She was aware of the stares and snickers directed her way. Word must have spread over the weekend about what happened to her at Catherine’s party. She didn’t care. She had other concerns.
She sat in her desk next to Catherine in her English class but ignored her friend’s attempts at conversation. She pulled out her essay on “The Captured Goddess” and read it over. She’d written about female enslavement and abuse by the hands of men.
“We’re all captured,” the blue woman had said. What did she mean by that? Did it have anything to do with the poem?
The Captured Goddess, placed in bondage by man. What was the significance? Amy didn’t know. It was a puzzle.
“Tell Henry.”
Henry, Amy knew, was her father’s legal name. Grandma Snow had called him Henry, but everyone else called him Hank.
So who was Hannah? Was she the unhappy bride in the wedding photo? Was she the ghost, the blue woman?
Is she Dad’s sister? Do I have an aunt no one told me about? An aunt who, according to last night’s dream, was abused in the worst way by the two men in her life who she should have been able to trust the most?
The thought sickened Amy. But was it true?
What happened to Hannah? Who was the man she unhappily married? How did she die? And what did it all have to do with Mom and her killer? What did it have to do with the Nightmare Man?
There was only one person who could answer those questions, and Amy was scared to death of confronting him with them.
But Hannah apparently wanted her to.
“Why aren’t you talking to me?”
Amy jumped. She placed a hand on her heart. “Shit, you scared me.”
Catherine raised her eyebrows. “Where were you just now?”
“I can’t talk about it.” Amy looked away from her friend and massaged the locket hanging around her neck. “Please don’t ask me again.”
Chapter 41
Richard Barrett parked in a handicap space close to the front entrance of the school, stepped out of his Cadillac and waved to the security guard coming his way in a golf cart.
“Help you?” asked the security guard, who had flabby, red bulldog-cheeks and empty, bloodshot eyes.
Richard smiled and held up the manila envelope in his left hand. “My granddaughter left this at my home. It’s an assignment she needs for a class.”
The security guard, who reeked of sour sweat and liquor, looked at him skeptically for a moment but nodded and without further comment drove on in his little golf cart
Frowning, Richard straightened the folds of his trench coat and walked quickly toward the front entrance.
The old woman working the front desk in the office was far more cordial than the security guard. With a friendly smile, she gladly accepted the envelope and told Richard she would call Amy to pick it up right away.
“Thank you,” Richard said, turning to leave. “I know how important it is to her. She worked hard on it all weekend.”
“Well, you’re a good grandfather to bring it here for her. I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.”
With a smile and a nod, he left the office and prayed that his plan would work out as he hoped. As he stepped past the double doors, he heard that nice office secretary announce over the intercom: “Amy Snow, please report to the office. Amy Snow, please report to the office.”
So far, all was going according to plan.
Chapter 42
“What do you mean my grandfather dropped this off for me?” Amy asked incredulously.
“Just what I said,” answered the gray-haired secretary who looked at her curiously over horned-rimmed glasses.
Staring down at the envelope in her hands, Amy shook her head in disbelief. Was this what he came to her house to give her yesterday? What was it? “What is he up to?”
“Your poor elderly grandfather drove all the way from Mobile to give that to you and that’s how you react. You children these days show no gratitude whatsoever.”
Rolling her eyes, Amy spun around and strode angrily out of the office and toward the front entrance.
She’d had it. Her grandfather had picked at her unhealed wounds too many times, and it was time to do what she was too afraid to do with her father. It was time to confront him about the big things. About thinking only about himself, never about her, and poisoning her father in her mind, making him into the monster she feared.
The late morning sun beamed onto her face as she shoved the double doors open and stepped outside. Shielding her eyes, she scanned the parking lot for his fancy black Cadillac.
When she spotted it parked in a handicap spot, she descended the steps and marched over.
The driver side door of the car opened and her grandfather emerged. Amy’s felt her cheeks burn red at the sight of his ghoulish countenance as she approached. Holding up the envelope, she demanded. “What is the hell is this about?”
Richard Barrett stiffened. “Have you read it?”
Amy felt a temper she never realized she had start to heat up. “Why, what is it? What do you want? I don’t want anything to do with you. I haven’t since Mom died.”
Richard’s chest heaved, his composure failed him. “She’s precisely why I’m here.”
She felt tears come to her eyes, feeling the weight of the pain she endured during the years spent hating her grandparents. “Why the fuck are you bothering us now?”
“I think you have a right to know the things your father kept from you and your mother all these years. It is all there in that envelope, the proof. I’m only looking out for your best interest, my dear.”
“No,” Amy snapped. “You only look out for your interest. It’s always been about you and your feelings, your needs. But have you ever stopped and wondered how your actions affected me? I didn’t need the shit you and Grandma Jane brought on me and my father. I was grieving. I hurt! And you just made it worse. You sunk the knife into my heart. You don’t care about me, only yourself!”
Richard shook his head. “No, that’s not true.”
Not wanting to hear any of his excuses, just wanting to be done with him once and for all, Amy held up her hand, silencing him. “Just stay away from me. I don’t care what you think you have against my father. I will never forgive you for what you did. You’re dead to me.” She glowered back at his stunned expression.
“Amy,” he weakly protested. “Please.”
Amy wiped away a tear and stalked back to her class, the envelope still held tightly in her grasp.
Chapter 43
Joe MacCallum popped an aspirin into his mouth, ground it between his teeth, and said into the BlackBerry, “Same M.O.?”
“Yep,” said Patrick Keene who was at the scene of a grisly find in the woods surrounding a private campsite in Citronelle.
“Shit,” Joe muttered, leaning forward at his desk, one hand pressed against his aching forehead. “How long you reckon she’s been there?”
“Week or so.”
“Bet it’s Laura Sullivan. Christ. Two down, one more to go.”
“I still say we should have a good long talk with—”
“Don’t start that shit again, Pat.”
“We take whatever lead we can get. You know that. Right now he’s the only lead we have.”
“Why are you so suspicious of Hank?”
“You know why.”
“I know you still think he’s responsible for Ellen’s death. But what possible connection could there be here?”
“You read those files I sent you?”
Joe glanced apprehensively at the dusty stack of folders on his cluttered desk. “Not yet.”
“I think you’ll find them interesting. I sure did. All right, I’m gonna talk with the old timer who found the body. I’ll be back at the office after lunch. Probably gonna stop by Mary Lou’s BBQ. Want anything?”
“No,” Joe said. “I’ll call Hank, set a time for all of us to talk. Keep me posted if anything develops out there.”
He hung u
p without waiting for a response and slipped the BlackBerry back in the holster clipped to his belt. “Shit.” He stared at the stack of folders, knowing damn well what Patrick was getting at and hoping to hell he was wrong.
Joe reached for the open bottle of aspirin, popped another bitter pill, and reached for the top folder.
He still couldn’t believe Patrick would spent so long at the main office in Mobile Friday, scouring their archives for these case files. The man sure was persistent.
With a sigh of reluctance, he opened the file labeled BUBBA RAY BUSBY, and flipped through the contents with a tight frown.
Chapter 44
Layne approached the picnic table in the courtyard. “Where’s Amy?”
Catherine shrugged her shoulders. “Beats me. She never showed up for lunch. Didn’t talk to me in class this morning either. Seems in a bad mood. You think she blames me for what happened Friday?”
Layne glanced at Michael. Being Billy’s friend, Layne wondered if he heard or suspected anything about Billy’s disappearance.
He studied Michael’s ashen face, which was partly hidden beneath an inky wing of hair, but as always the Goth looked drugged, jaded, unaware of anything going on around him.
Layne shook his head, preferring to believe the fool knew nothing, or at least was uninterested. “I’ll go find her,” he said, turning away.
“Ask her why she’s mad at me,” Catherine called as he left the courtyard. “Tell her I’m sorry.”
Chapter 45
White velvety clouds wandered along the noonday sky, and a cool gust of wind whipped a long veil of honey-blonde hair into her face.
On the tall metal bleachers at the far side of the football field, Amy sat with her the envelope in her lap. She pulled out the folder inside it and read the handwritten note attached.
Amy,
I know how you must feel about me right now. I have always regretted how we handled things after your mother passed. Your grandmother did too. I miss you. Not a day goes by that I do not think about you. I tried contacting you over the years, but your father never allowed it. He seemed determined to keep us apart. I truly wish things could have been different. You are now the only family I have left in the world. It breaks my heart that I cannot see you.
That being said, I have received this case file at my doorstep Friday afternoon. It reveals things about your father you must know for your own protection. He has been hiding his past from you, your mother, and probably the rest of the world for all his adult life. He needs to be exposed. I know it pains you to hear,
but I still believe he has involvement in your mother’s death. What I have read in this case file only heightens my suspicions.
I want to protect you, Amy. I think you are in grave danger from your father and the things he has been hiding. I will be waiting in my car in the parking lot when you get out of school. Please come see me so we can discuss this matter in detail and decide on a course of action. I am only looking out for your best interest. I am probably the only one left on this earth who is. Your father is surely not. Why else would he be keeping these secrets? Please, believe me. I am on your side.
Love,
Grandfather Rich
With trembling hands, Amy tore the note to pieces. Her eyes blurred with tears as she tossed the shredded paper to the ground.
She couldn’t believe his nerve, but beneath her anger she was frightened her— frightened at what she might find out upon reading the case file.
She dried her eyes and glanced warily at the folder in her lap. The answers to all the questions she had about her father were supposedly held within its pages. Who could have left it for her grandfather to see?
She also started to question if she truly wanted to take a peek in her father’s closet of long-concealed skeletons; if she truly wanted to know what has been kept silent all these years; if she really want to see her fear become a reality.
Before she could come to a decision, she heard footsteps ascending the metal bleachers. She looked up.
“Been looking everywhere for you,” Layne said, sitting by her side. “What’s going on?”
Amy hesitated, unsure if she should divulge everything to Layne even though she’s told him so much already.
All the men she trusted betrayed her. Could she really trust him?
A small voice, faint but assuring, in the back of her head told her he was the only one she could trust. He never gave a reason for her not to.
So before she could give it another thought, she collapsed into tears and told him everything.
She told him about what happened between her and her grandfather. She told him about the note and the case file.
She also told him about her last night terror, the ghost, and the things she feared about her father.
Layne wrapped his arms around her, and gently stroked her hair. “Shh, it’s all right. It’ll be all right.”
“No it won’t,” Amy sobbed. “It’ll never be all right again.”
“Yes, it will. I promise. Hey.” He placed a finger beneath her chin. “Look at me.”
His eyes were warm and sincere. His smile honest comforting. Trusting.
“I love you, Amy. I won’t ever let anything, or anyone, hurt you. Things will be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”
And she knew he would, because he was always truthful with her. He never hid anything. He had no secrets.
His heart was an open book, and she had taken it for granted far too long.
Before she could stop herself, before she could think about what she was doing and if she’d regret it, she leaned in slowly, placed a hand on Layne’s cheek, and kissed him lovingly on the lips.
Layne kissed her back.
Her pulse raced. Her heart filled with a warmth she never knew before. When their lips parted she whispered, “thank you,” and laid her head on his chest.
Layne continued caressing her hair and for a moment all her worries and fears melted away. For the first time in days, she felt safe.
Chapter 46
Richard sat alone at a small table at Mary Lou’s BBQ, a modest, wood-frame restaurant located at the heart of Pine Run’s business district. It was not exactly his idea of fine dining, but he’d heard great things about their barbecue.
Cutting into a tender slab of pork, Richard brooded over Amy’s adolescent tantrum this morning. It struck a nerve, but he was confident she’d understand once she read the case file. He was certain reason would rule the day. After all, Amy was a smart girl. Once she connected the dots, he’d have her.
Richard had faith she’d come around, and when she did they’d find a way to bring Hank down, and find justice for Ellen.
He considered, however, Hank’s powerful connections. How he had been able to cover up his involvement in the horror described in the case file. Who did he know? Yes, he was once a cop and knew many judges and attorneys, but not when he was fifteen-years-old, the age he was when he took part in those sinful deeds.
Who protected him? What unscrupulous fool kept his name from the press? He was not mentioned in the case file.
Whoever it was, Richard also held them responsible for what happened to Ellen. If it weren’t for the unnamed accomplice, Ellen and Hank would have never crossed paths.
And Amy would have never been born.
Richard stuck a forkful of pork drenched in barbecue sauce into his mouth and shrugged the thought away. Washing the bite down with a sip of iced tea, he glanced up, saw a familiar figure step into the restaurant, and smiled.
Chapter 47
“Christ,” Patrick Keene muttered upon meeting eyes with Richard Barret, who smiled and lifted a liver-spotted hand, waving him over. “What’s he doing here?”
“Hello, detective,” Richard said as Patrick reluctantly approached. “Remember me? It’s been a while.”
Patrick felt a sharp sense of dread coil around his gut like a long strand of barbed-wire. “Yes. Ellen Snow’s father.” He shook the man’s out-stretched
hand. “What brings you to Pine Run? Visiting family?”
“Actually, yes,” he said. “I have a couple of presents for Amy that I wanted to personally deliver. Her birthday was last Friday you know.”
There was a conspiratorial gleam in Richard’s icy blue eyes that unsettled Patrick. “Yeah? You and Hank patching things up?”
“In a manner of speaking. We’re working on our relations for Amy’s sake. I’m her last living grandparent, after all.”
Patrick nodded his head, certain something was being left unsaid. “What’re the presents, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Richard shook his head. “Oh, not at all. I’m giving her a priceless silver-plated hand mirror and hairbrush. They’re old family relics that had belonged to her mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother. As I’m sure you can imagine, I did not want to risk sending them to her by mail. They could easily get lost or stolen.”
“Sure,” Patrick said, still not convinced. He had a bad feeling Richard Barrett was up to no good, and it was his fault.
“By the way,” Richard continued, “I’d like to thank you for all the hard work you’ve done for my family. Your devotion to Ellen’s case has been invaluable. I’m sure you understand my meaning.”
The look he gave Patrick sent a chill through the marrow of his bones. “Well, it was nice seeing you. Hope everything works out between you and Amy.”
Not wanting anything to do with what he might be planning, Patrick turned away. Richard grabbed him by the wrist and asked, “Might I ask what you are doing here, detective? Are you working on a case in Pine Run?”
“I transferred to the sub-station here last year,” Keene said, staring at the aged hand gripping his wrist. “I’ve lived here in town with my family for years.”
Lowering his voice, Richard said, “Oh, I was unaware. It’s a nice, quiet little community, even if it is unincorporated. Tell me, was there another murder? Did you find another one of those poor missing girls they’re talking about on the news?”
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