by Kate James
“No, he didn’t.”
“Then what?” she asked in a subdued voice. “Darwin and I weren’t wrong about the trail. Scout brought us here, too.”
“No, you weren’t wrong.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Watch the dogs. Remember, search-and-rescue dogs can follow scents even if those scents are in a vehicle. See the way they’re behaving?”
Shannon nodded.
“My bet is Dylan got into a vehicle here...or was put in one. Hold on a minute,” Logan said, pulling his cell phone out of its holster.
Shannon squatted down by the road, trying to make sense of the various tire tracks in the gravel. How would a small boy who’d wandered away from his family’s campsite end up in a vehicle? She couldn’t see anything that enlightened her. Then she noticed a small pool of engine oil. It looked fresh. She glanced up at Logan. He was still talking on his phone.
Thinking optimistically, she supposed that someone working in the park could have come across Dylan. But if that was the case, Dylan would’ve been taken to the rangers’ station and would have been reunited with his family by now.
Since they hadn’t heard anything yet, that scenario was unlikely.
The alternatives unnerved her.
Could someone have happened upon Dylan and simply taken him? If not...was it possible that Dylan hadn’t walked away from his campsite at all?
“You’re thinking that Dylan didn’t wander away from the campsite?” she asked as soon as Logan was off the phone. “That he was abducted?”
“Yeah. That’s what I think. No one has contacted the rangers’ station or the division about finding a boy.” He looked around. “This is where one trail ends and another—in a vehicle—begins.”
“There’s fresh engine oil on the gravel.” Shannon gestured toward the spot. “If the dogs have the scent, should we follow it?”
Logan frowned. “No. The ranger I spoke with said the service road is at least four or five miles and it connects to a main arterial. If we’re correct that Dylan was put in a vehicle here, that vehicle had no place to go except down this road. At the arterial, the scent will be much too faint for the dogs to determine which direction it took, let alone follow it from there.”
As they made their way back to the campsite, Logan called the division to get additional resources. The Special Response Team would lead the search, and the FBI would be brought in to assist, which was normal procedure for suspected abductions. All Shannon could think of was how shattered Sawyer had looked and the small glimmer of hope that had flickered in his eyes when she’d said they weren’t giving up.
How could she explain that they thought his son had been abducted?
And why?
“What sort of salary would a professor of law earn?” she asked Logan.
“If you’re thinking of money as a motive, I’d bet he has enough. We ran him. He was an assistant DA before he switched to teaching.”
Shannon mulled that over. She checked her watch. It must’ve been at least five hours since Dylan had disappeared. “If it is kidnapping, shouldn’t there have been contact by now? A call or a ransom demand?”
Logan shrugged. “Odds are, but not necessarily. And money isn’t always the goal. As an assistant DA, he impacted a lot of people’s lives. Those he sent to jail. Their loved ones.”
When they reached the campsite, Shannon immediately noticed that Sawyer wasn’t at the table with his family. Again, he was alone. This time, he was sitting in the sand on the shore of the lake. His knees were bent, arms wrapped around them.
“Do you want me to tell him?” Logan asked.
Shannon wasn’t going to shirk her responsibilities, regardless of how difficult it would be for her. She knew Logan had more calls to make to coordinate the next steps. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll do it.”
She handed Darwin’s leash to Logan, drew a deep breath and walked slowly to where Sawyer was.
“Mr. Evans... Sawyer?” she said softly as she approached him.
He gazed up at her as if he’d just come out of a trance and scrambled to his feet. His eyes were wild as he glanced about.
“We didn’t find him,” she said.
He seemed to close in on himself and collapsed back onto the ground, elbows on his knees and his forehead in his hands. “What now?” he asked in a barely audible voice.
She lowered herself to the sand beside him. “We need to ask you some questions.”
He didn’t move. Didn’t look at her. “You and the others have already asked me all the questions imaginable.”
Shannon understood his frustration, but the questions so far had focused on the possibility of a child wandering away. She had to tell him what their hypothesis was and that it required a whole new set of questions to be explored—including those that would probe whether he or another member of his family could’ve had anything to do with it. “No, we haven’t,” she responded. “We suspect that Dylan didn’t wander away.”
Sawyer lifted his head and stared at her as if she’d suddenly grown horns. “What? If he didn’t wander away, then where is he? One of us has been here at the camp since I discovered he was gone.”
As painful as it had been when she’d learned that Charlie was missing—and all because he’d wanted to be with her—it would be far worse for Sawyer once she explained the situation to him. She wished there was something she could say or do to soften the blow, but the cold, hard truth had to be said.
* * *
WHEN THE POLICE officer didn’t answer his question right away, Sawyer scrabbled around to face her and grasped her upper arms. “What do you mean Dylan didn’t wander away?”
Her eyebrows furrowed and she glanced down to where he was gripping her.
Only then did he realize he was holding her and not gently. He immediately released her. Seeing the distinct marks left by his fingers below the short sleeves of her uniform shirt, he was dismayed. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry... Officer,” he mumbled.
She rubbed a hand over the spot on her arm. “It’s okay. And it’s Clemens. Shannon Clemens. We followed a trail to a service road. We think he was put in a vehicle there.”
Sawyer slumped back on his heels. “Someone found him? Have you checked to see if anyone’s reported finding him? To the rangers or the police?”
“Yes. Neither the park rangers nor the SDPD have received any report of a young boy being found.”
“But you think someone put him in a vehicle and...took him?” Sawyer couldn’t believe what he was hearing. If someone had found Dylan, lost and alone, surely that person would have taken him to the rangers’ office or the police by now. And if not? As he realized what she was saying, the horror of it threatened to overwhelm him. “You think he’s been...kidnapped?” he asked, his voice raw.
“We think someone took Dylan. The distance he would’ve had to travel to the service road, especially in bare feet, is too far. He was probably carried, if not all the way, then part of it.” Shannon nodded to her captain, who’d just joined them, before continuing. “Based on the behavior of the dogs, we suspect a person or persons put him in a vehicle at that location.”
Sawyer staggered to his feet. Turning his back on the cops, he dragged the fingers of both hands through his hair.
He was fairly certain this was what losing one’s mind felt like. His son was missing—might have been abducted—and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. After Jeannette had left them, he’d sworn he’d protect Dylan and give him enough love for two parents.
He stumbled to the edge of the water and stared off into the distance.
Was this some incomprehensibly cruel joke the powers that be were playing on him? Three years ago his wife went missing and now his son? Jeannette might be lost to him, but he had to get Dylan back. W
hatever it took. If not, he really would go insane.
If Dylan had been abducted, who would’ve done it?
“Mr. Evans?”
A male voice, so the captain, not the officer. Sawyer spun around.
“It might be advisable for you and your family to go home. We’ll need to ask you some more questions, but we can do it there.”
Sawyer looked around and noticed that the campsite was now being treated as a crime scene. There were more cops present and yellow do-not-cross tape had been used to cordon off the area.
“Dylan...” he whispered and turned imploring eyes on Shannon.
“There’s nothing more you can do for him here,” she said softly. “If he was abducted, you should be home near your phone.”
He nodded. “I...I have to tell my parents and Meg.”
“Okay. Then we’ll have someone drive you home. You can get your vehicle some other time. It’ll be fine here until then.”
“Sure. Yeah.” Didn’t they understand that he didn’t care about his damn car?
All he cared about was getting Dylan back.
CHAPTER THREE
THE AUTHORITIES WERE convinced that the young boy, Dylan Evans, had been abducted. Despite there being no ransom demand. No contact. At least not yet.
When the possibility had first occurred to Shannon, dread had washed over her. Telling the father, Sawyer Evans, what they suspected had broken her heart.
Afterward, she’d gone to Sawyer’s home with Logan, and then back to the division for the briefing of the Special Response Team. Richard Bigelow was the lead detective assigned to the case, and she was glad of it. She didn’t know him well, but he was said to be the best on his team.
The SDPD had called in the FBI to assist, standard operating procedure with children presumed to have been abducted. The FBI had assigned a special agent in charge to work with the SDPD, Gavin Leary, and another special agent, Anne Wilson, to assist.
Shannon didn’t know if her help would be required again, but took comfort in the fact that they had the top resources available on the case.
Back at her desk, she scooped kibble into Darwin’s bowl. She watched him scarf down his food. Shannon might not be hungry, but the events of the day didn’t seem to have hurt her dog’s appetite.
After he finished his meal, he ambled over and rested his head on her lap. She stroked him as she thought back to the meeting.
They’d considered all the possibilities and narrowed it down to two. Either Dylan had wandered off and someone had seized him opportunistically, or it had been planned and he’d been taken from the campsite and to the vehicle.
Everyone present had agreed that the second scenario was more probable, since the former would’ve been too coincidental and highly improbable in the middle of the night. Also, as Shannon had concluded, it would’ve been too long and arduous a trek for Dylan to walk from the campsite to the service road on his own.
But how could someone have gotten Dylan out of the tent without waking his father? The only plausible scenario they could come up with was that the boy had gone outside to relieve himself and been taken then. But that would’ve meant someone had been watching and waiting, possibly all night, for Dylan to appear. She returned to the fact that it had been hours and there was still no ransom demand.
Shannon got her laptop, put her feet up on a chair and opened a picture of Charlie.
She was fourteen when her little brother died and the events that had led up to it still haunted her.
All through her childhood, people had called her a tomboy. When she’d first heard the term, she hadn’t known what it meant. Curious, she’d looked it up online, where it said something about how the way she was didn’t follow the “female gender norm.” That hadn’t bothered her. She’d seen it as fact. When other girls her age were playing with dolls or going to tea parties, she’d been engaged in sports or building mechanical things.
Her best friend since the first grade was a boy. Kenny had been her only friend for most of her life. When her parents had another child and that child turned out to be a boy, she’d been relieved. Shannon would’ve loved her sibling no matter what, but she’d secretly worried about how she’d handle having a sister. She was okay with being a tomboy, maybe even pleased by it, but what sort of influence would she have been on a little sister? So, she’d been glad when her mother had given birth to Charlie.
There was a ten-year age gap between them, but she’d loved Charlie completely and unreservedly.
And Charlie had loved her unconditionally in return. Their mother had said he idolized her. That put a lot of pressure on Shannon to be a good role model. Charlie wanted to do everything Shannon did; in fact, their father called him her shadow. As Charlie had grown, he’d also developed an open adoration for Kenny. Shannon had worried about how Kenny would respond to a young child hanging around them. She’d been delighted when Kenny, an only child, treated Charlie as if he was his kid brother, too.
Shannon’s parents started calling them the Three Musketeers. Shannon had Googled that, and she liked the sound of it. Yeah, the three of them against the world!
Shortly after Shannon turned fourteen, something had changed between her and Kenny. At first it was subtle; with time, it became more pronounced. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but their relationship just wasn’t the same. She worried that because Kenny was sixteen, two years older than her, he now thought of her as a kid. Her idea was reinforced when he’d insisted that she—and everyone else—start calling him Ken. He considered himself too old to be called Kenny. But she concluded she couldn’t have been correct about how he felt because they still saw each other as much as they used to, if not more. Then she’d fretted that it was Charlie, since Ken no longer wanted to have him around.
Shannon’s mother had sat her down and had a talk with her about Ken and their relationship now that they were teenagers, but Shannon had assured her that Kenny—Ken—was just a friend.
When Ken had asked Shannon to go for a hike in Torrey Pines State Reserve north of San Diego, Charlie had wanted desperately accompany them. Kenny had insisted that it would be a long hike, too strenuous for Charlie. Tears had coursed down her brother’s cheeks when she’d told him he couldn’t come with them.
If only Charlie had listened...
* * *
SHANNON CLOSED HER eyes and the memories came rushing back.
It was shortly after Kenny had gotten his driver’s license and he was so proud to be able to drive them to the park in his mother’s car.
As they walked side by side along a forest path, Kenny bumped Shannon’s shoulder. Shannon had been watching the shifting patchwork of light and shade on the sun-dappled forest floor, her thoughts so focused on how to broach the subject of what had caused the change between them, that the movement made her lose her footing.
He caught her with one hand on her arm, the other at her waist.
“Thanks, Kenny.” Noting his annoyance, she quickly amended her words. “Sorry... Ken.” Steady on her feet again, she tried to step away, but he kept an arm around her waist. “Um... I’m okay now. Thanks.”
Instead of releasing her, he closed the gap between them. Shannon saw his mouth open and his eyes close as he lowered his head toward hers. With an appalled jolt, she understood that he intended to kiss her. Letting out a squeal that sounded girlish to her own ears, she placed her palms on his chest and shoved. She must’ve taken him by surprise because he staggered and landed ingloriously on his butt.
“What did you do that for?” he demanded, his irritation obvious.
“You...you were going to kiss me!” Shannon swiped her forearm across her mouth, almost as if he’d managed to accomplish what he’d set out to do.
Leaning back, he continued to stare up at her. “Yeah. What’s wrong with that?”
He rose and dusted off his jeans. “Is that so? Is that how you think of me?”
“Well, yeah. How else?”
She and Kenny—Ken—couldn’t reach any kind of agreement, but at least she had her answer to the question she’d been grappling with.
Something had changed between them.
Kenny no longer thought of her as a friend or a sister. He confessed that he wanted her as his girlfriend.
Shannon couldn’t think of him that way. Her mother’s warning, and how readily she’d dismissed it, came to mind.
Kenny suggested she take some time to decide. She knew she didn’t need time, since her feelings for Kenny weren’t going to change.
Kenny drove her home. He didn’t bother to get out of the car. They said a terse goodbye and, with a heavy heart, she walked into her house.
When Shannon entered the kitchen, her mother glanced over her shoulder from where she was standing in front of the stove, stirring a pot. “Oh, thank goodness you’re back,” Victoria said. “Your father has a charter booked to go fishing and wants to take Charlie with him.”
“Charlie?” Maybe it was because Shannon was still in a daze from what had happened with Kenny, but she didn’t understand what her mother was talking about.
“Yes, Charlie.” Victoria turned, a wooden spoon in her hand. “Where is he?”
Shannon felt cold tentacles of dread slithering through her. “Why are you asking me? I was with Kenny. Charlie wasn’t with us.”
The spoon slipped out of Victoria’s hand and clattered to the tile floor. “Then where is he? When we couldn’t find him, we...we assumed he must’ve gone with you.”
The tentacles were constricting, and she imagined her ribs would snap at any moment. It was nearly impossible for her to breathe. “No...” Shannon’s voice was a disembodied whisper. “He wasn’t with us.”
Victoria rushed to the hallway. “Paul! Paul... Charlie wasn’t with Shannon!”