Without a Trace

by Carissa Ann Lynch

  “How can you tell?” I asked, shuddering in spite of myself. The throb in my own tooth pulsated relentlessly.

  “Well, every tooth has its own characteristics. And no two oral cavities are alike. These teeth aren’t complete, there’s pieces missing from each one, which tells me that she suffered some sort of trauma, most likely some blows to the face.”

  “You said she. You definitely think it’s Nova Nesbitt then? Could these possibly belong to a child?”

  He shook his head. “Only dental records or DNA can tell us for sure. But I’m certain these teeth belong to an adult female. You see, the upper and lower canines in men have this ridge that is more pronounced and frequently…”

  But I was no longer listening. I turned on my heels and ran outside, shouting for Sergeant DelGrande. If Nova Nesbitt had been killed or assaulted here, then where was Lily? If the husband had killed Nova, then he’d most likely taken the child with him…This time, I couldn’t hesitate. I needed to act and act fast.

  ***

  “It doesn’t make sense. Why don’t they send one of the other guys? Why does it have to be you?”

  I was shoving socks and underwear into my bag, while mom tried to talk me out of going to Granton, Tennessee.

  “Why not me?” I said, standing up and stretching my neck side to side. My head and jaw were pounding so hard I couldn’t think.

  “It just seems like it would be more of a risk. I’m scared for you, honey,” she croaked.

  “Why? Because I don’t have a penis, mom? I’ve mucked this up once, won’t do it again. For all I know, that little girl could already be dead. And instead of trying to find her and hunt down Martin Nesbitt, I’m standing here, trying to convince my mom that it’s the twenty-first century and women can do the same things as men.”

  I zipped my overnight bag closed and looked around my bedroom. Where did I put my keys?

  “Look, you’re right. I’m sorry. But it’s an entire day’s drive to Tennessee. Do you really have to leave tonight?”

  “It’s eight hours if I hurry. If I leave now, I’ll make it by midnight.”

  My mom looked as though she might cry. But finally, she sighed and walked out of my room, leaving me to pack. My keys were on the floor next to my computer chair. I scooped them up and grabbed my bag, just as mom popped her head back in. She looked considerably less worried now.

  “Roland and Mike just pulled in. They’re going with you, they said.”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” I tossed the bag over my right shoulder and kissed my mom on the cheek. “Call you when we get in,” I promised.

  CHAPTER TEN

  The Neighbor

  CLARA

  Just like that, my new neighbor was gone. The cabin deserted. From across the field, it looked like a living, breathing, monster. The windows were two black holes for eyes, the door a gaping slash for a mouth.

  They didn’t find her body, or any other clues outside the cabin, as far as I knew. The last of the crew finished up at ten o’clock. I expected them to offer me some sort of protection, maybe a guard to watch over the place…but they didn’t. They’d left me here alone, with my thoughts and my ghosts, and for some reason, that felt comforting. All the chaos and noise and company had made me a nervous wreck today.

  Sam warned me not to disturb the scene, but I had to see it again. I just had to. It was my cabin, after all.

  I let myself in the back door with my master key. I’d never felt like a criminal entering my own property before, but I did now. Could they arrest someone for disturbing a crime scene? Probably, I decided.

  The kitchen was pitch black and dank. I stumbled over something in the middle of the floor, letting out a panicked cry. Even though I’d been determined not to turn on any lights, in case someone came back and saw me in here, I ran for the closest light switch. My fingers found the switch with practiced ease, and I let out a sigh of relief as the lights clicked on. There was a duffel bag in the middle of the kitchen floor. I stared at it, wondering what in the hell it was doing there.

  I crept forward, confused by what my eyes were seeing. The bag was full of gray colored stones, like huge chunky bits of gravel but smooth in texture.

  And the cannisters … Why would Nova put these here?

  I didn’t dare touch the bag, or anything else, for fear of leaving fingerprints. Of course, my own prints would be all over this place. I’d wiped it down and checked things thoroughly before I let my tenant move in. But still. I didn’t want to disturb anything else.

  Turning the kitchen light back off, I tiptoed into the living room. A dark brown stain covered the center of the floor. It looked dark, almost black.

  I didn’t dare move any closer to the blood stain. Instead I walked down the long dark hallway, holding my breath as I approached the two bedrooms at the end of the hall. My mind played tricks on me as I entered the master bedroom. Shadows swirled, and I fought the urge to turn on the lights again. Taking out my cell phone, I used the flashlight to look around Nova’s room. The bed was unmade. A silky pink robe and panties lay crumpled up on the floor.

  There was a strange smell in the air. Not blood or death, some sort of fruity perfume. Like coconut and cinnamon. Like Nova had been here only moments earlier…

  Lily’s room was empty and dark, the bed neatly made. It didn’t even look like a child had slept here. My throat constricted as I rushed to get back outside. I burst through the back door, sucking in deep, wet breaths of cool night air.

  The rain had started up again. It hadn’t reached me yet, but I could hear it pinging on the leaves in the forest, moving closer and closer…I crossed the field, but instead of heading back into my house, I went to the barn.

  It’d been empty for years, but still, I could smell horses and hay. Could see myself feeding the animals. Could see the way Andy used to dote on them. He’d rub the horses bare-handed till his hands went raw, cooing to them like tiny children. Sometimes I thought that man treated his animals better than his own family.

  On the second tier was a hayloft. Blinking back tears, I tried not to think about all the days I hid up there as a child, drawing and writing while my grandpa performed his daily duties. He would pretend not to see me, although I’m certain he always knew…

  The only thing left behind as a memory of my family’s farm—the family before I had my own—was an ancient tractor that had belonged to my great-grandfather, Jack. Police looked in the barn today, but they didn’t move the tractor. It was at least 150 years old, ancient and peeling, and obviously, hadn’t been moved in years.

  I laid down on my stomach, ignoring the dust and debris that coated my sweatshirt and jeans as I shimmied beneath the tractor. Luckily, I was still thin enough to slide underneath.

  The false door wasn’t visible to the naked eye—it just looked like part of the floor. But I knew which tiny crack I had to pry in order to get it open. I pulled it up just far enough to squirm inside.

  Rung by rung, I descended a rickety, wooden ladder, praying I wouldn’t catch any splinters along the way.

  At the bottom was a small eight by eight room, previously used to store canned goods and supplies for the winter. Rows of metal shelving lined each side of the dank, dusty room. There was nothing down here anymore.

  Nothing except for Andy.

  He lay on his back, sleeping peacefully. Only he wasn’t sleeping. And his face didn’t look peaceful at all.

  “Bastard,” I huffed, staring at the man I used to love. His flesh was already rotting, falling away from the bones, and he smelled worse than a broken sewer line.

  “Why did you have to come here? You screwed everything up!” My heart slammed in my chest as I hurried back up the ladder.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The Cop

  ELLIE

  Traffic was light and there were less cars on the road than I was used to on my daily morning drives to work in Northfolk. The air in Granton felt different. Thicker and foggy, and probably less clean, but
it felt like there was more oxygen to go around for everyone.

  Roland and Mike were nodding off in the backseat as I pulled into the Holiday Inn parking lot in Granton. I’d driven straight through, ignoring the urge to pee, because Roland had teased that I would have to stop first.

  “Here we are,” I grumbled, my pelvis achy as I put the car in park. Roland had called ahead and made the reservation. Personally, I didn’t understand why we needed to sleep before confronting Martin Nesbitt. Every second that passed was a second too long. A second that Lily could be in danger.

  “What time is it?” Mike stuck his head between the seats, squinting up at the neon glow of the hotel sign. The parking lot was empty, save for two cars, and one of them had to belong to staff because it had a Holiday Inn logo splashed along the side panel.

  “One o’clock in the morning,” I yawned. Mike was in his late twenties like me. He wasn’t as big of a douchebag as Roland, but they were friends, and like the other guys, he didn’t seem to trust me much since the shooting incident. In another life, maybe we could have been partners…friends…

  Mike was wearing a tight black police top and jeans, his sandy blond hair poking out in sleepy little tufts on his head.

  Roland groaned. “Bumpy ride. You should have let me drive,” he glowered at me in the rearview mirror. Before leaving Northfolk, we’d squabbled over the keys and I’d won.

  When I was fifteen, I’d got in a car with one of my older friends who’d had a few drinks too many and had pulled out in front of a Dodge Caravan before looking left at a stop sign. My seatbelt had saved my life, and hers too, but ever since that wreck, I liked being the one behind the wheel. I liked having my fate in my own hands whenever possible.

  “I know sarge told us to crash for the night, then go see the husband in the morning. But I was thinking, why not go there now? It’s only a couple miles away from here. Maybe we’ll catch him off guard,” I spoke softly, praying they’d both agree.

  “Catching a man off guard, you say? Didn’t you learn your lesson on that last time?” Roland sneered.

  I gritted my teeth, fuming. Before I could defend myself on the Clark shooting for the hundredth time, Mike said, “Ease up, Roland. Guys, we just need to follow sarge’s orders. He told us to go in the morning.”

  Roland pulled on the door handle from the backseat, but it was locked. Less than an hour into the drive, he’d asked me to stop at a Liquor Barn. Tennessee doesn’t sell alcohol after eleven. I don’t want to miss my window, he’d explained. Honestly, I was surprised he hadn’t popped the top on a beer and drunk it in the backseat on the ride over.

  A sudden urge to leave him locked in his hotel room and drive on to the Nesbitts’, surged through me. I flexed my jaw, watching him struggle with the door handle in my rearview mirror.

  “Unlock my door, Sharp. Mike, help her with the controls up there.”

  “I know how to unlock it,” I snapped. I clicked a button and Roland jumped out.

  “Sorry. I know he’s an ass,” Mike said, smiling weakly. Then he slid across the seat and followed him.

  Frustrated, I gathered my purse and keys, then popped the trunk to get my bag. Just as I was taking it out, the on-call cell phone whirred in my pocket. I’d almost forgotten I had it on me, I’d been so focused on getting here and confronting Nova’s husband.

  It was a text message from an unknown number.

  Officer James, it’s Chad Burch from forensics. I know it’s late. I didn’t want to wake you up, but can you call me first thing in the morning? I have some details to discuss with you about what I found out today, in regards to the Nesbitt case.

  I carried my bag in the crook of my arm, my mind racing as I wondered what Chad knew so far. Eager to get checked in so I could call him back, I hurried through the glass double doors and entered the lobby. Roland and Mike were nowhere to be found.

  A young girl with cherry red hair and glittery green mascara was working the desk. She blushed when she saw me, and I had no doubt that Roland had just been flirting with her.

  “They left you your room key,” she said, giving me a timid smile as she slipped a plastic key card across the desk.

  “Thank you. Let me know if they bother you,” I said, cheeks flaming.

  My room was on the second floor. I wasn’t sure where Mike and Roland’s rooms were, but I hoped they were far away. Preferably on another floor completely. I tossed my bag on the queen-sized bed and turned on the lamp beside a small, wood-stained desk.

  I sat down in a flimsy desk chair and kicked my shoes off while I waited for Chad to answer the phone. Please pick up, I silently chanted.

  “Hey. I thought you might be asleep.”

  Relieved, I said, “What’d ya find? Did ya tell my sergeant?”

  “I did. But I know you’re the one who’s been working the case from the start, so he said it was okay to call you directly.” Chad cleared his throat and I thought I could hear him shuffling papers.

  “Thank you, I appreciate that. I’m surprised you have something for me so fast.”

  “Well, me too, but this wasn’t hard to figure out. The blood that we collected from the scene? You ready?”

  My heart leapt into my throat. What if the blood belongs to Lily?

  “The blood didn’t come from a human. It’s bovine. But there is some human blood embedded in the teeth.”

  Bovine. The term was familiar, but my heart was throbbing in my ears and I couldn’t get my thoughts straight. “Wait. You mean cow’s blood? Holy shit. Why would there be cow’s blood in that cabin?”

  “No clue. Could this be some sort of sacrificial killing? Was Nova into the occult, or anything like that?”

  I stared at my overnight bag on the bed. “I have no idea what she was into. But there was a duffel bag full of rocks at the scene. Does that mean anything to you?”

  The line was silent for several seconds. “No, it doesn’t. But I just remembered something else. We found a cross in her garbage can in the kitchen. Animal blood, weird stones, and a cross. What’s that make you think of?”

  “Something satanic or ritualistic. But that seems a little far-fetched, don’t ya think?” I pondered.

  “Remember all those satanic ritual abuse cases in the eighties? They spread like wildfire but turned out to be untrue,” Chad said.

  “Yeah, I think I do…”

  Chad coughed loudly, and I pulled my ear away from the phone. He came back on the line and said, “But, there’s still the fact that there were human teeth. I mean, no one would be able to differentiate between mammal blood and human blood, not with the naked eye. But the ABC and Rh blood groups for the samples were different, so I automatically knew it wasn’t human. But from a cow…wow, I’ve never seen that happen before. Are there farm animals in that barn next door?”

  “No. There used to be, I think, but not for years.”

  A sudden thought was taking shape in my mind. What if Martin Nesbitt wanted us to think his wife and child were dead? What if he kidnapped the daughter, then came back for the wife…maybe Lily’s still alive, I considered. Maybe the cow’s blood was a decoy…?

  “Is that it, Chad?” I asked, shoving my feet back into my shoes and standing up.

  “If you can get dental records for Nova and a DNA sample, either from a close relative or from a toothbrush, or something at her house, that would help immensely. Her fingerprints are already on file because she’s been in the system before.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Chad.” I snapped the phone shut and grabbed my keys. I couldn’t wait. I needed to see Martin Nesbitt now.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The Neighbor

  CLARA

  There is a monster that lurks inside me.

  There must be. No one can kill their husband without something evil somewhere deep inside their soul…

  With all the chaos of the last couple days, the missing girl and the bloody scene, I’d forgotten to lay flowers on Annie’s grave.

  It was
a tiny marker, just a small wooden cross at the base of the property. Along the tree line, where the sun cast a narrow pocket of shadows between the trees and the field. This was where Annie liked to play when she was alive. She’d bring her dolls and her ducks, and she’d sit in that shadow, pretending no one could see her but me.

  There was a reason she enjoyed “hiding” so much. Like me, she was afraid of her father. Andy had never laid a hand on the girl during those first couple years of her life, but she had often seen us fighting. She’d seen the way he’d laid into her sister, Krissy, screaming and whipping her whenever she’d done something he didn’t like.

  Despite everything, I still loved my family. I’d wanted Andy to change. I’d thought that if he just quit that drinking, he might be a better father. A better husband. There were moments—moments when he seemed like the man I married…seconds within the day, like when we were watching Seinfeld reruns and we’d laugh so hard our bellies hurt. I’d glance over at his laughing side profile and there he’d be—eighteen-year-old Andy, reincarnated, cutting up and having fun. Or sometimes, I’d expect him to get angry about something, like when I popped a hole in my tire, but then he’d stay perfectly calm and know just what to do.

  He stopped drinking for a while, but that was only after it was too late. After he’d killed my Annie.

  By all accounts, what happened that day was just a freak accident. Horses are wild and sometimes they get scared. Annie was too young to ride. When the horse got spooked, the fall was just too high. That girl held onto life for a few hours, but then her tiny body couldn’t sustain those types of injuries.

  While I held my daughter’s cold, broken body in my arms at the hospital, Andy was down at the pub, that bastard.

  He swore it was an accident, that he was holding her up there gentle-like around the waist, and then the horse saw a fox and took off…that was his story.