by Barb Han
“Do you want menus? The kitchen’s open another half hour,” she said, twirling her hair and leaning toward Brody.
He looked to the guys, who seemed about ready to bust out laughing. They shook their heads.
“Just two.”
“Well, then, follow me.” She pulled the requisite number of menus, flashed a smile and spun toward the grouping of tables to her left. She paused long enough to ask, “Booth or table?”
“We’re not picky,” Brody responded.
Another smile came and this time her cheeks flushed.
Rebecca elbowed him as he let her pass him to take the lead. Her eyebrows pinched together as though she were scolding him.
Now it was Brody’s turn to try to hold back a laugh. If she’d noticed, then the hostess was most definitely flirting.
And, if he was being honest, his reaction would’ve been much worse if the tables had been turned. Even so, he put up his hands in the universal sign of surrender and whispered, “I didn’t do anything.”
The others jabbed him in the shoulder and arm as they walked past.
Ryan was last. “How’s Rebecca?”
“Strong. I don’t have to tell you what she’s been through.”
Ryan nodded as they approached the round corner booth. Each one filed in to the right.
Brody slid left, so he could sit next to Rebecca. He liked having her positioned in between him and one of the guys. Anyone wanting to get to her would have to go through one of them first. Brody also liked the idea of having backup. The light dose of pain medication from the hospital was wearing off and a freakin’ jackhammer pounded the spot between his eyes.
A waitress stopped by to take drink orders. Brody ordered chicken-fried steak with iced tea and smiled when Rebecca did the same. The others ordered an appetizer of chicken wings and a round of beers. Normally, Brody would join them, but tonight he wanted a clear head. Whoever was after Rebecca could strike at any time. Brody figured the guy wouldn’t be stupid enough to try anything with the others around, especially since they were all big guys and this creep only struck like a coward. He didn’t fight head-on. He hid in the trees, in the brush, the element of surprise his only advantage. His preferred target had been a child.
The thought of the Sunnyvale boy going missing last year near the anniversary of Shane’s disappearance weighed heavily on Brody’s mind.
When the waitress had thanked them and disappeared, he clasped his hands and intentionally kept his voice low. “It means a lot to both of us that you guys are here. We’re hoping to connect with the whole group, but the girls have spread out so that’s a bit trickier on short notice. Samantha’s in Dallas.”
“And Lisa moved a couple of counties over,” Ryan added. “Anyone know where Melanie is?”
Dawson nodded. “I ran into her sister the other day. She moved to Houston, and never comes back to visit. I think she stays in touch with Samantha and Lisa, though. I can check with one of them.”
Brody thanked Dawson for helping out with the horses earlier.
“Do you guys still hang out?” Rebecca asked.
Most shook their heads.
“That’s such a shame. We were all so close when we were little. Remember how long we used to play outside?” Rebecca asked.
“Remember Red Rover?” Dylan chimed in.
Heads nodded and smiles returned.
“Sad that we didn’t stay that way. It’s my fault,” Rebecca said.
“Everyone’s to blame, not just you,” Dawson quickly interjected. “We were kids. No one knew what to say or do. We were all scared. Looking back, I feel like we let you down.”
“You didn’t,” Rebecca said. “I was out of school for a year and my parents didn’t let me see anyone. I missed you guys, but everything was so crazy for such a long time. I think I forgot how to have friends.”
The waitress arrived with drink orders and the appetizers, momentarily stopping conversation.
“All our parents flipped out after that. Everyone changed. Everything changed. And none of it was your fault, Rebecca. We wish we would’ve gone searching with you that night. If we had, things would’ve been different.” Dylan lifted his mug. “The reason stinks, but we’re together now. So, glasses up.”
How many times had Brody had the exact same thought? Too many, he thought, as he lifted his glass.
Ryan leaned forward, his serious expression returned. “Justin is grateful for everyone covering for him that night. I don’t know if I ever thanked you guys for that.”
“Sheriff Brine really had it in for your brother after he got caught breaking into school,” Brody said.
“My brother was stupid back then,” Ryan said. “He learned his lessons the hard way. Besides, the sheriff couldn’t hurt Justin any worse than what he got at home.”
Brody remembered that Justin had stayed out of school beyond his week’s suspension when he’d been caught. The beating he’d received from his father had left permanent marks on the backs of his legs. “We all knew covering for him was the right thing to do.”
“I appreciate it,” Ryan said.
“Speaking of the sheriff’s office, my friend gave me a copy of the Mason Ridge Abductor’s file. According to the FBI profiler, he would most likely have had a job that required him to travel around the state.”
“Like a festival worker?” Dawson asked.
Brody nodded. “They ruled out local bus drivers, shop owners, and everyone else with a stable job.”
“I remember how adamant the sheriff was about this being a transient worker. Didn’t they check out everyone connected to the festival?” Dylan asked.
“They did,” Rebecca said. “But there are so many people who come through town this week for the activities. The RV park by the Mason Ridge Lake is completely booked. Has been for months. And it’s like that every year. There are workers but then also tons of people who come just for the festival. It’s impossible to keep track of everyone.”
“So, they’re saying it was most likely someone here for the festival and not necessarily someone who works there,” Dylan clarified.
“Right,” Brody said. “But here’s the thing. The Mason Ridge Abductor was smart enough not to get caught, which took some doing. But then lower-IQ offenders are the ones who tended to spend time in jail. This guy has avoided capture for fifteen years. He didn’t have to be especially brilliant, just smart enough to cover his tracks. He could be one of us.”
“Are you saying you don’t think law enforcement had it right before?” Dylan asked.
“The more I think about the facts in this case, the more I believe someone right here could’ve been involved.” Seeing Rebecca’s brown eyes look weary and pained caused Brody to clench his hands. He hated everything about this case, except the part about seeing Rebecca again. Even so, watching her expression, knowing how much she was hurting, felt like a clamp around his heart. “There’s a reporter who is hot on the case. You guys remember Peter Sheffield?”
“He’s a jerk,” Ryan said. “But harmless. I heard he’s trying to make a name for himself at the paper.”
Brody had figured as much. He hoped the guy didn’t get in their way.
Rebecca turned to him, a wishful look in her eyes. “Should we tell them about Randy?”
The others exchanged looks.
“Rebecca has been searching social-media sites and she came across someone who looks a lot like Shane. There are pictures online of him hanging out with friends here,” Brody said. He fished his phone from his pocket and pulled up the social media site. He located the pictures and passed his phone around the table.
“He has the same chin as Rebecca,” Dawson observed.
“That why we’re meeting here?” Ryan asked, studying the photo.
Brody nodded.
“Good idea,” Ryan said, his gaze shifting to the hostess. “Friendly place.”
Brody knew that his friend was referring to her flirting. In fact, she’d kept her eye on the
table and a smile on her face ever since. Rebecca seemed to notice, too.
Chapter Eight
Rebecca didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until Ryan returned. He’d offered to fish for information from the hostess, giving Brody an out so he wouldn’t have to be the one to do it. “What did she say?”
He slid inside the booth. “She recognized him but didn’t know him personally. Said he hasn’t been in for months, though.”
“Did she have a guess as to why?” Rebecca asked.
“I’m afraid not.”
“What about his friends? Do they still come in?” she quickly added.
“Negative, but she wasn’t surprised. Said groups of young people come and go, many of whom head off to college. A lot of them find jobs in bigger cities after school since professional jobs are scarce around here. Others go into the military.”
Her chest felt like a balloon with a hole in it, slowly leaking air—and hopes of finding Shane along with it.
Brody perked up with the news. “The first place we’ll check is the military. It’ll be easy to find him if he enlisted.”
Dylan nodded. “I have a contact, too.”
A burst of optimism spread across the men’s faces.
Rebecca, on the other hand, felt she was back at square one.
The food arrived, stalling conversation once more. After hearing the disappointing news, she was grateful to be able to fix her attention on eating.
It was probably too good to be true that Shane had grown up a couple towns away, safe, in a good home. If he couldn’t be with her and her mother, she’d at least wished he’d be well cared for and happy. He was so young when he’d been taken she wondered if he would remember her at all. She’d read in an article a few years ago that people retained very few memories before age ten. Shane had been seven, well below the age of retention. Her own memories of him had faded over the years. If she hadn’t had photographs of him everywhere, would she remember him at all? Being the oldest, she had to believe she would.
A strange thought struck. What if she found him and he rejected her? What if he didn’t want to go back? What if he was perfectly satisfied with his life?
Could he be completely happy without ever knowing about his past? Was it selfish to want to force that on him if by some miracle she found him alive?
One thing was certain. Rebecca had to know what had happened to her baby brother. She prayed he was thriving. And if he was, when she saw him, knew he was fine, then she’d decide if she had any right to intrude on his life.
Dealing with her mother complicated the situation. On the one hand, her mother had a right to know about her son. On the other, Shane or Randy or whatever his name was deserved to live in peace, if that was the case.
Rebecca took a bite of chicken-fried steak and chewed.
Brody leaned toward her, his arm touching hers. He seemed to realize she’d gone inside her thoughts, gotten lost there. In barely a whisper, so only she could hear, he said, “This is good. We’re making progress.”
In difficult times she’d learned that it was best to focus on the here and now. Besides, he was right. They knew more than they had in years. And even if Randy wasn’t Shane, at least they could rule him out. Progress. They were making progress. Progress would be her new mantra. She’d already learned the hard way that dwelling on the negative only brought her down further.
And with the guys back together, she was beginning to believe that anything was possible.
When the plates had been hauled away, she thanked them for coming.
“Is there anything else you recall from that night? Anything we need to be on the lookout for?” Dylan asked.
“The thing I remember the most is strange,” she said. “It’s a smell. Apple tobacco.”
“That was never in the papers,” Ryan said quickly.
Something flashed in his expression that sent a chill scurrying up her spine. Recognition? She carefully studied him. “The FBI wanted to keep it out of the news. They were already bombarded with leads and they said the more information we gave the bigger chance we had of copycats and false leads. Why?”
“It would’ve helped people to know what they were searching for,” Ryan said, regaining his casual composure with what looked like significant effort on his part.
“Or tipped off the abductor on what we were looking for,” she said.
“I thought law enforcement was focused on transients.”
“The sheriff’s office was. Brine refused to believe someone in town could’ve done this. The FBI wanted to cast a wider net,” Rebecca supplied, still eyeing Ryan.
“What else did they keep out of the news that might’ve helped?” he asked, and she realized he was most likely just as frustrated as they were.
“That was it.” Time had faded so much of her memory. The FBI had also told her that she’d been in shock, and forgetting details was her brain’s natural way of protecting her. Not even a hypnotist could pull any more information out of her then. Fifteen years had surely eaten away at anything that might have been left.
With a full stomach, exhaustion set in. Her bones were so tired they ached. She leaned back against the seat, not wanting to interrupt the conversation that had turned to what each of them had been doing lately.
Brody concealed a yawn and that kicked off one for her, too.
“We should probably head back. It’s an hour’s drive to Mason Ridge and Rebecca hasn’t slept in a day and a half,” he said.
“Don’t break this up because of me. It’s nice to see everyone again.” She couldn’t remember the last time she’d sat around with friends she trusted and had a drink. College had been a blur of classes, her job as a waitress and all-night study sessions just to keep up.
Heads nodded in agreement.
“Then I think we should barbecue at the ranch next Friday night. I’ll have plenty of cold beer and beds to crash on so no one has to drive,” Brody said.
“I’d like to reach out to Samantha, Lisa and the others,” Rebecca added. “It’ll be like old times.” She stopped short of saying like when she’d been happy.
“Until then, promise you’ll get some rest. The both of you,” Ryan said. “And take care of that gash on your head.”
Dylan added his agreement. “We’ll keep digging and let you know if anything comes up. Forward a copy of those social-media links. Maybe I’ll make a few new friends between now and then.”
“Will do,” Brody said.
The bill came and Dawson covered it with his hand. “I got this. You two get out of here. We’ll stick around a little while and chat up the locals. See if we can dig around a little more while we’re here.”
Brody argued over paying the bill, lost and then thanked his friends as Rebecca hugged each one.
She wanted to talk to Ryan about his reaction earlier but tabled it. For now.
* * *
NIGHT HAD DESCENDED around Rebecca and Brody by the time they reached the ranch. The truck’s headlights cut through the darkness, lighting a path down the drive before moving across the large ranch house as Brody pulled into his parking spot.
Rebecca tried to shake off the fog that came with drifting in and out of sleep on the way there and then waking too fast. Twelve hours underneath a warm comforter would do her good.
She blinked her eyes open and glanced at the clock. It was eleven-thirty on a Friday night. Normally, she’d be doing laundry. How lonely did that sound?
As if her past hadn’t been scarring enough, the few times she’d tried to date in college hadn’t worked out. One of her most distinct memories was of her first boyfriend. He’d had too much to drink one night and thought slipping her a roofie would be fun so he could “experiment.” Thankfully, he’d passed out before he could do anything sick to her, but the feeling of being vulnerable had shocked her back into protective mode.
Opening up, trusting again, had been next to impossible after that. She’d met a few men in Chicago. She’d
watched her drinks like a crazed person whenever she was on a date. Taking her glass of wine or cup of coffee to the bathroom with her had solicited more than a few odd looks. She didn’t care. They could judge her all they wanted, but she planned to be fully alert and in control. She involuntarily shivered at the memories and the all-true thought that Brody was the only man she’d ever felt safe around. No way would he try anything funny if her back was turned. Heck, she’d kissed him twice already and he hadn’t tried to push for more even though she sensed that he wanted it as much as she did.
Since moving back to Mason Ridge three years ago, the dating well had dried up.
“Hey, beautiful. You’re awake.” Brody’s voice wrapped around her, the rich timbre sliding through her, warming her. Being near him made her want things she knew better than to consider. Things like a real man to wake up next to, to feel secure with.
He turned off the engine, cut the lights, and put his arm around her after they exited his truck.
The porch light came on unexpectedly as they approached, lighting up the front of the expansive one-story brick ranch.
Rebecca froze. “Does someone else live here with you?”
“No. It’s one of those motion-sensor lights.” He moved his arm from around her neck and she immediately missed the weight of it, the warmth, the feel of Brody’s touch.
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” she lied. How did she begin to defend just how little it took to completely rattle her nerves?
He made a move toward the front door but stopped short. Instead, he turned, captured her face in his hands and pressed his lips against hers, hard, kissing her.
She opened her mouth enough for his tongue to slip inside, where she welcomed him. The taste of sweet tea still lingered on his tongue. She tunneled her hands into his thick hair and kissed him back, matching every stroke of his tongue. And she didn’t want to stop there.
He managed to pull back first. Again. “There. I’ve been wanting to do that again ever since we left your mother’s.”
She didn’t immediately speak. Couldn’t. Not while she could still taste him. Besides, she’d probably just say something to ruin the moment, anyway.