” I offered, wishing there was more I could do.
His unfocused gaze swung to me and he nodded absently, sitting down in the chair. Cole was on the phone, talking in a low voice. His eyes came to mine before he turned, clasping the back of his neck with one hand.
I hurried into the kitchen, startled to find James was in there. “I didn’t know you were here.”
He was placing a large pot on the counter when he looked up. “Been here for a while.”
“Angela’s missing,” I blurted out.
His aging face, full of deep grooves, seemed to pale by several shades. Dark eyes widened on me as his hands stilled on the handles of the pot.
“Her boyfriend is out there,” I explained, forcing myself to get moving. I went to the fridge.
“Damn,” he said gruffly. “That girl ain’t missed a single day of work. Not even last year when she got that damn flu bug goin’ around.”
I grabbed the pitcher of fresh tea, realizing that despite everything Mom and I had been through, we hadn’t assumed the worst when Angela hadn’t showed for work. I wasn’t sure if that was a bad or a good thing.
“Damn,” James muttered as I poured a glass of tea. “That’s some rough news.”
“Yeah,” I whispered, lifting my gaze to his.
He walked the pot over to the sink. “That’s some familiar news.”
“Yeah,” I repeated.
I couldn’t let myself focus on that last fact as I left the kitchen. By the time I got back out to the sitting area, Mom was downstairs, kneeling in front of Ethan. Her worried gaze collided with mine as I placed the glass of tea on the small end table. Cole wasn’t in the room, but I heard him speaking from the front of the inn.
“Thank you,” Ethan murmured as he picked up the glass. “I haven’t eaten or slept. Been surviving on coffee.” He took a drink and then looked at my mother. “Do you think . . . ?” His voice filled with anguish. “Do you think she’s okay?”
“Of course, honey.” Mom rubbed his bent knees. “Of course.”
His gaze lifted to where I hovered. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. The pained glaze to his eyes was mingled with horror.
“She’ll be okay,” I told him, wanting and needing to believe that myself, because I couldn’t picture otherwise. I couldn’t fathom how bubbly and happy Angela could be anything else but okay.
“You really think that?” he asked, and that was a hit to the chest.
My mouth dried. I knew what he’d meant by that question, because he knew, just like anyone who had lived in this town ten years ago, that sometimes when people went missing, there wasn’t a happy ending.
Ethan took several long sips, the glass shaking in his hand. “I checked at the college, you know, to see if her car was there. It . . . it wasn’t. I even left a message with the professor to see if she made it to class.”
“She was here yesterday,” Mom explained, rising slowly. “She worked her shift.”
I nodded, thinking of how she was bouncing around the kitchen just yesterday, eating the cookies that Jason had brought.
Cole returned, everything about him on alert. I imagined this was how he was while at work. He hung up the phone. “You have your car, Ethan?”
The young man nodded, setting the glass aside. “Yeah.”
“Okay. We’re going to drive down to the police station together,” he said as he crossed the room. “They know you’re coming in to file a report.”
“Is there anything we can do?” I asked.
“Anything,” Mom repeated.
“There is.” Cole stopped in front of me, and before I could do anything, he lowered his mouth to my ear and said, “Please stay in tonight. That’s something you can do for me.”
I found myself nodding and agreeing.
He drew back, his eyes coming to mine. “We’ll talk later.”
And once again, surprising me, he dipped his chin and kissed the curve of my cheek. Then he was at Ethan’s side, placing his hand on the younger man’s shoulder, guiding him out.
I watched Ethan and Cole leave, then looked over at my mom, not surprised to see her eyes fixed on me. She didn’t comment on what Cole had just done, which was the only surprising part, as she leaned into me, wrapping her arm around me. I didn’t know what to say, and she seemed to understand that, like she always did.
Mom squeezed my waist. “I know.”
The insurance adjuster showed to look at my car that afternoon. Shortly after he left, a tow truck arrived to cart it off to a body shop about ten minutes down the road. I chatted with one of the guys at the garage. They figured they’d have my car finished by Tuesday.
I did as Cole requested. I stayed in, mainly because I had no reason to go anywhere. I spent the rest of the afternoon completing what Angela normally would do while hoping to hear something about her whereabouts, something good.
News about Angela’s possible disappearance spread fast even though the town wasn’t that small. After dinner was served to the Mattersons and they retired to the room they’d rented, Miranda showed up and then Jason. They joined Mom and me in the kitchen.
Miranda was sitting on the kitchen island, legs dangling off, and it was a good thing James had already left, because he would’ve kicked her butt if he saw her on the counter.
Not minding where Miranda’s rear end was, Mom sat at the table with Jason, and I stood near Miranda. All four of us had fresh coffee in our cups. There’d been nothing on the news about Angela, which was frustrating, but I imagined someone like Striker would be all over it come morning. At least, I hoped he would be spending his time on something more useful.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” Miranda stated, and it was probably the fourth time she’d said it, and like all the times before, she trailed off before saying what we all were thinking.
Everyone was avoiding saying it because I was there, so I went ahead and said it. “I can’t believe this is happening again.”
She sucked in a shrill breath as Mom pressed her lips together, casting her gaze out the window, onto the dark veranda.
“That’s what everyone is thinking, right?” I said, placing my cup on the counter behind Miranda. “The woman in Frederick was missing and they . . . found her body, and now this has happened.”
“Doesn’t mean these two things are related,” Jason argued, bending forward and resting his arms on his legs. “I heard that the cops were really looking at the Frederick woman’s husband.”
“That’s what they did before,” Miranda interjected quietly. “When the first woman disappeared, they swore it was her husband. Didn’t they actually arrest him?”
Mom nodded and her voice sounded distant when she said, “They did. It was Becky Fisher’s husband. Held him for several days until they released him, because they didn’t have any evidence.”
“And because Jessica Rae disappeared,” I said, rubbing my hands over my arms, chilled. “That was before people realized that when another woman disappeared, the other one was already dead, but everyone figured it out pretty quickly after that.”
Twisting toward me, Mom said, “Sasha.”
I bit down on my lip. “This is just too—”
“Coincidental,” Jason cut in, and my gaze went to him. “Look, all I am saying is that we might be jumping the gun here, assuming the worst. Not that anyone could blame anyone for doing it, but if Angela really is missing and that’s somehow tied to the woman from Frederick, then we’re dealing with a . . .” He took a deep breath. “Then we’re dealing with another seria
l killer, and what is the likelihood of this area having not one but two serial killers?”
I jolted, seriously unnerved. It wasn’t because of Jason, but what he said. Two serial killers. Pushing away from the counter, I snagged the mug and went to the sink.
“It’s probably not related, and Angela will show up tomorrow.” Miranda smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She didn’t believe it.
And I didn’t think any one of us did.
Conversation moved to some kind of drama Miranda was sensing at work. She didn’t know the details, but there’d been a lot of closed-door after-school conversations taking place. It started to get late, and Miranda and Jason moved to leave.
“I’ll see you later.” Jason leaned in, giving me a stiff one-armed hug that made me grin, because he was pretty terrible at hugs. “Walk you out?” he said to Miranda.
“Normally I’d tell you that wouldn’t be necessary, because I can kick ass.” Miranda hopped off the counter. “But I’m officially freaked out, so you can totally walk me out.”
“Be careful,” I told them. “Both of you.”
Miranda saluted me. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Sometimes I wonder if you’re a closet drinker,” muttered Jason.
“I’m an in-your-face drinker,” she replied, and Jason just shook his head as he walked her out of the kitchen, his hand on her lower back. My brows lifted. Was there something going on between them? If there was, I imagined Miranda would’ve said something. Why wouldn’t she?
I stood there for a moment. “I’m going to lock up behind them since the Mattersons are here.”
“Okay, honey.” Mom rose from the table. “But please come back. I want to talk to you for a moment.”
Nodding, I left the room and went to the front door with my hands pressed against the cool wood.
Two serial killers.
The air in my throat caught, and I opened up the front door, staring out over the lawn. The porch light and the lamp cast a soft glow that did nothing to chase away the shadows. Tiny bumps raced across my skin and the fine hairs at the back of my neck rose. Stepping back, I quickly closed the door and locked it like there was an ax murderer racing up the drive.
Mom was back at the table when I returned, all the coffee mugs washed out and placed in the dishwasher. She patted the table, and I walked over, sitting across from her. “How are you hanging in there?” she asked.
Biting my lip, I shook my head. “Tomorrow marks one week back home, and . . .” I lifted my hands helplessly before dropping them to the table. Talking about how I was dealing felt wrong when one woman was already dead and Angela was missing. “This isn’t about me. You shouldn’t be worried about me.”
“Honey, I know that.” Reaching across the table, she folded her hand over mine. “But I am worried about you.”
“I’m okay.” I was unsettled. Freaked out. Worried about the whole deer thing and my car, but I was fine even though I sounded a little desperate when I asked, “Do you think Angela will turn up?”
“I don’t know. I’m hoping and praying that’s the case. Angela could be flighty, but she never missed work. She wouldn’t just run away.” She squeezed my hand. “But there’s something else I want to talk to you about.”
I didn’t need to take a wild guess to figure that out. “Cole?”
A soft smile appeared on her face. “His truck was outside this morning when I got home.”
Oh geez. I was so hoping he’d managed to leave before she woke up.
“Now, I’m not looking for details, but I’m guessing something good went down between you two based on the way he was acting this afternoon.”
Was that just last night? Felt like an eternity ago. “He drove me home and then he stayed the night—on the couch,” I added. “It was late.”
Her head tilted to the side. “I don’t know if I should be proud of you or disappointed that you had that fine-looking man sleeping on your couch when I know that bed of yours is more than big enough.”
My mouth dropped open and I gasped, “Mom.”
“What?” she laughed. “I may be getting up there in years, but I can still fully appreciate a good-looking man.” She sat back. “Especially a man who cared for my daughter once before and seems like he still does, and I also know you cared for him deeply once before too. What I want to know is if you care about him still.”
I tipped my head back and stared at the ceiling lights until the brightness was burned into my retina. “It’s . . . I don’t know how I feel.”
“I’m not sure I believe you.”
Sighing, I lowered my chin and rubbed my eyes until the burn went away. Mom knew me too well sometimes. “It’s complicated.”
“I’m of the mind that anything worth a damn in life, anything fun and joyous, will always be complicated,” she said. “If it’s easy, it’s probably not exactly worth it.”
“True, but I think . . .”
“Spit it out, honey.”
“Fine,” I groaned. “I think he feels sorry for me and he came back here out of some messed-up, twisted sense of obligation.”
Mom’s brows inched up her forehead and several moments passed before she spoke. “And what exactly has he done that would make you think that? Not what you think he has done, but what has he done?”
I opened my mouth, prepared to point out the reasons why I believed this based on our few times together since I returned, and I couldn’t find anything actually concrete—anything that wasn’t my perception of what he’d done. I snapped my mouth shut.
“I’m going to be honest with you, honey, like I’ve always been.”
Mom’s brand of honesty and truth could either be really hilarious or downright awkward. I had no idea which way she was going to go with this.
“You’ve been through things that no woman should ever have to go through. You’ve survived things that no one should ever have to face. You are strong. You have the real strength that’s important. Up here.” She tapped on her head and then her chest. “And here. You picked your life up and pieced it back together. I’m proud of you, honey, so damn proud.”
The back of my eyes burned as I listened to her.
“But that doesn’t mean you’re seeing everything right. People are going to feel bad for you. I feel bad for you. It’s human nature for others to feel that way, and I bet Cole does feel that way,” she explained gently. “But that doesn’t mean that’s driving his actions. That doesn’t mean he asked you out to dinner, drove you home, and stayed on your couch because he pities you or feels like he had to.”
I stared at her.
“All I’m saying, maybe even asking, is that you judge him based on what he is doing,” she finished. “Not on what you think he’s doing. Okay?”
“Okay, Mom,” I whispered.
Her smile reached her tired eyes. “Good to hear that.” She rose. “Now I’m going up to bed. If you happen to hear anything about Angela, please let me know.”
“I will.”
Mom headed upstairs from the in-house stairs, and I double-checked the doors again. As I did so, something occurred to me. Heading back into the kitchen, I walked into the old room, and flipped on the overhead light. I walked over to the corkboard, searching out the keys until I found the one Mom had mentioned before.
Angela’s house key.
Hers hung at the bottom, next to an extra set of keys to Mom’s truck. Her key had one of those pink caps, and a black marker had etched AR on it. I reached out, running my fingers over the key, hoping that it would be reused again by Angela.
Sighing, I turned around, hit the light, and then entered the stairwell, making my way up to my apartment. Since it was almost ten, I washed my face and pulled my hair up in a bun. Then I changed into a pair of flannel pants that were nowhere near as sexy as the nightie I’d grabbed the night before.
My gaze zeroed in on the bed as I pulled a pale blue cami on. What Mom asked of me replayed over and over in my head.
Judge
Cole on what he did, not on what I thought.
Such a simple idea, but it wasn’t easy when I got caught up in my head, thinking the things that I thought.
I walked over to my bed and picked up my nightie, folding it before taking it back to the drawer. Dinner yesterday did feel like forever ago, and if I was being honest with myself, I’d freaked out with Cole when I started to think about the Groom.
I grabbed an oversized cardigan, slipped it on, and padded back out into the living room. I was about to pick up the remote when there was a knock on the outside door.
I spun around, my heart leaping into my chest. I could think of only one person who’d use that access this time at night. Gathering the sides of my sweater together, I darted over to the back door and flipped on the porch light before pulling the blinds aside.
Till Death Page 14