* * *
IT was a well.
Taylor recognized the solid, sturdy covering. Many of the old wells had been filled in, but a few hadn’t. Staring at it, his heart racing, he wondered. Was this the end of it, then?
Had they found her?
He looked up, saw Dez staring at him.
“She’s in there,” Dez said quietly. A heavy sigh shuddered out of her and he realized, although the sun was beating down on them and the frost covering the ground had started to melt, it was colder now than it had been. “I feel her.”
“Is she…”
Dez looked down. “Just open it.” Then she frowned, squatted down. She reached inside her coat and pulled out a pen.
He watched as she nudged something on the ground. A flower petal…What…?
“She was here,” Dez murmured. “The lady.”
Startled, he looked at her. “Lady?”
“Yes. It was a lady who took her.” She rose again, her gaze shifting off to the side. Automatically, he followed her gaze, although he knew he’d see nothing. His heart screamed—Anna?
But there was nothing.
Setting his jaw, he bent and grabbed the handle. Logic told him it would be hard to move. It was an old well. Never used. The cover wouldn’t be easy to budge.
It came up with barely a protest.
He reached for the Maglite he’d tucked into a loop on his belt and pulled it off. “If the well’s deep,” he said hoarsely, “we won’t see much.” He looked up, focusing on Dez’s face. “If it’s full of water or anything…”
She came around and rested a hand on his shoulder. “I can look.”
“No.” He closed his eyes. He had to do this. He had to look. For Anna. For his father. Even for his mother. And for himself.
He looked.
It wasn’t very deep, maybe thirty feet. At some point since it had been dug, it had gone dry, too. Nothing, absolutely nothing, kept him from seeing the small, forlorn skeleton lying at the bottom.
“WE’RE keeping it quiet.”
Distantly, Dez was aware of the detective’s voice, knew he was talking to Taylor—she knew she should be more focused on him, but for the first time, Anna was talking to her, and she couldn’t have looked away from the girl if she’d tried.
“You found me.”
“Yes.”
If anybody noticed her talking to thin air, Dez, at that point, didn’t care. She knew she would later, but right then, she didn’t care.
“Is that…that’s Taylor, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” She shifted her gaze away from the girl’s face for a brief moment and focused on Taylor. He stood with one hand jammed in his pocket, head slightly bowed against the wind. “That’s him.”
“I guess I should have expected him to look different.” Her image shivered, wavered. “I know a long time passed—I could feel it, even when I wasn’t really able to hold on much. But I didn’t expect him to look different.” A sad sigh escaped. “He looks so sad, so grim.”
Dez didn’t feel like she was talking to a child. She supposed, in reality, maybe she wasn’t. It wasn’t something that had happened before. Most often, they seemed stuck, trapped by the horror of what had happened to them, unable to progress past what they’d been.
But the horror hadn’t happened to her so much.
Edging a little farther from those around them, she quietly asked, “He needs to know…if you can tell me. Do you remember what happened?”
“Not all of it, no. There was a lady. She was sad. She wanted me to go with her—I knew I shouldn’t. But I hated that she was sad.” Anna reached up, tugging on one of her insubstantial ponytails. The habit seemed so simple, so human. And this woman-girl was anything but human now. No longer part of this world. “I told myself I’d make her feel better. I liked making people feel better. Then I’d leave. She wouldn’t want me to leave, but I was good at sneaking away. I did it a lot…even with Mom and Dad, because they just never knew I’d know when they’d come and look in on me.”
A shiver wracked Dez’s body. Perhaps not as much woman as she appeared. But she’d died before she’d had a chance to lose that naiveté.
“She wanted to keep me.” Anna’s eyes closed. “She was angry at my mother. She’d heard Mama yelling at me and it made her angry. It didn’t make sense, you know. But she wanted to keep me. Like I was a pet. The longer I was with her, the more I worried. But it wasn’t until she called me her angel that I got scared.”
“That’s when you realized something bad had happened…to her.”
Anna opened her eyes. “Yes.” She looked past Dez, to Taylor once more. “He looks like them,” she said softly.
Dez followed her gaze. “I guess in a way he is. He spends his life helping people, trying to stop people from hurting kids…so things that happened to you don’t happen to others.”
“But she didn’t mean to hurt me,” Anna said sadly. Her voice was tired and broken. “And somebody hurt her worse. Can you…”
Oh, God. Dez felt her heart stutter. Damn it. Damn it. But she let none of that show on her face as Anna asked, “Can you find her? Find who hurt her?”
“Hurt who, sweetheart?”
“The lady. That poor lady…”
* * *
“WE’RE keeping it quiet,” Stahley said. “And we will do it for as long as we can.” He scowled, then, pushing a hand through his grizzled, graying hair, staring over at the small crime unit gathered around the well. “If…hell. If, technically, it has to be if. If it is your sister, I…well, I’ll take care of her. I’ll do that no matter who it is, but I remember your sister. I worked her disappearance, you know. Still guts me, thinking about what happened to her.”
He slid Taylor another look and sighed, shook his head. “Guess not as much as it does you, though.”
Taylor didn’t answer. What could be said? Instead of trying to answer, he looked away, focusing on Dez. He wasn’t the only one looking at her, either. Damn near every person there had shot her a look from time to time, and more than a few weren’t even being subtle with the way they stared at her.
“You got any idea how many freaking weird things have happened in town since that woman showed up?” Stahley asked.
Taylor smiled faintly. Oh, the man had no clue.
Dez was still staring at nothing, her face downcast, like whatever it was that held her attention was smaller than she was. Perhaps a child. And she was talking. Some of the people were looking at her like she was nuts. Stahley had more than a little suspicion in his gaze.
Taylor had an ache in his heart. But instead of going to her, he turned away. He’d already figured out that for some reason, his presence disrupted the flow around Dez if he got too close. As much as he wanted to be there—and he wanted it more than he wanted to breathe his next breath—he couldn’t intrude.
Hearing the soft thud of footsteps, he looked up, watched as Blake Hensley came over. Clad in a thick jacket, his hat pulled low, he nodded at Stahley then looked at Taylor. “You turn up in the weirdest damn places, buddy.”
Taylor grimaced. “Yeah.”
He shot a look over at Dez, then the well. His gaze lingered there, something dark and sad in his eyes, before he looked back at Taylor. “What are we going to find out about this body?” he asked quietly.
“It’s too early to know anything for sure,” Stahley pointed out.
Blake ignored him, just staring at Taylor. He knew. Neither of them had to say a word. The man knew.
Somebody from the team gathered around the well called out. Stahley looked up, sighing. He reached up and scratched his head. “I’ll be back in a minute.” As he headed off, Taylor and Blake watched him go. Only when they were alone did Blake look back at Taylor.
“It’s Anna, isn’t it?”
Taylor looked away.
Dez was staring at him now. As their gazes locked, she started toward him.
Blake
grunted. “You’re not even going to answer me, but I know the answer. It’s her. I feel it in my bones.”
“You ever going to try to be something more than a small-town cop?” Taylor asked absently.
“Sure. If Stahley ever retires, I’m shooting for his position. But for now, I’m happy here. This is home.” He shrugged. “Not all of us aspire to fame and glory.”
Taylor slid him a look as Dez drew even. “You think I chose what I did for fame? Glory?”
“No.” Blake shook his head. “You did it for Anna. And now you’ve found her.”
Dez’s brows arched up. She glanced at Taylor. He gave her a tiny shake of his head, but said nothing. Blake might take some damn good shots in the dark, but there was no way Taylor was confirming them. She slid her hand into his and looked past Blake to the other cops. “Any of them know how to process a crime scene?”
Taylor sighed. “They’ll do.” It wasn’t like there would be much to find. And he knew what he needed to know. It was Anna.
He’d rather handle it himself, but he had no jurisdiction here and he was already in a gray area, just from all the shit that had gone down. Gray area—hell. He might be resigning over this. He couldn’t even feel bad over any of it, either. He’d meant what he’d told Dez earlier—he might have some rough nights over what had happened to the Moore kid, but he could live with it, especially knowing Ivy was safe, and that Moore would have a hell of a lot harder time targeting other people now.
He could live with his actions. But the consequences might be walking away from his career, and it started with staying out of this now. Even if he could objectively look at any of it.
Dez squeezed his hand and he looked down at her. “Do you want to stay here?”
I’m not leaving—
He wanted to tell her that.
Blake cleared his throat. Looking up at him, Taylor lifted a brow.
“I ran into the mayor before I came out here, before I heard what was up today. He mentioned that if I saw you…well. I don’t know if he wants to rip your ass to shreds or what, but I think he wants to see you. He’s at the hospital.” Then the cop grimaced. “Of course he’s there. Where else are they going to be now?”
He sighed and rubbed a hand over his mouth. “You know, I never did like Brendan all that much. He wasn’t a nice kid—had a mean way to him. His dad, now, the guy can be an ass, but he always did love that boy. You could tell. Joshua and Jacqueline…they tried. Loved him, and when it looked like he had problems, they tried to help.”
Dez frowned, focusing on the cop. “Jacqueline?”
“The mayor’s wife. Brendan’s stepmom.” Blake sighed, the sound echoing. Oddly loud. It reverberated through Dez’s mind. Every last moment seemed to slow as he said, “She had a baby her senior year in high school, Taylor. You remember that? Nobody ever did hear who the father was, not that I can remember, but she was…what…six, seven years older than us? Then one day, the baby up and dies. SIDS, they said. Now this. That poor lady.”
That poor lady…
Unconsciously, Dez tightened her grip around Taylor’s hand.
CHAPTER TWENTY–ONE
LOST in thought, Dez barely realized they’d stopped at the hospital.
That poor lady…
Jacqueline—Dez had only the vaguest image of the woman. Blonde hair, sweet face, blank eyes. Doll’s eyes. Sad. Grim. Death on the air—but she’d thought it was Brendan’s. Brendan hadn’t died. Was it death she’d sensed? Despair?
“Not making sense,” she whispered. She shook her head, rubbed her temples. “Not making sense.”
A blast of cold air wrapped around her. Startled, she looked up, realized they were at the hospital. Taylor was standing just outside her car door, waiting expectantly, a grim look on his face. He hadn’t wanted to leave Anna’s grave. She knew it, even if he hadn’t said anything. Swallowing, she climbed out of the car, but he didn’t move. His body kept her caged in.
“What’s going on, Dez?” he asked quietly.
She looked past his shoulder toward the hospital. “I don’t know.”
“Bullshit.” His voice, harsh and stinging, made her flinch.
Looking back at him, she said again, “I don’t know. There’s something…it’s not coming together in my head yet—there’s a piece missing and I think it’s here.” Then, because she couldn’t leave him blind, she whispered, “But I think the woman who took Anna…I think she’s here. And…”
She groaned and lifted her hands, covered her face. Anna’s plea rose from the back of her mind to taunt her, haunt her. “You know how they haunt me, right? Once they get their way inside me, until I lay them to rest, I can’t let them go? They can’t let me go?”
“Yes.” He curled a hand over the back of her neck. “Dez…look at me.”
She lowered her hands and stared at him. Her eyes burned, her heart ached. “She won’t be able to let me go now—not until I do what she asked.”
A muscle jerked in his jaw. “Anna…you…you saw Anna.”
“Yes.” She laid a hand on his cheek. “She’s held on, drifted in and out, but I don’t think it was her pain that kept her here.”
His hand closed around her wrist, squeezed so tightly. “Don’t.” He shook his head. The mask on his face started to crack.
“She needs me to help this woman, Taylor. She’s held on all this time…for her. Whoever this woman is, somebody hurt her. Badly.”
Taylor let her go and spun away so fast, it left her floundering. The car shuddered under the impact of his fist and she flinched. But that didn’t keep her from reaching out and catching him. He already had blood on his knuckles—if he hit it again, he’d be lucky if he didn’t end up with more broken bones. He whirled on her, fury on his face. “You’re asking me to—to—what, stand by while you help the woman who killed my sister?” he snarled.
“I don’t think she killed her. Anna fell.” Dez shook her head. “I still have to piece more of it together from her, but I don’t think this woman wanted to hurt her. And this has nothing to do with me or what I want. Nothing to do with you or what you want, either, really. I’ve got to do what they need.”
She knew she was risking everything as she took a step closer. Taking that chance, she reached out, laid a hand on his chest. He froze, standing rigid. “How do you know this woman didn’t kill her? To keep what she’d done silent?”
“I don’t know that. Not yet.” Licking her lips, she continued. “But regardless, it doesn’t matter. Because your sister can’t let go until this woman is helped. What’s more important to you, Taylor? Justice…or peace for that little girl? Because I don’t know that I can help you find both.”
* * *
HE wouldn’t let himself think.
That was the way it had to be as he followed Dez into the hospital.
He even knew where they were going. Everything had changed for Dez the minute Blake Hensley had said a name. And now he was staring at the woman who was responsible for his sister’s death. Whether she’d killed her or just driven his sister into an accident, Taylor didn’t know.
But Jacqueline Moore, the pretty, delicate blonde that Joshua Moore had taken as his second wife, was responsible for the death of six-year-old Anna Jones, missing for the past twenty-five years.
As they stood in the door, the Moores seemed to sense their presence and Joshua looked up. A spasm twisted his mouth and he glanced at his wife before he stood. She caught his hand, though. “You stay here with him,” she murmured. “I need to stretch my legs anyway.”
* * *
DESPAIR—pain—
Dez jerked her shields up, almost knocked to her feet by the pain coming off this woman. Oh, she hid it. She hid it very well. It had spiked the second she looked at Taylor, too, something that would have made Dez’s antennae quiver, if she had any, and if she hadn’t already sensed something off about this woman.
There were all sorts of things off ab
out her.
All sorts of things…
With that sweet smile in place, Jacqueline Moore shut the door behind her. With that sweet smile still in place, she turned around to face them. And without ever losing that smile, she said, “You two shouldn’t be here. Not after what you caused.”
It was almost eerie, Dez thought. Like seeing a doll speak.
“Joshua wanted to see us.”
“You shouldn’t be here,” she said again, shaking her head. “Brendan’s paralyzed. He can’t move his legs, can’t feel anything below the middle of his chest. It’s your fault.” She paused, shook her head. “You shouldn’t be here.”
She turned to go back inside—to barricade herself.
Dez reached up and laid a hand on her shoulder. As she did it, she lowered her shields. And all of the wrongness, all of that brokenness flooded her.
Gasping for breath, she fought the torrent, tried to break it off. Because it wasn’t just one way. Dez wasn’t very good at this thing and when she was receiving this much, all the channels in her mind burst open and she couldn’t keep it trapped—it flooded out of her, back into Jacqueline, and she flinched as the woman whimpered, then sagged.
Angel…my pretty little angel. You let some dirty bastard touch you? Who was it? Who’s been putting his dirty hands on my angel?
The pain blistered out of her—intense, obscene.
My pretty, precious angel. You are my angel, aren’t you? No matter what—
Yes, Daddy. I’m your angel. Heartbreak. Despair. Self-loathing and hatred. Then, the memory of a face in the mirror. A child. Just a child…perhaps no older than Anna had been.
Another face.
A man’s face. Cruel and angry. Little slut. Who is it? Who did you let touch you?
The girl cowered, protecting her ripe, swollen belly. Nobody, Daddy. There’s nobody but…She didn’t say it. She couldn’t because Daddy didn’t like to hear her say those words. Not at all.
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