Save Her Child: A completely gripping and suspenseful crime thriller (Jericho and Wright Thrillers Book 3)

by CJ Lyons

  “But you weren’t drinking?”

  “I hadn’t even finished the Coke.” She glanced over, met his gaze, making sure he understood. “The Coke he gave me.”

  His jaw tightened but he nodded for her to go on.

  “One of them took me to a room to lie down—no, first he took me upstairs to a bathroom, in case I was going to be sick. I felt nauseous but nothing happened. I splashed some water on my face, drank a little, then he was holding me. Helping me, he said. And he took off my sweater and unbuttoned my blouse—so I could breathe easier, he said. And in the back of my mind I felt panicked but also I kept saying to myself, he’s John’s friend, he’s looking out for me, he’d never hurt me.” Her voice had tightened, no longer a grown woman’s but the voice of that scared girl who was desperate to trust that everything would be all right, that there was nothing to be afraid of. Harper glanced at her father. His face was ashen, his hand abandoning hers to retreat to his side of the car, gripping his door handle as if they were hurtling toward an abyss.

  “Then two more came in. They said I could lie down in their bedroom, where it was quiet and no one would hear us.” She swallowed, bracing herself against the avalanche of memories. She almost shared them, but relented. He didn’t need the specifics, the bits and pieces of sensory overload that formed the kaleidoscope of her nightmares. “And then they took turns.”

  The Reverend made a low groaning noise, deep in his throat.

  “It was almost dawn when they let me go. They actually walked me back to my dorm but of course it was locked because it was after curfew, so the RA called security. I was so out of it, half-naked, incoherent. And they were three well-respected seniors saying they’d seen me act inappropriately at the party so decided to escort me home to make sure I got there safely and hopefully to mitigate my punishment. As if they were protecting me. After all, I was only a freshman, away from home for the first time, these things happen, right?”

  Now her tone turned bitter, raw. “The guard actually shook their hands, told them they were gentlemen, a credit to the school. And later, when I tried to file a report, to tell the truth, the campus cops laughed. Then they got angry—how dare I tarnish the reputations of these three fine upstanding young men? So they called a disciplinary board and, well, you know the rest.”

  “The rest” being of course the lone young Black girl sitting across from a sea of white faces, including the three soon-to-be ordained ministers who painted her as an angry Black woman intent on destroying their lives because she refused to accept responsibility for her own poor choices. That John, the brother who was meant to watch over her that night, the brother who’d left her in their care, that he sat among those white faces, refusing to speak to her, humiliated even as his friends pitied him for his embarrassment, the embarrassment that was her, his adopted sister—that was the final straw.

  Memories of the insults hurled in person and on social media, scrawled across her door or keyed into her car. Bitch, slut, harlot, jezebel. The death threats, the noose left hanging in her room. She’d left school, worked for a year, found a small state school that she could afford with the help of two jobs and decided that never again would she be a victim—and she’d found a career where she could stand up for victims who were silenced, as she’d been.

  “So,” she said after a long moment, her gaze fixed on the road. She couldn’t bear to look at him, was too afraid of what she might see. Judgment, disappointment, shame? But no matter how he felt about what she’d told him, she was glad she had. Now that he knew the truth, maybe they could start afresh. Surely there was room for the Naomi she had become, the woman she’d forged herself into, so different from the daughter he’d lost after that night? Surely there was room for her in his heart? “That’s everything. Now you know.”

  “I’m glad.” The Reverend cleared his throat; still his words emerged slow, formal. “I’m glad you’ve finally told me.”

  As if she’d chosen to keep this from him for all these years. She swallowed her pride and pain. “Thank you for asking.”

  Then silence. Long enough for them to leave the heart of the city behind and start winding over the switchbacks that led up the mountain. “I have a confession to make.”

  She held her breath, nodding for him to continue.

  “I know you feel excluded, not a real member of the family. It’s not because of your race or you being adopted or even what happened to you in college. It’s because you’ve never truly come to understand what it means to be a Harper, a custodian of a church that’s survived for two centuries. We are the church and the church is our family. And we’ll—I will do anything to protect that family.”

  How was that a confession? Confusion and anger flashed through her as she parsed his words. She’d shared her pain, her awful truth with him and it hadn’t changed anything. She still wasn’t worthy of his love, not even of the name Harper.

  The church. It always came back to the church. She waited, but he didn’t continue, so she asked, “Anything? Like what?”

  “Bend written laws to obey God’s law.” He shifted in his seat. “That’s the real reason why you no longer feel a part of our family, our church. You’ve chosen a profession that requires you to put your faith in men and their laws. Naomi, you need to stop pursuing this woman. She deserves sanctuary, God’s protection. His will must always triumph.”

  Now it was her turn to embrace silence. The Reverend was so blinded by his faith that he couldn’t even consider that he was in the wrong. Harper was certain that he knew where Beth and her baby were; he’d practically confessed it. To his daughter, the cop. And he knew that there was not a damn thing she could do. The realization was a gut punch that stole her breath. His almost-confession would never hold up in court, wasn’t even enough to get a search warrant—not after the judge had already refused Luka’s initial request based on the hospital’s video evidence.

  “Where is she?” she blurted out. The Reverend responded with an arched eyebrow. “Whether you tell me where she is or not, it’s important that you get the baby to a doctor. Luka wasn’t lying about him being sick, it wasn’t some act to get you to talk. The baby needs medicine and you’re putting him at risk if you’re not getting him help.”

  “The baby will be cared for. You’ll have to take my word for that.” His tone implied the certainty of a man guided by a higher power. “Tell your sergeant to stop looking. Now. Before he gets someone else killed.”

  “Someone else?” She turned down the drive to Holy Redeemer. “Spencer Standish. You know who killed him?”

  His lips pressed together so tightly they turned white. “Give your sergeant the message and leave us alone. I have a plan. God has a plan. You people play no part in it.”

  “I can’t do that. You know I can’t do that.”

  “For once, Naomi, why can’t you do as you’re told!” His glare blazed across the seat.

  When she swallowed, she tasted tears. “Because it’s my job,” she finally said in a calm, steady voice. The voice she’d learned to use out on the street when a situation threatened to erupt. The voice she put on along with her badge and gun every time she went to work.

  “Then you understand why you’re no longer welcome here. If you can’t obey God’s will and mine, then that’s your choice.”

  The Reverend’s words swirled around in Harper’s head. They mixed with words he’d spoken to her time and again: Your choice, Naomi. Right or wrong. Make me proud. And Harper realized that, no matter how hard she tried, she’d never win his pride, the ultimate gift, the only gift she’d ever wanted from him.

  The church stood white against the backdrop of the towering evergreen forest and the darkening summer sky. It was a beacon of hope, but it was a beacon that had always been denied to her. She drove on toward the house, stopping behind John’s SUV and Rachel’s minivan. The Reverend made no move to leave the car.

  Harper’s mind buzzed with a thousand questions, but one was foremost. “Does she kn
ow?” She nodded to Rachel’s minivan. “Does Mom know? What you’ve done? Kidnapping and hiding a woman and baby?”

  “Your mother? Of course not, dear. It’s nothing to do with her.”

  Harper almost didn’t hear the Reverend as he opened the car door, humid air rushing in.

  “But she won’t argue with my decision. She never does. Goodbye, Naomi.”

  He closed the door and left, walking up the porch steps and into the house.

  She’d failed. Again. Could you even call it failing when you never stood a chance to start with?

  Harper considered her options. Exigent circumstances, a baby’s life at stake. What was stopping her from searching the grounds on her own? Nothing, except she’d probably lose her job if the Reverend filed a complaint against her. She could call Jonah, explain the situation, ask him to search the house and church for her. And risk losing the one member of the family who accepted her for who she was. Maybe she should call Luka, dump it all on him, ask him what to do—and forever lose any credibility she had with him.

  Or she could return to the station and do the work she’d been assigned. Krichek was still waiting for her to go through the list of license plates—

  And then she realized something. She lunged for her phone from the charger on the center console, pulled up the list Krichek had sent her and that she’d barely glanced at earlier. Plate numbers from the strip mall where Luka had been attacked yesterday, waiting for her to connect them with registered owners. It was scut work, low priority, but now she frantically scrolled down the list. No, no, no, she was wrong, she had to be wrong…

  There it was. Rachel’s license plate. She’d been at the strip mall parked right next to Spencer Standish’s office when Luka was attacked. And the Reverend had gone there with Luka—he had to have seen Rachel’s van there.

  Was all this silence of the confessional, unbreakable holy vow stuff merely an excuse? Was the Reverend covering for Rachel because she was involved in Spencer Standish’s death? And somehow, so was Beth?

  She left the car and strode toward the house. Her choice. Right or wrong. To hell with making anyone proud. She knew what she had to do and nothing and no one were going to stop her.

  Thirty-Eight

  Despite the fact that the official time of the sun setting was still more than an hour away, up here on the mountain, surrounded by ancient pines and towering hemlocks, it was already twilight. Leah left her car, inhaling the scent of the evergreens and embracing the cooler air compared to down in the valley below. She entered the log cabin that served as the state forest’s office. The lone ranger on duty—a woman in her fifties who seemed resentful of human visitors intruding into the serenity of her forest—verified her reservation on the computer.

  “Kinda last minute, isn’t it? One night, right?” she asked as she ran Leah’s credit card.

  “What’s your check-out process?” Leah asked.

  “Return the key by noon and you won’t get charged another night. If you leave a mess, we charge a cleaning fee.”

  “So the cabin has been cleaned since its last occupant?”

  The ranger cast an irritated glance at a clipboard. “Should’ve been. We do a basic cleaning and linen change between guests, but the weekend guy didn’t mark it down. Some guy had that cabin booked the past few weeks, but I don’t remember ever seeing anyone there during patrols. Anyway, if you find a mess, let me know and I’ll move you. Too late tonight for me to come clean myself; I’ve still got to make the rounds of the RV park and campground.”

  “I’ll be fine, don’t worry.” Leah gave the ranger her best smile. “I don’t suppose you could tell me who was staying in the cabin?”

  “Nope.” The ranger was rummaging through a drawer and didn’t even bother looking up. “Can only find one key, that good enough?”

  “Sure, no problem.” Leah accepted the old-fashioned bronze key.

  “There’s two ways to get there. From here, this is the easiest.” The ranger traced a route on the map. “Count your turns because once you’re past the campground most of the roads don’t have signs. If you’re heading into town for groceries or the like, this other way is a more direct route—but the gates are locked at nine p.m., so you need to make it back by then. If you run late, come back here and use the call box, I’ll come let you in.”

  “So there’s not a check-in or guard booth anywhere except here?” She wasn’t as much interested in security as the fact that the cabin could be accessed without anyone knowing. Making it perfect as a hideout for Beth. Leah suspected that if the baby hadn’t come early, forcing Beth out of hiding, no one might have ever known Beth was even there.

  “Guard?” the ranger scoffed. “Against what?” She squinted at Leah. “You do know you’re entering a wilderness area—this isn’t a Holiday Inn. You have camped before, right?”

  “I know what I’m doing.” Leah felt a bit offended. While in college, she’d often spent her vacations backpacking and hiking in places a lot wilder and less civilized than Craven Peak. “I grew up here, I’ve been all over these mountains.”

  Still, the ranger seemed doubtful. “There’s no phone in the cabin and cell reception is iffy at best. Come back and find me if you change your mind.”

  “I’ll be fine, thanks.” Leah took her map and key and left.

  By the time she found the cabin—a squat cube of a building, its dark-stained logs chinked with white caulking and a brown metal roof—the sun had almost completely vanished. Leah decided to start by retracing Beth’s steps while she still had some light left.

  She oriented her map. The fairgrounds weren’t that far—a quarter of a mile—and there was a path leading to them from the road below the cabin. From the brochure accompanying the map it appeared that the meadow which had hosted the fair was also home to non-denominational Sunday services as well as other events including wildlife lectures and an astronomy star-gazing class. She made note of the latter for Emily and Nate as she walked down the dirt drive and turned onto the gravel road. A hundred feet up the road she saw a sign pointing to a trail labeled To The Meadow and marked by yellow blazes on the trees. Good thing because the foliage was so thick that she saw no signs of the fairground until she reached the old split-rail fence that formed its boundary.

  At first she wondered at Beth’s ability to climb the fence but then spotted a gate a few yards down. She crossed through it and put the map away, switching to her phone and looking at Nate’s photos, orienting her position using trees with distinguishing features as landmarks. This had to be about where Beth had tossed her phone. Leah began pacing the area, scanning for any signs of the phone in the grass. Thankfully the meadow had been mowed before the fair.

  On her second circuit she was rewarded with a glint of glass. She ran to it. A phone. It had to be Beth’s. The screen was black and when she tried to turn it on it didn’t respond. Hopefully all it needed was a fresh battery charge. Pocketing her prize, she jogged back to the gate and followed the trail to the cabin, using her phone’s flashlight to guide her steps. It was completely dark by the time she climbed the cabin’s rough-hewn porch steps and slid the key into the lock. The key turned but the knob didn’t—she hadn’t unlocked it, she’d locked it.

  Which meant the cabin had been left unlocked—Beth may have been the last person to leave. If so, if the ranger had neglected to come to clean, then there might be some clues among Beth’s belongings. Eager to test her theory, Leah reversed the direction of the key and the lock popped open. She turned the knob, pushed the door open, and reached in to snap on the lights.

  The single-room cabin lit up, all its secrets illuminated. Including the woman’s corpse sprawled face up on the floor, blood covering her body, her mouth and eyes open in a silent scream.

  Thirty-Nine

  Luka curbed his anger and mobilized what resources he could to search for Tassi and Larry. “Want to tell me how they got past you?” he asked Ray.

  “Not us—they were gone when w
e went to bring them in. But don’t blame the uniforms. This place is huge—you’ve seen it. Apparently, there’s a service road around the back that isn’t marked on the maps.”

  Damn. “Any sign of Foster Dean?”

  “No. But Larry drove her back from Good Sam and both of their cars are still here. So, either they called a cab or someone picked them up. Could be another neighbor? Friend from the club? You know these rich people, they all stick together.”

  Luka’s phone rang with another call. It was Leah. “Work the scene, find me a traffic camera, something, anything—”

  “Rich people also like their privacy; there won’t be any traffic cameras. And their houses are all too far back from the road for security cameras to help.”

  Ray was sharing facts Luka already knew and it wasn’t helping his growing frustration. “We’re monitoring Tassi’s financial accounts; tell Krichek to find a judge and get us up on Larry’s as well. Plus, phone pings and GPS records. I’ve got to go, Leah’s calling.”

  “Hope that means they found the kid and he’s all right. I’ll let you know if anything breaks here.” Ray hung up.

  Luka switched calls. “Leah, sorry, I’m kind of in the middle of something.”

  “I found the cabin where Beth was staying.” Her words were rushed but her tone was steady—the same voice he’d heard her use during emergencies. “It’s in Craven Peak. Luka, she’s dead. Murdered. I found her body.”

  “Beth? Is the baby okay?”

  “Not Beth. Tassi. It’s—” Her voice dropped. “Tassi’s dead. Murdered.”