Turning, she saw an unfamiliar old-school station wagon with wood-grain sides. She hadn’t seen one like it since she was a kid, she thought. It pulled to a stop, and a smiling woman got out, her head of snow-white hair like a soft, fluffy cloud. Twinkling eyes, crinkled at the corners, gazed her way as the woman waved a hand.
“Hello,” she called. “Dr. Overton?”
Carrie nodded and, since the woman was hurrying toward her, trotted down the steps and met her in the driveway.
“I’m Rose. Rose McQueen. I know it’s terribly presumptuous of me to come by in person like this, but I just had to try.”
Rose McQueen. Carrie’s rapid-fire brain ran the name through its files and found a match. If only she could be so efficient in figuring out where she’d heard the name Gabriel Cain before.
Now what was he still doing on her mind?
“Yes, I remember,” she said, tugging herself back into the moment. “You phoned me last week about the room over the garage.”
The woman nodded. “Yes, and you said you weren’t going to be renting it out this year.”
Carrie nodded, catching a whiff of the woman’s perfume, which reminded her of her grandmother’s flowery favorite scent. “It’s just with the circumstances—”
“The missing boy. I know. I’ve seen the flyers. And you have a son of your own, so I completely understand why you wouldn’t want a stranger around right now.”
“Exactly,” Carrie said. She didn’t add that she wasn’t all that worried about strangers, since she didn’t think Kyle had met with any sort of foul play. No, she was more concerned about the gossip-seeking tabloid junkies and money-seeking amateur sleuths, all sniffing around for information on the missing baby from sixteen years ago.
“But still, I wanted to come by. Partly because most people just love me once they meet me,” Rose said, exaggeratedly batting her eyelashes and offering a coy smile that had Carrie smiling right back. “And partly because I figured you could tell at a glance that I’m no menacing kidnapper type.”
“I can see that you’re not at all menacing.” The older woman wore a long floral print jacket that floated when she moved, over a plain white button-down top and dressy brown trousers. The jacket gave the outfit flash, color, style and motion, and it looked expensive.
“Oh, wait, I almost forgot.” The woman opened the very large quilted shoulder bag she carried and tugged out a plastic container with a tight-fitting lid. “These are for you and your family. A blatant attempt at bribery, I admit. But you get to keep them even if you don’t change your mind.”
Carrie took the container, which was semitransparent. “Brownies?”
“The best brownies in the universe. Even if you say no now, you’ll be saying yes after you eat your first bite just in hopes you might get another batch.”
Carrie laughed out loud that time. She liked this lady.
“Now, I promise I won’t make a pest of myself by asking again after today. This is my last-ditch effort. But I haven’t been able to find a vacancy anywhere else in town, and the woman at the store said you usually rent out that garage apartment to tourists in the fall, and I really want to be here as the leaves begin to change this year. I’ve missed it so much.”
Carrie lifted her brows. “You’ve been here before, then?”
“I grew up here,” Rose said. “Well, until I was ten and my family moved west. I told myself I’d have one more autumn in Shadow Falls before I died. And I’m not one to complain, but it looks like I might not have too many more autumns in me.”
Carrie blinked and knew the woman had her. How could she say no to a plea like that? And it was true; she usually did rent out that room, more as a favor to the town than out of any real need for the extra cash. Shadow Falls encouraged its year-round residents to make use of extra space that way, because it was good for tourism. The regular rooms booked up a year in advance, but the town hated to turn away anyone who wanted to visit. Especially lately, when times had been tough. The ski resort owners were having more trouble than anyone. Poor Nate Kelly was talking about selling his Sugar Tree Lodge. The winters just hadn’t been producing the snow they used to, and making it was expensive. But while the ski business was the one in crisis, things were tightening up for everyone in the tourist industry, so providing a room for overflow visitors was Carrie’s little bit of public service for her adopted hometown. But she hadn’t intended to do it this year.
Until now. “Well, I don’t know,” she said, teasing the woman back a little. “Maybe I’d better taste one of these brownies first.”
Rose smiled, knowing she’d won her case. “I think I like you, Dr. Overton.”
“Call me Carrie.” She pointed to a spot beside the garage. “You can pull the car up right there. I’ll run in and get the key, and then I’ll show you the room.”
Rose beamed. “Oh, thank you, Carrie. Thank you so, so much. You can’t possibly know what this means to me.”
“Sam Overton, right?” Gabe had seen the familiar giant red SUV pull up in front of the old firehouse, watched the boy get out, and felt a surprising letdown when he noted that the female with him was the cute little blonde girlfriend and not his redheaded mother. He’d been looking for her amid the crowd of volunteers since he’d arrived fifteen minutes ago.
The firehouse was like something out of a forty- or fifty-year-old snapshot, a small wooden structure with a giant bell on top that would have to be rung by hand. Handpainted lettering spelled out Shadow Falls Fire Station. Gabe figured there was probably an old-fashioned pole inside, too.
Behind and to the right, there was a big modern fire station with three bays, overhead doors and speakers mounted on the roof. But the town had the good sense, in Gabe’s opinion, to keep the old one. And not only to keep it, but use it. It fit here, nestled amid the maple- and pine-covered hills that were just beginning to come alive with color.
Sam glanced at Gabe then looked again. “Right, you’re the guy who helped out with Marty at the game earlier.” He extended a hand as he added, “Thanks for that.”
“No problem. How’s he doing?”
“Fine. Great. So you’re joining in the search, then?”
“Yeah, your mom told me about it. I, uh—I thought she was going to be here.”
“She’s gonna be late. We got a boarder at the last minute, and she had to get her settled in.”
“A boarder?”
“We rent the little apartment over the garage when there’s overflow at the local inns and stuff.” Sam winced, partly due to the elbow in his rib cage. “Sorry,” he said to the girl who’d thrown it. “This is my girlfriend, Sadie.”
Gabe extended a hand to the pretty cheerleader, remembering her from the soccer game—match. “Gabriel Cain,” he said. “Good to meet you.”
She opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off by Sam, who gaped and said, “Not the Gabriel Cain? The songwriter?”
Gabe lowered his eyes. “Yeah, but I’m kinda keeping that to myself for the moment.”
“Why? I’d be wearing a T-shirt with my platinum records all over it!” Sam looked at Sadie, who was wearing a puzzled frown. “It’s Gabriel Cain. You know. ‘Birds in the Wind,’ ‘Silent Song,’ ‘Sunbeam’…”
Her brows went up as Sam said, his voice growing louder with every word, “He wrote them. And tons more. He’s freakin’ famous.”
“Again,” Gabe said, “keeping a low profile here.”
“Sure, sure, I got that. But damn, Gabriel Cain, right here in Shadow Falls. Hey, I play a little, you know. We should jam or something. How long are you going to be in town?”
Gabe smiled, loving the kid’s enthusiasm. “I don’t know yet. I tend to go where the wind takes me.”
“Dude, that must be amazing.”
“It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Cain,” Sadie said. “A real honor. I’m sorry I didn’t recognize your name, but ‘Silent Song’ is one of my favorites. It’s on my iPod.”
“Thanks.” He s
hifted his focus to the boy again. “I’d love to jam with you, Sam. I’ve got my guitar in the bus, so we can get together whenever you have time.”
“The bus? You brought a bus? How are you gonna keep a low profile with a—”
Gabe cut him off with a nod toward his vehicle. “Not a tour bus. A VW Bus,” he said.
Sam looked at it and grinned. “You call that low-profile? What is it, a sixty-four?”
“Sixty-five. I call her Livvy.”
“Livvy? Old girlfriend?”
He nodded. “Yeah. She was as much of a wreck when I found her as the bus was. I managed to do for the bus what I couldn’t do for the girl.”
“What’s that?” Sadie asked.
Gabe shrugged. “Save her, I guess.”
Sadie looked sad and lowered her head, but the sentimental moment was completely lost on Sam, who was moving closer to the bus with the other two left to follow in his wake. He ran a hand over the paint, the giant flowers and psychedelic swirls of yellow and green, and shook his head. “You restored her yourself?”
“I had help from friends here and there, but mostly, yeah, she was my project.”
“What’s under the hood?”
Gabe smiled. “Nothing like what’s under yours, kid. I heard you earned that Ford the hard way.”
It was Sam’s turn to look embarrassed. “It wasn’t as big a deal as the professor made it out to be.”
“I kinda doubt that.”
The kid looked up into Gabe’s eyes, and Gabe had a moment of stark revelation. There was something about the boy’s eyes—something painfully familiar. Or maybe he was just getting way too into wishful thinking.
“Looks like something’s happening,” Gabe said, nodding at the uniformed men now moving through the crowd, urging people to break into groups of ten or so.
“Yeah, time to go. I’d love to see the inside of the bus sometime, though.”
“I’ll let you drive her later, if you want.”
“Really?” Sam beamed, but then his smile faded as he heard a cop on a megaphone begin the routine speech about how the search would unfold this evening, what areas would be covered, and what someone should do if they found anything.
Anything, Gabe knew, meant Kyle Becker, Sam’s missing friend. And, more than likely, it meant his body. Because finding him in the woods alive didn’t seem a very likely scenario. He could only hope the kid wasn’t in the woods at all but had run away, as the curly-maned doctor theorized. He clapped a hand to the boy’s shoulder. “Hang in there. I know this is a rough time for you.”
Sam met Gabe’s eyes and shook his head. “I don’t think we’re gonna find him, Gabe. Not…not alive, anyway.”
Sadie gasped. “Don’t say that, Sammy!”
“Sorry, I just—I know Kyle. He wouldn’t run away without saying something, you know? He’d have told me if he was thinking about something like that. And it’s not like he’s got any reason, you know? Not like you do, Sadie. If anyone was going to run away, it would be you. But not Kyle. He had it good. Great family, no issues. He had no reason in the world to take off.”
Gabe looked at Sadie, wondering just what her home life must be like if her boyfriend felt she had reason to run away. But she misread the look and seemed to think he was looking for her to confirm Sam’s words.
“He’s right, Gabe. Kyle wouldn’t just leave. Hell, even I wouldn’t do that. Not without telling someone.”
“Not without telling me,” Sam said, sliding an arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer to his side.
“You know it, Sammy.” She leaned her head on his shoulder. “Come on, Gabe. We’ll all get in the same group.”
“Thanks. I was kinda hoping you’d ask. I don’t know anybody else in town.”
“Other than Carrie, right?” Sadie said. And she had a little twinkle of speculation in her eyes as she said it.
“Other than Carrie. Right.”
They walked together, the teens arm in arm, melding into a group that looked a few searchers short. Another man came hurrying along with them, apparently looking for fellow stragglers to join up with.
Gabe recognized him. He had brown hair, closely cut, styled with the help of too much gel. His skin was startlingly tanned in contrast to his light brown hair and brows, and his dress shoes were totally unsuited to hiking through the mountains. Gabe had seen him at the soccer game—er, match, he thought with a little smile. He’d only noticed the guy because they’d been reading the same issue of the same tabloid. And because he’d been the only guy at the game wearing a suit and tie. This afternoon he’d chosen dress pants that were probably thin enough to let stray briars stick through, and a sporty black and yellow jacket he’d probably picked up in town. It looked brand-new.
“Mind if I join up with your group?” the man asked, addressing the kids, not Gabe, which Gabe found a little off-putting.
“It’s not our group,” Sam said. “But sure, come on.”
“I didn’t think I was going to make it on time,” the stranger added with an exaggeratedly heavy breath. “Just heard about this.”
“Are you from out of town, too?” Gabe asked.
The man looked at him as if he’d only just noticed his presence but sent him what seemed to be a genuine smile. “Yes, I am. Ambrose Arthur Peck,” he said, extending a hand.
“I’m Gabe.” Gabe shook hands with the newcomer. “Where are you from, Ambrose?”
“Milwaukee. I’m CEO of an investment firm there. Manlin, Taylor & Strauss. Have you heard of it?”
“No,” Gabe said. “But don’t think of that as a bad thing. I only tend to hear about the ones under investigation by the FCC.”
Sadie pretended to cough, but only to disguise a snort of laughter. Gabe felt a little bad for sort of dissing the guy. Just because he himself didn’t like trying to impress people by sharing his résumé upon meeting them, that didn’t mean he ought to judge those who did. To each his own.
“I’ll have to get one of your cards,” Gabe said, to try to make up for it. “An honest firm that manages to be successful in this economy is a real find.”
The man looked at him as if doubting he had any money to invest, but he smiled and said, “I don’t have them on me, but I’ll make sure I do the next time we meet.”
“Great.” Gabe turned his attention to the people in the group they had joined. The rest were all locals, he thought. He caught a few names, tried to commit them to memory. Marie was the plump lady with the bad haircut who looked forty but was more than likely in her twenties, and she was a baker. Made pies and cakes for the local eateries, she said. The tall skinny guy who looked like an undertaker was Nate Kelly, and he owned one of the local ski lodges. There were others, but the names and faces blurred together. They chatted comfortably until a white-haired man with a face like a road map and wearing a police uniform stepped onto some sort of platform in front of the old fire station. Gabe couldn’t see what the platform was, due to all the legs around it, but he could see the cop clearly now that he stood a foot above everyone else, especially since the man was tall to begin with.
“Okay, pipe down,” the man said, and his voice was like gravel. “For those who are new, I’m Chief MacNamara, Shadow Falls P.D. Thanks for helping us out on this. We wish to hell we didn’t need it. You’re each going to get a copy of a map with your area marked in red. There’s a grid pattern on your maps, to make it easier for you to make sure you cover all the ground. You’ll each be given a whistle. If you find anything suspicious, blow the whistle. Don’t go near what you find, don’t touch anything. Just blow the whistle. The only exception to that is if you find a person who is alive but injured, and in need of your immediate assistance. Other than that, just blow the whistle. Is that understood?”
The crowd nodded and murmured.
“I mean it. Now, this is the boy we’re looking for.” He held up a poster with Kyle’s face on it. “Don’t worry. You’ll each get a copy. He was last seen five days ago, so
if he’s lost in those woods, he’s going to be hungry. You’re all getting a protein bar and a bottle of water to give to him if you find him and he’s able to eat it.” He looked to the side, where firefighters and cops were already beginning to hand out supplies to the searchers. The items were all packed into plastic drawstring bags made to be worn backpack-style, and one was being handed out to each searcher.
“We quit at dark,” the chief went on. “You’ll each have a team leader from the police or fire department, and I expect you to do what they tell you. If you don’t like that, go home. When the search ends and you return here, please put the supplies you’ve been given into one of these boxes up front, so we can use them again when we resume in the morning. Any questions?”
He paused for about a second and a half, then said, “Good. Now, Paul and Diana Becker have a word or two for you.”
Sam leaned close to Gabe. “Kyle’s parents,” he whispered. “They start off this way every shift, every day.”
“She looks exhausted,” Sadie said softly. “God, I think she’s aged ten years this past week.”
“No wonder,” Gabe said.
“Those poor people,” Ambrose muttered. “What they must be going through.”
Gabe nodded in agreement, then they fell silent as Paul Becker, a lumberjack-sized torso on a five-foot-six frame, took the chief’s place on the platform. Despite his bulk, Kyle’s father looked as if a stiff wind would blow him over.
“Diana and I want to thank you all for coming out. Our friends and neighbors—you’ve been here every step and we’re grateful. You out-of-towners—I don’t even know what to say. Takin’ time out of your vacations to help us, well, it’s pretty amazing. Thank you.”
He looked at his wife, who stood in the circle of his powerful arm. She had a raccoon look to her, but not from running makeup. The dark circles beneath her eyes were purely stress induced. She was a little stooped, too, but not, Gabe suspected, from osteoporosis.
Kiss Me, Kill Me Page 4