by Desiree Holt
The fairgrounds again. Dana swallowed back the bile rising in her throat. She already knew the answer to the next question she asked.
“Wouldn’t she have screamed?”
“Lily was the tenth child taken. Sheriff Nickels said there were traces of chloroform in each of their systems, so I’m guessing he sedated them immediately.”
Suddenly the odor of chloroform was strong in Dana’s nostrils, and she scrubbed her face with her hands, as if to wipe it away. “I assume all the clowns were questioned?”
Ivy tightened her grip on her mug. “Oh, yes. But no one could say exactly how many there were. Some said four, some said five. Even the clowns themselves weren’t sure.”
“Didn’t people think that was strange? I mean, someone had to hire them.”
“Afterwards I thought the same thing.” She shook her head. “But everyone was being so defensive, no one wanted to even admit to their own names.”
“I understand clowns were involved at some of the other events, too,” Dana prodded. “Didn’t anyone suggest it was time to stop using them?”
“The county changed companies, but most of the clowns were retired men who did this for fun. No one wanted to seriously think that one of them could be the killer. The pedophile.” She spat the last word. “And clowns had been a staple of every county activity for generations.”
“But—”
“I know, I know.” Ivy held up her hand. “I guess it was a case of not wanting to believe it could be anyone we knew. Someone we considered harmless.” She shrugged helplessly. “And then it stopped.”
Dana’s heart almost stopped, too, at the statement. She knew why it had ended, but she asked the question anyway.
“Did something happen?”
“Two little girls, Kylie and Carrie Nolan, were taken at the fairgrounds. Apparently, whoever the man was, he’d either stumbled on or knew about an old deserted barn almost ten miles from High Ridge. The land had been tied up in probate for years so no one ever bothered about it. But some high school kids were looking for a place to smoke dope and the barn looked pretty good to them.”
“Did they see who he was?” Her heart was beating erratically.
Ivy shook her head. “No. They must have scared him off. But they certainly got a shock when they swung their flashlights around inside the barn. Kylie was dead and Carrie just barely alive.”
Dana dug her fingernails into her palms. “Does anyone know what happened to their family?”
“Only that they left town right away. I think they moved to another state, but we never heard where. They buried Kylie and just…disappeared.”
Ivy Winslow had managed to pull herself together again, but Dana needed to get out of there. She hadn’t realized how emotionally she would be affected by all of this. Or how the memory of Kylie, the little sister she hadn’t been able to help, would be her undoing.
She gathered her purse and pushed back from the table. “I’ve taken more of your time than I intended. You’ve been very gracious and I appreciate it.”
“It isn’t graciousness,” Ivy denied. “Don’t be fooled. A lot of people in this town, me included, have read a couple of your books. That display in the bookstore window really draws people.”
Dana’s laugh was humorless. “The truth is, my publisher pays for that kind of prominent space. I’m glad to hear it isn’t wasted.”
“You have a good eye for things. If you can find even some little thing that will get this bastard after all this time, I’ll do anything I can to help you.”
“Thank you. A lot.” As Dana headed toward the door, Ivy’s words jangled an idea loose in her mind and she turned to the woman. “As a matter of fact, there is one thing if you wouldn’t mind.”
“Name it.”
“Maybe you could get a few of the other women together. Ease the way for them to meet with me, answer some of my questions. I know the men won’t talk to me.”
Ivy thought a moment then nodded her agreement, determination setting in on her face. “I’ll do it. Where are you staying? I’ll set it up and call you.”
“I’ve rented a house for however long I’ll be here. One night at the High Ridge Motel was about all I could handle.” She pulled out one of her business cards and wrote on the back of it. “This is my cell number. You can reach me twenty-four/seven. And thank you.”
Dana’s entire body was tight with the tears she’d choked back, and the pain in her chest threatened to overwhelm her. She was about three miles from the Winslow house when she found a place to pull off the road, away from traffic. Turning off the engine, she put her head on the steering wheel and cried harder than she had in years.
Chapter Seventeen
Shannon Fowler kicked a stone in front of her as she trudged down the dusty road from the bus stop to her house. She hated living out here in the middle of nowhere. Surrounded by pastures and hay fields, the Fowler house was the only one for miles. Her parents thought it was great. Her dad worked for the people who owned all the property. They gave him the use of the house for practically nothing, just for taking care of the hay and watching the cattle when they moved them into the closer pastures.
It also gave him a place to fix cars and trucks for people without having to rent a shop and worry about what he called “idiotic things like licenses.” People just brought him their junkers, he fixed them up and pocketed the money.
Her mother spent her days baking cakes and cookies that she sold to Harry’s Café and Patty’s Pastries. As the woman said so often, they weren’t ever going to get rich but they didn’t starve.
But Shannon hated it. None of her friends lived within walking distance and none of them had a driver’s license yet. That meant someone’s parents had to cart them, and that was often a problem. She daydreamed a lot about the day she’d graduate high school. A handsome man would ride into town in a brand new Ford F-150 and carry her off to a beautiful life on a big fancy ranch.
That’s what Shannon wanted. A ranch, where she could have her own horse and ride him any time she wanted. But at fifteen that possibility seemed a long ways away.
She heard the truck before she saw it, rumbling down the dirt road, kicking up stones around it. Who would be driving down this road at this time of day? Visitors were almost nonexistent. She stepped to the side to move out of the way, then smiled when it stopped and she saw it was someone she recognized.
“Hi,” she called and gave a little wave.
“Hi, Shannon. Early finish with school?”
“Yeah. They didn’t finish all the state testing yesterday. Those of us who did got out early.”
He nodded. “Used to love those days myself. So, you walking home?”
“Have to. Dad’s not gonna pick me up and mom’s usually in town this time of day making deliveries.”
“Well, then, if you don’t think your folks would mind, I don’t have a problem dropping you off at your place.”
Shannon chewed her bottom lip. She knew not to get in a car or truck with a stranger, but this was no stranger. Everyone knew him and her folks would probably be grateful he’d offered her the ride. Besides, walking down this road was such a pain in the butt. Making up her mind, she grinned. “Sure. That would really be great. Thanks.”
She tossed her book bag into the cab and climbed up to the seat, carefully fastening her seat belt.
“I’m sure glad you came along,” she said, tightening the belt. “What are you doing way out here in Noplace, anyway? Hardly anyone ever comes down this road.”
He chuckled. “Just taking a short cut to the Nobles’ ranch. Your road goes straight through and cuts off about five miles from the highway.”
“Well. Then I’m real happy you decided to do it today.”
“Oh, no, my dear.” He grinned. “The pleasure is all mine.”
While she was still settling herself in her seat, he pulled off on the side of the road, put the truck in park and fumbled in the center console.
Shan
non frowned. “What’s the matter? Is something wrong?”
“No, little girl. Something’s very right.”
In seconds, he’d pulled a damp cloth out of a plastic bag and clamped it over her nose.
Shannon gripped his forearm as hard as she could and tugged, kicking at him with her feet, a scream rising in the back of her throat. The stuff on the cloth smelled terrible and made her dizzy. She tried to keep fighting, but whatever she was inhaling made her weak and sleepy.
“That’s right,” she heard him say. “Just go to sleep, little girl. We’ll be there soon, and then we’ll have a lot of fun.”
As the darkness took her, Shannon’s last thought was she’d never been more scared in her life.
Chapter Eighteen
Dana thought about going to Harry’s for a quick lunch, but she was so disturbed by her visit with Ivy Winslow that she drove straight home. In the dining room, she booted up her laptop again and, while it was loading, made herself a cup of Tension Tamer tea. By the time it was ready, she had the book file open and began scrolling through it very slowly.
She sipped at the tea, hoping it would calm the jittery feeling in her stomach, feeling disorganized and hating it. With every other book, she had a pattern she followed. First the outline, filled in as she did her research. Then the list of questions, varied slightly with each person she interviewed. A spreadsheet she filled in as she acquired each new piece of information.
But being personally involved was throwing her off her game and she hated it. Hated what had happened back then and what was happening now. Clowns. How could some sick freak use something so innocent and so appealing to lure kids to their death? It made her nauseated just to think about it. Especially, since she knew how effective he’d been, how easily she and Kylie had been lured to danger.
Kylie. Oh, God. All these years she’d managed to put the image of her sister’s body at the back of her mind. Remembering the touch and feel of the man was bad enough. But last night, Kylie had been front and center in her nightmares, her adorable little face blending with the image of her body and thighs smeared with blood.
Yesterday, on the Internet, she’d found three other cases besides the Kellys where clowns had been mentioned. Today, Ivy Winslow had added a fourth. Now, she went through the information she’d copied from each incident report looking for more. By the time she finished, she found the mention of clowns nine times.
Nine times!
Dana leaned back in her chair, running her fingers through her hair. Idly, she slipped the scrunchee off her wrist and pulled her hair into a somewhat messy ponytail to keep it out of her face.
Why hadn’t anyone ever put this all together? Why hadn’t the old sheriff—what was his name? Nickels?—seen some kind of connection here? If he was any kind of cop, he should have picked up on it. How much did he remember now?
She’d track him down and arrange to see him. She knew from the article she read about his retirement that he’d sold his house in town and lived on a few acres not too far from the Winslows. Pulling up the white pages web site, she searched for his address and phone number.
“Hello?” The voice of the woman who answered was slightly breathless, as if she’d run to pick up the phone.
“My name is Dana Moretti,” she began. “I wonder if I might speak with Sheriff Nickels?”
“Whew! Let me catch my breath a second. I was just out in the yard when I heard the phone ring.” Pause. “My husband hasn’t been sheriff for a few years now. If you call the office, they’ll get you to the new one, Cole Landry.”
“I know he’s retired, Mrs. Nickels. I understand. But he’s the one I’d really like to speak with. Is he home?”
A longer pause. When she spoke again, her tone changed. “You’re that woman who’s wanting to write a book about what happened to those kids all those years ago. Right?”
“Yes, that’s correct. I’ve written a number of books about unsolved crimes, and I’ve had success working with the people involved.”
“You need to leave this one alone,” the woman snapped.
Dana sighed. She should have known nothing about this would be easy. “Mrs. Nickels. I’m going to write the book whether I talk to the folks of High Ridge or not. But I want it to be as accurate as possible so for that purpose, I need to interview people who were involved in the situation, like the sheriff. I’d just like a few minutes of his time. Is he available?”
“No, he’s not. He won’t be home until this afternoon, but I know he won’t want to talk to you. Just leave him alone. It was a terrible thing he went through, not being able to find that killer. It still haunts him.”
“I’m sure it does,” Dana said smoothly. “And I’ll bet he has a message he’d like to send to those parents after all these years. This would be a wonderful way for him to do it.”
“I don’t know.” The woman’s voice dropped a tone. “This business with Leanne Pritchard has him upset all over again.”
“Would you just tell him I called? I’ll try again this afternoon to reach him. If he’s home, I’d like to come by for a little while.”
The woman was silent for so long Dana thought she might have hung up on her. Finally, she said, “I’ll give him your message. Then it’s up to him.”
Dana ended the call and reached for her tea but found it cold. Making a face at the bitter taste, she dumped it in the sink and made a fresh cup. Then she sat back down at the table.
Two of the reports hadn’t contained any mention of clowns. Was that because there weren’t any around or because they had been overlooked? Or hadn’t anyone seen either of those children run after a clown? Dana wrote down the names of the families and did a search for their telephone numbers. Maybe she could talk to one of them before speaking with the sheriff.
The sheriff. That conjured up Cole Landry’s face, and the sensation of his presence. Her physical reaction to him frightened her. She was such an emotional cripple that up until now just the thought of a man touching her between her legs made her stiffen with fear. But Cole stirred unfamiliar feelings and inspired dreams more erotic than she could imagine. Their very promise of pleasure confused her even more.
She wanted a truly loving relationship. She wanted to get married someday. To have children. Things Kylie would never be able to do. Ever. That’s why she’d started this journey to hell. She saw finding the pedophile and finally being able to move on with her life as a responsibility to Kylie’s memory. She should be living for both of them. Thus far, she’d been doing a really lousy job.
Sighing, she jotted down the addresses for the Garzas and Escobedos, the two families whose case reports made no mention of a clown. After stuffing down a peanut butter sandwich and a glass of milk, she combed her hair and freshened her makeup. The Garzas lived the closest. She’d try them first.
****
Cole had been all over the place interviewing the kids who’d been at the park one more time. Exhausted, he decided to stop at the Bishop ranch and bounce ideas off Tate. His uncle was just coming from the barn when Cole pulled into the driveway.
“Decide to take me up on dinner?”
“Maybe.” Cole gave him a tired smile. “At least a drink. I think I could use that first.”
A sympathetic look washed over the older man’s face. “Let’s get to it, then. Come on.” He led the way into the house.
“Tate?” a voice floated out from the kitchen. “That you?”
“It’s me. And with a surprise,” he answered.
Adele Bishop hurried from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her jeans. When she saw Cole, her face lit up and she turned her cheek for his kiss.
“What a nice surprise. We hardly get to see you these days.”
“My bad.” He pulled out a grin and gave her a hug. “But I’m here now.”
She looked at Tate. “I didn’t even hear you drive up. Did you get all your errands finished?”
“Most all. Cole and I are going to hide in the den and have a
drink. Then I’ll twist his arm to stay for dinner.”
“Wonderful.” She smiled at him. “Your favorite. Smothered pork chops. I’ll yell when it’s ready.”
“So how’s it going?” Tate asked when they were settled in big chairs with aged bourbon.
“Not great.” Cole set his Stetson on a small table and ran his fingers through his hair. “I’ve been out talking to the high school kids again but didn’t get one more thing out of them. I’m telling you, Tate, this whole thing is making me sick.”
“I know, son. I’m just hoping you’ll catch a break.” He took a healthy sip of his drink. “But if it’s just some transient passing through, you may never get him.”
Cole made a fist and smacked his thigh. “Damn it. This time, I’ll find the bastard. We won’t have another one of these things hanging over the county.”
“You need to do something about that writer, too.” Tate took another sip of his drink. “People are upset that she’s raking all that old stuff up again.”
Cole tensed, a surge of protectiveness for Dana blindsiding him. He knew those kisses would come back to haunt him. “You know I can’t run her out of town. She hasn’t broken any laws. And maybe she’ll find something Nickels missed all those years ago.”
“She’s trouble, Cole,” he muttered over coffee. “Jed Nickels was a good lawman. We don’t need anyone stirring up old memories best left buried. Who knows if all this gave some other nut job ideas and Leanne’s just the first victim.”
“I’d hate to think that. And I know Dana would be distraught if she thought that was the case.”
“Dana, is it?” Tate looked at him with shrewd eyes. “Not getting into bed with the wrong people, are you, son?”
Cole grunted. “Not anywhere near getting into bed.”
Except that was exactly what he wanted, if he could just slay her demons. Cole had a gut feeling it had to do with the old child murders. But what? What was the answer to the riddle of Dana Moretti? He was determined to find the key to unlock her secrets. But at the moment, he was ass over tea kettle in this horrendous murder, and she had a wall around her ten feet high.