by T. R. Ragan
As she stood there looking at her brother’s home, a gust of wind blew her hair to one side. Strange, she thought, when she noticed the door was ajar.
A prickly unease swept up her spine. Back in the day, Eric would have come outside the moment he heard a car pull up. Where was he? If she’d had her cell phone, she would have called him and told him she was on her way.
Gravel crunched beneath her feet as she walked. It was too quiet.
Making her way up the wooden ramp, she bent down to take a closer look at the stain she saw there.
Was that blood?
She brushed her finger through a splatter of red. Her pulse accelerated. Up ahead she saw a bloody footprint.
“Eric? Trista?”
There was no answer. She used her sleeve to open the door wide enough so she could see inside. Stepping over the threshold, she followed the bloody trail of footprints to the back room, where she found her brother tied to a chair, his throat slit open. Trista lay naked on top of the bed, blood everywhere.
Diane stood there for a moment, taking it all in. A small part of her knew she should be horrified. At the very least, overwhelmed by her brother’s demise. But her only thought was, Shit. Where was the girl? The McMann girl was her chip, her ace in the hole, her way out of this shit hole of a town.
She hurried to the other room. Checked the closet and under the beds. It didn’t take her long to realize the girl wasn’t there. That didn’t surprise her, but the fact that someone had taken the time to rape her sister-in-law did. For years she’d watched Aster and his men at work. “Get in and get out” was Aster’s mantra.
She went back to the bedroom, careful not to leave her fingerprints behind.
On top of the dresser she found her brother’s wallet. Using the sleeve of her shirt, she took his credit card and what little cash he had, then opened drawers and went through his things, taking anything of value. As she walked to the corner of the room, where her brother sat in a chair, his head slumped to one side, she felt a pang in her chest at the thought that it was her fault he was dead. That one small emotion made her feel better about herself. She wasn’t heartless. She would miss her brother.
Whoever had done this had come for the girl.
She knelt down and used the tips of her fingers to close her brother’s eyes so his glossy orbs weren’t staring at her as she slid the gold band off his finger. With that done, she went through the closet and grabbed some of his wife’s clothes and anything else she might need while she figured out what to do next.
ELEVEN
It was way past midnight by the time Lilly Gray entered the bedroom and climbed under the covers. Her first and last thoughts every single day were of her grandchildren, Lara and Hudson. A worrier by nature, she’d never once imagined anything like this happening to her family. Lara was such a quiet little girl. How would she ever stand up to those monsters? And yet she worried about Hudson for the opposite reasons. He was bold, sometimes fearless. Would those traits get him into more trouble than he could handle?
Disturbed by her thoughts, she had a difficult time settling in for the night. But then Russell reached for her. Although she and her husband hadn’t said two words to each other since his return from taking Bri and the girls to the airport, she didn’t pull away when his hand settled gently on her arm.
“It’s easy for families and people in general to stay together when things are good,” he said. “But when things are bad—with everything going on right now—I don’t know if I can handle this without you by my side. I need you with me, Lilly.”
Silence hovered between them before he tried again. “Bri needed space—I could see it in her eyes. Think about it. What would have happened if I hadn’t helped her get away? She would have been a cancer to this family right now. She was freaking out. We needed to let her go. She needs time.”
“What about Colton?” she asked, her voice not much more than a whisper.
“Colton will understand. I’ll talk with him.”
“Bri should have called him.”
“She knew he would have tried to stop her, and what could he have done about it while he was hundreds of miles away?”
Her back was to him, but she turned so she was facing the ceiling. They had been married long enough for him to take it as a truce. He leaned closer and kissed her cheek. “Not every decision I make will be the right one,” he said. “But for the sake of our family, the two of us have to stick together and be as one. We need to be strong for everyone.”
After a quiet moment stretched between them she asked, “What do we do about Faith? I don’t know if you’re seeing what I’m seeing, but she’s not the same girl she used to be. She’s not the same girl she was before you all raided the farmhouse and came home without Lara. If we don’t find those kids, I don’t know if she’ll get through this in one piece.”
“You’re right. She’s not the same girl.” He sighed. “We’ve both got to come to grips with that and do our best to help her through this as well as we can so hopefully there are still pieces of our daughter left when all is said and done.”
“If we find our grandkids, they’ll never be the same, either.”
“No, I don’t suppose they will be. I guess none of us will ever be the same. We could lie here each night and pretend and wish, but it still won’t be so.”
“You’re an old fool,” she said, turning to him, “but I love you.”
He reached for her and pulled her close. “I love you, too. Don’t you ever forget it.”
Beast followed Rage out of the house, not at all surprised by her refusal to let the strong winds and cold air stop her from taking her morning run. As always, he kept his distance. She didn’t like anyone hovering or watching her too closely.
About five minutes into their run, he noticed her form was off. Leaning too far forward, Rage appeared to be putting too much force into each step, and she wasn’t using her arms to drive her legs.
Less than a minute later, she went down fast, using both hands to break her fall before rolling to her side.
He could hear her cursing as he rushed to her side. Her knees were scraped. “You’re hurt,” he said as he leaned over to pick her up.
She slapped his hands away. “I don’t need your help! I’m not an invalid.”
He straightened but didn’t move, merely waited out the storm continuously brewing inside that head of hers.
She scowled up at him. “Why do you do this?”
“Do what?”
“Why do you watch over me like you do? It’s annoying. I’m not your lover, your sister, or your child. I’m nothing to you.”
It wasn’t often she took her frustrations out on him, but when she did he knew it was best if he let her use him as a jousting post. “We’ve been over this a million times.”
She tried to push herself to her feet, but her legs wouldn’t hold.
Day by day she grew weaker. His heart wilted.
“What’s happening to me?”
“I don’t know, but you’re going to the doctor.” He leaned over again, scooped her into his arms, and marched back toward home as she pummeled his chest with her fists.
“I won’t go. There’s nothing they can do.”
“They can help you with the pain.”
“I told you I don’t need help. Put me down.”
Ignoring her, Beast walked the half mile or so back home. He didn’t put her down until they were in the house where they lived with his father, Little Vinnie. The man had no business being called little anything, but he’d picked up the name in high school after he’d sprouted from five feet to six foot four by his senior year.
Little Vinnie liked to cook. When they came through the door, he was cooking up some eggs and sausage.
Beast set Rage on the couch.
She tried to kick him but was too weak to do any damage.
Little Vinnie turned off the stove, opened a cupboard, and found the ointment he’d made from honey, turmeric, ginge
r, and olive oil. He then made his way to the couch and took a seat next to Rage.
Beast had no idea how Little Vinnie had come up with the concoction, but he’d been rubbing it on her arms and legs since she was first diagnosed and given six months to live. His dad had read somewhere that her muscles would grow weak and sore and thus massaging the ointment into her skin would relieve some of the pain. It had become one of their daily routines, and she never tried to stop him.
But she did continue to bitch, muttering under her breath, as Little Vinnie massaged the ointment into her limbs starting with her left shoulder and working his way downward to her elbow. She succumbed quicker than usual, her head falling back into the cushions as he worked his magic.
After taking a shower, Beast dressed and then headed out the door without saying a word to either of them. He didn’t know where he was headed, but he needed to get away. He needed to breathe.
They were losing her.
Rage had refused treatment since it would not save her life. She was fond of saying she preferred to live while she died. She’d suffered through a seizure but had developed no verbal, cognitive, or motor loss until today.
The reality that she was dying right before his eyes, slowly but surely, struck him in that moment. He climbed into his truck, his hands wrapped tightly around the wheel. He thought back to the day when he’d received a call that his daughter and wife had been killed in a car accident.
It happened so fast. A kid texting and driving hit them head-on. Wham. Bam.
But with Rage it was happening so slowly.
There were so many things he wished he’d had the time to tell his wife and child before they were taken from him. And here was his chance to tell Rage how much she meant to him. She was like the daughter he’d never had the chance to raise, and yet the words always stuck in his throat like old, crusty bread. A slow death was not easier. Either way, losing someone you loved sucked.
How could he ever tell Rage that he loved her as a father loves a daughter? It would only come out sounding like a goodbye, and he wasn’t ready for that, didn’t know if he’d ever be ready.
TWELVE
Faith stood off to the side as a dozen men worked the scene. She’d made the two-hour drive to the Central Valley with Detective Yuhasz. He’d seemed deep in thought for most of the ride, so she’d let him be. Now she stood looking over the ribbon of canal water that ran next to grazing lands and almond orchards.
Agents Burnett and Jensen of the FBI were there, too. Agent Burnett was a tall woman, easy to spot in a crowd. She looked over at Faith and tipped her chin in acknowledgment.
The valley’s infamous fog made the hills look pale and the sky gray. The canal water the men were searching through was brown and murky, impossible to see to the bottom. They had been looking in this particular area for a girl who recently went missing. A farmworker had reportedly seen a car go into the canal shortly after the child was taken. And that’s when a diver had brought up the license plate that ended up being registered to Craig McMann. Detective Yuhasz was contacted, and here they were.
Yuhasz had mentioned on the drive that the canal was often referred to as an “underwater junkyard,” stretching nearly 117 miles through the valley. The canal authority pulled out fifty to one hundred cars every year. The waters also held weapons, remnants of meth labs, and the bodies of murder victims.
Since arriving early this morning, they had pulled out a motorcycle, two sedans, a pickup truck, a Ford Explorer, and finally her husband’s SUV.
After hook and chain were attached, the familiar car was pulled slowly from the canal. A wave of sickness swept through her. She struggled to breathe normally as the car was dragged from its watery grave. Rust-brown water seeped from every crevice, leaking onto the ground around the men’s feet.
She kept her distance, even found herself taking a few steps backward.
Why had she come?
A surge of anxiety and fear set in as she turned about and walked back to Detective Yuhasz’s car. She no longer wanted to see or know what they found inside. She didn’t want to be here at all. Her legs felt heavy as she walked. Sharp pains sliced through her as she continued onward. She couldn’t breathe, and her heart felt as if it might burst.
When she reached the car, she stopped, hands on hips, and bent over until she managed to fill her lungs with air. After a moment she climbed into the passenger seat, closed her eyes, and concentrated on breathing. Minutes stretched into eternity until Yuhasz opened the door and got behind the wheel. “Nothing inside,” he said.
“Nothing at all? Are you sure?”
“Nothing we can see with the naked eye. They’ll dry the vehicle, tow it our way, and then forensics can do the rest.” He turned on the engine, waited for her to buckle up, and then drove around the other vehicles before merging onto the main road back toward home.
Thank you, God, she said inwardly as the news slowly seeped into her consciousness. Hudson wasn’t in the car. Hudson was out there in the world somewhere. He was the bravest kid she knew. He would be fine. Lara and Hudson would be fine.
After a while, when she was calm again, she looked at Detective Yuhasz and said, “Thank you for bringing me here today. I appreciate it.”
“Not a problem,” he said. “How’s the rest of the family holding up?”
“We’ve been better. Colton’s wife took the kids and went to live with her parents in Florida. My brother’s on the road and doesn’t have a clue.”
“Why didn’t she tell him?”
“I think she was afraid he would talk her into staying, and that was the last thing she wanted to do.”
“Family is a fragile thing.”
“You have a daughter and a son?”
“Two daughters. One is married with two kids of her own. The other has a girlfriend. They’re talking about adopting.”
“What about you, Detective?”
He raised a questioning brow. “What about me?”
“What do you do for fun in your spare time?”
“Fun? Never heard of it. What is that?”
She smiled. “Stupid question. Sorry.”
“Not a stupid question. I’ve been known to hit a few dives in Sacramento and show off my karaoke skills. My daughters have accused me of being stuck in the 1990s, but who cares as long as I’m enjoying myself, right?”
Faith had a difficult time imagining the detective singing onstage, but she nodded just the same.
“I enjoy a cold beer every once in a while,” he added, “and I used to win a few bucks playing billiards.”
“I’ll have to dig out my cue stick,” Faith said, “and play you sometime.”
“You’ve got yourself a deal.”
It was quiet for a moment before Faith said, “I used to think the world was filled with rainbows and unicorns, and, sadly, I’m not joking.”
He said nothing.
“How blind can one person be?”
Keeping his eyes on the road, Yuhasz said, “Ignorance is bliss for a reason. There’s something to be said for not being born in the middle of a war zone or being lucky enough to escape the grittier parts of life.”
“Yeah, I guess so. Out of sight, out of mind.” She thought about Craig and tried to recall what their last words had been the morning of his death. Nothing came to her. Death could be a fickle fellow. “All those people out there struggling to survive,” she said, speaking her thoughts, “and yet in the end there’s no getting around the inevitable. The grim reaper will come. Guaranteed.”
“When death will come,” Yuhasz said, “he won’t go away empty.” He glanced at Faith. “An old proverb.”
“I’m not afraid of death,” Faith shot back. “I just don’t want to be there when it happens. Woody Allen.”
There was a long pause before Yuhasz added, “Inside each of us, there is the seed of both good and evil. Eric Burdon.”
“There are a thousand hacking at the branches of evil to the one who is striking at the
root. Henry David Thoreau.”
“Nice.”
“Agreed.”
Beth Tanner took her plate to the kitchen and stared out the window as she rinsed. The wind, she noticed, had knocked one of her good chairs into the pool in the backyard. She wiped her hands on a cloth before making her way through the sliding glass door leading to the pool. At closer view she realized she wouldn’t be able to save the chair without using the aluminum pole with pool brush stored in the garage.
She cut across the side yard, surprised by the strength of the wind. Overhead, tree limbs crackled and snapped as the squall blew through the branches. Careful to shut the gate behind her, she considered leaving the chair where it was until the weather calmed. Before heading inside, though, something in the distance caught her eye.
As her hair whipped about her face, she stood motionless, her gaze fixed on Faith McMann’s house across the street. Most would say it would be silly of her to believe it could have been anything more than a shadow playing tricks on her, especially during a sudden windstorm. But nonetheless, she didn’t move. She’d learned long ago to trust her instincts, feel the energy around her, the ground beneath her feet.
There it was again.
The dark shadow was actually a person. He or she was inside Faith McMann’s house, walking one way and then the other. Looking for something perhaps?
Chair forgotten, she entered her house through the garage, went to the kitchen, and grabbed the phone. She was about to dial the police, but she stopped herself. “Screw that,” she said aloud as she smacked the receiver back in place. What good had the police done Faith other than throw her in jail and cause her more grief?
Beth had been home watering plants in the front yard the day Faith’s husband was killed. After hearing a scream, she’d put her dog inside the house, and when she’d rushed outside again she’d seen Craig McMann’s car take off down the road between their houses. She found Faith choking on her own blood. Being an ER nurse, she’d known it was too late for Craig, so she’d worked on Faith. It was a miracle she was able to save her.