by Beverly Long
“What did you do?”
“It’s what they didn’t do. Pick up their rooms. So I took away all video games.”
“And now you’re the bad guy?” she said.
“They both hate me. Or so they say.”
“They don’t hate you. They hate not having their video games.”
Danny nodded. “Josh was really flinging it. Said that if his mom was there, this never would have happened.”
Ouch. “He’s ten,” she said gently.
Danny set down his muffin. “I wish his mom was here, too.” His voice was thick with emotion.
She reached out, covered his hand with hers. His skin was warm from holding his coffee. She could feel the fine hairs on the top of his knuckles. The shape of his fingers were so like Gabe’s. “I’m sorry, Danny. I wish it could all be different.”
He closed his eyes, and for at least a minute, they sat in silence. The sun caught the auburn hints in his dark hair and short beard. Danny Morgan was a handsome guy. He would meet someone. When he was ready. And he would be happy again. And his boys would grow up and know that there were certain things you just couldn’t say.
He opened his eyes and offered up a forced smile. “Sorry,” he said.
She patted his hand and then pulled hers back. She picked up her latte. “No problem. Hey, the pork is done for tomorrow. What time do you want us over there?”
He shrugged. “I thought we’d eat at noon.”
“I’ll get it hot at my house and we’ll get there about eleven, then. We probably won’t be able to stay long. Work and all.”
“No problem. I’m just grateful for the help. I don’t know what I’d do without you and Gabe right now.”
“Well, you don’t have to. That’s the good thing about family. But now I’d better scoot.”
“Go catch those bad guys,” he said.
“They don’t have a chance,” she said.
* * *
She rang the bell next to the door to get into the school, then stood where the camera could easily see her. When the buzzer went off, she grabbed the door. She’d been inside the school at least ten times, even though it was fairly new. The police drilled for active shooters, and with a police force the size of Baywood, that meant all hands on deck. Whoever was the first to arrive might need to go in, so everyone needed to understand the school’s layout.
The office was twenty steps in. There were two women at desks behind a chest-high counter. “May I help you?” asked the woman on the right, without getting up.
She flipped open her badge. “I’m Detective Morgan with the Baywood Police Department.”
The two women at the desks exchanged glances and both got up. One to come to the counter, while the other hurried down the hallway.
Rena understood. In this day and age, when somebody came to your school with a badge, it was likely not good news. Best to get somebody in charge. “Do you have a teacher here by the name of Lauren Peacock?”
The woman at the counter nodded. Then held up a finger. “Just a moment, please.”
And sure enough, within seconds, a dark-haired woman in a very cool-looking jacket and matching ankle pants strode down the hall. She had on heels with a peep toe. “I’m Principal Wootin,” she said. “What can I help you with?”
She was very pretty, and Rena could see why a seventeen-year-old A.L. had lusted. “I’m Detective Morgan,” she said again, holding her badge steady. “I’m trying to locate Lauren Peacock, and I understand she’s a teacher here.”
Principal Wootin nodded. “Mrs. Peacock teaches in our history department. Is there something going on that as the principal of Baywood High School I should be concerned about?”
“No,” Rena said. That was all she intended to tell her. But it was evidently enough, because the principal turned to the woman who was still standing near the counter. “Text Assistant Principal Andrews and tell him that we need coverage in Mrs. Peacock’s room. Ask him to alert Mrs. Peacock that she’s needed in the office.”
When Rena had been in school, they’d done those kinds of things with public address systems. Crackly, annoying interruptions that had woken her up more than once in Spanish class.
“It should be just a few minutes. You’re welcome to wait over there, Detective Morgan. Would you like some coffee or water?”
“I’m good. Thank you.” Lauren Peacock was in the building, which meant that she wasn’t traveling with Tess Lyons. Had Tess’s parents been mistaken, had she lied to them or had they deliberately misled A.L.?
It took twelve minutes for Lauren Peacock to get to the office. But Rena expected that. This was a big school. Who knew how far her classroom was from the office? When she came in, the woman who’d come to the counter but was again back at her desk pointed in Rena’s direction.
Rena stood. “Lauren Peacock?”
“Yes?”
“I’m Detective Morgan from the Baywood Police Department.”
The woman’s mouth opened, and her eyes filled with concern. “No,” she said.
It wasn’t quite the reaction Rena expected. “Perhaps we should sit?” she suggested.
“Is it Tess?” Lauren asked.
“I need to ask you a couple questions,” Rena said, not answering directly. She pointed at chairs in the corner, as far away from the reception desk as possible.
“Of course.”
“Are you friends with Tess Lyons?”
“Yes.”
“We’re trying to locate Tess, and it was our understanding that you and Tess were traveling together.”
“No.”
She was being stingy with her answers. Probably because Rena hadn’t been exactly forthcoming. Tit for tat.
“Do you have any idea where Tess might be right now?”
Lauren nodded. “You’re trying to find her? You’re not here to tell me that something bad has happened?”
“That’s right.”
“Oh, thank God,” she said, sinking back into the cushions. She drew in a deep breath. “I have a cabin up near Shell Lake. I loaned it out to Tess because she said she really needed to get away. When you started asking questions about her, my mind went to the worst-case scenario.”
Shell Lake was roughly two hours north. “When’s the last time you heard from Tess?” Rena asked.
“When she picked up the key from my house on Wednesday morning. I have some friends who live nearby—they stay at the lake all year—and I asked them to check on her. They called me late Wednesday to confirm that she’d made it safely.”
“No voice mails, no texts?” Rena asked.
“No. I’m not surprised. Tess said that she really just wanted to get away from it all.”
“I’m aware of the shark injury,” Rena said.
“She’s just not bouncing back,” Lauren said.
Rena doubted that finding out that she was on tap to become the fifth victim of a serial killer was going to help Tess’s mental health. “Can I have the address of your cabin?”
“Of course.” She walked over to the counter, picked up a pad of scratch paper and a pen and wrote something down. It took her a minute. She returned to the waiting area and handed it to Rena. “Here’s the address and directions. GPS isn’t always very good in that area.”
“I appreciate this,” Rena said.
“I don’t suppose that you’re going to tell me why you want to talk to her?”
Rena shook her head. “Just know that it’s not because of anything that she did wrong.”
Lauren laughed. “That actually never occurred to me. But then again, you don’t know Tess.”
“I’m going to ask that you keep this conversation between the two of us,” Rena said. “To do otherwise could potentially put Tess at risk.”
“I won’t say a word to anyone.”
Rena hoped she stuck to her promises. It was bad enough that the office people and the principal knew that she’d been in to see Lauren. The more people she and A.L. talked to, the more opportunity for the killer to know that they were circling in. “Thank you.”
Kids were passing classes as she left the school’s office. Her kid—the one she was confident had been conceived the night before—would be walking these halls in about fifteen years. The idea was mind-boggling. She could be going to class plays. Helping somebody get ready for prom.
She wanted it so badly. Which was sort of a mean joke on her. After all, for fifteen-plus years, since she’d been seventeen and lost her virginity in the city park to a boy whose name she barely remembered, she’d used birth control to avoid pregnancy. She hadn’t been a slut, by any means. But when she was in a relationship with somebody she cared about, she always protected herself from unexpected pregnancy.
And then along came Gabe. They’d dated nine months and gotten engaged. His big family had welcomed her with open arms. Married six months after that. She’d just turned thirty-six. Gabe had wanted children right away, and she hadn’t disagreed. She’d stopped taking birth control two weeks before the wedding. And waited. For the day she could tell Gabe they were pregnant.
She pushed open the school door and headed for her car. Once inside, she called A.L. “I found her,” she said when he answered.
“Tell me,” he said.
She gave him a quick review of the conversation. He did not interrupt, except when she described Lauren’s initial reaction to knowing that she was there to talk about Tess.
“That’s four people now—her boss, her parents and her best friend—who have all assumed the worst about Tess Lyons’s mental health. This has the smell of shit all over it,” he said.
“I know. I’m sort of afraid of what we’re going to find. And especially afraid of what we’re going to see once she knows why we’re looking for her. On the other hand, Tess’s boss had nice things to say about her work before the shark attack, and Lauren Peacock said something along the lines that if I’d known Tess, then I would never expect her to do something wrong. So there’s a good, solid side, too.”
“We may not be the only ones looking for her,” A.L. said.
“What?”
“I called the Bulletin. I spoke to the managing editor. They don’t have a Mike Wilmont on staff. Not one of their freelancers, either.”
“Let me think this through. Her parents said that the reporter called on Tuesday, right?”
“Yes.”
“We know that Tess wasn’t at work on Monday or Tuesday, that she called in sick to enjoy room service in Madison. Her boss and likely her coworkers knew that she was out sick.” If it was like most offices, when somebody called in sick, an email went out advising the rest of the team that the person wouldn’t be in. “But if Perp is watching Tess, he doesn’t know why she’s not at work or where she is. All he knows is that she’s not where she’s supposed to be. He’s getting antsy. Decides that he needs to call her parents, get them to cough up some info.”
“But he runs into a brick wall.”
“So what does he do?” Rena wondered aloud. “Give up on Tess? Move down the list? Go into wait-and-see mode—after all, he’s got a few days to find her. He’s not due to strike again until May 20.”
“I don’t know,” A.L. said. “What I do know is that we need to drive to that cabin today. I’m an hour out still, but I’ll swing by work and pick you up.”
While she or A.L. could drive to the cabin by themselves, given what they’d heard thus far about Tess Lyons, it might be good to have two of them there. “I thought you had Traci’s play tonight.”
“I do,” he said. “I can be back to Baywood by four. We’ll leave right away and get to the cabin by six. Spend an hour with Tess, get her read in, and then we’ll make the drive back. I’ll be in a seat by the time the curtain closes, and Traci will never know that I wasn’t there for the whole thing.”
If everything went perfectly. Which it never did. But they were due a break here. “Okay.”
Fifteen
A.L. thought about Tess in a little cabin on Shell Lake and was almost jealous. He’d fished that lake with some buddies a few years ago. Had caught some trout that he wasn’t ashamed of.
Would she come back to Baywood with them? Would they want her to? There was no good plan right now, because so much depended on Tess’s ability to take in the news and keep on keeping on. Making normal.
Was the killer a step ahead of them? He didn’t think so. Nobody else had been to Tess’s parents’ house. Nobody else knew about Lauren Peacock. Lauren’s friends up in Shell Lake knew Tess was at the cabin, but what were the chances that they were the killers? Less than none.
He rethought that last bit. Not about the Shell Lake people, but about Lauren Peacock. Lots of people might know that she was friends with Tess. Lots of people might know that she had a cabin on Shell Lake. People in Wisconsin talked about their cabins as if it was a basic right guaranteed by the Constitution.
He pressed on the gas pedal, increasing his already fast speed by five miles an hour. He felt the need to hurry. When he pulled into the station parking lot, he parked in a visitor’s spot and almost ran into the building. He needed to piss. He texted Rena. I’m here.
Her response came quick. I got you food. You can eat while I drive.
He emptied about thirty-two ounces of coffee from his bladder and washed his hands. By the time he got back to the car, Rena was standing next to it, holding a white sack.
“Appreciate that,” he said, reaching for the bag. “Did you eat?”
“Yeah. I’m good.”
He tossed her the keys and climbed into the passenger side. “Go fast,” he said.
She caught his concern. “Something I don’t know?”
He told her about his thoughts on Lauren and her cabin.
“Damn, you’re right,” she said. “Okay, hang on. Here’s the directions for when we get close.” She tossed Lauren’s handwritten notes into his lap.
He ate his burger and fries. “Did you get your pork cooked?”
“Yeah. It was a good night,” she said. “I saw Danny by chance today in a coffee shop. I know he appreciates the help.”
“He’s in a bad spot,” A.L. said.
“He is. But their youngest let it be known that he’s dating again.”
“Good for him.” Everybody was dating. Danny. Jacqui. Maybe he should give it a try. But the rational part of his brain told him to kick his own ass. He’d not particularly enjoyed being married. He had a good thing now. Thank you very much, Carrie Stack. No need to screw with it.
Lots of people were lonely sometimes. It didn’t mean they had bad lives.
He closed his eyes. “I’m going to catch a nap.”
“Fine. I’ll wake you when we’re close.”
* * *
It seemed as if he’d barely closed his eyes when Rena shook his shoulder. “We’re fifteen minutes out,” she said.
“Got it,” he said, stretching in his seat. “Thanks for letting me crash.” He looked at the directions. “Your next turn is on Spring.” The words were barely out of his mouth when Rena’s phone rang. She answered it on Speaker.
It was the temp who had taken Violet’s spot while she was on maternity leave advising they had their warrant to get into Tess’s house. Rena thanked the woman for the information and hung up. “That’s good,” she said.
He didn’t bother to answer. Five minutes later, they found Spring, and from there it was four more turns before they got to the frontage road leading to the cabin. He double-checked the address. “There’s no vehicle,” he said. “And no garage.”
They’d checked the motor vehicle records for Tess and knew that she was driving a Nissan Rogue. They had her license plate.
He’d really, really wanted it to be that easy. That they’d drive up, see her car, knock on the door and end this fucking chase.
“Maybe she’s running errands,” Rena said. They got out of the car and walked around to the lake side of the cabin.
Totally possible. But something didn’t feel right. She’d been there for two days. Where was the beach towel hanging over the rail to dry? The lawn chair on the dock, where she drank her morning coffee? He’d been coming to cabins like this for years. There was a pattern.
But maybe Tess was the type who sat inside, on her screened-in porch, and read a book. But if she was, you’d think a few shades would be up. “I’m going to knock,” he said.
There was no answer.
“You go right,” he said. “I’ll go left. Don’t use her name unless you absolutely have to. Let’s see if any of the neighbors have seen her.”
He walked across the sandy yard that separated the cabin from its neighbor. There was a small boat, a sixteen-footer with an outboard motor, at the side of the dock. He knocked, and the door swung open. It was a man, maybe sixty. Likely retired. Living the good life.
“Hey, how’s it going?” A.L. said easily. “Sorry to bother you, but I’m looking for my friend who’s staying next door. I don’t see her car, and I know it’s a long shot, but I wondered if you knew where she might be.”
The man shook his head. “She drive a blue SUV?”
“Yeah.”
“I saw that vehicle there on...let me think... I guess it would have been Wednesday afternoon. She was hauling in some groceries. And then I saw her again, letting her little dog out, when I went fishing Thursday morning. I guess I haven’t seen her since, and I don’t think her SUV has been parked there.”
That was more than twenty-four hours ago. Fucking long errand. “Hey, that’s helpful,” A.L. said. “We must have got our signals crossed.”
“No problem. Good luck.” The man shut the door.
A.L. was waiting on the porch when Rena came back. “I got nothing,” she said. “I went to both of those houses. Nobody saw her.”