by C. J. Lyons
Lucy led Burroughs away to update him on Sarah’s case, leaving Tommy with Sister Agnes and her wrath. “Mr. Worth,” she started. “You need to take Eleanor home now.”
“I’m sorry this happened. I’d like to keep her out of school for the rest of the week. Especially with all the attention on the anniversary of Charlotte’s disappearance.”
“No. I’m afraid you don’t understand. Eleanor is expelled. This behavior simply will not be tolerated. We only have three weeks left in the school year. That will give you all summer to find an alternative placement for her. Perhaps one that is more suited to such an unruly and recalcitrant child.”
“Wait, no—you can’t seriously be blaming Nellie?”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “Of course not. I blame you. Please leave. Now. I’ll send her belongings later. We’ve suffered enough disruption for one day on your account.”
Before Tommy could modulate a reply that didn’t include the kind of language that he would not use in front of Nellie, much less to a nun, the woman stalked away.
“Are you okay?” It was Sarah—she’d heard everything.
He glanced past her to where Nellie was showing her grandparents her escape route. Nellie’s laughter washed over him, erasing his anger. “I’m fine. Excellent, in fact.”
He covered the distance between him and his daughter in two oversized steps and scooped her up into his arms, twirling her as she giggled and beamed. “Come on, Nellie. Let’s go home.”
Chapter 21
LUCY WALKED WITH Burroughs out to his vehicle, a white departmental Impala. “You know I’m looking into Charlotte Worth’s case, right?”
He shrugged, turning to lean against his car door, glancing past her to the schoolyard. “More eyes the better, I say. Worth hired a few PIs—or rather his in-laws did. They got to the same place we did. Nowhere.”
“Just didn’t want you to think I was going behind your back.” The first case they’d worked together she’d had to fight to win his acceptance—that had been a critical missing person as well, a girl who could have been a runaway but who had actually been abducted by a serial killer.
“Honestly,” he released a sound that would have been a sigh coming from anyone else, “I’d appreciate your opinion. I don’t buy that Charlotte left of her own accord. Something about her case doesn’t sit right. Hinky. Not sure if it’s the husband or what…” Another shrug as he trailed off. “Anyway, let me know your thoughts. Oh, and TK told me about Sarah’s possible stalker, so I cancelled the PSAs. No reason to put her face out there in public until we’re certain of her safety. You got someplace for her to stay?”
“She’s going to stay at Beacon Falls, at least for the next few days.”
“Good.”
“I was wondering—” She stopped, knowing that she was just speculating, but it would be nice to have another trained law enforcement officer’s opinion. Not that she didn’t value what TK and Wash thought, but… “Did you know we found a receipt at Sarah’s place? Dated Friday night.”
“So?”
“It was from the same store that Charlotte Worth was seen at the day she went missing.” She stopped, waited for him to weigh the evidence—or lack thereof.
“Hundreds of women go to that store every day. And Sarah wasn’t attacked, wasn’t a victim of a possible abduction. Odds are it’s random chance.”
“Right. That’s what Wash said. He even ran some probability calculation algorithm, whatever.” Analytics were absolutely not her strong suit. For her, instincts trumped data—an approach that had led Lucy down the wrong path more than once, but that’s why she had a team to balance her weaknesses with their strengths. “But, don’t you think it’s strange? I mean, what if our actor,” police slang for bad guy, “followed Charlotte from there? And maybe that’s how he picked up Sarah’s trail?”
“You mean her mysterious wedding dress stalker is involved in Charlotte Worth’s case as well?” His face contorted as he puzzled through the scenario. “Stalkers take their time, love the watching, the insinuation of themselves into their victims’ lives. Rarely do they escalate to violence or abduction—certainly not over the course of a few hours, if the store was ground zero for their very first encounter.”
“You’re right, you’re right. It just feels… hinky.”
“Told you. Not much we can do but keep working the leads. On both cases.”
“Right.”
Tommy, his in-laws, and Sarah appeared at the parking lot entrance, Tommy carrying Nellie piggyback. Her laughter carried effortlessly across the pavement to where Lucy and Burroughs stood.
“Thanks, Burroughs.” She didn’t just mean his advice and help with the Sarah Brown case, and he knew it.
“No problem. Nice to have a happy outcome.” He nodded to Lucy. “Take care now.”
He drove off, and Lucy glanced over to see Sarah staring at her, an undecipherable expression on her face. Then she smiled and waved, leaving Lucy wondering what she’d just seen.
TK rejoined Lucy, and they watched Tommy, Nellie, and Sarah leave together in Tommy’s Volvo. “I asked Sarah if she wanted a ride back to Beacon Falls, but she said Tommy invited her to dinner first. Or rather Nellie did. He’s going to have his hands full with that one, isn’t he?”
“This is going to be a rough week for him,” Lucy answered. “We can handle Sarah’s case without him.”
TK stared at her. “I meant Nellie, not Sarah. What’s wrong with Sarah?”
“Nothing. I’m just trying to keep things simple, uncomplicated.”
They strolled across the lot to Lucy’s Subaru. The police had all left, the media as well, and with the children still in classes for another twenty minutes, a sudden hush embraced the property.
“You were the one who thought working this case would be good for Tommy,” TK said.
“Maybe I was wrong. I didn’t realize how much he’s juggling.” Lucy unlocked the Subaru and slid into the driver’s seat.
TK got in on the passenger side. “Did you find something while reviewing Charlotte’s case?” she asked as they pulled out of the parking lot.
“Didn’t have time to do more than organize the files. But there are a few things I want to follow up on.”
“Anything I can do to help?”
“Did we get the cameras placed at Sarah’s apartment? Any stalker who goes to so much trouble, sending that dress, will want to see her reaction.”
“Wash has one of his friends on it. He would have called if anyone showed up.”
“Unless he’s already been and gone.” Lucy frowned. She hated cases dealing with stalkers—they were far too unpredictable, especially the ones caught up in delusions, denying reality.
“Maybe he saw us, got spooked?”
Before Lucy could answer, her phone rang. She clicked the hands-free speaker. It was Wash, back in Beacon Falls. “Boss, I think I got something.”
“On Sarah?” TK asked, leaning toward Lucy.
“No. At least, I don’t think it has anything to do with Sarah. More like an unhappy accident. I could use another pair of eyes.”
“What is it?” They stopped at a red light, the afternoon sun glaring through the windshield. Lucy reached for her sunglasses.
“I’m not sure. I’ve been scanning through Sarah’s photographs, enlarging them, looking for anything that might help—”
“You mean besides a bunch of dead leaves and flowers?” TK obviously was not a nature enthusiast.
“What did you find?” Lucy asked.
“I’m not sure, but there’s a picture with a tiny silver charm, a little ballerina. But it’s not the charm—it’s what’s under the log behind the charm.”
Afternoon traffic was already snarled. At this rate, by the time they got TK back to Beacon Falls, it would be time for Lucy to turn around and go home. “Just tell us what you found, Wash.”
“Well, could be, maybe, bones? Like human hand bones?”
“Shit.” TK exhaled the syllable.
<
br /> “Send TK the photo and the exact coordinates,” Lucy ordered as she eased into the other lane and signaled for a U-turn.
“Should we call the cops?” Wash asked.
“Which ones? Scotia County’s sheriff’s department only serves papers. So it’ll be the staties, and the nearest barracks is twice as far away as we are. By the time they get there, it’ll be dark. I don’t want to send them on a wild goose chase after a bit of deer antler or the like.”
“What should we do?”
“You keep scanning those photos. Bodies in the wild have a habit of getting spread out over a large area. TK and I are going for a walk in the woods.”
Chapter 22
AS TOMMY DROVE them home, Nellie chattered with Sarah, bombarding her with questions, telling her all about school—anything to prevent Tommy from getting in a word, much less attend to the actual discussion they needed to have. She was using Sarah as a human shield to avoid Tommy’s wrath, and with a typical five-year-old’s logic obviously thought the longer she kept the conversation flowing, the less chance she had of Tommy remembering how much trouble she was in.
Fat chance. He kept his eyes on the road. Not because he was ignoring Nellie but because right now he could still taste his fear, and anger burned through his belly. He couldn’t afford to lose control and unleash those emotions. Another reason why it was good Sarah had come along to buffer the conversation.
As he stewed, reliving those minutes of terror and helplessness, he realized that, as upset as he was with Nellie, it was Sister Agnes he was most furious with. She was an adult, it was her job to care for children, and she’d put her own needs before his daughter’s. No way in hell would he take Nellie back there. No way would he trust those idiots with his daughter ever again.
A horn startled him, and he realized he’d drifted slightly over the line into the other lane. He veered back to his side of the twisty two-lane road that followed the creek on its way toward Route 51.
They arrived home in one piece. Gloria and Peter were already waiting, their Lexus parked at the curb to give Tommy room to pull into the driveway in front of the Craftsman’s single car garage. It was a small house, with an inviting front porch resting on a foundation of river rock, and two bedrooms occupied the space originally intended as the attic, but it had fit them just right.
Gloria went to start dinner, while Nellie tugged Sarah upstairs to show her her room and toys, leaving Tommy with Peter. Tommy and his father-in-law had always gotten along well, despite the fact that Peter didn’t understand half of what went on in a hospital ER and Tommy didn’t understand any of what a software engineer did—other than make a nice living. One thing about being a pediatrician, it meant the very bottom of the medical pay scale, and Tommy and Charlotte both had student loans to pay off. Their neighbor who drove a snowplow for PennDOT made more money than Tommy did. But between the two of them they’d managed all right.
At least, he thought they had. Until they lost Charlotte’s salary and he’d left the ER to work with the Beacon Group. He’d refused to let his in-laws bear the costs of the private investigators by themselves. He hadn’t told anyone, but he’d had to borrow from his 401K when that bill came due.
“Rough day, eh?” Peter said, taking a Yuengling from the fridge and patting Gloria on the shoulder as he gestured for Tommy to join him on the back deck. Tommy hesitated, a primal instinct urging him to stay close to Nellie, but he knew she was home, safe, and well protected. And the idea of a cold beer—anything to calm this agitation he couldn’t shake—sounded perfect. He grabbed one and joined Peter.
Peter relaxed in his usual chair, the one that faced Charlotte’s rose garden. Tommy had no gift for gardening, not like she had, and no idea what the plants needed, so when they’d begun to grow twisted and brambly, their thick thorns scratching Nellie, he’d pruned them back—a bit too severely. They were only now daring to show some fresh branches and green buds.
Tommy tried to sit, but couldn’t stay still, so he abandoned his bottle of beer on the arm of his Adirondack chair and paced along the edge of the deck.
“Maybe the two of you should come to the farm, stay with us,” Peter suggested. “At least for the week.” The farm was the twelve-acre spread halfway up a mountain out in Forward Township where Gloria and Peter had built their dream home and kept a few horses. Peter called himself retired but was too restless to ever fully stop working, taking on private clients when the project appealed.
Tommy didn’t answer; all he could think of was the night before Charlotte’s car was found, when Peter had stayed up all night building a website to use for the public appeals. Then the next day, after the car was found with no signs that she hadn’t left voluntarily, everything had changed. Peter and Gloria grew distant, and more than once he overheard them asking Nellie if everything was okay, if she was scared of anyone, did Daddy ever scare her? Then, when the extent of Charlotte’s deceptions came to light—hidden bank accounts, credit cards, a post office box, multiple cell phones—her parents began to question how well they knew their own daughter. Tommy asked himself those same questions. It was this shared confusion that actually cemented their bond, with Nellie at the heart.
What if tonight, Tommy thought, what if they hadn’t found Nellie? What if instead of sharing a beer and moment of peace, tonight he and Peter had to build another fruitless website? Tommy’s hand trembled. He shoved it into his pocket, found the dried leaf now beginning to shred, felt the solid mass of the charm wrapped inside it.
Hold it together. He just had to hold it together… for how long? When would this stop?
“I think Nellie needs to stay here,” he heard himself saying, not quite sure if they were the words he’d intended or not. But he had to fill the silence with something—what did it matter which words he chose? They were all empty noise, vanishing into the void as soon as he spoke them. He was so sick and tired of words. He wanted more. Something solid. Something real.
Before he could figure out what that something was, much less how to get it, Gloria called out, “Dinner’s ready.”
They went inside, Peter exchanging a glance with Gloria and shaking his head, an entire conversation in shorthand. Usually Tommy loved watching them together—he used to nudge Charlotte and whisper to her, “That’ll be us in twenty years”—but tonight he knew he was the topic of their silent conversation.
Get used to it, he thought. He was lucky the media wasn’t already camped out on his front stoop after what had happened today.
“Nellie,” Gloria called upstairs.
Clumping footsteps answered her, and Nellie appeared, tugging Sarah behind her—the stranger in their family drama. She looked a bit stunned and overwhelmed. Tommy regretted allowing her to join them.
“We were washing up,” Nellie said, letting go of Sarah’s hand long enough to raise her own for inspection. Only a few smears of magic marker and paint. She took her seat beside Tommy. The dishes were on the sideboard waiting for Gloria to dole out servings of pasta and sauce direct from the pots on the stove. Gloria’s maiden name was Burgoyne, and it was from her that Charlotte had gotten her auburn hair, but when she’d married into the Callabrese family, Gloria had quickly learned how to cook proper Italian food.
Sarah pulled back the vacant chair at the foot of the table, preparing to take a seat, when Nellie cried out, “No. That’s Mommy’s chair.”
Sarah flushed and glanced down at the place setting. They always set one for Charlotte, a habit that had turned into a hopeful ritual. Magical thinking, the trauma counselor called it. “Sorry. I didn’t—”
“It’s all right,” Tommy reassured her, using that fake-too-bright voice he despised. “Sit beside Nellie.”
“Is that all right with you, Nellie?” Sarah bent down to Nellie’s eye level as she asked.
“Yes, please sit here. And if you don’t like your meatballs, it’s okay, I’ll eat them for you.”
“How can I resist an offer like that?” Sarah said
with a smile, the tension broken.
Gloria began to place steaming bowls of pasta before them, and everyone began to talk, complimenting the cook and talking about Nellie’s adventure. From his spot at the head of the table, Tommy closed his eyes, absorbing the feeling of family. It was an intoxicating illusion, but it was broken as soon as he opened them again and his gaze fell on Charlotte’s empty seat.
Chapter 23
WITH TRAFFIC, IT was almost an hour later by the time TK and Lucy reached the parking area at Fiddler’s Knob. There was one other vehicle in the lot, a dusty Ford pickup. TK was feeling a bit carsick from squinting at the photos Wash sent to her phone during the trip, but they’d found three possible areas to investigate.
Lucy parked her Subaru and popped the trunk. TK watched as she balanced on the rear bumper and changed into a pair of hiking boots. It was the first time she’d seen Lucy’s brace, a molded piece of plastic designed to keep her foot from drooping and dragging on the ground. It was also the first time she’d seen the extensive braid of scar tissue extending above the brace and Lucy’s sock—and she knew there was worse hidden below.
“You going to be okay on the trail?” she asked. “It looks pretty steep in places.”
Instead of answering, Lucy surprised her by hesitating. TK would have felt better if Lucy had snapped at her for questioning her fitness; uncertainty in Lucy was not something she was comfortable seeing. It made her seem too vulnerable, human.
After lacing the boots tight, Lucy reached into the trunk for one more item: a hiker’s walking stick with a wide rubber tip. “I’ll manage.”
TK smiled. Leave it to Lucy to find a workable compromise without admitting weakness.
Then Lucy handed her a small knapsack. “Flashlight, gloves, other gear that might come in handy.”
TK glanced up the mountain. She’d been raised in West Virginia, had gone fishing and hunting with her father when she was young, but that was to put food on the table, not because she liked the woods.