by Rita Herron
She jerked awake, certain he’d be gone, but his arms were still wrapped around her and his breathing was shallow in sleep. She pressed her hand against his firm jaw. His beard stubble was rough, his lips parted, his face a picture of masculinity.
She planted a soft kiss on his cheek and closed her eyes again, treasuring the night as she fell asleep again.
Sometime later, a loud banging sound jarred her awake. Harrison bolted upright, then scrubbed his hand over his face as if he was disoriented.
The pounding continued. Someone was at the front door.
“Dammit.” Harrison threw the covers aside, treating her to the sight of his hard, muscular body.
She silently groaned. She wanted to tell him to ignore the door and come back to bed. But the reality of the day before interceded, and she wrapped the sheet around her and ducked into the guest room while he yanked on clothes and hurried to the door.
In the guest room, she retrieved underwear, jeans and a T-shirt from her bag, and hurriedly dressed. It was probably Lucas with news from the lab, or maybe the fire chief...
She splashed cold water on her face, a tingle spreading through her at the sight of her red cheeks. Harrison’s scruffy beard stubble had abraded her skin. Her hair was tousled, so she dragged a brush through it. Unable to tame the wild, wavy strands, she pulled it into a ponytail and secured it with a clasp.
Her body still smelled of Harrison, though. But if this was news about the case, they might need to act quickly.
Taking a deep breath, she walked into the den, which adjoined the kitchen. She veered toward it, hoping to brew a pot of coffee.
A loud gasp punctuated the air, and Honey froze.
“I heard there are other girls who disappeared like Chrissy, Harrison.”
“Yes, Mother, I’m working on it—”
Honey bit her bottom lip, wishing she’d stayed in the bedroom.
Mrs. Hawk stalked into the room, arms folded, her eyes blazing with anger. She shot daggers at Harrison with her eyes. “My God, you’re not working. You’re shacking up with this whore instead.”
* * *
ANGER AND HURT boomeranged inside Harrison. The pain of his mother’s words on Honey’s face shook him to the core.
“Mother,” he said, not bothering to hide his disdain. “You have no right to speak to Honey like that. She has done nothing to hurt you or Chrissy and doesn’t deserve the way you’ve treated her.”
“She’s that awful Granger man’s daughter. And you know what his wife was—”
“Children are not a reflection of their parents, just as parents aren’t a reflection of their children,” Harrison snapped. He gave Honey an imploring look, hoping she understood the double meaning.
Honey folded her arms. “I’m sorry you feel that way, but more than that, I’m sorry for your loss,” she said softly. “For the record, Harrison spent all day yesterday investigating Chrissy’s case and the other girls’ disappearances.”
His mother started to speak but Honey cut her off.
“Also, someone burned my house down last night and your son was a complete gentleman. As the sheriff, he allowed me to stay in his guest room for my protection.”
Harrison’s pulse clamored. “You don’t have to justify anything to my mother.”
His mother spun toward him. “You’re defending her over me.”
“Do not go there, Mother,” Harrison said. Because at this moment he would defend Honey. “And if you weren’t so nasty to Honey, you’d realize that she is not to blame for Chrissy being gone. She left this town because of the ugly way you and others treated her. You should see the business she’s built for herself. It’s impressive, and she did it all on her own.”
Honey arched a brow, seemingly surprised at his praise. But it was well earned.
His mother huffed. “All I want to know is if that body those detectives found was my little girl.”
The raw agony in those words softened his anger. “How did you know about that?”
“I overheard Dexter and Brayden talking. You boys must be conspiring to leave me in the dark.”
“Mother, stop it,” he said, the chastising note back in his voice. “We will tell you something when we have answers. Actually this girl had suffered a broken femur at a young age, so we don’t think it was Chrissy, but are waiting on confirmation.”
He hadn’t meant to sound harsh, but his mother staggered slightly as if she might faint.
Honey rushed forward to steady her. “Mrs. Hawk, why don’t you sit down? I’ll get you some coffee or tea—”
“I don’t want anything to drink,” his mother snapped. “I want my daughter back.”
Honey nodded, sympathy in her eyes then started a pot of coffee.
Harrison pulled his mother into a hug. “I know, Mother. So do I.”
But they both knew that was not likely. And he refused to promise his mother that he could make it happen.
His cell phone buzzed, and Harrison strode to the bedroom to retrieve it then answered. “Sheriff Hawk.”
“It’s Luke. Dammit, Harrison, another girl has disappeared.”
Harrison’s breath stalled in his chest. “Same age?”
“Yes. From Leadfoot Hollow about fifty miles from here. Nine-year-old girl named Kitty Walker. She and her big brother, George, were at a rodeo last night when the girl disappeared.”
“Where are you?”
“On my way to get you.”
“I’ll be ready.” He hung up and hurried to the den. He had to get his mother to leave. Honey could go with them.
He didn’t intend to leave her in Tumbleweed alone. No telling what might happen to her while he was gone.
* * *
HONEY REMAINED SILENT as Harrison walked his mother to the door. “Mother, I promise, we’ll call you when we know something.”
His mother looked pale but nodded then gave Honey a sideways glance. Honey held her gaze. She refused to be intimidated.
Besides, it was obvious that Harrison’s mother was suffering the deep-seated kind of pain only a mother who’d loved and lost her child could feel.
Not like Honey’s own mother, who’d deserted her without ever looking back. She probably hadn’t even shed a tear.
As soon as the door closed, Harrison snatched his keys. “We have to go. Another little girl is missing, not too far from here.”
Honey gasped. “Oh, my God, what happened?”
“She and her big brother were at a rodeo last night.”
Honey grabbed her purse while Harrison poured them both coffee in to-go mugs.
A minute later Lucas pulled into the drive and honked. They raced to his sedan and Honey sipped her coffee as he peeled from the driveway.
“The local sheriff has had a search party looking for the girl all night,” Lucas said. “Her mother does marketing for the rodeo. She knows a lot of the workers there and so do her kids, so she felt comfortable with the two of them hanging out until she finished last night.”
“I assume they canvassed the workers and participants as well as attendees.”
Lucas shrugged. “They did their best. Got all the employees for sure, but it was a late night and started raining so some of the ticket holders left early. Brother said he left the girl at the concession stand while he went to the bathroom. When he returned, he couldn’t find her. That was close to eleven o’clock.”
“Then he panicked, I guess,” Harrison said.
“Not at first. He figured she went to the manager’s office to see their mom, but she wasn’t there. The mom paged the daughter, but she never showed.” Lucas paused, voice troubled. “That’s when they panicked. The staff checked the bathrooms, stalls, tents. It was a good hour before they called the sheriff.”
He swun
g into a driveway for an older ranch home sitting on a hill in a neighborhood that had probably been built in the 1950s. A deputy sheriff’s car was in the drive along with two other vehicles.
Lucas parked and the three of them walked up the drive to the house. Harrison knocked, and an older woman with a gray ponytail answered the door. “I’m a neighbor, Birdie Samson,” the woman said. “I came to stay with Melody and George last night. They’re not doing too well.”
She stepped aside, and a thin woman in jeans and a T-shirt with black hair, crying into a handkerchief, sat hunched on the couch. A teenage boy with black hair sat beside her, his head bowed, body shaking.
Lucas and Harrison followed Birdie inside and introduced themselves to the deputy. Honey hung back, her heart aching as she scanned the wall of photographs in the entry.
Photos of the boy and his sister riding horses. They looked young and happy and as if they were best friends.
She zeroed in on the little girl’s face and her stomach twisted. She reminded her of Chrissy. Same age. Same innocent look.
Braided pigtails. Bright ribbons in her hair.
Just like Chrissy and the other victims.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Harrison cleared his throat. “Mrs. Walker, tell us what happened last night.”
She twisted her hands around the handkerchief. “We went to the rodeo like usual. The people there are like a family, so I let George and Kitty be on their own a little. I...guess I shouldn’t have.”
“It’s understandable that you feel comfortable there,” Harrison said. “I know the sheriff issued an Amber Alert and you gave him a photograph of Kitty. Is there anyone at the rodeo who paid a particular interest in Kitty?”
“She loves everyone,” Mrs. Walker said. “The cowboys treat her like a kid sister, and the vendors like she’s their daughter.”
“I’m compiling a list of all the employees and rodeo riders and will run background checks,” Lucas said. “Was there anyone new working last night?”
The woman fidgeted. “Not that I know of. Larry, the owner, usually vets everyone before he hires them.”
“Can you give me his number, ma’am?” Lucas asked. “I want to get on that right away.”
She grabbed a sticky note pad on the table and scribbled down a name and number, then handed it to Lucas. He excused himself and stepped into the other room to make the call.
George pinched the bridge of his nose, and Harrison’s chest squeezed. “George, did you notice anyone paying attention to your sister?”
His brown eyes looked tortured as he looked up at Harrison. “Not really. She was talking to the clowns before they took to the ring. Then she wanted snacks, so she went to the concession stand while I went to take a leak.”
“George,” his mother admonished.
“It’s fine, Mrs. Walker,” Harrison said. “Let him tell things his way.” He gave George a sympathetic look. “So you left her at the stand and when you got back, she wasn’t there.”
“No,” George’s voice cracked. “I was...mad at first. I figured she went back to the stands where we were sitting or to the stables to see the horses, but I checked both places and she wasn’t there.”
“Was she shy around strangers?” Harrison asked.
“No. She talked to everybody,” George said. “A couple of times she wandered off and joined a bunch of kids who’d come for a birthday party. She wanted some cake and ice cream.” He wiped at his eyes. “She loved balloons and was always sneaking over to play with them during the show.”
“She liked the souvenir stands, too,” Mrs. Walker said. “She collected the little stuffed ponies.”
“You checked those stands?” Harrison asked.
“Yeah,” George said. “She stopped at Benny’s booth and talked to some other kids. Benny said this big guy, older, about your age, was right in the middle of them.” He blushed as if he hadn’t meant to imply that Harrison was old.
“A big guy? You mean a father?” Harrison asked.
“No,” George said. “This guy was mentally challenged. He talked like a kid.”
Harrison swallowed. Something about the story rang a bell.
* * *
A PICTURE OF what had happened flashed in Honey’s mind.
“Tell me more about the man,” Honey said.
George bounced his knee up and down. “He didn’t talk very plain, sort of made a weird noise. He was intrigued with the colored streamers at the booth. He touched one of my sister’s ribbons and told her how pretty it was.”
A sense of déjà vu swept over Honey, stirring a memory of Chrissy twirling her hair ribbons around her finger one day at the park in town. Then Elden ran up and talked to Chrissy. He wanted to touch Chrissy’s ribbons.
Honey had felt sorry for Elden because the other kids made fun of him. He had no friends, so she’d encouraged Chrissy to be nice to him. That day he’d followed them all over the park...
“What was this guy’s name?” she asked, her throat thick with fear.
George shrugged. “I don’t know. But some lady stormed up and took his hand and told him to come with her. She sounded mad.”
Elden’s mother?
Honey’s stomach clenched.
Oh, God...
She covered her mouth to stifle a gasp and stood.
Harrison’s hand brushed over hers. “What is it, Honey?”
She glanced at George, then at his parents, and suddenly felt sick. “I need some air.”
Harrison’s brows arched, but he nodded, and she raced from the room. Seconds later he joined her outside. She was leaning against his SUV, perspiration beading her forehead and neck as she fought nausea.
Harrison’s boots crunched the gravel as he approached. “Honey, what’s wrong?”
She inhaled a deep breath. “The mentally challenged guy the little girl was talking to... I think it was Elden.”
He took her arm and forced her to face him. “Elden?”
She pushed her hair behind one ear. “In Yvonne’s diary, she mentioned a boy teasing her. Something about that pocket watch seemed familiar, and I remember now that Elden had one. He tied a ribbon to it and was mesmerized by it as he swung it back and forth.”
Harrison’s eyes widened as he considered her theory. “But we found the ribbon at your dad’s house.”
“He or his mother could have put it there,” Honey said. “At the park one day, Elden was intrigued with Chrissy’s ribbons and... Oh, God, it’s all my fault.”
Harrison’s jaw tightened. “What do you mean?”
“I told Chrissy he was harmless, to be nice to him, and she let him touch her hair ribbons.” She’d thought Elden was harmless, but what if she was wrong?
The color drained from Harrison’s face. “I wonder if he was at the bluff that night.”
Honey strained to recall the faces she’d seen, but she’d been so disappointed that Harrison was meeting another girl that she hadn’t stayed long. “I don’t know.” She wiped at her forehead. “Although if the same person hurt all these girls, that means he was in different places. Elden doesn’t drive—”
“His mother could have taken him to the rodeo and the carnival. Those are all places kids like to go,” Harrison said between gritted teeth.
Horror engulfed Honey. If that was true, and Elden was guilty, his mother had known and covered for him.
Lucas strode toward them. “Larry wasn’t any help. No new employees that stuck out as suspicious. What’s going on?”
Harrison quickly explained Honey’s theory.
Lucas jangled his keys. “I’ll drop you at your car and do some checking on Elden and his mother while you drive out to the Lynches’ house.”
They quickly climbed in Lucas’s car and Harrison phone
d a local judge for a warrant. If Honey was right, Elden might have Kitty now.
She closed her eyes and prayed they found the little girl in time.
* * *
HARRISON’S STOMACH CHURNED as Lucas dropped him and Honey at his SUV. He had phoned his deputy to fill him in on the drive, and Mitchell was supposed to be canvassing the town in case Elden and his mother were at the diner or shopping.
He flipped on the siren and pressed the accelerator. Honey fidgeted nervously. “I never thought he was dangerous.”
“Me, neither,” Harrison admitted. “And his mother always kept him on a short leash.”
“What if that’s the reason she did?” Honey asked. “Maybe he was different when he was alone. Maybe he had a bad temper and snapped?”
Harrison raked a hand through his hair, weaving around traffic. Sadly, he’d never thought Elden completely understood what was going on. But maybe he had. Still, why hurt little girls?
He stopped at the judge’s house to pick up the warrant, then hurried back to the car and raced away. He rounded a curve, tires squealing, and bounced over a rut in the road as he flew toward Lower Tumbleweed. Elden and his mother lived in a mobile home not far from the Grangers’ house.
He turned into the drive for the mobile home park, slowing in case children were outside. A swing set and jungle gym had been added to a central area, creating a park for the kids. He scanned it to see if anyone was there. If Elden was a child predator, he had the perfect hunting ground.
Although none of the victims had lived in his neighborhood.
He screeched to a stop in the drive, then jumped out. Honey started behind him, but he gestured for her to wait. If Elden was guilty and his mother was protecting him, she might be dangerous.
He strode up the three steps to the door and knocked. “Mrs. Lynch, open up, please, it’s Sheriff Hawk.”
Nothing.
He banged harder and shouted again, but no one answered, so he jiggled the doorknob. It was locked. Dammit.
He had a warrant but that didn’t give him a right to break in. But a little girl’s life was in danger...