Secret Remains

by Jennifer Graeser Dornbush

  As she did, she felt the bump at her rear again. Harder than the last time. It jostled the steering wheel from her grip, and her car veered toward the shoulder. On the other side of the shoulder was a steep embankment, straight down at least seventy-five feet into a dense woods. Emily struggled to gain control of her light, little electric vehicle as she weathered another bump that would have sent her off the edge of the road if she had not slammed on her brakes and pulled hard to the left. She skidded to a stop along the gravel shoulder. Her heart was pounding and her legs were shaking. She was safe. But where was that other car? Emily rolled her window down and stuck her head out. The road was silent. No car. It must have gone around the next bend. There was no way on that steep, narrow road it could have turned around fast enough to disappear in the opposite direction.

  Emily cranked the steering wheel toward the road and stepped on the gas. She was going to chase down that SOB and make him pay! Emily tore down the road, going as fast as she felt she could while remaining at a safe speed. For three miles, her eyes searched side roads and driveways. Not a single other car passed her until she passed the Freeport city limits sign. Her chase was a lost cause. The car who’d hit her had mysteriously disappeared.

  31

  Emily drove directly to the Freeport County Sheriff’s Office. She parked and trotted to the back rear driver’s side to inspect the damages. There were two significant dents, about basketball sized, in the bumper where she had been hit. And lots of scratches. She strained to see if the other car had left any paint, but she found nothing.

  Emily dashed inside and headed straight to Nick’s office along the back wall. He was eating lunch at his desk when Emily barged in.

  “Someone nearly drove me off the road just now!”

  Emily stood on the other side of his desk, bracing herself so she wouldn’t buckle. Nick met her flustered face with a piece of lettuce hanging from his mouth. He sucked the lettuce into his mouth and swallowed the bite in one gulp.

  He got up from behind his desk and put his hands on the sides of Emily’s arms and sat her in a nearby chair. She hadn’t realized until this moment that her whole body was trembling. A quarter percent adrenaline. A quarter fear. And the rest pure anger.

  “Describe the vehicle,” Nick said, grabbing a pen and paper.

  “I can’t. I didn’t see it.”

  “Try to remember something. What color was it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Car or truck?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Were you sleeping?” He attempted a joke.

  “My car is packed to the roof with all my stuff. I had no visibility.”

  Nick sighed. She didn’t care for his blasé attitude.

  Emily went on to explain what she remembered about the incident and how she had chased after the disappearing vehicle. Nick took it down.

  “Sounds like a common case of road rage.”

  “In Freeport? There is absolutely no traffic here to get mad at!”

  “You’d be surprised at the impatience of people who get caught behind poky drivers or tractor combines.”

  Emily began to pace Nick’s office. She hated that Nick stood so calmly at the side of his desk.

  “What if it wasn’t? Word gets around. And after what I did during the Dobson case, I’m not surprised if I’ve made a few enemies.”

  “You’re being paranoid. I’m going to write up a report, but I doubt it’s anything other than a pissed-off driver.”

  Emily’s trembling had melted, leaving anger in its place.

  “What if it happens again?”

  “If it makes you feel better, I will follow you home. For your safety,” Nick offered.

  Emily nodded. Fine. She would be going home to an empty house. It was a good idea to have Nick come and check it out with her when she arrived.

  “Did Dr. Payton get in touch with you?” she asked him.

  “Haven’t heard from him. Why?”

  “Eight of the hairs collected were from Sandi. The ninth one that was under Sandi’s fingernail has no criminal database matches.”

  “Another dead end. Great.”

  Nothing about Sandi’s case was going to be easy, and Emily could see the worry lines etching themselves across Nick’s brow. Emily tried to combat the little doubts creeping in. None of the pack members had criminal records or DNA samples registered in CODIS. But that ninth hair could belong to any one of them.

  “I did a pretty thorough Internet and social media search this morning. There was hardly anything on James VanDerMuellen.”

  Nick nodded. “I found out that James’ family is living in Miami. I got a number and left several messages. His dad finally called me back when I threatened a subpoena.”

  “Oh. Good. Some progress.”

  “Apparently, James lost his job on Wall Street earlier this year and moved to Miami to live with his folks for a few weeks while he figured out his next steps. They had a falling out. James stormed off. And his dad claims he hasn’t seen or spoken to his son in over six months.”

  “Did he say what happened?”

  “He didn’t go into it. My guess is he was broke. Wanted money but Daddy finally put his foot down.”

  “Did you tell his dad why you were trying to find James?”

  “I kept it vague, but I’m sure he did a little research, and with the recent news about finding Sandi’s body, it wouldn’t be hard to piece two and two together.”

  “He knows his son will be questioned again now that there’s a body and a case lining up,” said Emily.

  “He told me the next time I wanted to call, I would be speaking to his attorney. We can’t squeeze blood from that turnip without legal action.”

  “Nick, you need to test DNA from the pack to rule out if it matches that ninth hair.”

  “I’m a step ahead of you, Doctor Death. I took Ross’ tissue from the trash when we were there.”

  “What about you and Paul?”

  “Do you honestly think I have anything to do with this, Em?”

  “To rule you out as a suspect.”

  She wanted nothing more than to encourage him not to worry. But Tiffani’s conviction that Nick was involved, James’s track record, and Paul’s confession had seeded this soil with suspicion. She didn’t want to admit that maybe she didn’t know Nick as well as she thought. But truth was, she had left home during the tail end of their sophomore year. So much could have happened during those next two years.

  “The problem here isn’t my DNA. It’s that you don’t trust me.”

  Emily drew in a deep breath. Why did they always find themselves arguing whenever they saw each other?

  “Are you still housing Paul?”

  Nick nodded. “Jo won’t let him back.”

  “You could be housing a criminal,” Emily said. “How does that look to a jury?”

  “I’m not housing a criminal. I wouldn’t do that anyhow, Em. Even if it was a good friend.”

  “Prove it by ruling Paul out. Send in his DNA sample.”

  “I’m working on it, Em. Now, just take a breather. You’ve done your job. I got it from here.”

  Emily bristled at Nick’s tone. He had told her that on the Dobson case, and she hadn’t stepped down. When you push Emily away, she just pushes back. And she had solved the case. Still, Emily understood how much she had offended him, and she couldn’t expect him to react with graciousness. She certainly wouldn’t have if someone had done the same to her. But she also didn’t think he was seeing this situation with objective eyes. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but for your own good, Nick, I think you need to step down from this investigation and let someone else take over.”

  He returned a look that told her there was no way he was leaving his post.

  “Anything happen in Chicago I should know about?” He glanced at her ring finger.

  Emily met his eyes with a vexing look and refused to water this conversation.

  This case
and Nick’s persistence were starting to drive a wedge between them. How had that happened so soon after they’d shared a life-and-death moment just a couple of weeks before during the Dobson case?

  “Nothing you need to worry about,” she said. “You ready to go?”

  Emily heeled out of the sheriff’s office before he could answer. But she heard his footsteps trailing her. And neither uttered a single word as they got into their cars.

  32

  After Nick made sure the house and property were safe, he helped Emily unload the boxes from her car. They worked in tandem without so much as a word to each other.

  “I doubt you’re being followed. But keep the doors shut and locked,” he said, setting down the last box. “Call if you hear or see anything. Got it?”

  Emily felt uneasy being home alone now.

  “Thank you,” she managed, then locked the door behind Nick.

  Nick went back to his patrol car without a glance in her direction. Emily shrugged it off and headed into the kitchen.

  She fished bread, meat, and cheese from the fridge, smelling it to confirm it was still edible. She slapped her sandwich together and stood in the kitchen. She was too antsy to sit at the table. After playing the scene back in her mind, Emily conceded that Nick was right. It was road rage. Her imagination and emotions had been in overdrive. She needed rest.

  So she slept. And holed herself up in the house. And poured herself into organizing her father’s things. By midweek, Emily was tired of being alone in the house and looking at what her dad had left behind. She dialed Jo’s number.

  All she could hear were three kid voices yelling at the top of their lungs in the background. “I’m about to pull my hair out—or theirs. Kids. Outside. Now!” said Jo.

  The screams and laughs dissipated as Emily heard Jo open the slider door to let three rambunctious kids out to the backyard.

  “It sounds like you’re preoccupied. I can call back later.”

  “No, Em. It’s okay. Hearing your voice is sanity to my soul.”

  Jeremiah Blakely, Jo’s ten-year-old son, screamed an order to one of his younger sisters to “Gimme that!”

  “Jeremiah! Give that back to your sister!” yelled Jo. “Go play outside. Now.”

  “Hey, go deal with that. I’ll call you later.”

  “No. They’ll work it out. What’s going on?”

  Emily heard the slider door close and latch. Jo had had it! “I was wondering if that offer is still on the table for some help with my dad’s things.”

  “Of course. You want me to come over now?”

  “You sure? Sounds like you have your hands full.”

  “No. Now. I need a break now,” Jo’s frazzled voice begged.

  “Bring the kids. They can play outside. Or we can give them a rake and they can make leaf piles.”

  “No way. Paul may not be living here at the moment, but he’s not off the hook for fatherhood. It’s his turn.”

  Emily could hear a small fist pounding on the sliding door and the middle daughter, Jessica’s, muffled whine from the other side of the glass, “Mom! Jaden won’t let me—” Jaden was Jo’s youngest daughter of four going on fourteen.

  “Jessica, you march right back into that yard and push your sister on the swing.”

  “Quick. Call Paul!” Emily laughed. “Get out of there while you still can.”

  “I’m on it. Give me thirty.”

  “I’ll get a bottle of red breathing.”

  Emily smiled as she ended the call. She wolfed down the last few bites of her sandwich and glanced around the kitchen. She would commit to staying in Freeport through the holidays. That would give her enough time to figure out next steps. And in the meantime, she would fight for Sandi Parkman as she saw fit. Sandi deserved justice. Her mom deserved retribution. And Freeport needed this black mark erased from its history. Nick, Paul, and the pack would have to find their own way to make amends for their sins.

  33

  It was the little things that wrenched at Emily’s heart as she wrapped them and Jo organized them neatly in plastic bins. Dad’s razor. His mismatched socks. A mustard-colored cardigan with a hole under the arm. Emily made sure they left out photos and his books. She wasn’t erasing her father from the house. She just didn’t want to be tripping over his ghost every time she went for something in the kitchen or bath.

  “It still has your dad’s touch,” said Jo as they scanned the house a third time for anything they might have missed. “But there’s also room now for your stuff.”

  Emily loved that Jo always knew exactly the right thing to say.

  Next, they tackled the office. Emily had already packed up most of his files, but the desk and outlying areas were littered with medical and office supplies.

  “So what’s the deal with you and Paul?” said Emily, knowing that Jo wanted to get it off her chest but wouldn’t dream of burdening Emily with it in the midst of what they were doing.

  “The fact that I’m finally able to speak to him without blowing up or bursting into tears is progress.”

  “You’re a woman of great grace.”

  “Hardly. I get that he was young and impressionable and trying to fit in and be a cool jock and whatever,” Jo droned. “But I mean, he’s still culpable.” Jo’s eyes began to water. “It’s just careless and mean, what they did.”

  “Has he apologized?”

  “To me? A million times.” Jo wiped the corners of her eyes with her sleeve. “But I’m not really the one he should be apologizing to.”

  Emily nodded. “Do you think they realize they have some major atonement to do?”

  “I don’t think any of them see it that way. And I just keep thinking, what if that were Jessica, or Jaden—you know, thinking ahead ten years when they’re teenagers … if someone was doing that to them and the guys at school were using them for pleasure … Oh, Em. It makes me physically sick to my stomach.”

  Emily’s own stomach turned over, and she tried not to imagine it. “What’s it going to take for you two?”

  Jo shrugged. “Therapy. A lot of it.”

  “He’ll go?” Emily had always seen Paul Blakely as the stoic, farmer type who handled his emotions in private. Or not at all.

  “He’ll go because I’ve told him he’s going,” Jo said.

  Emily grinned and refilled Jo’s wineglass. “It’ll just take some time. I have faith in you two.”

  “Some nice jewelry would be a good start.” Jo’s face brightened; Emily realized she had found her sense of humor through all this.

  “Jewelry’s nice to look at. But how about a warm Caribbean getaway?”

  “But not with Paul. I want my bestie there. We need a break, girl! From everything. Husband. Ex-fiancé. Kids. Work. Death.” Jo smiled and Emily picked it up.

  “Beaches. Spa. Piña coladas.”

  “What are you doing this weekend?” Jo picked up her phone and pretended to check her calendar. Emily laughed, and their holiday dreaming cleared the tension in the air.

  Then Jo fell quiet. “I heard about the ninth hair.”

  “Does Paul have an alibi?” asked Emily.

  “He says he was in the weight room after school. But how does he prove that? There was no trainer. No coach. No sign-in sheet. I told him he needed to submit a DNA sample.”

  Emily nodded. There were no words.

  “I’ll admit, I’ve already looked into an attorney. From Rock River. I didn’t want it to be anyone local,” said Jo.

  “Does he know?”

  “Not yet. He’d be livid. But I want to be on the offensive about this,” said Jo, dusting the lip of a bookshelf.

  “I wish Nick would get one, too.”

  “Doesn’t the state office supply him with one?”

  “I suspect they would, if he asked.”

  “What’s it going to take for him?” Jo sounded as frustrated as Emily felt.

  “Probable cause,” Emily hated to admit.

  Jo took down a stack of
slim volumes with glossy covers. “You probably don’t want these packed.”

  Emily took a look at them. Yearbooks.

  “Your dad kept them for you. That’s so sweet. Well, all two of them. Freshman and sophomore year.”

  Emily and Jo sat down on the floor, each taking one of the books. Emily cracked open the stiff spine of the sophomore yearbook and started to flip through its unfamiliar pages.

  “You know, I never actually saw this book.”

  “You didn’t?”

  “No, they were delivered in June, after school was out. I was gone by then.”

  Jo nodded with a sweet smile. “I don’t like thinking about your grand disappearing act.”

  “Me neither.”

  “I’m so glad you’re back,” said Jo. “I hope you stay.”

  “Jo, I never said it, but thank you for being my friend, even when we … weren’t.”

  “We were never not friends,” said Jo as she folded her book closed and hopped back to the shelf with her dustrag.

  Emily was about to close her book when a photograph caught her eye. The shot was of one of those “Hands-in!” huddles athletes did before a game. The caption read, United to win! She couldn’t tell what sport the players were from, because the image was a close-up of elbows and hands. She studied the male hands. A good handful were wearing class rings. One ring in particular stood out. It was a black onyx stone in a diamond cut. The only one in the huddle. The high school mascot was engraved into the left side and the graduation year into the other side.

  “Jo, hey. Look at this picture. Do you know who that is?” Emily brought the book over to her and pointed to the hand with the black-onyx ring. Jo glanced at it.

  “Nope. Don’t recognize it.” Jo went back to her dusting.

  “Well, do you know who at Freeport had a black-onyx class ring?”

  “Seriously? Out of six hundred students?”

  “Just seems like a unique choice. Most people just get their birthstones.”

  “Unique people make unique choices,” quipped Jo. “Wait. Do you think it belongs to one of the pack?”