Holly was seated in the same place as before, facing the window.
My breath quickened. I started walking faster, but Pender grabbed my arm. “After I called you, I asked one of the older staff members about Holly’s books. She said we should check the storage area to see if Holly has anything stowed there. We can check that out after you talk to her.”
Approaching my former sitter, I bit back the thousands of questions I wanted to pepper her with. I reached her side and saw her blank face. “Holly?”
Holly blinked but continued to stare.
I pulled up a chair and sat beside her. “Holly, it’s me. Gwen. You remember me?”
This time not even a blink.
I took a deep breath, turned, and stared out the same window. My vision blurred. I’d come so close to unraveling the threads of my past, only to have that door slammed shut with Holly’s mind. God, this isn’t fair.
I caught Pender’s attention and shook my head. If Holly had been talking earlier, she wasn’t now. He motioned me over. I stood and looked at the old woman. “Holly, try. Try to remember. Please? What were my parents’ names? Who were they?”
Not even a flicker of change. Her gaze covered a thousand miles.
My feet seemed encased in concrete. I shoved them forward toward Pender. If only I wouldn’t get my hopes up that Holly would reveal my past.
We traveled down several corridors and through several locked doors until we reached a laundry area. A room lit by buzzing fluorescent lighting, with built-in shelves around the sides, opened off the laundry. Suitcases and plastic tubs of various sizes and colors lined the shelves, each with a neatly printed name on a piece of masking tape. Thinking about Holly’s suitcase I’d found in the attic of the Two Rivers Bed-and-Breakfast, I checked the luggage first. None had the name Greene. The plastic tubs were next. Pender stood in the middle of the room, watching me as I shifted and checked each item. Moving faster and faster, I completed a circuit of the room. Nothing had Holly’s name.
A brick formed in my throat. Not again!
“Looks like Holly was just rambling.” Pender turned and moved toward the exit.
“No.” I spun around, checking the names again. Griesinger, Garlock, Harris, Ingram, Jacob—“Jacob!” I snatched the small blue container from the shelf.
“No!” Pender grabbed my arm and yanked me away. The bin hit the floor and the lid flew off. Five cheap sketchbooks tumbled across the floor.
I recognized them immediately. My drawing books, the ones I’d spent so much time working on during the years I was with Holly. I yanked my arm from Pender and reached for the books.
Pender caught my wrist. “I let you in here looking for Holly’s books. Those belong to someone else. You have to leave.”
“They’re mine!” I tried to tug my arm away, but Pender squeezed harder.
“Prove it.”
I stopped struggling and stared at the drawing books. I’d filled many times that number in my years with Holly. “I . . . I liked to draw horses.”
“Too general. Lots of people draw horses.”
A hot flash shot up my neck and into my cheeks. My brain became muddled. Think! Pender dragged me toward the door and reached for the doorknob.
“Wait!” I planted my feet. “There would be . . . um . . . a drawing of a . . .” Looking at the top sketchbook, bright yellow and green with a bear on the cover, I tried to think of where I was, what I was doing. “A dog, a collie, but just his head. And a year, 1991, and location . . . um . . . Missoula.” Please, Lord, let this be the right book.
Pender let go of my wrist, stepped to the pile of books, and lofted the top one. Swiftly he flipped through the pages. “Nope. Nice try.” He picked up the plastic tub to place the sketchpad inside.
I remembered. “Look in the back. There’s a portrait of a young boy. Not very good. And you’ll see my name, Gwen, on the bottom.”
He sighed but flipped to the back. “It’s the same as the others.”
“What do you mean?”
He turned the drawing so I could see it. Black marker scrawled across the page, obliterating the sketch.
Taking the pad from him, I flipped through all the pages. Someone had scribbled over every drawing, in places tearing the paper. I checked the other sketchbooks. The results were the same. In the bottom book, not only were the drawings scrawled across, but the paper was crumpled and ripped. “I need to have these processed for fingerprints.”
“Then come back with a court order.” Pender took the destroyed drawing books from my numb fingers and placed them in the bin with the others. “If these sketchbooks were yours, someone sure hated your art. Or you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
BETH, WINSTON, AND DAN WERE STROLLING UNDER the pine trees at the edge of the parking lot. I angled in that direction. Just as I caught up with them, my phone rang. I fumbled the phone from my purse. I didn’t recognize the number, but it had an Idaho 208 prefix. “Gwen Marcey.”
“Hi. This is Phil Cicero, Wilderness Outfitters. Dan Kus gave me your name and said you needed a guide into the Clearwater National Forest.”
“Hi, Phil. Yes. I need to go to a small-plane crash site. Can we meet somewhere and go over the details?” We arranged to get together at the bed-and-breakfast later that afternoon.
After I hung up, Beth asked, “What happened with Holly?”
“Mixed results. Holly’s still not talking to me, but she kept some of my sketchbooks. But either she or someone else destroyed the drawings. If that someone was Jacob, we might get a lead on him through fingerprints, but Seth will need a court order to process them.”
Dan glanced at his watch.
“We should be going.” Beth headed for her car with Winston. Dan and I followed.
Once we loaded up, I reached in my purse and pulled out my sketchpad. I’d written the list of knowns and unknowns on my background. Under Known I read recognized Two Rivers house, locations where we moved and when (roughly every year), Jacob, Holly admitted to state mental hospital, plane crash, John and Mary Smith, Holly guest at Two Rivers house, left suitcase, Lamb Chop puppet, giving child cold remedy, later raped?—Jacob result, in mental hospital for at least ten years.
I updated it with my drawing books damaged, need court order to process.
Under Unknown I read Why taken? What happened to Holly and Jacob after I left? Any connection with me and current homicide? When Holly admitted to mental hospital? Parents’ real names? What happened to bodies after recovered? Why in plane in first place? Was I left with sitter because I had a cold? When the plane was reported missing, did Holly see it as a chance to abduct me? I added Why fly over dam? I handed the notes to Dan. “This is what I’ve been working on.”
Dan read through my writing. “You think the accidental plane crash that killed your parents launched the events, culminating with the murder of the Sinopas and the abduction of their daughter?”
“I believe that might be a possibility.”
He handed the materials back. “I believe you’re right.”
My eyes burned with unshed tears and I quickly looked out the window. Someone besides Beth believes me.
We dropped Dan back at the Nez Perce visitor center. “Now where, Kemosabe?” Beth asked.
“Kemosabe? What does that even mean, Beth?”
“There are many theories, but one says the name dates back to one of the founders of the Boy Scouts—”
“Never mind. Why do I even ask you these questions? Let’s head over to the police station. I need to update Seth.”
Beth drove the short distance and parked near the front door. “It’s cool enough outside. I’ll just wait in the car with Winston.”
Seth was standing in the lobby when I entered. My pulse rate ratcheted up a notch and I smiled.
He didn’t return it. “There you are. Come into my office.”
The smile died on my lips. “Did something happen?” I said to his retreating back. “Did you find out something abo
ut LoneBear? Or . . . Beatrice?”
He sat across his desk from me and motioned for me to sit. “Nothing on Beatrice. We talked to LoneBear’s brother. He was pretty torn up about Kelli’s murder. He said Kelli called him and asked him to move your car. She hoped you’d go back to Montana. He’d parked it on a boat ramp but didn’t set the parking brake. When Kelli told him the car ended up in the river, he was furious.”
“And the long-reach tool?”
“He said Kelli had one. Lewiston police found her car parked at the Orofino High School, which is next to the mental hospital. No leads yet on her murder. That’s not why I wanted to talk to you in private.”
I swallowed hard.
“I got a call from Thomas Wolf. He said his parents were very upset by your visit.”
“I didn’t—”
“He also said you were boating on the lake instead of working on this case.”
“Your father—”
“Right after I hung up talking to Thomas, I got a call from your boss, Gary James, asking how you were doing.”
“Wait a minute—”
“I had to tell him you missed appointments and seemed to be distracted. I didn’t tell him about the boat ride.”
“Did you tell him about the progress I made?”
“Commander James said you were on probation. He mentioned someone named Kirt was to have worked this case.”
“Kirt’s a whiner. And he’s probably pushing the commander because he wanted this case. And Commander James is a micromanaging, overbearing, nasty, grumpy . . .” Words failed me.
“I stood up for you—”
“I bet you did—”
“But he wouldn’t listen. He said you wouldn’t be offered the job when you returned. He wanted me to collect your badge and gun.”
“He’s a coward to boot,” I whispered around the lump in my throat. My stomach contracted in pain, my vision blurred. Fumbling, I removed the badge from the holder around my neck, then slowly took the Glock from my purse and placed both on Seth’s desk. I dropped the leather holder and beaded neck chain into my purse.
Seth left the items where I’d set them. “If there’s any good news, it’s that you can now go back to Montana where hopefully you’ll be safer.”
Standing, I shook my head. “No. I’ll get Beth to bring you the three-ring binder with the notes and Beatrice’s teddy bear.” I turned, then twisted back. “And I’ll find the Sinopas’ killer. And Beatrice . . .” My voice broke. I spun and raced from the room, not wanting him to see my tears.
I kept my head down until I’d slipped into the car. Beth took one look at my face, opened her purse, and handed me a lavender handkerchief. As I dabbed my eyes, she started the car and tore out of the parking lot. “You lost your job,” she finally said.
“How did you guess?”
“You’re not wearing your badge.”
I grunted and blew my nose. Winston leaned over the seat and stuck his head on my shoulder. “I’m okay, big guy.” I patted him.
“You’ll find another job,” Beth said softly.
“Yeah. I know. It’s just . . .”
Beth glanced at me. “You liked him.”
“Silly me.”
“Gwen, it’s okay to let your guard down and like someone.”
I dry rubbed my face with my hands. “I don’t know how to do that anymore, Beth. Maybe Robert is right. Maybe I’m toxic to men. Look at what happened with Blake.”
“Ha! Robert is never right. He’s toxic to you.”
Without asking, Beth turned toward Lewiston. “There’s a time and season for everything, Gwen.” She drove for a few minutes, then finally asked, “What now?”
“Keep going forward. And we don’t have much time. Beatrice has been gone for four days. Generally speaking, every hour a child is missing from an abduction, the outlook grows worse, and after seventy-two hours, well . . .”
“Do you think there’s a chance she’s still alive?”
“A chance. There was no sign of trauma on the body they found. I cling to that. But in the meantime . . . we need to focus on finding Jacob.”
On the way to the Two Rivers B and B, we decided to keep my employment status, or lack thereof, private. Beth parked as close as she could to the door of the old house. “You run inside,” she said. “I’ll bring the dog in. Your sniper is still on the loose.”
I bolted inside and nearly tripped over a body sprawled across the hall.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
BETH WAS RIGHT BEHIND ME WITH THE DOG. “OH NO! Who is it?”
Half the body was in the office, lying facedown with blood matting the brown hair. I picked up his hand and checked for a pulse, relaxing slightly at the strong thump-thump-thump.
“It’s Eric. Someone conked him on the head.” His gardening tools were scattered across the hall. I could see blood on the handle of a shovel. “Call 911.”
“Winston, sit.” Beth looped the leash around her arm and reached for the office phone.
“Ohhhh.” Eric moaned and put his hand to his head.
“Eric, what happened?” I asked.
The man rolled over and sat. “I don’t know. I just came in when—wham, the world went dark.”
Beth had finished talking to the police. She found a wet towel from someplace and handed it to me. I gingerly applied it to the vertical gash on Eric’s head. He winced but took the towel.
Lila entered carrying a bag of groceries. She dropped the bag and raced to Eric, almost knocking me aside. “Oh, darling, what happened?”
Beth and I moved back and picked up the spilled produce, returning it to the grocery bag. “It looks like someone attacked Eric. Beth called the police. Can you tell if anything was stolen? Cash or . . . ?”
“There’s never much money here.” Lila stood and peeked over the counter into the office. “People usually pay for their rooms by credit cards. The cash drawer is closed.”
“Do you have other guests?” Beth asked.
“Not until later tonight.”
“Well then.” I looked at Beth. “Um, Lila, the police will be here shortly. We’re going to check our rooms.” Beth gave me an understanding nod.
The door to the game room stood partially open. I nudged it open the rest of the way with my foot. Our papers were strewn across the floor. The blank foam board was tossed aside and the Sinopas’ crime-scene photos were missing.
“Well, we know who was here,” I said. “Someone wanted to find out what we knew.”
“What did they find out?” Beth asked.
Crossing to my room, I checked to see if the door was still locked. It was. “Not much. The three-ring binder and Beatrice’s teddy bear are locked in here. I had the sketchpad with all my notes with me. All that we left in this room was the Sinopa investigation notes and photos. What about your room?”
Beth checked. “Door still locked. My computer and notes are in there.” She glanced around again. “But I don’t see my cell phone. I left it plugged in over there.”
“Leave everything in here as is. The police will want to check for fingerprints.” Rubbing down the small hairs that were standing up on my arms, I looked at Beth. “He’s getting bold, so maybe we’re making headway. Let’s go in my room and work on this case before anyone else gets hurt.”
Beth moved her computer and books as well as a paper bag of supplies to the antique sofa in the alcove. I retrieved the unused foam board and propped it against a dresser.
Beth sat and opened up her computer. “Give me a minute. The Internet is spotty in this old house. You’re sure—”
“Jacob. It can only be Jacob.”
“Um . . . you’re pretty focused on the man who attacked Eric and the killer being Jacob. What do they call that?”
“Tunnel vision. Focusing on a limited range of possibilities for suspects. That could be true.” My gaze drifted to the one-eyed teddy bear. “But only Jacob would be driven enough by our progress to break in here and attack Eric.”
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Several sirens howled, getting louder. “The police are here. Don’t mention we’re working on the identity of the perpetrator, or that I no longer work with the Interagency Major Crimes Unit. Also that the crime-scene photos are missing. Let’s keep it simple.”
“My lips are sealed.”
It wasn’t long before a Lewiston patrol officer knocked on my door. Winston pushed me aside before I could answer. I grabbed his collar and opened the door. The officer took a step backward when he saw the dog. “Does he bite?”
“Mostly dog cookies. Come in.” I opened the door wider.
The officer remained standing as he asked questions, carefully writing down our answers in a small spiral notebook. We left out any mention of snipers, mistaken-identity murders, or serial killers.
“What do you think happened?” I asked him.
“Well, I’m not a detective, but it looks like teenagers got into the house and were making a mess. When they heard Mr. Winchester, they panicked and ran, whacking him on the head so he wouldn’t call it in right away. We’ve had a number of these break-ins recently, though this is the first anyone’s gotten hurt.”
“How is Eric?” Beth asked.
“They were transporting him to the hospital for stitches, last I checked. Someone will be by shortly to take your fingerprints to eliminate them from the crime scene. Please don’t touch anything in the next room until they’re done dusting for prints.” He nodded and left.
My cell rang, and I answered without looking at the screen. “Yes?”
“I just found out you got fired,” Robert said. “You shouldn’t even bother going to court for Aynslee.”
“How did you learn about my job?”
“Your boss. I called to get the address where you’re staying. We’ll be moving her things out of your house.”
“I’ll have my lawyer—”
“What lawyer? You can’t afford one. And no judge will let a child live with someone who was fired for gross negligence and incompetence.” Click.
I threw the cell at the bed.
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