“Where are we going?” asks Madison.
Nate buckles himself in and checks his phone. She waits as he reads an email.
“I asked a friend to do a few background checks. First on that asshole Josh. Looks like we’ve got an address for him, so we’re going to head there. He’s working all day today, right?”
“Yeah, some of the kids told me there’s a theatrical production planned and he’s in charge of filming it for the parents. He’ll probably be busy for a few hours.”
Nate keeps reading the email. “Apparently Josh doesn’t have any convictions apart from a DUI, and Rex hasn’t been able to find anything else out about him apart from his work history.”
“Who’s Rex?” she asks.
“My go-to guy for background checks. He’s a friend.”
“Well, just because Josh doesn’t have any other convictions doesn’t mean he’s clean. It only means he’s never been caught.”
“Exactly. I think it’s worth checking his place out. I had an interesting run-in with him earlier and saw a different side to him. Plus, Kat told me he’d asked her to lie.”
“What about?” she asks, feeling the old fire in her belly. She hasn’t caught a bad guy in a hell of a long time.
“The night Jenny went missing. She did fall asleep with Josh next to her, but he was gone when she woke up an hour later.”
“Bingo! I knew it was him.” Madison smiles. This is starting to feel like being back on the force, and she loves it.
Nate’s more cautious. “That doesn’t automatically mean he had any involvement in Jenny’s disappearance. He could’ve gone to hit on one of the other girls who works here.”
Madison shakes her head. “Oh come on! He’s hiding something, I’m sure of it. When we get to his house, are you just going to look around the outside?”
He turns to her and smiles. “You’re definitely not a cop anymore, are you?”
“Of course not.”
“Then no. I’m going in.”
She laughs. “I’m starting to realize that being a PI might be more satisfying than policing. Less red tape to hold us back.”
He smiles at her. “Less corruption, too.”
She shakes her head at yet another dig as he drives them out of the camp.
Thirty-Eight
The rain appears fast and hard, and Madison thinks she hears thunder rumbling in the distance somewhere. The humidity has finally broken. The afternoon turns dark and the car’s windshield wipers struggle to keep up with the deluge.
As Nate drives, Madison thinks about the phone call she made earlier. It’s been months since she called Stephanie, but she wanted her to know she’d finally found someone to help her find Owen, and she wanted to give Steph her new number. What she hadn’t expected was to be shouted at.
“I’ve had people here looking for you; two men. Three times so far. They were threatening me, Madison.”
Madison tried not to show her own alarm, to keep Steph calm. “Did they say much?”
“They asked if I’ve seen you since your release and whether I know where you are now. Obviously I said no to both, because that’s the truth, but they didn’t believe me. When’s this going to stop, Madison? It’s not fair that I have to put up with this kind of shit.”
“Was it the same two men each time?”
“Yes. They’re intimidating and you know I’m not easily scared. I’m seriously considering moving, because I can’t live like this.” Her voice broke.
Madison felt for her. She shouldn’t have to live in fear. “I think that would be a good idea. You need to get out of Colorado.”
“What? I meant move towns, not states! Why are they after you, Madison? What have you done?”
The accusation stung. Stephanie knows she hasn’t done anything wrong. “I don’t know who they are. Next time, I need you to take a photo of them or video them so I can see for myself. They won’t like that. It might even put them off coming over again.”
“If they won’t like it, then I’m putting my life at risk. I would never ask you to do the same for me!”
“What do they look like?” she asked.
“Both white and big, possibly brothers. One’s muscly, the other is just seriously overweight. I don’t want to have to deal with them again.”
Madison could tell she needed to take this seriously. “Move away as soon as possible. In the meantime, if they come back, don’t open the door—just call the cops. Ask for Mike. He’s trustworthy.” Mike Bowers; her old sergeant. She thinks he can be trusted, but with the way the department treated her after her arrest, she can’t be one hundred percent certain of anyone.
“Jesus. I can’t believe what you’ve got me into, and we’re not even together anymore.”
“Steph, listen to me. If they wanted to hurt you, they would’ve done it by now. Next time they come, phone me and I’ll speak to them while you wait for the cops to turn up.”
“But then they’ll know I’ve been in touch with you all along! That won’t help anything.”
Stephanie was right. “Okay, just call the cops then. I’ve met someone who’s going to help me find Owen; an investigator. We’ll be coming to Colorado as soon as we can, but I have to wait for him to finish work on another job first. I’ll let you know as soon as we’re on our way, I promise.”
Steph sighed loudly down the phone. “I just hope you’re not too late. I have a horrible feeling this isn’t going to end well for either of us.”
Madison can imagine her sitting in the living room they shared for five years, worrying herself sick. Her guilt makes her want to rush home to Colorado straight away, but she needs someone on her side and she has limited funds.
In order to secure his help, she misled Nate when she told him she suspected her police department of framing her. She knew that would appeal to him because of his distrust of cops, but actually, she suspects that someone closer to her was behind it.
She rests her head against the car’s comfortable seat and watches the rain lash down.
Brody’s panting over her shoulder is almost as loud as the rain. It’s like he’s gearing himself up for action.
When they reach the residential part of town, Nate appears taken aback to find it consists of only about thirty houses and a handful of stores. “How does anyone live in a town like this all their life?”
Madison looks at him. “Until you leave a town like this, it’s all you know. Some people see somewhere better on TV and decide to take a risk and move away, but it’s easier to stay within your comfort zone. If I hadn’t been arrested, I’d still be in my small town, although it’s bigger than this place.”
“See, that surprises me. You seem more worldly than that.”
“How do you think I got this way?” She experienced a lot in prison, mixing with people from all over the country. Her eyes were opened in more ways than one. “Ignorance can be bliss.”
He looks at her. “You don’t really mean that, do you?”
“Yeah, sometimes. I’d rather be living my old life, unaware of the world outside Colorado, than this shitty alternative.”
She turns away and looks for Josh’s house number through the rain.
The simple wooden houses here are spread far apart. You could come and go without your neighbors seeing you, which means you could hide a child without your neighbors knowing you’d even brought one home.
“It’s that one there,” she says, pointing. “The one with the red trailer out front.”
Nate pulls over, but not right outside the house. For all they know, Josh could live with his mother. She’s noticed Nate has good instincts; he would actually make a good cop. But he’d probably take offense if she told him that.
They both look around but can’t see anyone nearby. The nearest house is in darkness. Presumably whoever lives there is at work, because although it’s only late afternoon, the sky has turned so dark you’d need a light on in the house to see anything.
“Brody can have a l
ook around,” says Nate. “With his cadaver training he might pick up a scent. What about you? Are you coming?”
She releases her seat belt and can’t help rolling her eyes at him. “Of course I’m coming. What do you expect me to do? Wait here in the car while you get yourself shot?”
He laughs, but she’s not joking.
“I’m serious, Nate. You can’t just turn up at someone’s house unprepared. He could’ve seen us leaving the camp and be hot on our tail. Or he might have a roommate and could’ve phoned ahead to warn them we’re coming. What if they’re gun enthusiasts, or drug addicts? You have to be prepared to do battle every time you approach a suspect’s property. Do you even have a weapon?”
He taps his head and smiles at her. “Just my mind.”
Annoyingly, she finds herself laughing. “Oh shit. Then we’re really in trouble.”
thirty-nine
The office of Dr. Pamela Jarvis
Feeling under pressure, Pamela takes an early lunch break. She tells Stephen she’ll be back within the hour and asks him to find a specific report for her. She shuts down all his questions with a stern look before he even gets started.
When she returns, she expects the police to be standing outside her office door, but they haven’t arrived yet. They’re giving her time to read the whole journal and all her own notes, but that’s not as easy as it sounds. Something that should take a morning to get through is taking much longer.
The fresh air has helped somewhat, along with three cigarettes smoked in quick succession. Getting her legs to walk her back to the office was difficult. Especially now that she’s realizing this won’t be her office for much longer. But she’s a professional, and no matter what the outcome of this whole sorry affair, she must see it through to the end.
Stephen watches her walk into her office but he doesn’t speak this time. She wonders if he can smell the tobacco trailing after her.
“Did you get the report I asked for?”
“Yes, it’s on your desk. It’s long. Shall I tell the police you need more time?”
She shakes her head. “No. I’ll get through it. No interruptions.”
She closes the door behind her and places her purse on one of the leather chairs. The journal taunts her. Open me, it says. She shakes her head, wondering if she’ll end up a patient herself after all this.
Sitting at her desk, she resumes where she left off, removing her makeshift bookmark; a biro. The next entry is clearly rushed.
I thought I could do it. I really thought I could. But images of Susie and Thomas floating face down in our swimming pool keep flashing before me. Of course, everyone tells us we should move, that we shouldn’t be living where the children died. But this is where we all lived together. This is where their spirits are. I’ve already lost their bodies; do I have to lose their souls too?
The attacks are getting worse. It’s harder to hide them in summer, harder to cover up without people questioning me. If I told my therapist she’d probably assume I’m doing it to myself, but that’s not me. I’ve never self-harmed. Part of me wants her to pull up my sleeves and see the bruises for herself. Would she believe me then? I want her to know, yet I can’t tell her. The words are too big to come out of my mouth. I do enjoy visiting her, but only because it’s time away from my awful life.
She looks at her watch a lot during our sessions. I feel squeezed in. I daren’t go one minute over our allotted time. Some days I don’t even get the full hour because she’s so busy, her phone always ringing. Sometimes she sends messages while I’m talking. She probably thinks I can’t tell, that I’m too self-absorbed, but I’m the opposite and she’d know that if she concentrated on what I’m saying. I think she’s had enough of me. I don’t blame her.
Is this ever going to end? I doubt it. If anyone ever reads these words, please help me.
Pamela pushes the journal away and rests her head on her folded arms, on top of her desk. Did she really come across as uninterested during their sessions? This entry is so damning that she feels panic building up inside her. She wants to call someone, to be told she’s going to be all right, but no one would understand. Besides, this is all confidential: the journal entries, the client’s details and the police investigation.
She thinks of her patient and how much she’s suffered. Pamela has let her down, and for that reason she vows never to practice therapy again.
Forty
Brody runs off as soon as he’s released from the back seat. Nate told him no barking and so far he’s complied. As the rain comes down, Nate pulls a raincoat from the trunk and slips it on, thinking again that Brody is wasted at the summer camp. He should be back on the force.
“Don’t suppose you have a spare raincoat back there, do you?” asks Madison, rubbing her cold arms.
He pulls one out and her face lights up. “Great, thanks.”
He waits for her to put it on. It’s too big, but it should protect her from this heavy downpour at least.
She leans forward, noticing his collection of books in the trunk. “True crime? You read this stuff?”
“Yeah. I guess I’m trying to find some poor sucker who had it worse than me.”
“But aren’t they all convicted killers?”
He gives her a look. “So were we, remember? You know as well as I do that our judicial system doesn’t always get it right. You’d be amazed how many of these guys denied being killers right up to the death chamber.”
“But that’s what real killers do: they deny everything.”
He tries not to get wound up. “Think about it, Madison: the men and women who live on death row for decades and know they’re being put to death have absolutely nothing to lose. Nothing. Especially in Texas. It’s well known Texas doesn’t do clemency. So how come so many people maintain their innocence right up until the bitter end?”
She looks dubious. “From experience, I know that some people don’t admit their crimes because they don’t want their families to know what they did. They want their mothers to be able to sleep at night.”
He shakes his head and thinks of some of the guys he shared death row with. The ones who had no problem admitting their guilt. “Well, from my experience, the guilty ones don’t even care about their own mothers.”
She hesitates and pulls her hood up against the rain. “This isn’t a discussion for right now. Where’s the dog?”
He looks around, but Brody is nowhere to be seen. He quietly closes the trunk and they walk toward Josh’s house. It’s a one-story, with a lot of junk outside. Nate assumes it’s a rental, what with Josh working part-time at the camp and planning to go off to college.
With the day growing ever darker under the heavy rain clouds, he’s brought a flashlight from his car. He approaches a side door and shines the light inside. The kitchen. He tries the handle; it’s locked.
Madison is checking above the door frame and under pots for a spare key. “Nothing.”
They walk around the back of the property, lighting up each window as they go. Nate hears a car driving past, its wheels sloshing the rainwater. It sounds like it slows as it passes the house, but it doesn’t stop so he carries on.
“There’s nothing to suggest there’s a child in there,” he says over the rain. His hands are soaking wet and he can feel water seeping into his sneakers. He wasn’t prepared for this weather.
Madison looks at him. “Of course there isn’t. He’s not stupid enough to leave kids’ clothes lying around for us to find. Is there a basement?”
He ignores her condescending attitude and figures he’d be better off trying to learn from her experience instead. He looks around but can’t see an outside entrance to a basement, though there is a small window under the kitchen, at ground level. “Looks like it.” He crouches and tries to pull the window open. It doesn’t budge. The glass has been painted black, so he can’t see through it, not even with a flashlight.
They walk to the other side of the house, where a rusting car is slowly fusi
ng with the landscape. With tall grass and weeds growing around its wheels, it looks like it hasn’t been moved in years. The trunk is stuck open at an angle. It’s not hiding any bodies, but there is a family of rats bedding down under some damp cardboard in the far corner.
“Eww,” says Madison.
Nate shines the flashlight in through the car’s windows. It’s completely empty, apart from some nasty-looking spiderwebs. Brody suddenly appears. His thick coat is soaking wet and he starts sniffing all around the car. Nate wishes he’d asked Esme for an item of clothing to give the dog a scent to work with.
Madison grabs his arm. “Listen.”
He hears another car approaching, and this one stops with a damp skid right outside. He looks at her. “Shit.”
“Get down!” She pulls his arm and they crouch behind the car. They hear running footsteps approach and then the front door slams shut.
“It’s Josh,” she says. “He must know we’re here. Why don’t you go and knock on the front door and keep him busy while I check out the back? Act casual. But keep a close eye on his hands at all times.”
Nate doesn’t want them to split up, but the reality is she’s better trained for searching a property than he is. “Okay. Yell if you need me.”
She laughs sarcastically, probably thinking that the idea of him protecting her is ridiculous. “Sure thing.”
He walks to the front door, wondering whether Josh might appear with a gun. After a few seconds’ hesitation, he knocks and then steps back slightly, out of the direct line of fire. Just in case.
Josh almost rips the door open in anger. “What the fuck are you doing here? Have you been in my house?”
Nate knows he has to calm Josh down, because if he calls the cops, it’s them who will be in trouble. “No, of course not. I was just looking outside. Come on, man. It’s my job to investigate. You won’t be the only camp employee I pay a visit to.”
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