She shivered and pulled her sweatshirt tighter. What was taking Todd so long? Had the car broken down? Or was it something worse? She pictured the car at the bottom of a ravine, Todd’s broken body tossed onto the rocky terrain. Tears pricked her eyes. He wouldn’t leave her alone for all this time if he could help it. Something had to be terribly wrong.
She heard a coyote howl off in the distance and a rustling sound closer. She remembered Todd’s story about bears and mountain lions. Her heart was pounding so hard and fast she thought it might explode. She stumbled through the dark cabin to the kitchen, where she found a match and lit it. The brief burst of light convinced her she needed to do something. She couldn’t simply sit in the dark and freeze to death. She decided to brave a trip to the wood pile even if she had to do it in bare feet. The wood wasn’t far from the house, and a fire would provide both light and heat.
Hands outstretched, she shuffled through the dark until she found the door. But when she turned the knob, the door wouldn’t open. She turned it the other way and yanked. It still didn’t budge.
She felt around for a deadbolt, but found nothing. Panic blossomed in her chest and spread like an electric current throughout her whole body. She turned the knob to the right and the left. She turned it hard and fast. Then gently and slowly. No matter what she did, the door wouldn’t budge.
She was locked inside a cold, dark cabin. Alone.
What if there was a fire? What if Todd never returned?
She shook the door, banged on it with her fists, then stumbled to a window. Years of paint and dirt and neglect had taken their toll. She couldn’t open it, either. She tried other windows, without success.
She tried to calm herself. She could break the glass. Granted, it wouldn’t be easy climbing through with shards of glass encircling her escape, but she did have a means to get out. She’d simply lost track of time, she told herself. Todd had probably only been gone a couple of hours. She was scaring herself for no reason.
She felt her way back to the couch and curled into a ball. The minutes passed slowly. She thought about her parents. About Alyssa and Oliver. About the life in Sterling she’d run from so eagerly. What had she been thinking? She missed them all with an ache so deep and agonizing it took her breath away. Her parents loved her. How could she have treated them so badly? The tears came again and this time they wouldn’t stop. She wiped them away with her sleeve but they kept coming.
The night seemed to go on forever. Eventually she heard the rumble of an approaching car. She caught the glare of headlights on the dirt road leading to the cabin. Warm relief flooded her veins.
And then fear.
What if it wasn’t Todd? What if it was a burglar who thought the house was empty? Or a rapist and murderer?
She heard the car door slam shut. Then footsteps approaching.
When the door opened and Todd appeared she burst into hysterical tears. “Where have you been? Why didn’t you tell me you were going?” She knew she was screeching but she couldn’t calm herself. Now that he was back, all the confusion and anger and fear erupted in a torrent of words and weeping.
Todd set the bags he was carrying on the floor and put his arms on her shoulders. “Take it easy, honey. Didn’t you see my note?”
“Yes, but it was getting dark. It is dark. I didn’t know when you’d be back.”
“The cabin has lights.”
“They’re propane. I was afraid to light them.”
“So you’ve been sitting here in the dark?” He stroked her cheek. “My poor baby.”
“I was so scared.”
“We’ll have to give you some lessons in self-sufficiency, won’t we?”
Jamie detected an edge of rebuke in Todd’s remark, like she’d come up short by panicking the way she had. “Why didn’t you wake me before you left?” she asked.
“You looked so peaceful lying there. I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“I don’t know why I fell asleep. I never nap.”
“You obviously needed it, and I didn’t expect to be gone long. Still, it was only a couple of hours.”
“It felt like longer.” Now that Todd was back, Jamie felt foolish about giving in to panic so easily. “And I couldn’t find my shoes.”
He looked down at her bare feet. “Where’d you leave them?”
“I must have kicked them off when I was sleeping, but I felt around by the couch and they aren’t there.”
“Let me get some light in here and we’ll take a look.” Todd pulled a packet of matches from his pocket and began lighting the lamps.
“I couldn’t get the door open, either,” Jamie said.
Todd stopped. “Why were you trying to open the door? You weren’t going to leave, were you?”
“No, of course not. I wanted to get some wood.”
“Just as well. The fireplace is tricky. You’d probably have smoked up the whole place.”
“But why wouldn’t the door open?”
Todd shrugged. “It opened fine for me.” He lit the three central fixtures, turning the handle on each to release the propane, then waiting for the flame from the match to ignite the mantle, which it did with a whoosh. The lamps scared Jamie even when Todd lit them.
He got down on hands and knees and felt around under the couch. “Here are your shoes,” he said.
“How’d they get way under there?”
“They’re your shoes, Jamie, not mine. You ought to keep track of where you leave them.”
Jamie didn’t remember removing them, but no way would she have pushed them back under the couch. It was creepy that they’d wound up there.
“Let me start a fire,” Todd said, “and then we’ll fix dinner. I bought steaks. And real potatoes. No more canned stuff for my little princess.”
She followed Todd to the porch and watched him gather wood from the pile just beyond. When she turned back, the cabin looked warm and cozy, not dark and frightening.
She was silently chiding herself for acting like a child when she noticed the padlock near the top of the doorjamb.
She didn’t recall seeing it before.
Chapter 47
Gordon tossed his coat onto the couch and headed straight upstairs to his desk. He’d gone to campus for his classes, but skipped office hours so that he could come home and continue his investigation into Travis Winslow. He had been up most of last night digging on the Internet, but had learned surprisingly little, although he’d found another photo that bolstered his belief that Travis Winslow and Todd Wilson were one and the same.
From what he’d been able to piece together, Travis was the youngest of three Winslow siblings. They had inherited Citizen’s Choice, a small bank in Texas, when their parents were killed in a private plane crash twelve years ago. Travis’s older brother, Frederick, was currently the CEO, and his sister, Stephanie, was listed as President. Gordon hadn’t been able to find an article that laid out the family history in the sort of detail he would have liked, but he’d found other sources that talked about a deal between Citizen’s Choice and AG National Bank.
He had phoned Detective Phillips first thing this morning, thinking it might be easier for the police to locate Todd now that they had his real name. But Phillips wasn’t much interested. Wilson or Winslow—it was all the same to him. His response had been something along the lines of “Great, thanks for letting us know. We’ll update our BOLO bulletin.”
It had been too early at that hour to call the bank in Texas, but Gordon grabbed a few minutes between classes and tried to reach both of the older siblings. He’d gotten the corporate runaround and had left his name with little hope of hearing back.
Now, he settled at his desk and tried again, explaining first to the bank operator and then to the secretaries for each of the siblings that the matter was personal and extremely important.
“Mr. Winslow is unavailable at the moment,” Frederick Winslow’s secretary said, echoing the words of Stephanie Winslow’s gatekeeper. “If you want
to leave your name, I’ll give him your message.”
Gordon contacted Customer Service next, and from there was transferred to Human Resources. Everyone he spoke with was polite, but he never reached a single person who was able or willing to talk to him about Travis or the Winslow family.
He felt he’d cracked a big piece of an important puzzle—the man they were looking for was Travis Winslow. And he knew something, albeit only in general terms, about the man’s background. But he was at a loss where to go with it from there. He made himself a cup of coffee and went back to Googling.
He’d pretty much exhausted his search for information about Travis Winslow last night, so today he focused on the brother and sister and the bank itself. Most of the recent business articles dealt with the structure and finances of a possible merger. Finally, he stumbled across a business-oriented blog by a guy named Simon Jennings, who seemed fairly knowledgeable about the inner workings of Citizen’s Choice. Gordon tried to find a contact phone number, and when he couldn’t, typed out an email asking Jennings to contact him.
Then he called Marta. He had hoped to have more detailed information to pass along, but knowing Todd’s real name was still significant. He also wanted an update on her activities. He’d received a cryptic email from her that morning, saying she had a lead on a possible location where Jamie might be and she and Cassie were heading there. Annoyed at the vagueness of her message, he had tried calling. The phone rang directly to voice mail. He didn’t know whether to be worried or angry.
“Finally,” he said now when she answered. “I tried reaching you earlier.”
“I must not have had reception.”
“Where are you? And what’s going on? Your email explained nothing.”
“We’re in Trout Creek,” Marta told him. She sounded tired. “It’s a very small town, more of a wide spot in the road really, in the way northern part of the state. Up near Shasta.”
“What makes you think Jamie is there?”
“It’s a long story. Too complicated to go into right now.”
“What?” Gordon felt his anger returning. “You practically refused to let me come with you and now this is all I get? What the hell is going on?”
“The short of it is, Cassie may have met Todd—”
”Met him? When? How?” Anything involving Cassie spelled trouble. And fifty-fifty it would turn out not to be true.
“I told you, Gordon, I can’t explain over the phone. But what’s important is, he told her about a family cabin in the woods near Shasta.”
“Why would he do that? Cassie’s not the most reliable—”
“It fits perfectly with what Jamie told me about where she was.”
“There must be hundreds of little towns up there.”
“There are a lot of them. But Cassie thinks she recognized the name Trout Creek.”
“She thinks?”
“It’s our only lead.”
Gordon was beside himself. “Finding Jamie is too important for your sister’s games. I’m surprised at you, Marta. Don’t you have more sense?”
“It’s not a game,” Marta snapped.
Gordon tried to rein in his irritation. Criticizing Cassie was never a good move. “I know you don’t think it’s a game. It’s just seems—”
“Do you have a better idea?”
“No. But I’m worried you might be going off on some tangent.”
“That’s possible,” Marta admitted. “But I think we might be on to something. We met a woman here in town who said she would hand out flyers to her customers. In a small area like this, somebody might recognize Todd.”
“I have news that might help,” Gordon offered, softening his tone. “I learned that Todd’s real name is Travis Winslow. His family owns a small bank in Texas. His older siblings are the CEO and President. I don’t know where Travis fits in.”
“How did you come up with that?”
Gordon explained about the article Carol had printed out, and how he’d zeroed in on the Winslow family photo. “I’ve tried to reach both the brother and sister, but neither has returned my calls. I’ve scoured the Internet, without a lot of luck. But then I stumbled on a blogger, Simon Jennings, who specializes in mergers, or at least on business—”
“Talk about going off on tangents!”
“Don’t you think knowing Todd’s real identity is important?”
“How sure are you?”
“Reasonably sure.”
“Reasonably?” Marta parroted. “Finding Jamie is too important for name games.”
Gordon was stung. And furious. He heard his computer ping and saw he had a response from Jennings. “I’ve got to go,” he said. “The blogger I told you about just sent me a message.”
He hung up before Marta could insult him further.
Chapter 48
The Ponderosa Pines Lodge was an old, bungalow-style “resort” facing a parking lot. The front entrance was framed in half-round logs but the architecture was solidly early motel. Marta and Cassie were the only guests.
“Creepy,” Cassie said when they checked in.
Marta didn’t find it creepy, but it wouldn’t have been her first choice if there’d been any alternative. “Dolores recommended it,” she pointed out.
Their room wasn’t elegant by any means and only marginally comfortable—twin beds, thin mattresses, one rickety bureau, and one low-watt bulb. But it was clean, cheap, and convenient. And, as Dolores had predicted, Harry, the manager, was more than happy to allow Marta to use his computer and printer as long as she reimbursed him for paper. He promised to take a flyer for himself and post it by the front desk.
“Maybe by July there’ll be another customer here to see it,” Cassie whispered as they left his office.
“He must get more business on the weekends. Besides, we need all the help we can get.”
“Shouldn’t we add the name Travis Winslow to the flyer?” Cassie asked after a moment.
Marta had already modified her original flyer to include Todd’s photo, but Gordon’s call hadn’t come until after the flyer was printed, too late to add Todd’s real name. “We’ll have to write it in,” she said.
“I know, but there’s a chance one of the old-time locals will recognize the name and know where the cabin is.”
Despite Gordon’s enthusiasm for his discovery, Marta remained skeptical. Todd did not strike her as someone who was part of a Texas banking dynasty. But it couldn’t hurt. “You’re right, we’ll add it.”
*****
The beds were narrow and cramped and creaked every time either of them moved. Cassie seemed to sleep just fine, while Marta lay awake for what seemed like most of the night. In the morning, she was up and showered before her sister opened her eyes.
“Time to get moving,” she said once she was dressed.
“Okay, okay.” Cassie rubbed her eyes and trudged to the tiny bathroom where she took a long and very steamy shower.
They drove into town for breakfast at the Whitefish Café, and Dolores greeted them like old friends. She immediately posted a flyer in the cafe’s window and another by the register.
“What’s your plan for the day?” she asked them as she poured more coffee.
“We’re going to distribute flyers around town, if people will take them.”
“Oh, they’ll take them all right. People around here may be a bit eccentric but they’ve got good hearts.”
“We’ve got some new information,” Marta told her. “The man my daughter is with might use the name of Travis Winslow. Does that ring a bell with you?”
“Can’t say it does.”
After breakfast, Marta took the east side of the block, and Cassie the west. Dolores had been right, every single person they spoke with took a flyer and promised to post it. After their experience in San Francisco, the response was heartening. But it was a short block and the only commercial district in town, so it didn’t amount to much.
“We could go door to door in the neighborh
oods,” Cassie suggested.
“We might, at some point.” Marta felt antsy. “Let’s touch base with the sheriff first. Then we’ll check out some of the nearby towns. If the businesses there are as willing as they were in Trout Creek, that’s probably a better use of our time than canvassing individual homes.”
The deputy sheriff they met with was sympathetic and open to helping, but he readily admitted that without more to go on, there wasn’t much he could do. He took several flyers and promised to spread the word among the other officers.
“If you get more information, give me a call,” he said, handing Marta his card. “Both the office exchange and my cell number are on there.”
Marta thanked him, then she and Cassie covered the main street of Yreka before continuing their drive through the smaller surrounding towns, although the word “town” was something of a misnomer. Many were smaller than Trout Creek.
They took their time, chatting up anyone who was willing to listen, not only spreading the word about Jamie but trying to learn what they could about the back roads and the rustic cabins along them.
The clerk at a gas station convenience stop thought Todd might look familiar, but he couldn’t say for sure. He’d never seen Jamie, however. And the bearded, suspender-wearing bartender at Harry’s Saloon and Bait Shop thought the name Winslow rang a bell, but couldn’t tell them why.
As they were leaving Burnet, a town about thirty miles from Trout Creek, Marta slammed on the brakes.
“What’s the matter?” Cassie asked.
“That trailer park.”
“What about it?”
“Jamie told me she drove through a town with a mobile home community called Royal Gardens.”
Cassie frowned. “That’s not Royal Gardens. It’s Royal Oasis. And it’s not a mobile home anything, it’s a trashy trailer park.”
“It’s close.” Close enough that Marta felt a burst of optimism. “Jamie is somewhere nearby,” she said. “I can feel it.”
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