by Debra Webb
He closed his eyes and blocked the kind of pain he hadn’t allowed in in years. Not since he’d watched his men, his squad, die one by one because he refused to talk. To sell out his country.
That was when he’d stopped allowing himself to feel. Melissa had stirred the desire to feel again, but he’d blocked her out, too.
He’d stopped being human and he’d lost her because of it.
Jonathan opened his eyes. Fury tightened his jaw. Whoever had done this to her and her family, he would find them and he would make them pay.
Chief Talbot managed to pull himself together enough to finish the job he’d come here to do. He gave the order to drag the river.
If the doll was confirmed as belonging to Polly, and Jonathan felt certain it would be, the next step would be to search for her body.
He needed to break this news to Melissa before she heard it from the crowd that had in all inevitability gathered at the road. The news vultures would be monitoring the police band.
MELISSA WAS LOSING her mind.
Why didn’t one of the deputies come back and tell them something? They’d been gone nearly an hour. She scanned the crowd that had gathered. Dozens of Bay Minette citizens stood alongside media crews, waiting for news.
William had been restrained when he’d attempted to breach the crime scene. Presley sat in the back seat of the patrol car with him. Both were out of their minds with grief and guilt.
A rumble in the crowd drew her attention back to the woods in time to see Jonathan appear. Melissa’s heart thundered. Fear closed around her throat as he came near enough for her to see his grim face.
His clothes were wet.
Her knees began to buckle but she locked them, held on to her uncle’s arm.
Jonathan crossed under the yellow tape and was immediately assaulted by reporters. He pushed through without a word. His right arm went around Melissa. “Let’s get out of here.”
“What happened?” Harry demanded.
“Not here,” Jonathan warned.
Melissa’s head spun. She and Harry clung to each other as Jonathan said something to the deputy at the car where Will and Presley waited. Then he ushered Melissa and her uncle to her car.
The reporters tried again to get some answers or at least a comment. Jonathan’s lethal glare shut them up in an instant.
“What happened back there?” Melissa demanded when they were driving away from the persistent reporters. “Was it really Stevie?”
Jonathan put a hand over hers. “We’ll talk when we get to your house.”
When Melissa would have argued, he added, “We didn’t find Polly.”
Melissa wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or more worried. For now, she chose the former. At least there was still hope that Polly was alive. When the call had come about Stevie… She closed her eyes. How could this be? Stevie had been like a part of her family.
The twenty minutes it took to reach her house felt like a lifetime. The utter silence had been deafening and agonizing. She’d wanted to ask so many other questions but she’d been afraid of the answers. Harry had sat in the backseat, apparently suffering the same horrific fear.
Will and Presley arrived right behind them. When they were all inside, seated, braced for the worst, Jonathan finally broke his silence.
“Stevie was shot,” he explained. “We’re not sure by whom, but…”
Melissa couldn’t imagine who would want to shoot Stevie. Maybe he’d discovered where Polly was being held and the person who’d taken her had shot him.
“Scott Rayburn’s body was found, too. He’d been shot, as well.”
“What?” Will demanded. “That’s crazy.”
Presley broke down into sobs.
Harry simply sat there. He said nothing and looked at no one. Melissa worried about him. He wasn’t a young man anymore. As hard as this was on her, it was worse for him, on a physical level.
Jonathan shook his head. “There are no answers yet.” He sat down on the sofa arm next to Melissa. “There was evidence that a child was being held in the shack.”
“What kind of evidence?” Will was on his feet now instead of comforting his wife. “They should’ve let me in there.”
“Toys. A couple of changes of clothes—girl’s clothing.”
Jonathan kept his voice steady and calm but his words ripped Melissa’s insides to shreds. “Was there anything else?” Please don’t let him say blood.
“There was some blood inside,” he explained, “but the preliminary estimation is that it belongs to Rayburn. It appears he was shot in the shack and then dragged to the river.”
The idea that the chief’s child had drowned in that river hit Melissa hard. What the man must have gone through. “But Polly wasn’t there?” Melissa looked up at Jonathan. “This doesn’t make sense. Two people are dead.” She shook her head. “Three counting Floyd Harper. And Polly is still missing.”
Jonathan scrubbed a hand over his face.
There was more. Melissa’s heart sank. “What?” she demanded. It might have been three years, but she knew that look. “What aren’t you telling us?”
“When we found Rayburn’s body…” He struggled to find the right words, the battle playing out on his face. “In the water, there was a doll, too.”
Presley sat up straight. “Pink dress?” she demanded. “Blond hair?” Her voice grew higher and tighter with every word.
Jonathan hesitated then said, “Yes.”
Presley cried out in anguish. William collapsed onto the sofa next to her.
Melissa felt numb. She couldn’t cry. She couldn’t ask any more questions.
Jonathan exhaled a troubled breath. “The chief has ordered a team to drag the river.”
Surely that river hadn’t taken another child, Melissa thought. God wouldn’t be that cruel.
“I have to go…” Harry stood. He looked around as if he were lost. “I need to help.”
Melissa pushed to her feet, wobbled a little. “There’s nothing you can do right now, Uncle Harry.”
He shook his head. “I have to go.”
Before Melissa could say more he rushed out the door.
Melissa looked from Jonathan to her brother and his wife.
They were all a mess. There was nothing they could do for Polly.
They had failed.
Pull yourself together. The inner voice reminded her of her resolve to be strong. She dragged in a broken breath. “I’m calling Dr. Ledford. He can call in something for Presley.” Presley cried hysterically. The sound was devastating.
At the mention of his wife’s name, Will met Melissa’s gaze. “It would be better if Presley got some rest now,” she told him. “Maybe you, too.”
He shook his head. “I need to be out there.” His voice was hollow, weak.
Melissa didn’t argue with him. He was right. His daughter was missing. He needed to be out there. She nodded. “You go. I’ll take care of Presley.” Melissa walked to the window and checked the drive. “Uncle Harry’s still out there. Ride with him,” she said to William.
She worried about Harry. He’d rushed out of the house then just sat there in the car. He would need William with him. They needed each other.
When her brother had gone, Melissa made the call. Dr. Ledford’s nurse, a friend of hers, promised to call the drugstore immediately and have someone deliver a sedative for Presley.
Melissa tucked Presley into the bed William had slept in growing up, then she wandered back into the living room. Jonathan was on the phone.
She stared out the kitchen window at the swing Polly loved to play on whenever she stayed over. Melissa could imagine the little girl swinging high, her blond hair flying behind her. She was the sweetest child.
Melissa refused to believe she was dead.
She was out there, waiting to be found.
And then everything would be all right. Just like her Uncle Harry said.
It had to be.
Jonathan ended his call
and joined her at the window. “You need to eat.”
Melissa shook her head. There was no way she could eat right now.
“There’s not much else we can do until we hear from the chief,” Jonathan offered. “I’ll fix you one of my famous omelets and we’ll review what we know so far. See what we can figure out.”
What they knew was a lot of confusing details and not much else. But he was right. She needed to be strong. Part of being strong meant taking care of her basic needs. “Okay.” Her lips lifted in a small smile that surprised her. “I remember your omelets. They were pretty darned awesome.”
“Sit.” He guided her to the table. “While I cook I want you to tell me more about Stevie Price and Polly.”
Melissa felt sick to her stomach. Why would Stevie do this?
Jonathan pilfered through cabinets and the fridge until he’d gathered everything he needed. He prodded Melissa for answers as he worked.
She did the best she could, but that old, ugly fear kept vying for her attention.
Polly’s doll had been in the river with Scott Rayburn’s body. Images of Polly’s favorite doll floating in that murky river kept flashing in Melissa’s brain.
The hope Melissa had been holding on to slipped from her grasp…
Chapter Eleven
12:03 p.m.
“I did this.”
Harry sat in his car, staring straight ahead at nothing.
Polly was gone.
Stevie was dead.
What in the world had Rayburn done? How had he found Stevie and Polly?
If they found that baby in the water… Harry’s fingers squeezed into fists. There would be only one thing he could do.
He’d left William with the search team, but Harry had needed to talk to her. She was the only one who would understand.
“No,” Carol argued. “You didn’t do this. Something went wrong.” She curled her arms around him, tried to comfort him. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”
Harry couldn’t look at her. If he did, she would see the ugly truth in his eyes. He was a monster. One who had caused the death of his precious Polly. One who had destroyed his nephew. William would never forgive him. As well he shouldn’t.
“Rayburn did this,” Carol insisted. “He spent every waking moment attempting to stir trouble. To hurt someone.” She pressed her forehead to Harry’s arm. “Now he’s done it. He’s ruined everything.”
“I was there,” Harry said, his voice coming from a hollow place inside him. “Before dark last night. Stevie and Polly were fine. She…” He swallowed back the lump in his throat. “She was playing with that doll.”
“Who else could have known?” Carol asked softly, the plea nearly more than he could bear.
Harry had no answer. No one had known. Only the two of them. Stevie hadn’t understood. He’d thought he was babysitting for a few days. Floyd Harper hadn’t known. He’d just done what Harry paid him to do. Until he’d decided he needed more money.
Dear God, Harry hadn’t meant to kill him. It had been an accident. The old fool had tried to force Harry to give him more money—for an operation he’d claimed he needed. But that wasn’t true. He’d have spent on liquor whatever Harry had given him. They’d argued and the crazy man had charged Harry. What else could he have done? He’d pushed the man off him. He hadn’t realized they were standing so close to the edge of that bridge.
Now he was dead. And Stevie, as well.
Agony swelled inside Harry. Sweet, innocent little Polly was likely dead, too.
Dear God, this was all his doing.
He was a monster who didn’t deserve to live.
“It’s best that we don’t see each other again.” His empty words echoed in the confined space.
Carol stared at him. He didn’t have to look at her to know. He could feel her gaze upon him. She was as devastated as he was. Except none of this was her fault.
“You can’t mean that,” she whispered.
“You’ll only be hurt when the truth comes out.” He closed his eyes to block the painful image of that doll floating in the water. The doll kept morphing into Polly. Lord, just strike him dead now.
“I don’t care.” She held more tightly on to him. “Reed will retire and move to Gatlinburg. I’ll stay here with you. We’ll get through this together.”
Harry shook his head. “There won’t be any getting through it.” He turned to her. “Go with Reed, Carol. He’s a good man. You deserve better than me.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “You promised we would be together. Finally. After all this time.”
“No one will ever know about us.” He turned his attention back to the road. “That’s the way it has to be. It’s the only way to protect you. I’ve hurt too many people already.”
“I won’t let you do this,” she cried. “I know what you’re thinking.”
She couldn’t. She wasn’t a monster like him. She couldn’t possibly know.
“You believe everyone will be better off without you.” She shook him. “That’s wrong, Harry. You’ll just hurt them all the more. You did what you thought was right—what would save Will. You had no idea this would happen. Rayburn messed everything up.”
“No.” Harry let go a weary breath. “I messed everything up. This is my doing.”
“Will and Melissa will forgive you in time,” she urged.
“They won’t.” They shouldn’t. He didn’t deserve forgiveness.
“Then they don’t have to know.” She reached up and caressed his jaw. “Why should any of them ever know? There is no evidence linking you to what happened. No one ever has to know.”
If only it were that easy. “I’ll know.” And he couldn’t live with it.
“I won’t let you do this, Harry.”
He patted her hand. Carol meant well, but she didn’t understand. He had hurt the people he loved most. He had caused that sweet baby’s death.
There was only one thing to do now.
Even if by some miracle Polly was found unharmed, he had caused three deaths. No matter who pulled the trigger, he was responsible.
He had to pay.
Chapter Twelve
4:30 p.m.
The team dragging the river had found nothing so far.
William had just delivered the news, but he still refused to leave the scene. Harry, he told her, had left hours ago, but every time she called, he didn’t answer his cell phone. Melissa was really worried about him. She wanted to go and find him, but William made her promise to stay with Presley. Finally giving in to the effects of the medication, she was sleeping soundly.
Jonathan had been back and forth. He called or came home every hour or so to check on her. He was the single reason she felt comfortable staying behind. She knew that Jonathan would do whatever needed to be done.
Melissa peeked in on Presley again. She was out. Most folks couldn’t understand the patience and sympathy Melissa felt for Presley. They didn’t comprehend how hard her life had been. Other than the Johnny Ray thing, Presley had come a long way. She tried hard. Some people just weren’t strong enough to stand up to someone like Johnny Ray. Presley had been used and abused by him. Her childhood had deeply instilled in her that she didn’t deserve any better. She’d once told Melissa that she didn’t know why Will loved her. Johnny Ray had exploited that doubt.
Whatever pain he suffered as a result of the beating he’d taken from William, the bastard deserved.
Melissa picked up the phone and tried both Harry’s cell and his house phone. Still no answer.
“Dammit.” Where was he?
A soft rap at the front door snapped her from the troubling thought. Fear fired through her. Wouldn’t Jonathan have called if there was news?
Not if it was bad.
Fear sucking at her composure, she trudged to the front door. She checked past the curtain.
Her heart battered her chest wall as she saw Jonathan. She opened the door. Her gaze collided with his and she wanted to ask—to
demand—what he’d learned, but terror held her tongue.
“They’re still searching,” he explained, “but they haven’t found her. That could be a good sign.”
Relief made Melissa sway. “Thank God.”
“The team leader said that with the lack of strength behind the current, even a small body wouldn’t have been carried far. They’re cautiously optimistic that she isn’t in the water.”
Melissa fell against him. She couldn’t help herself. She needed his strong arms around her. And she cried. Her niece was still missing but at least she wasn’t in that damned river.
Jonathan led her back into the living room after he closed the door. “The thinking now is that she may have run. The chief’s broadening the search grid in hopes of finding some trace of her in the woods.”
“Then there’s still hope.” The weather wasn’t a real issue. She’d been well fed, based on the evidence found at the shack, and clothed. There was reason to hold out hope. But searching the acres and acres of those woods could take too long.
“There’s hope.” He caressed her cheek and offered a smile. “The thrust of the investigation now is determining how Price and Rayburn were connected. There has to be a motive for their actions. If we learn the motive, we’ll be far more likely to find her.”
Melissa gave herself a shake. Jonathan looked exhausted. She hadn’t considered that he’d scarcely had any sleep, either, much less anything to eat. “Would you like coffee? Or tea?” She really knew better than to ask about the tea. Jonathan didn’t go for the Southern tradition of iced tea.
He shook his head. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” She searched his face, her pulse skipping at the memories of all they had shared. So many nights she had lain beside him and watched him sleep. She’d loved him so much…still did. But she would never admit that out loud.
“I need to talk to you about Rayburn and the accusations he made when he approached me.”