Bringing Maddie Home

by Janice Kay Johnson

  In answer, he laid his hand in hers.

  * * *

  COLIN ACCOMPANIED JANE Vahalik to the police chief’s office. Out of respect for Bystrom’s dignity, he asked her not to bring her trainee. Out of respect for her, he’d have let her go alone if this had been anyone but their boss.

  No one was in the outer office to stop them. Colin knocked briefly, and when he heard a growled “Who is it?” he opened the door and gestured Jane to go ahead of him.

  Bystrom didn’t even seem to see her. His furious gaze was pinned on Colin. “You,” he snarled.

  Clearly, the bank had called him. Colin was surprised he’d come into work this morning rather than staying away, lawyered up.

  Vahalik drew herself up. “Sir, I’m Detective Vahalik. I have some questions I’m hoping you can answer.”

  The glower swung to her. “I presume this has something to do with the goddamn warrant to intrude on my personal finances.”

  “In part, sir.” She walked to the desk and laid a copy of the snapshot in front of him. “Can you tell us who the other man is?”

  Choleric color crept up Gary Bystrom’s neck and onto his cheeks. “I have no idea. When was that taken?”

  “In the neighborhood of ten or twelve years ago,” she murmured.

  He shoved it away with an impatient gesture. “And you expect me to remember some guy I happened to exchange a few words with years ago? Sorry.”

  “The conversation doesn’t appear to be casual.”

  He stared incredulously at her. “You’re reading something into a piss-poor photo taken by who the hell knows? I might have been giving him some tips on where to go trout fishing. I’ll say this once more.” He leaned forward, his tone belligerent. “I do not recognize the man in the picture. Is that clear enough for you?”

  Hard to imagine a guy with as much to lose as Bystrom assaulting one of his own detectives, but violence filled the air like a too-heavy cologne. Colin took a few unobtrusive steps closer. Not unobtrusive enough, apparently, as the movement drew another vicious look from his boss.

  Jane didn’t even look at Colin. “I have further questions,” she said, voice steely. “Concerning your finances.”

  “You owe me an explanation first,” he snapped. “What is this concerning?”

  “This deposit slip—” she set the copy in front of him, beside rather than on top of the picture “—was in the possession of a murder victim.”

  “What?” The single word was almost soundless.

  “You are aware, sir, of the bones we’ve turned up in River Park.”

  “Yes. A few scattered bones. Aren’t you making some big assumptions, Detective?”

  “And what would those be, Chief Bystrom?”

  Trying to stay impassive, Colin had trouble not letting his eyebrows climb. Jane Vahalik was good. Better than he’d realized. Interviewing and all but accusing the chief of police would intimidate anyone in the department, and she wasn’t so much as flinching.

  “What makes you think murder was involved?” Bystrom asked, his voice dripping with skepticism and contempt.

  “The fact that the body was buried in an overgrown part of a city park seems suggestive to me.” She paused. “The M.E. already believed a gunshot likely explained the way a rib had shattered.” She flicked an apologetic glance at Colin. “The bullet found this morning during further excavation seems conclusive.”

  A nice tidbit she should have told him during their walk upstairs.

  Bystrom seemed stunned. “I don’t understand. I know nothing more than I’ve been told or read in the newspaper about these remains. There is no connection to me.”

  “And yet,” Vahalik said, “the young man carried these two items that very much point to a connection.”

  He shook his head. Colin didn’t want the SOB’s bafflement to be genuine, but was unwillingly beginning to believe. There was definitely something wrong about the money—but maybe it really didn’t have anything to do with the murder of a teenage boy.

  Except, goddamn it, the kid was carrying the evidence for some reason.

  He tuned back in.

  “You understand why we have no choice but to ask questions regarding the circled deposits to these accounts in your name and your wife’s name.” Vahalik walked around the desk to lay a folder in front of Bystrom.

  Unmoving, he stared at it as if it were a coiled rattlesnake. “This makes no sense.”

  He kept repeating that. Shaking his head frequently as the tip of Jane’s pencil moved from one line item to another. He had no explanation for any particular deposit. Why would he remember them? He insisted that he and his wife regularly bought and sold stocks and bonds.

  “We are aware of that,” Vahalik said, slick as a patch of ice meant to take the chief’s feet out from under him. “These deposits don’t seem to correlate to any of those sales.”

  He got quieter, more surly. Jane informed him that she would need copies of his income tax returns. The purple color in his face faded until, beneath the deep tan, he was turning gray. Colin began to worry about the possibility of a stroke or heart attack.

  In the end, Jane straightened. “This copy is for you to study. I assume you have an accountant or tax advisor? Perhaps a broker? We’ll need to schedule a meeting with you and perhaps your wife. Bring whoever will be most helpful. Tomorrow at three o’clock?”

  He mumbled something she took as assent.

  “Thank you for your time, sir. I have every hope we can clear this up then so it won’t distract us from the investigation.”

  Bystrom lifted his head and watched her walk across his office and out the door that Colin held open. Then he looked at Colin, hate glittering in his eyes.

  Hair at his nape prickling, Colin eased himself out of the office without turning his back and closed the door. The assistant’s desk was still unoccupied and the two of them were able to quietly walk out and to the stairs.

  The corner of Jane’s mouth turned up. “I’ve never interviewed a cop before.”

  “If his hands had dropped out of sight behind the desk, I’d have been on him.” Not knowing where Bystrom kept his service weapon had kept Colin vigilant. Now, alone in the stairwell, he grinned at Jane. “You did a damn fine job, Detective. You didn’t need me.”

  She blushed. “Thank you, Captain. But you’re wrong. Having you for backup gave me confidence.”

  He could only shake his head. She’d scared the shit out of their not-so-respected police chief, and now she was blushing at a compliment.

  * * *

  NELL HADN’T TOLD Colin what she planned for the next day. She might have, if he hadn’t kissed her again after walking her to the apartment door.

  This second kiss had been deeper, slower, so sensual that remembering it still made her shiver twelve hours later. His tongue had traced the seam of her lips until she parted them and let him in. Even then he hadn’t been aggressive. Instead of grinding his mouth against hers, he teased and stroked, his hands rhythmically squeezing her upper arms. Stunned by these new sensations, she hadn’t been able to think at all. Finally he’d gentled the kiss further, nuzzled her cheek and murmured, “Sleep tight.”

  Dazed and robbed of her voice, she couldn’t do anything but turn, fumble with the key until the door opened and escape within. She knew he hadn’t gone anywhere until he’d heard her turn the dead bolt.

  Sleep was a long time coming. She did spend some of that time thinking about her plans. Felix was spending the morning with some friends, so she’d decided this was the perfect time to catch her mother alone.

  When she reached the house, though, no one answered the doorbell. Turning and looking up and down the quiet street, she thought, Well, that’ll teach me not to call ahead.

  Dad, then, she decided. Maybe he would give her
the answers she needed. If not...she’d come back by the house later.

  The drive to the lodge felt increasingly natural. I drove out here a few times once I had my permit. As always, the memory was unpleasantly visceral. These memories were whole-body experiences. She felt her death grip on the wheel, the way she had to remind herself to check the rearview mirror. Dad snapping, “Watch it, Nell!” when she wandered toward one line or other. She desperately wanted her driver’s license because it would give her independence, but oh, how she wished there were someone else to teach her. If only Beck....

  Oh, God, oh, God. Nell steered to the side of the road and braked, breathing hard, needing to close her eyes and gather herself. Having his name slip so effortlessly into the recollection shook her. He’s there, so why can’t I remember him?

  If only Beck...what?

  At the hint of a headache, she let go of the question. Both questions. A door had opened, though, and he was on the other side of it. The crack could only widen. When I know, she thought, I’ll know everything. The certainty was more unnerving than anything that had so far happened since she’d come home.

  Except maybe Colin, she corrected herself. He was something she had never in a million years expected. She knew in theory what these feelings were, but didn’t yet know how far she dared let herself go with them.

  The fleeting thought about Colin, confused though it was, calmed her. He had a way of doing that. Ever since she’d found his picture on the internet, then printed it and hung it on her refrigerator where she could see his face whenever she needed to. The idea of going home to Seattle and not seeing him anymore, having only the picture—that scared her.

  Nell gave herself a shake, glanced over her shoulder and, when she found the road to be empty, started toward Arrow Lake again.

  When she arrived and went into the main lodge to ask for her father, she first had to endure half a dozen people marveling over her reappearance.

  “It’s really Maddie!”

  She distracted herself from her discomfiture by surveying the lobby with its open beams and massive fireplace. She’d already known what it looked like, down to the peeled ponderosa log furniture.

  At last she escaped to the office suite. The assistant’s desk was at least momentarily unoccupied, and her father’s door stood partially open. The murmur of voices told her he wasn’t alone—and it was her mother in there with him.

  Oh, boy. Two for one. Nell didn’t let herself hesitate.

  Her father was behind his desk, her mother standing, looking out the window. Marc’s head came up, and Helen swung around to see who’d come in.

  “Maddie.” Her father rose. “It’s good to see you. Why didn’t you let us know you were coming?”

  “This was...something of an impulse.” Which was only sort of true, but she thought a white lie was justified. “I actually stopped at the house first hoping to see you, Mom.”

  “We’re refurbishing some of the lodge rooms,” Helen said. “Your father leaves that kind of thing in my hands.” Maybe she was here to get down and dirty, but she still wore wool slacks, a cashmere sweater and tiny gold-drop earrings. She looked as stylish as ever, leaving Nell chagrined at her jeans and sweater.

  Nell nodded. She didn’t remember her mother being very involved with the resort, but it made sense.

  Her parents exchanged a glance she didn’t understand. “According to Felix, you two had a good day together,” her father said.

  “Yes. I’m really glad he was able to get home right now.”

  “Would you like the grand tour? See what’s changed?”

  “Actually, Felix and I wandered a little yesterday.” She smiled. “I remembered how many hours I used to spend on that rock poking out into the lake.”

  “Daydreaming.” Instead of being amused, her mother sounded disdainful enough to renew Nell’s discomfiture—and her determination. “You did a great deal of that.”

  “You sound as if I should have been doing something else.” She kept her voice pleasant with an effort. “According to my teachers, I was a straight-A student. Emily says I babysat regularly, so I wasn’t lazy. Why was daydreaming a bad thing?”

  Her father made a sharp gesture her mother didn’t see.

  “You weren’t involved in a single school activity,” she said, the slightest edge in her voice. “I begged you to do something about your appearance, but you simply couldn’t be bothered.”

  Nell met her eyes. “Maybe because you had made it so clear my looks were hopeless.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Just say it.

  “I’m asking why I was never good enough. Why you weren’t proud of your straight-A daughter. Why you aren’t glad to find out I’m alive.”

  Her mother flinched. From a face that suddenly looked older, her eyes burned. “How can you say that?” she whispered.

  Suddenly, Nell had had enough. “Because it’s true. In every memory that’s come back, I’m feeling inadequate and miserable. Not good enough, not pretty enough, not anything! Felix was the star in our family.” Nell kept her head high and included her father this time. “I’m asking why.”

  “Then you lied about your amnesia?” Helen sounded shocked.

  “No. But being in town has made quite a bit come back to me. One of the things I always wondered was why, even when I couldn’t remember my own name, I knew I couldn’t go home. That whatever was wrong that night, no one at home would believe me.”

  Her mother’s nostrils flared in outrage. “You sound like a spoiled teenage girl, and I don’t have to listen to this.” She turned to her husband. “Marc, you can find me when you’re ready to go back to work.” She swept past Nell as if she weren’t there, closing the door quietly behind her.

  Her father’s expression was harsh. “You hurt your mother. Does that make you feel better?”

  She shook her head. “No. I’d feel better if I got answers, but I won’t, will I?” She nodded and left, too, going straight to her car.

  Once she got in, she didn’t reach for the ignition and instead sat for a few minutes to be sure she wasn’t going to fall apart. The odd thing was, she didn’t feel much of anything. She poked and prodded a little to be sure she wasn’t numb—numbness would wear off, after all—but she finally concluded that wasn’t the case. She just didn’t care, not enough to be upset. It seemed she had already dealt with her disappointment about the parents who hadn’t loved her all that much.

  I already knew, she thought. She’d hoped, but really she’d known. Was it some lack in her, or in them? No, she thought. Some lack in my mother. Instinct told Nell her father was typical for a busy, ambitious man whose family was as much for show as anything.

  And there it was. His wife showed well. His athletic, handsome son did, too. His gawky, plain daughter with her head in the clouds didn’t.

  So simple, so sad.

  And she still didn’t feel more than regret.

  Well, then, what else could she do today?

  Explore some more, she decided, starting her car.

  When she reached the main road, on impulse she turned away from town. She could at least circle the lake, see some more of the outskirts. Maybe drive all the way out to the new Nordic Center, if the highway remained bare of snow that far.

  The resort on the lake just beyond her father’s looked familiar. With a niggle of memory, she thought it had been upgraded. Oh, and there was the campground. She’d walked that far along the lakeshore sometimes, although she wasn’t supposed to. When she was lucky she found other kids there to play with. Dad never noticed she was gone, as long as she was back by late afternoon when he was ready to leave for home.

  Ahead, a road turned off to the right, away from the lake. Feeling...something, Nell squinted to see the road sign—253rd. There was no indication wha
t, if anything, of interest was that way. The road was just a road. And yet, her heart had begun to thud in her chest.

  She slowed and put her turn signal on. Apprehension morphed into dread.

  I’ve gone this way. Not with Mom or Dad. So...how? Why?

  Feeling nearly sick, Nell kept going. She lifted her foot to slow at the couple driveways she reached, but neither seemed to mean anything so she went on. Through the trees she glimpsed newer homes. Half a mile on, a county sign pointed to Bear Creek Picnic Area. A temporary sign had been added: Closed for the Winter. Whatever force had compelled her to take this road knew she wasn’t looking for the picnic area, either.

  She had wound a mile and a half when she saw a falling-down sign. Letters had been burned into wood. She had to tilt her head to read it. Bear Creek Cabins. Across the sign, the word CLOSED had been spray-painted.

  Here. This was it.

  The pressure in her head made her want to keep going. Or turn around and drive back to town. Home. Except it’s not home, I’m only a guest.

  No, she had to know.

  Low-growing shrubbery pressed close. Branches scraped the sides of her car. The resort might be totally abandoned. But surely the driveway would be grown entirely over if no one ever used it. Her breath came faster and faster.

  She emerged into a clearing to see a run-down log lodge—really more of a large house, never fancy like her father’s—and a string of primitive cabins stretching along the bank of the creek in each direction.

  The resort might be closed, but someone lived here. More than a few someones. A couple of teenage boys had their heads under the hood of a car that had to have been as old as the resort. One of them banged his head when he straightened to look. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a whirl of movement by one of the cabins, as if someone were hiding.

  I almost remember.

  Nell coasted to a stop in front of the larger building. Once she turned off the engine, she sat very still, feeling as if more eyes were on her than the two teenage boys’.

  Everything she hadn’t felt during the confrontation with her parents crashed down on her like a wave that would snatch her off her feet, tumble her, pull her into an undertow. She wanted desperately to leave.