by CJ Lyons
"It's pretty high." Darrin munched his Pop Tart. "Don't worry. Adam will come and get us."
"You're so stupid. Adam's not going to help us. No one is."
Darrin flinched at Marty's words. Watched as the boy built a tower of rocks, then hauled the kerosene heater over to them.
"Aren't you going to help?" Marty asked.
"That's not going to work. Too unsteady." But Darrin got up and helped Marty shove the heater on top of the unstable pile of stones. "It's not high enough."
"Maybe I can jump. Grab the top and climb up."
"That's what Boots would do," Sally said, looking up from her coloring.
"This is real life, Sally," Darrin reminded her. And Marty. No way was he going to jump that high.
But Marty was determined to save them. "I'm going to do it," he muttered. "You'll see. My dad said I could do anything."
Darrin's dad never said stuff like that.
Before he could stop him, Marty scampered up the pile of rocks and climbed onto the heater. Darrin rushed to steady it as it wobbled. "Marty, get down. It's going to fall."
Instead of climbing down, Marty stood up on his tiptoes, arms stretched up, reaching for the top of the cliff way over his head. Then he jumped.
And came crashing down. Kicked the heater, which knocked Darrin off his feet, skidded over the pile of rocks that scattered in every direction, and landed with a thud on the rock floor.
Darrin pushed the heater off him and climbed to his feet. Marty hadn't moved.
"Is he dead?" Sally asked, clutching Miss Priss.
Marty's sobs proved otherwise. "My leg, my leg. I think I broke my leg."
<><><>
Morgan wrapped Adam's arm around her, clutching it as if she'd forgotten how to walk. She pressed her body against his as they left the sheriff's station and marched across the snow covered parking lot. It wasn't until they were halfway up the hill to the blinking light that she twirled free, still holding his hand, swinging it between them.
"We've been having so much fun," she said in a singsong tone. "You've missed it all, Adam."
She was just trying to make him feel bad. Morgan's specialty. Getting Dad to smile at her and making Adam feel lousy.
Adam yanked his hand free and shoved it into his pocket. "Where's Dad?"
"Did you really take those kids? Clint's kids?" She stopped, waited until his full attention was on her. "You're either a fool or you have a death wish." Her hat bobbed with her words, the silly pompoms flapping back and forth. "Maybe both."
"I saved them." He said the words to feel better but instead all he saw was Bob's bloody body. Fear kicked him in the throat and he couldn't swallow.
He'd done the right thing. He had.
Now he just had to convince Dad of that. And keep the kids far away from Morgan.
She twisted her fingers in his shirt, forcing him to bend down to her level. Her other hand was in her pocket—the pocket with her knife. He sucked in his breath as panic and anger tangled. He could kill her. He was bigger, stronger.
He didn't want to. But her eyes said that she did. Want to kill. Love to kill. Which gave her the upper hand. As always.
"You saved them. I saved you." Her words came with a bright smile. "Don't forget that, big brother. Don't you ever forget what I did here this morning." She laughed and pushed him away so fast he stumbled back and fell into the snow bank. "I don't care what Clint says. You're just another fish."
"Children, children," came a booming voice from a van that had pulled up beside them. Adam glanced up at the white Econoline. Guardian Locksmiths, read the demur gray lettering on the side. We're there for you when you need us. Day or night.
"Hop inside," Dad called. "We've miles to go and work to do!"
Morgan leapt over the snow bank, scrambling for the front seat before Adam could get his legs untangled from the cinder-covered snow. He finally made it upright and opened the side door, half anticipating to find a fish inside, naked and bloody.
Instead the rear of the van held two narrow bench seats arranged lengthwise on each side, a small refrigerator and cook top, and neatly stacked plastic containers. The van pulled away from the curb, knocking him onto the seat nearest.
"Pretty sweet, isn't it?" Dad sang out. "All the comforts of home."
"What happened to the truck?"
"Gave it up. Didn't like leaving your sister alone. The new regulations and GPS monitoring cramped my style. Not enough free time for family fun." He and Morgan exchanged a glance and chuckled in unison.
Adam shivered, alone in the back. Realized that's how it had always been. Ever since Dad rescued Morgan from her home in Kansas.
Maybe even before. No, that wasn't true. Dad would take care of him. Family first. He always said.
His vision blurred and he rubbed his thumbs against his eyes, producing red flashes of fatigue. There was no room for doubt, no going back. He had to think about the kids and what was best for them.
Surely that was being with their dad? He remembered Darrin in the basement, Sally freezing, Marty running from his mom, crying. Remembered their smiles and laughter back in the cave.
He'd done the right thing. Of course he had.
The kids needed their dad. They all did.
He opened his eyes and saw they were driving up the lane to Darrin's house. The sun shone down in the valley, but here the west side of the mountain still clung to shadow.
Dad pulled off the road and turned the van around. "You know what to do?" he asked Morgan who took a squirt bottle of ketchup from the glove compartment. She nodded and jumped out.
"Why are we here?" Adam asked.
Dad rested his arm along the length of the front seat, watching Morgan in the rearview rather than looking at Adam. "You have Darrin, right?"
"I saved him. I saved them all." Adam leaned close, waiting for Dad to give him that smile.
It didn't come.
"Figured as much. Now it's my turn to teach that prick Harding a lesson once and for all. There's nothing he has that I can't take."
"He hurt Darrin."
"Don't worry. He's gonna pay. Big time."
Why didn't Dad ask if Darrin was okay? Or any of the others? "I saved Marty and Sally, too."
Dad jerked his head but only to check for movement in the side mirror. "Really? Good for you." His voice was distant and he didn't look back at Adam. Instead, he leaned across the front seat to open the passenger door. Morgan bounded in, breathless, cheeks red with the cold. "Did you do it?"
She nodded. "Of course. Easy peasy. Wrote it on the big windows in the back. No way they can miss it."
"Good girl." Dad drove the van down the mountain. Once they cleared the twists and turns and emerged at the intersection with the main road, he turned to Morgan and rumbled her hair with his long fingers. "I'm so proud of you."
Then he smiled. The smile Adam dreamt of for almost a year. Dad's smile. Aimed at Morgan.
Chapter 27
After giving their initial statements to the responding deputies, Lucy and Jenna were more in the way at the crime scene than helpful, so they drove over the mountain to the main sheriff's station in Huntingdon. Jenna said nothing the entire time. As soon as they arrived, she commandeered a desk in the far corner and collapsed into the chair.
Lucy called Nick while she waited for Zeller to return from his inspection of the crime scene and making notification. Nick listened patiently, as always, and didn't sound upset about her missing the start of Megan's tournament.
"But you know you're going to pay a price," he warned her.
She sighed. Lately there was always a price with Megan. "What?"
"The party tonight."
"Nick—"
"Hear me out. I called the other parents and several of us are attending. Don't call us chaperones, at least not around Megan, but we'll be there. And I talked with Danny. I don't think you have anything to worry about. He has a partner. Named John."
Lucy didn't care about what
kind of living arrangements the coach had. Megan was still only thirteen and the youngest attending the party. "You'll be there? The whole time?"
"I promise."
"Okay. Fine."
"Great, I'll let her know. Want her to call you in between games?" If Megan's team won—which they would—they'd have to play a second game today to advance to the quarterfinals.
"Yes. But warn her if I don't pick up—"
"It's not because you don't want to. Love you." He hung up. Lucy turned her attention to tracking down Clinton Caine. Maybe the father could help her understand what the hell was going on with Adam.
When Zeller finally walked in, the few faces of the skeleton staff turned to him, hoping Bob had miraculously risen from the dead.
Zeller met their gazes and shook his head. He shuffled into his office as if carrying something too heavy for a man his age. Lucy waited for him to settle in, then followed.
"Sheriff, I'm so sorry for your loss." Lucy stopped, searching for the right words. There weren't any, but still she had to try.
Zeller said nothing but nodded to the chair before his desk. He reached inside a drawer for a bottle and poured her a paper cup of Macallan's. They toasted in silence and drank. The whiskey slid down smoothly to ignite warm coals in her belly. She shook her head when Zeller tilted the bottle, offering a second shot.
"I can't help but feel responsible," she admitted. "If we'd gotten there sooner—"
"He'd still be dead." Zeller turned his computer monitor so she could see and punched a few keys. "I can't stop watching it."
On the screen there was a grainy black and white surveillance film. The New Hope substation. The time stamp was 6:12 am, before Lucy and Jenna even left the school. The front door opened and a girl came in, looking around. She was bundled for the snow and she looked young, maybe eleven or twelve? She hesitated, then walked to the security door leading to the workspace, and rang the buzzer.
The camera was mounted directly above the security door in order to capture the entire reception area, so all they could see was the girl's head bobbing as she spoke to someone, then her body disappeared as if it had been yanked inside. The heel of her boot flying through the air the last part of her visible.
"What the hell?"
"Keep watching," Zeller said grimly.
A trickle of dark fluid eased into view. "He's already down." Zeller took another drink. "Didn't even have a chance to reach his weapon. Poor bastard."
That was the only motion on the screen for several moments. Then less than two minutes after she arrived, the girl reappeared. Only this time with Adam Caine. Walking behind her, arm wrapped around her, and way too close together. His eyes were wide, expression frenzied as he looked over his shoulder directly at the camera. He shook his head and mouthed a single word, "No."
Then they were gone. Only the growing blood pool remained.
"I know he's your fugitive," Zeller said, his voice rough around the edges. "But that was my man he killed, so I issued a BOLO for Adam Caine. Told my people he's armed and dangerous and to take every precaution when approaching him."
Politically correct way of saying "shoot to kill."
"You don't know it was Adam," Lucy found herself arguing.
Zeller stood, his face filling with disgust and fury. "Then who was it? Houdini? There was no one else there!"
"Who's the girl?"
"You think a little girl got the drop on one of my best men and killed him? Then took Adam Caine—what? As a hostage?" His laugh held no amusement but plenty of scorn. "I may be just a hicksville sheriff in the eyes of the FBI, but I'm not stupid. That boy took advantage of the distraction and didn't think twice. Killed my deputy in cold blood. And now we have another child missing. Once he has no more use for her, she's as good as dead."
"Who is she?"
He jerked his chin up at that. "What?"
"There were no other cars in the lot and no signs any had been there when we arrived. She must have come on foot. Which makes her most likely local. So who is she?"
Zeller shook his head, both hands pressed against his cheeks as if they'd gone numb. Lucy reached across the desk and capped the bottle. It was almost full; he hadn't had much. But she needed his mind clear if they were going to unravel this before some eager-beaver deputy shot Adam.
"I have no idea," he muttered. "One more family will wake up this morning and find themselves devastated." He aimed his gaze at her and it felt heavy. "You know you might be next, right? If Adam Caine killed my deputy because he blamed Bob for his mother's death, that makes you his next target."
Lucy stiffened, halfway out of her chair, ready to defend Adam. Then she checked herself, fought to find that facade of professionalism. "Adam's had plenty of chances to kill me and he hasn't yet."
His shoulders hunched in anger. "Why the hell do you keep denying the truth? Lucy, I just told good people their son died. Don't make me call your husband or tell your daughter the same. Maybe you should leave. Go home. Stay safe. Leave Adam Caine to me. We'll find him, deal with him. One way or the other."
"I appreciate your concern, Sheriff. I really do. And believe me, my family's welfare is my top priority—it's the reason I came here to begin with. But I honestly don't believe Adam is the monster you think he is. We're missing something. Just like last time."
She drew her breath in, knew that by playing her trump card she'd be burning her bridges with him. "Remember what happened then. When your predecessor refused to listen to me, tried to run me out of town."
The past hung in the air. Zeller kicked his chair back away from his desk, putting distance between them. He glanced at the bottle. Grabbed it, shoved it into a desk drawer, then finally looked back at her. "All right. You can stay. But God help us if you're wrong."
Lucy nodded her thanks and stood. "He was a good man, a good officer."
He sighed. "I know."
"We'll find the truth. For Bob."
"Don't make promises you can't keep."
"I don't." Lucy's cell trilled, sounding much too cheerful given the conversation. "Guardino."
"It's me. Olivia. Darrin's sister?" The teen's voice sounded breathless and muffled. "You have to come quick."
Lucy put it on speaker so Zeller could listen as well. "What happened, Olivia? Is it your mom? Are you in danger?"
"Not me. Darrin. I woke up this morning and found—wait, I took a picture of it, I'm sending it to you now. But he's erasing it. They said they'll kill Darrin, but Dad doesn't care. He's going to let them. Please, you have to help. Come now, before it's gone."
"Hang on, young lady," Zeller put in. "This is the sheriff. Calm down and explain what's going on."
Lucy's phone beeped. She had a text. She switched over and found the picture Olivia sent. The kitchen window. Written in red, dripping, still wet.
One million. Or next time it will be HIS blood.
"They want a million dollars for Darrin but my dad doesn't want to pay it. He won't let Mom call you guys, so I snuck out to do it myself."
"We're on our way, Olivia. You just hang tight," the sheriff said, grabbing his coat and hat.
"Is there anyone closer?" Lucy asked. "Maybe from the search?"
"No. We can get there faster."
"Olivia, was there a note? Any instructions?"
"Yeah, a piece of paper slid under the door. I took it. He hasn't figured out it's gone yet, but when he does—oh shit, he's coming!" A loud banging accompanied by shouting echoed through the phone. A girl's scream. And then silence.
Lucy and Zeller were already out the door.
Chapter 28
Jenna still had a list of things to follow up on from the night's SAR operations. One of them was searching the criminal backgrounds of anyone the boys had contact with at home or school.
She barely started when O'Hara, the detective who took her statement after the shooting yesterday, stopped by the desk she was borrowing.
"Thought you'd like to know," he said, "Ro
y started talking."
"That's good." Somehow the victory felt empty without Bob there to share it. She remembered their encounter in the observation room and sadness engulfed her. A bitter feeling. She was the last person he had sex with and it'd been empty, meaningless sex. How messed up was that?
"Yeah, and more good news. Coroner just called. No signs of a second body at the trailer."
"Second?"
"The little girl, Sally." He shook his head. "I really wasn't looking forward to dealing with a dead kid. Not on top of everything else going on around here."
"Thanks, O'Hara." He left and she stared at her computer screen, not seeing it. All she saw instead was Bob's body, the knife handle, the blood.
"Jenna," Lucy called as she and the sheriff rushed out of the sheriff's office. "With me."
Jenna held her breath for a moment. Better than committing career suicide by telling her supervisor to go to hell. Didn't do much for the burning in her stomach, though.
Lucy was already to the station door before Jenna closed her laptop. She grabbed her bag and slid into her coat. Jenna had the keys to the battered Taurus, so Lucy stood in the snow, parka unzipped, dark hair gathering snowflakes like dandruff, waiting impatiently.
"You hollered?" Jenna asked, taking her sweet time getting the keys out. The sheriff and his driver pulled out past them, showering Lucy with slush.
"Hurry the hell up. We just had a ransom demand."
Shit. Kidnapping for ransom? That was a different story. Jenna jerked the door open and fell into the driver's seat, shoving her bag with the laptop behind her. "Where?"
"Harding's." Lucy gave her directions despite the fact they were tailgating the sheriff's vehicle, its flashing lights cutting swaths of blue and red through the snow. "I don't get it. Why wait until now to make a ransom demand?"
"Waste our time, make us look foolish, spread us thin." The list was endless.
"Give Harding time to get back home."
"He's the man with the money, so yeah." Jenna was getting sick and tired of these conversations about the obvious.
But Lucy kept on talking. As if arguing with herself. "But he's also given us time to pull in resources from all over the state. Surely it would be easier to keep things quiet, just him and the family."