“On the other side,” Frank said, motioning with his flashlight, “is that small clearing where the girls supposedly hang out.” He pushed forward, hacking at vines, aiming his light ahead. “Gabby? You out here? Gabby?”
A sharp thorn caught Frank’s pants at the shin, ripping them and his flesh. He grabbed his leg and felt the blood ooze into his hand. There was no end in sight to these thorny weeds.
Grayson came up beside him. “There are cockleburs everywhere. This is like walking through tiny sharp spikes. We’re going to have to get some tools to clear these out before we can go forward.”
Frank grabbed Grayson’s arm. “You hear that?”
They stopped. Both men steadied themselves, and Frank drew his gun. Ahead, a sound that Frank couldn’t identify competed with the wind. Maybe a small animal?
“What is that?” Lou whispered.
“I’m going in.”
“Frank! Wait! You can’t go through those—”
“Gabby?” Frank tore through the weeds, hacking at them with his gun. Each cut stung worse than the one before, but he couldn’t stop. This was the only way. Blood soaked his pants and dribbled down each arm.
As he neared the clearing on the other side, Frank’s light hit a large tree. He stopped to listen. Moaning? Was that what he heard?
Then he saw her.
Frank fought through, breaking the remaining vines and branches. “Gabby!”
As he made his way into the clearing, the entire sight startled him to a near standstill. Her eyes, hollow and vacant, stared, unblinking. Was she dead?
“No!” Frank scrambled forward, stumbling toward her. “Gabby!”
Her hands were tied behind her, and she was gagged. She sat at the base of the tree, four ropes tying her body to it. She’d been stripped of all her clothes except a tank top and boxer shorts. She didn’t seem to be responding to the light or her name being called.
“Lou!” Frank shouted. “I found her! Get some medical attention!”
He heard Grayson radioing in the call as he threw off his coat. He approached her slowly, cautiously laying his coat over her. Her hand was ice-cold. He pulled the gag off her mouth and gently patted her cheek. “Can you hear me?”
Her gaze suddenly shifted to the left. She stared directly at him, through him, still unblinking. Her lips, a deep purple, moved slightly as if she was trying to speak.
Relief flooded Frank so fast and hard, tears stung his eyes. “We’re here. You’re going to be all right. Just stay with me, okay? I’m going to cut the rope.” He hurried to the other side of the tree. His hands were so cold he had a hard time sawing.
Frank rushed back to the girl. He took her hands and rubbed them and her arms as fast as he could. Her skin, already fair, looked ghostly white against the moonlight. A dark blue half circle hung under each eye.
Her lips moved again. Breath froze right in front of her face.
“Gabby, it’s okay. I’m here. My name is Frank.”
“Help me . . . ,” she whispered.
In the distance, the siren’s scream grew louder.
“Help is on the way. Hang in there.”
Her eyes closed. Her mouth gaped open.
“No, Gabby, no! You’ve got to stay with me! Stay awake!”
He heard Grayson hacking his way through the shrubs. Soon he was at the tree with a blanket from his car. “They’re on their way,” Grayson said.
Frank covered her with the blanket and pulled her next to him to try to get more heat to her. Her limp body leaned against his, her head resting against his collarbone. “Hang in there. You can’t die. Open your eyes. Meredith, look at me.”
Grayson stepped forward. “Her name is Gabby.”
Frank looked up, a startle electrocuting his heart. What had he said?
Grayson eyed him for a moment, then pulled out his phone and took a piece of paper out of his pocket.
Frank continued to rub her arms and hands. Color was starting to return to her skin. Her teeth chattered. Frank stroked her hair.
Grayson dialed a number. “Mr. Caldwell, Captain Grayson here. . . . We’ve found Gabby. . . . Yes, sir. She’s alive but in need of medical attention. . . . I think so, but we need to get her to the hospital. . . . The ambulance is here now. I’ll give you more details at the hospital.”
The quiet night air was undone by sirens and commotion. Within minutes, a dozen police officers, firefighters, and EMTs had arrived on scene.
“We can’t get the gurney through here,” one of the EMTs said, as he wrapped a silver thermal blanket around Gabby.
“I’ll carry her out,” Frank said. “See if you can get the firefighters to chop through some of those vines and branches.”
Gabby’s cheeks suddenly flushed, and her lips turned pink. Her wide eyes dimmed a little, but she looked peaceful. She gripped Frank’s arm. “Thank you.”
Frank shoved his arms under her and stood, lifting her off the ground. She was lightweight. She buried her face in his chest as the lights shone on her. Frank made his way through the shrubbery, holding her tight. The warmth of the blanket helped his body warm up too. He could finally feel his hands again.
Once he made it through the trees, a stretcher was there waiting. He carefully laid her on it and brushed her hair out of her face. For the first time, he noticed what a beautiful, innocent-looking young woman she was. Big brown eyes blinked at him. “I was praying and praying. I thought I was dead. You’re my answer. You got here just in time.”
Frank only stared. He couldn’t say anything. He felt tears trickling down his cheeks.
“You’re going to be fine,” Grayson said, stepping up to her as he glanced at Frank, giving him an odd look.
“Let’s get an IV started,” one of the EMTs said.
Frank moved away and let them tend to her. Within two minutes, they had her loaded into the back of the ambulance. The sirens wailed into the night. Officers wound crime scene tape around the trees.
Grayson slid up next to him. “This could’ve ended much, much worse.”
Frank nodded, trying to get himself under control.
“You okay?”
“I meant to say Gabby, not Meredith.”
Grayson gestured at his legs and arms. “I meant those cuts all over you.”
“I’m fine.”
“Who’s Meredith?”
An EMT offered to inspect Frank’s legs but he waved him off. “This kind of thing doesn’t happen in our town, Lou.”
“You got a lead off that tip?”
“Let’s go.”
* * *
Restlessness, inky black and suffocating, turned Kay over and over in her bed. She kept her eyes closed, trying to force sleep upon herself. But it came in short spurts, and then her body would jolt awake, her heart pounding as if it were twice its size, like she’d been running from something she couldn’t see.
She opened one eye. The clock glared at her. Five thirty in the morning and she’d barely slept. Then something caught her attention. A white note sat perched against her lamp. By the glow of her digital clock, she read it: They found her alive. Be back later. D.
Kay propped herself up on one elbow, emotion filling the emptiness that was there just moments before. Tears dripped down her cheek, and she fell back into her pillow. It cradled her. Moments before, it had tormented her. She turned over, hoping for another hour’s sleep.
But gasped.
She scrambled to a sitting position, reaching behind herself and yanking at the lamp cord. Jenna? She grabbed her shoulder. “Jenna? Are you okay?”
Jenna moaned and rolled over. “I’m fine. Go back to sleep.”
Kay sat there, her hand on her chest, staring at her daughter. The last time she’d crawled into bed with her was when she was six years old. Kay studied her face, still dainty and innocent, especially without the makeup and the attitude. Kay stroked her hair, combing it out of her face. She turned off the lamp, then slowly, quietly, slid back under the covers. She wra
pped her arms around her baby girl and fell into a deep sleep.
* * *
Frank stood with Grayson outside Gabriella Caldwell’s hospital room. Nurses shuffled in and out for thirty minutes. Then the doctor stepped out.
“How is she?” Frank asked.
“Stable. She’s lucky she was found when she was. It took us a while to get her body temperature back up. She should make a full recovery.”
“Can we talk to her now?” Grayson asked.
The doctor nodded. “But make it short. She seems . . . traumatized. I know you guys want to catch this person, but take it easy on her, okay?”
Frank and Grayson opened the door and entered the room. A woman sitting by the bed stood when she saw Grayson. “I’m Beth Caldwell. This is my husband, Ted.” They all shook hands.
“I’m Captain Grayson. And you know Sergeant Frank Merret.”
Frank moved closer to Gabby’s bed. “She looks good. Color back in her face.”
“Thank you so much for all you did. I can’t imagine—” Beth’s voice cracked—“what she’s been through. Who would do this?”
“That’s what we want to find out. Can we ask her a few questions?”
Reverend Caldwell walked to the bedside. “Gabby?”
Gabby opened her eyes, blinked slowly.
“Gabby, can you talk to the police?”
Her eyes widened as she spotted them. “I don’t want to.”
The reverend looked confused. “What? We’ve got to find who did this to you.”
“I didn’t see anything.” She shook her head. “I don’t know anything.”
Frank fingered the railing of the bed, trying to find the right approach. He pulled up the stool the doctors normally sat on. As he sat down, he patted her arm. He could tell she recognized him. “Remember me?”
She nodded.
“Do you remember my name?”
“Frank.”
“That’s right.” He smiled. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine.”
“Warm, I bet.”
“Yeah. Warm.”
“Gabby, do you know how we found you tonight?”
She shook her head.
“Somebody came forward, told us that they suspected someone from your class did this to you.”
Gabby gazed out the window on the other side of the room. The sun, plump and dark orange, had lifted just above the horizon.
“Maybe this is too much,” her mother said, stepping next to Frank.
Frank held up a gentle finger. “The person that came forward risked a lot to tell us where you might be and who might be responsible for this. I know this is scary. You feel threatened. But we can’t let them get away with this.”
Ted stepped to the other side of the bed. “He’s right. What this person did is horrible. You could’ve died.” He took her hand. “We’re here for you. Nothing is going to happen, I promise.”
Gabby remained expressionless, seemingly staring straight through her father. “I don’t know what happened. I didn’t see anything. I don’t know anything.”
18
Damien stood at the printer, his fingers tapping against its white, plastic top. The paper couldn’t come out any slower. It had already jammed twice.
“Come on,” he muttered.
He took a deep breath and turned away from it for a moment. The large east window showed the glory of morning. Soft-hued light spread over the horizon, melting into the dark sky like watercolor.
Damien walked to the window, pressing his hands against the glass, looking over the town from the eighth floor of the tallest—and newest—building in Marlo. It seemed cradled, trees and rivers swaddling it on all sides. Safe. Pure. Beautiful.
“Hey.”
Damien turned. Bruce stood behind him, a grim look on his face.
“Hey, Bruce. You’re in early.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m about to drop dead.”
Bruce stared at him, his face strangely absent of emotion. “Is there something you want to say to me?”
“Say to you?”
“Yeah. Say to me.”
“No, what’s on your mind?”
“I just believe that if there’s something you want to say to someone, you should say it to them.”
“I believe that also,” Damien said, starting to bristle.
“Are you sure there’s nothing you need to say to me?”
“I’m positive. What’s this about?”
Bruce glanced away as if he needed a moment to settle himself down. “I read something on that Web site. Someone doesn’t like how I write my articles. Doesn’t like my use of vocabulary.”
Damien groaned. “It wasn’t me, okay? I mean, is my name mentioned?”
“No. Neither is mine.” His gaze fixed on Damien. “But sometimes you gotta read between the lines.”
“And sometimes you have to trust that a friendship is more powerful than a few words you read on a Web site.”
Bruce looked caught between relief and indignation. So he just turned and left.
Damien took a moment to compose himself. After the night he’d had, this was what he had to deal with?
Damien returned to the printer, grabbed the pages, and walked to Edgar’s office.
What he didn’t expect to see was Edgar’s startled face as he pushed himself away from the computer and leaned in to quickly punch a button. His face, red and flustered, remained expressionless as he looked at Damien. “Yeah?”
“Here’s our headline,” Damien said, holding up the pages.
“‘Found Alive.’ Perfect.” Edgar stood and stretched his back. “Do you know the last time we put out a special evening edition was when that bank was robbed? Nothing bad ever happens here, which makes for a great place to live and a horrible place to be a newspaperman. The only controversy around was those op-ed pieces you wrote when you were in a bad mood.” He took a breath as he skimmed over Damien’s paper. “Did you hear?”
“What?”
“The police department is offering a reward.”
“For the person who did this to Gabby?”
“No, for the person who’s running the Web site.”
“Really? I thought they weren’t investigating it.”
Edgar grinned. “I guess we changed their mind.” He sat down, folding his chubby hands together as his chair creaked to hold his weight. “All right, I want something good ready to roll tonight. This investigative piece is great. I won’t lie; you’re becoming a dandy reporter. But I also want something from the heart. What’s on your mind with this kidnapping and near murder of this girl? I want a symphony, got it?”
“Yeah. Sure.” Damien started to leave. “Hey, who told you about the reward from the police department?”
Something flickered across Edgar’s expression, then disappeared into another grin. “Maybe I read it on the Web site.”
Damien returned to his desk. Only adrenaline had caused him to go strong for the last few hours. Now all he wanted was a bed. But Edgar was right. There had never been anything like this before in Marlo. And if he could make any difference at all with what he had to say, then there was no time to waste.
Except something seemed wrong. With everything. With everyone. Like he was living inside the movie Invasion of the Body Snatchers.
He glanced around the room. Everyone was hunched over his or her keyboard, drawn into some other world.
Damien’s hands hovered over his own keyboard. Thoughts numbered like random words on page after page. He had to organize them, make them concise, put them to use without a heavy hand. Nobody wanted to be preached to. What did they want?
Truth.
Hope.
Well-being.
But what they once had was no longer. Damien typed his headline: “What Lies Beneath.”
* * *
“Where’s Jenna?” Hunter asked as he cut up his Eggo.
“Upstairs. I’m letting her sleep in. This whole thing with Gabby real
ly upset her.”
“I’m glad Gabby’s okay,” Hunter said quietly.
Kay came over and hugged him from behind. He always had such a tender heart. “I know. These things often don’t turn out well.” She stepped to the side and touched his face. “Are you all right?”
“I’m good. I better get going though.”
Kay walked back to the table. “It’s kind of early. And remember, I said that you can’t ride your bike to school. Not until this person is caught. Hold on. I’ll drive you. Let me run upstairs and throw on some sweats.”
Hunter sighed. “Look, I realize you’re freaked out and I’ll allow you some freak-out time. Just don’t go overboard. That’s all I’m saying.”
“Like insist that you embed a GPS tracking device under your skin?” Kay smiled.
Hunter laughed. “Exactly. I’ll be in the car.”
Upstairs, Kay jumped into a cozy sweat suit and slid on old sneakers. As she started back across the room, Jenna stirred.
Kay sat on the edge of the bed and clicked the lamp on. “I let you sleep in a little, but you better get up and get to school. I’m going to run Hunter in and I’ll be back. I’ll write you a note to be excused.”
Jenna peeled open her eyelids. “Mom?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t make me go.”
“What?”
“Please. Can I stay home today?”
Kay smoothed the hair out of Jenna’s face and touched the back of her hand to her cheek. “You’re feeling bad?”
“No. I just don’t . . . I want to stay home.”
Kay nodded. She couldn’t imagine how traumatizing this must’ve been for her. “Sure. You can stay home. Get some more sleep and I’ll fix you some breakfast in about an hour.”
Jenna rolled over and Kay turned off the lamp. As she stood in the doorway looking at Jenna, she thanked God that her daughter wasn’t involved.
* * *
Frank got out of Detective Murray’s car, and both men stood on the curb for a moment, observing the house. A small sign near the mailbox boasted lawn service. The sidewalk leading to the house was swept clean enough to belong on the inside. Bushes lined the porch, and a grotesquely large Christmas wreath hung on the red front door. Two luxury SUVs were parked in the driveway.
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