Cold Case Manhunt

by Jenna Night

  Laney glanced back at the empty belt that had conveyed the bags from her flight. They’d checked her carry-on at the gate in Indianapolis because the tiny plane’s overhead bins were too cramped. She’d wheeled it to the end of the boarding ramp herself. How could it not have made it on the plane? “As a matter of fact, my bag didn’t arrive. Can you direct me to the baggage claim office?”

  He pointed past the silent conveyer belts. “I’d better escort you down there myself.”

  Laney smiled gratefully. Her heels clicked on the concrete floor as they walked past the belts toward the office at the far end of the hall. A glance out the exit sliders as they passed showed only an empty loading area.

  Where was her ride? As soon as she took care of the luggage problem, she’d text Jim. Find out what was going on. Because texting Ryan was going to happen never and she’d cut ties with all her other old friends. Her one connection left in Sandy Bluff was her mother, still living in that horrid, tumbledown trailer Laney had vowed she’d never set foot inside again. She made phone calls on Christmas and on Kim’s birthday and sent occasional Facebook messages. That was it.

  Ten years and she’d never visited, not once. And if she could avoid it now, all the better. No reason to traipse back down that trail of misery and regret after how hard she’d worked to escape. Some memories were better left buried and forgotten where they couldn’t hurt you anymore.

  Laney crinkled her nose as she peeked inside the open office door. The single desk chair was empty, the computer apparently off.

  The guard stepped inside and pointed at a couple of beat-up bags bearing pink claim tickets, standing against one wall. “Is it one of those?”

  “No.” So much for that idea. “I guess I can go ask one of the ticketing agents.”

  She backed out of the doorway, her heart lurching as she collided with someone who hadn’t been there a second before.

  A hand gripped her elbow. Laney jerked her arm free, spinning on her heels to face a brown-haired man in gray pants and an orange safety vest.

  He raised the hand that had been touching her a second before. “Sorry, ma’am. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

  Airline employee, judging by the Delta emblem emblazoned on his uniform. She swallowed. “Of course. It was my fault.” Having a burly security guard at her back made her feel a whole lot better.

  “Someone missed loading this one on the belt. I’m dropping it off for baggage claim.” He glanced down at a familiar black Samsonite carry-on with green luggage tags.

  “It’s my bag.” She pressed a hand against her stomach as some of her anxiety deflated. “Thank you so much.”

  The man smiled, his weathered skin crinkling around hazel eyes. “Happy to help, ma’am.”

  She reached for the handle of the bag, expecting him to let go, but when he didn’t, her fingers brushed against his hand. A chill tracked down her spine, and the man’s smile deepened as something shifted in his gaze.

  Like he’d recognized her. He tilted his head to one side, finally releasing the handle. “Welcome home.”

  As he turned away, Laney could swear he winked at her. But it had to be her imagination. She’d never seen him before in her life. How could he know her?

  By the time she wheeled her bag out of the office, he’d melted back into the shadows.

  “Are you all set now, ma’am?” her security escort asked once they reached the sliding exit doors. As he spoke, a pair of headlights turned into the loading line. Glare from the streetlights glinted red and blue off the top of the car as it rolled to a stop in front of the doors.

  Her phone buzzed as a text came through, the caller ID showing a Sandy Bluff area code.

  Laney, just pulling up outside.

  Good. She wouldn’t be trapped at this desolate airport all night.

  “Yes, thank you. There’s my ride.”

  Muggy summer air slapped her in the face as she walked out onto the sidewalk, bringing back a hundred memories of late nights swimming at the quarry and playing tag in the farmers’ fields. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to stem the flow. Ryan lurked in nearly every one of those memories, and even though she’d done her best to make her brain forget, her heart still hadn’t. But as far as romance was concerned, he was absolutely out of the question. Not with the secrets she’d kept all these years.

  The driver’s-side door opened, and a man stepped out.

  He walked around the front of the car, where the headlights revealed dark blue pants, a heavy gun belt and a blue shirt but obscured his face. His build wasn’t familiar, but the voice she knew immediately.

  “Hey, Laney.”

  She swallowed.

  Jim had sent Ryan Mitchell. Only he wasn’t a lanky teenager anymore, he was a man. Even with her heels on, she was a good six inches shorter than he was. And he hadn’t grown only in height—his broad shoulders stretched beneath the protective vest, and the short sleeves of his uniform revealed solid muscle in his arms.

  He’d been tall, dark and handsome at eighteen. Now he was model-worthy gorgeous.

  She was in serious trouble.

  * * *

  Knowing he was here to pick up Laney Hamilton and seeing her in the flesh were very different things, Ryan decided. He’d even had a few seconds to collect himself as he pulled up to the curb, but that didn’t stop him from feeling like he had two left feet as he walked up to where she stood with one hand clutching the strap of her shoulder bag and the other gripping the handle of her suitcase.

  “Hi, Ryan.” Her gaze swept over him, starting at his boot-clad feet and up to his head, and he couldn’t help swiping a sweaty palm across his uniform.

  “You cut your hair,” he said, then bit the inside of his cheek. Surely he could’ve come up with something better.

  She’d kept it long in high school, nearly reaching to her waist. Now she wore it in a pixie cut that suited her delicate cheekbones and short stature. If he had to guess, he’d say she was still five foot three, the same height as the last time he’d seen her. Whether or not she was the same tiny firecracker remained to be seen.

  She tucked a dark strand behind her ear. “Yeah. It...got in the way.”

  Silence stretched between them. What did you say to a former girlfriend after so many years? Especially when you’d never really moved on?

  Not that he hadn’t tried dating other girls. His friends took every opportunity to set him up. But no woman had captured his heart the way Laney had.

  Had, being the key word there.

  He’d be wise to remember that every time he thought about her. Their relationship was a thing of the distant past, and she was here only to do a job.

  “Sorry I’m late,” he said, throwing a thumb over his shoulder in the general direction of Sandy Bluff. “The highway’s down to one lane, and the traffic was awful.”

  It sounded like a stupid excuse, and he regretted it the instant the words left his mouth. If this conversation was any indicator, the ride home was going to be horribly awkward. Why had he agreed to pick her up?

  Oh, right. Because this was his case. Human remains had been found in the bog, east of town. He and his father had taken one look at the visible bones—stripped clean and blanched to a dull gray—and decided to leave them in place until they could bring in outside help. Choosing Laney had been his father’s call, and Ryan knew exactly why.

  His twin sister Jenna had vanished while on a long bicycle ride on a perfect summer day ten years ago. The only clue they’d ever found was her bike, its frame twisted and both tires flat, a hundred yards off the road at the bottom of a long, tree-covered slope. Laney had left two months later when they’d called off the search.

  And now she was back, watching him with those big brown eyes, dressed in black slacks and a jacket and heels, all grown up and more beautiful than ever.

  She gave him a t
ight-lipped smile. “That’s okay. I didn’t wait too long.”

  He cleared his throat and opened the passenger-side door. “Here, let me get your bag.”

  She relinquished her grip on the rolling carry-on and slid into the passenger seat. He closed the door behind her, the movement both foreign and terrifyingly familiar at the same time. How many times had he helped her into a car like this before? And yet everything was different now. There could be no going back.

  After depositing the suitcase into the car’s trunk, he climbed in behind the wheel and pulled away from the airport. The drive to Sandy Bluff would take a solid thirty minutes. He needed some common ground for conversation besides their past, which she was obviously as keen to ignore as he was.

  He eased the car onto the road and headed through a couple of stoplights out to the highway. It was late enough now that the traffic had dissipated and the roads were mostly empty. Darkness shrouded the surrounding hills and farm fields.

  She’d always been the talkative one, and she broke the silence first. “Ryan...” She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “Somebody attacked me in the airport bathroom.”

  What? Heat flooded his insides, and he gritted his teeth. He and his father knew this case would garner local attention, and any new evidence on a cold case could lead to danger if somebody got jumpy, but still... Letting out a slow breath, he adopted his most calm, professional tone. “Are you okay? What happened?”

  She held up a hand, just visible in the dashboard lights, and turned toward him. “I’m fine, just a little rattled. It wasn’t an attack, really. More of a threat that I’d be in danger if I didn’t leave Indiana immediately. Airport security looked into it but couldn’t find the culprit. All I can think is that someone doesn’t want me on this case.”

  Ryan gripped the steering wheel a bit tighter. “I’m sorry, Laney. If I’d known, I would’ve been there to meet you at the gate.”

  “It’s not your fault. But what’s this all about? Your father told me he’d fill me in once I got here.”

  “Teenagers found bones in Waltman’s Bog two days ago, just east of the old Clapton place.” He paused, clearing his throat. Lord, why does this have to be so hard? There was no way to talk about their hometown without dredging up memories better left buried. He, his sister, Laney and their friends had traipsed through that same bog on more than one occasion in high school. “We found what looks like a human femur and possibly parts of a hand. Dad didn’t want to dig for more until you got here.”

  “Were they clean?”

  He nodded, his throat unexpectedly constricting. It wouldn’t take long for Laney to figure out what his dad was thinking. “They look old.”

  Her hand went to her chest, and she turned away from the window to look at him. “Do you think...?” Her voice trailed away, and she paused for a long moment before continuing, “Do you think it could be Jenna?”

  “I... Maybe. Dad thought we should bring somebody in to help collect the evidence.”

  “And calling me was his idea?”

  Ryan nodded. “He wanted somebody familiar with the area. With our city.”

  With Jenna.

  But had his father considered how hard this case might be on Laney? He glanced over at her. She still had her hand pressed to her chest, but her gaze had turned back to the passenger-side window. She stared out into the darkness and the intermittent lights from houses dotting the fields.

  After a long moment, she pulled her hand away and tucked it with the other into her lap. He flexed his fingers on the wheel—anything to get rid of this urge to take up that slim hand into his own. The last time he’d touched her had been at the combined prayer vigil and memorial service, when she’d hugged him and said goodbye. She hadn’t even been able to look him in the eye.

  “Your dad warned me he wanted to keep my arrival quiet,” she said. “Why?”

  He let out a quick huff of air. “We’ve tried to keep the find as low-key as possible. Though, from the way local reporters swarmed the bog immediately, you’d think the kids called them before the cops. But it’s not only because of the possible connection to Jenna’s disappearance. Have you followed the news here at all since you left?” The last few words were hard to get out past the squeezing in his chest.

  “I’ve heard a few things. More disappearances. A murder a few years ago. Mom said you caught the killer. I’d kind of hoped he was the one responsible for...” Her voice trailed away.

  His sister. Maybe now, if they’d finally found her remains, they’d get answers.

  “My family hoped the same. But here’s the catch,” he said grimly. “Ronald Wilson, the guy they pinned for three murders, didn’t move to Sandy Bluff until six months after Jenna vanished. He was on an oil rig in the Gulf of Mexico before then.”

  She turned a sharp gaze on him. “Then you already know he didn’t kill Jenna.”

  “Right. But without her remains, we’ve never been able to figure out what happened to her.” His throat tightened at the thought of what Jenna might’ve endured. “Her death could’ve been accidental, like a hit-and-run. Or we could be looking at a separate murder.”

  “Another killer? That person might be the one trying to scare me off before we figure it out,” she mused. “Or if the remains aren’t hers, we might have one more victim to add to your killer’s list. But then, why threaten me?”

  “That brings me to something else. Wilson’s been locked up in Indiana State Prison for two years, and we haven’t had a disappearance since—until last week. Nineteen-year-old college girl, home for summer break. She vanished a couple days before we found the bones.”

  “That’s awful. But if it’s been less than a week, there’s a chance she ran away, right?”

  “We’re doing a full search, of course. But all our leads have already gone cold.” No family should have to endure what had happened to his. He’d joined law enforcement not only to follow in his father’s footsteps but because of Jenna. And yet they’d failed to protect so many.

  His heart twisted as he took the exit for Sandy Bluff and turned onto the winding, narrow road leading to the small rural town.

  “What about the possibility Wilson was framed?” She shivered, then rubbed her hands over her arms. “Maybe there’s still a serial killer on the loose.”

  “Unfortunately, that might be the case.” He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “If the remains in the bog are linked in any way to the latest disappearance or to someone with something to hide... That’s why we wanted to keep your arrival secret.”

  “After what happened at the airport, I can see why.”

  “I’m going to keep you safe, Laney.” He glanced at her, unable to ignore how vulnerable she seemed with her hands clasped in her lap. “You don’t have to worry.”

  The lights from the dashboard reflected in her gaze. “I’m certainly not going to let anybody run me out of town. Not when we have a job to do.”

  His lips tilted into a smile. She’d always been the strongest person he knew—maybe ten years hadn’t changed everything. The thought triggered an unexpected pang of loneliness as he stopped at a red light on the outskirts of town. Sandy Bluff’s roller rink, permanently shuttered a year after Laney moved, sat forlorn and decaying to his left.

  He cleared his throat. “Dad booked you at the new Hampton Inn, right?”

  She pulled out her cell phone, its screen filling the car with an eerie blue glow. “Yes, I’ve got the reservation information here.”

  A couple of minutes later, he pulled the car under the canopy outside the hotel and shut off the engine. He and Laney climbed out.

  He rubbed his jaw as he walked to the trunk. “Do you feel comfortable staying here after what happened?”

  “I’ll be fine.” She flashed her cell. “The police department’s only a phone call away.”

  After pulling ou
t Laney’s carry-on, he set it off to the side and closed the trunk. “I know, but—”

  Their only warning was a sudden sharp hissing noise from the suitcase. Adrenaline flooded his system and he yanked Laney’s arm, smacking her into the back of the car as he flung himself between her and the bag.

  The suitcase exploded.

  Copyright © 2021 by Kellie VanHorn

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  ISBN-13: 9780369716125

  Cold Case Manhunt

  Copyright © 2021 by Virginia Niten

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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