Where the Lost Girls Go

by R. J. Noonan

  Back in the car, Z gave his observations. “He loves himself and he’s full of bullshit. Lost souls don’t want to be found. Hell yeah they do. Wait till your soul is lost, Mr. Author, and see if you’ll be wanting any help.”

  I smiled. Partnering with Z was more amusing than I’d expected. “He’s also a liar.”

  “That’s a given. The man makes things up for a living.”

  “I’m talking about his comment about staying out of the ranch business. Andy said that Kent was always pressuring him to hire young people from the woods. That’s why they hired Kyra Miller.” I thought about my visit to the ranch. “And other people from the woods. The guy with the gold tooth, the girl with the chapped lips.”

  “Say what?”

  I pointed to the turnoff for the barn. “Let’s take a detour to the barn and the caretaker’s house. I have a feeling I’ve already met the new hires.”

  The silver moon lit the sky in the clearing, illuminating smoke rising from the chimney of the cottage. Sure enough, there were lights on in the windows of the ranch manager’s cottage. Someone moved past the windows. “Looks like they heard us pull up,” I said. “At least we know they’re still up. You can park over there.”

  “What for?”

  “We’re going in.”

  “Mori, I’m going home. We interviewed Jameson. I’m done.”

  “You’re going to like this. If my hunch is right, the people in there are part of the group in the woods.”

  The outdoor light went on as we approached. Z’s hand went to his gun, reminding me to stay on alert. Sometimes people didn’t welcome a visit from the police.

  A face filled the window, and the door opened a second later.

  “Hey. I thought that was you.” Blane, the cowboy type, stood at the door in flannel shirt, jeans, and socks. His longish hair was damp, as if he’d recently showered. “You’re the lady cop who came by the barn and got Andy.”

  “Right. I’m Laura Mori, and this is Officer Frazier. Mind if we ask you a few questions?”

  He looked behind him, hesitating. “Are we in trouble?”

  “Not by us. We’re trying to find out who killed Blossom.”

  “Yeah. Okay.” He opened the door wide, and we stepped into the cozy living room Z and I had searched yesterday, except that tonight the woodstove glowed with warmth. At first I didn’t recognize the girl on the sofa. Dressed in black leggings and an oversized sweatshirt, she was combing out long, dark hair. Something flashed in her eyes, and I recognized the girl with the chapped lips, only she didn’t seem as worn and raggedy. The grime had been rinsed away, her lips conditioned.

  “That there’s Eden and I’m Blane. Mrs. J asked us to stay on to take care of the animals while Andy is gone. She offered us the use of the cottage, and we said yeah. We’ve known Andy a while. He won’t mind. We’re just here till he gets out.”

  “He is getting out, right?” Eden asked.

  “Maybe,” I said, moving closer to the stove. Z moved into an alcove inside the door so that his back was against a wall: a defensive strategy. I found a spot on the opposite side of the room. “That fire feels nice. It’s good that you could jump in for Andy.”

  Blane shrugged. “We know the routine, but even with us, the animals sense that something’s gone. They miss him.”

  “Really?” I said. “I didn’t know alpacas were that sensitive.”

  “They are,” Eden offered. “Did you ever see them follow Andy around in a line? It’s like he’s the Pied Piper. The animals love him.”

  “Is he a good manager?”

  “Maybe not with the books and numbers,” Blane said. “School was never Andy’s thing. He may not be the sharpest pencil in the box, but he’s a nice person.”

  “A kind person,” Eden said. “He would never kill anybody. Especially not Blossom. If anything, he tried to look out for her. Tried to keep her from moving over to the big house. Like he knew something bad would happen to her there.”

  “Don’t say that,” Blane told her under his breath. “That’s what you think, but Andy never said that.”

  “’Cause he doesn’t want to lose his job, but you know he was getting freaked out about this place. About those girls and the way Lucy . . . devoured them. Like an earwig.” She made a tiny biting motion with her fingers. “She whispers in their ears, and her evil crawls inside and eats their brain and kills them.”

  This was the second time today that someone had implied that Lucy was a killer.

  Z winced. “I’m pretty sure the earwig thing is an urban legend, but you make it sound convincing.”

  Giving my right earlobe a tug for good measure, I turned to Eden. “To be honest, we’re here about the earwig. We’re trying to find Lucy.”

  “Good one.” When she grinned, dimples formed in her cheeks. “Well, we’re not her keepers. I know that’s her father over in the big house, but honestly, the longer she stays away, the better.”

  “She’s just spoiled,” Blane said. “Makes her hard to live with.”

  “How long did you live with her and the other campers?”

  Eden and Blane exchanged a nervous look.

  “Yeah, we’ve been living in the woods,” she said. “But we’re not really followers of the Prince. Blane’s worked here for a year, and he’s cool with Andy. We’re both done with taking orders from the Prince. And I’m older than those girls. I’m eighteen now, so I don’t have to hide out in the woods to escape parents and social workers.”

  “Are you still in touch with the group?”

  “No real way to stay in touch. We’ve been living with them off and on, but we’re done with that,” he said.

  “If you can call that living.” Eden put the comb down and snuggled into the sofa. “Their camp is kind of disorganized, and no matter what the rich girl brings from home, it’s still a camp.”

  Looking at her now, with her shiny hair and clean face, I wasn’t sure she was really eighteen, though she was probably close. A sudden pang of guilt hit me; I’d been so intent on finding Kyra’s killer that I’d overlooked this girl who’d been scavenging for some time. “Eden, whether or not you’re eighteen, if you need help, I can hook you up with social services.”

  “Another foster home or halfway house?” Eden rolled her eyes. “No, thanks. I’m doing okay now. If this job doesn’t last, I’ll move down toward Eugene. Lots of sheep farms down that way, and now I got experience.”

  “Just saying, Officer Mori’s right,” Z said earnestly. “If you need help, we can get it for you. You, too, man,” he told Blane.

  Blane shook his head. “We’re cool, man.”

  “I know that,” Frazier said. “You cool enough to show us where the group is?”

  Blane winced. “No.”

  “None of those kids out there want your help.” Eden tugged on a lock of her hair and rolled her eyes, clearly annoyed with us. “They’re done with social services. And the Prince, you probably just want to arrest him, right?”

  “It’s not that simple, Eden. Blossom was murdered, and we don’t want any harm to come to those campers. And there’s also the matter of finding the killer.”

  “I get it,” Eden said. “Yeah, it’s complicated.”

  “Could you take a message to them?” I asked.

  “Not any time soon. Whenever there’s an incident, they move. They pack up camp and relocate. You running into the girls at the food pantry—yeah, we heard—that sent the group packing.”

  “Where will they go?”

  “They’ll stay in Stafford Woods. Just move a few miles. We’ll hook up with them sooner or later.”

  “Or not.” Eden gathered her hair and brought it around to her face to take a whiff. “Sweet. It’s nice having a shower. All that freedom shit is overrated. They’re about as free as a squirrel running from a coyote out there. Lugging water and eating out of cold cans. I’m glad to be inside, warm and comfortable. We don’t need to keep the fire stoked in here all night. I don’t know
about you, but I’m gonna sleep like a baby.”

  Just then a noise at the front of the house caught our attention. There was the scratch of footsteps on the front steps before the door was flung open.

  “Oh, my God, can’t you guys hold it together without me? I’m gone two days and Andy gets arrested and you two are playing house in his cottage?”

  I stepped out from the nook by the woodstove and stood face to face with a slender teen with a short pixie haircut.

  My wish had been granted.

  “Hello, Lucy.”

  23

  Dressed in skinny jeans and a silver jacket, Lucy was skittish when she caught a look at Z and me.

  “Cops? Shit!” She wheeled and socked Blane in the chest. “You’re working with the cops? I should have known.”

  “We were just talking,” I said, “and they haven’t told us anything we don’t know. But we need to talk, Lucy.”

  She scowled at me. “Stick it up your ass.” Just as quickly as she had burst in, Lucy flew out the front door.

  “Come on!” I called to Z as I followed her out. Down the stairs, across the gravel lot. I was getting my share of running in today. When I saw that she was headed toward the woods, I fumbled to release the flashlight on my belt without breaking stride. I didn’t want to lose her or stumble in the dark.

  Behind me, I heard Z mutter, “Shit, Mori.”

  Just ahead of me, Lucy sprinted onto a path into the forest, and I braced myself for a plunge into the darkness.

  At least there was a path.

  My flashlight’s beam bounced through the darkness ahead, flickering over Lucy’s silver jacket, which was not much in the way of camouflage. I usually run three miles a day, but the adrenaline kick of the chase gave me unprecedented speed. I closed in on Lucy and kept up with her until I was able to grab her by the arm and slow her down.

  “Leave me alone.” She twisted out of my grip and rubbed her arm, but at least she wasn’t running anymore. “Oh, my God. I thought you were going to yank my arm out of its socket.”

  I had barely tugged at all, but I appreciated her flare for drama. “That’s what happens when you run from the cops,” I said. “A lot of people have been concerned about you, Lucy. I want to make sure you get home tonight.”

  “Then just leave me alone. That’s where I’m headed, and I can make it back just fine without you.”

  “What’s going on?” Z came running up behind me. “You okay, Mori?”

  “I’m fine. I was just telling Lucy that she needs to come with us and that we’ll drive her home.”

  “I can walk home. I’m almost halfway there.”

  “A young woman like yourself shouldn’t be walking through the woods alone,” Z said. “It’s not safe. Come on, now. You can ride in the patrol car.”

  “Thanks but no thanks. If I have to go home, I’m doing it my way.” Lucy started walking, demonstrating the stubbornness the Jamesons had mentioned.

  I suggested that Z meet us at the house in the cruiser while Lucy and I walked back together. I didn’t mind going on foot, and it would give me a few minutes alone with Lucy.

  Skeptical, Z shined his flashlight on the path, its beam catching stones protruding in the path, brambles, and low-hanging branches. So many obstacles. “I’d feel better if the three of us drove it.”

  “I’ve been on this path before,” I told him. “It comes out between Kent’s studio and the riding ring. We’ll meet you there in ten minutes.”

  When I turned back, Lucy was a ways down the path, and I had to hustle to catch up. “I’m glad to see you in one piece,” I said. “Your father and Martha are really worried about you.”

  “Did they tell you to say that? Or are you making it up to make me feel better? Because they really don’t care whether I stay or go as long as my father can get his work done and rake in the big bucks.”

  “Things have changed in the last few days. Your friend was killed in a car crash. Kyra Miller?” I put it out there, testing her reaction.

  “You mean Blossom, right? Yeah, she was my friend. I heard all about it. It’s too bad, but, you know, life goes on.”

  “Wow. Not to judge you, but it seems a little cold to dismiss a best friend so easily. Someone who lived with you for months, like a sister. Your stepmother said you two were close.”

  “Martha doesn’t know shit, okay? And why are you trying to get into my personal stuff? You need to back off.”

  “I need to learn everything I can about Kyra Miller’s death.”

  “You won’t get anything about her from me. I was out in the woods when that happened.”

  “Actually, you were arguing with your father around that time.”

  “Is that what he told you?” She gave a snort. “The world-famous storyteller.”

  “Is that not the way you remember it? Monday, around seven . . . seven thirty?”

  “How am I supposed to know? I’ve had plenty of fights with my dad and plenty of friends who took off. Blossom just happened to kill herself on the way. Too bad, so sad. No big newsflash. She was taking my car.” She paused on the path and pointed her index finger at me. “And you guys think Andy killed her, right? That’s hysterical. Really.”

  “You think we’re wrong to suspect Andy?”

  “Hell, yeah. He’s just a big teddy bear.” Like the pristine stuffed animals on Lucy’s bed. There was something haunting about that collection. “So if Andy didn’t kill Kyra Miller, why don’t you tell me who did?”

  Lucy laughed. “What? Like I’m supposed to know?”

  “I think you do.”

  When our eyes met, I sensed a definite shift. I thought her next words would be a confession. I was wrong.

  “Wow. Just wow. I’ve got nothing else to say to you. Just leave me alone, okay? Or I’ll get my father to sue you for police brutality or something.”

  Ahead of us lights glimmered through the trees. We were getting close to the compound, and I was running out of time to win Lucy over. “Look, we got off to a bad start. Is there somewhere we can go and talk after you check in with your father? There are lots of holes in our investigation, questions about Blossom, and you might be the only person who can answer them.” I hoped the friendship angle might appeal to her.

  In the moonlight her face seemed to have harsh angles and dark shadows. Whether it was anger or fear, I wasn’t sure. “Not tonight,” she said. “Maybe not ever.”

  “Look, my name is Laura, and this is my first case.” Maybe finding some common ground would open her up. “You know how it is when you do something the first time. It takes a few tries to get it right.”

  “Yeah. Sucks for you,” she said.

  “Sure does.”

  “Watch this,” she said, jogging ahead on the path. “I love sneaking up on my father. It scares the crap out of him.”

  I jogged along behind her, more aware of the weight of my patrol belt on this run. She veered off the path to the right, bounding up behind Kent Jameson’s studio.

  “He’s there. He’s working.” She did a little victory dance. “This is going to be great.”

  Warm golden light glowed in the wall of windows where Kent walked the length of the studio, turned, then walked again. Slow, methodical, like the changing of a guard.

  “Are you sure you want to scare him?” I asked.

  “It’ll be hysterical. He loves it.” Staying in the shadows, she crept around the perimeter of the lot behind the studio, then cut over to the house. She motioned for me to watch, then sprang onto the back patio of the house with an ear-blistering shriek.

  Kent’s arms flew out as he twisted around toward the noise, nearly slipping off his feet. By the time he opened the slider to Lucy, he had regained his composure. “My exotic daughter of the night!”

  “Daddy!” Lucy ran up to her father and hugged him. She seemed to have forgotten that I was behind her, and she didn’t notice Z dash around the side of the house in response to the scream.

  I emerged f
rom the shadows, motioning Z over. “Everyone’s fine. Lucy’s idea of a joke to scare her father.”

  “What the hell?” Z scowled, holding his hands out. “She runs off, no accountability, and Daddy welcomes her home? Not to mention there’s a good chance she may have killed off a few girls.”

  “He doesn’t know she’s a suspect,” I said, catching bits and pieces of the cheerful exchange on the patio of Jameson’s writing studio. As I watched father and daughter, something occurred to me. “Or does he? If Lucy’s been killing off some of her friends, don’t you think Martha and Kent would suspect something?”

  “I don’t have kids, but I’d like to think I’d notice if they started murdering their friends.” Z folded his arms. “Should we take her in for questioning? Arrest her?”

  “I don’t think we have probable cause. We’d be arresting her based on circumstantial evidence. On top of that, she’s only seventeen. Omak warned us to tread lightly.”

  “What you’re not saying is that she’s a Jameson. In this town, that’s like having a nonstick coating. No charges are gonna stick.”

  “She’s advantaged,” I said. “But just to be straight, you and I are not like that. If we had probable cause, we would take her in.”

  “True dat.”

  “We might as well go.”

  “Did you get anything out of Lucy?”

  “No, but I’ll try again tomorrow.”

  “What? Giving up so soon? That’s not like you, Mori.”

  “Don’t tease me. If you want, we could wait here all night.”

  “Let’s go,” he muttered.

  I smiled as we headed back to the car. Z and I had developed a rapport in a short time. Maybe Cranston would decide to stay in Hawaii.

  * * *

  With so many loose ends in the case the night before, I expected to toss and turn in bed mulling everything over. The prospect of Andy being falsely accused. The image of Lucy as an entitled spoiled brat who danced with mental illness. The cloud of mystery that surrounded the potentially dangerous man in the woods who called himself the Prince. But exhaustion overcame my concerns, and I sank onto the mattress like a stone and slept for a solid eight hours.