Echoes of Terror

by Maris Soule

  “Sarah Wilson. The Wilsons’ oldest daughter. Remember? She was supposed to come over and fix your dinner tonight.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t think I’ve had any dinner.”

  “I’m going to check inside,” Officer Ward told Vince. “I’ll only be a minute. I’m sure he’s had dinner. He just forgets.”

  “Go ahead.” Vince didn’t see any way to stop her, and it felt good to stretch his legs. He stepped closer to the old man. “So, you grow roses.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  To Katherine’s dismay, she didn’t see any dishes or silverware in the drain, and when she checked the refrigerator, the food she’d left for Sarah to prepare was still sitting there, untouched. As far as Katherine could tell, her grandfather had been right. He hadn’t had any dinner.

  It took her less than a minute to find the phone number for the Wilsons. Sarah’s mother answered on the second ring. “I’m glad you called,” Mattie Wilson said. “Could Sarah come home for a short while? I forgot something at the store and I need to go get it, but I don’t want to leave Austin and Susan alone.”

  “Sarah’s not here,” Katherine said. “That’s why I called. As far as I can tell, she hasn’t been here at all tonight.”

  “But she has to be.” A note of panic entered Mattie Wilson’s voice. “I mean, where else would she be?”

  “I’ll take a look through the house, but she didn’t fix my grandfather’s dinner, and . . . Hold on, just let me look.” Katherine put the phone down on the counter and made a quick tour of the house. The television in the living room was off, there was no fourteen-year-old sprawled out on the couch, and Katherine’s bedroom and her grandfather’s were empty. When Katherine again picked up the phone, she was worried. “Mattie, she isn’t here. I don’t think she’s been here at all today.”

  “But she has to be. She was all excited about this job and left early. I think she wanted to talk to you before you left for work.”

  “I left early today,” Katherine said, confused by what Sarah’s mother was saying. “Maybe it wasn’t me your daughter wanted to see. Maybe by leaving early she figured she had enough time to visit with one of her friends. Do you think she might be over at one of their houses? That she forgot she was supposed to be here?”

  “Sarah? No, not Sarah. Austin, yes. He gets with his friends, and he forgets everything. I never know where he’ll end up. But, with Sarah, if she says she’s going to do something, she does it. She—” Mattie stopped, and Katherine heard her take in a shaky breath before she asked, “Where could she be?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Doris Goldstein had grown accustomed to the rhythmic clack of the train’s wheels on the track, along with the to-and-fro sway of the car. She couldn’t say the same about the view out the windows. The brochure used the words “breathtaking” and “spectacular” to describe the White Pass & Yukon Route, and she would admit it was amazing that anyone could lay a hundred and ten miles of track on a cliff that climbed from sea level to almost three thousand feet in twenty miles. But it was exactly that climb, the tight curves, and the idea that at any moment the train might go crashing down the side of the mountain that had her closing her eyes for a good part of the ride. She might live on the twenty-third floor of a New York high rise, but she didn’t walk along the outside of the building on a space barely wider than a hallway. Even the tunnels scared her.

  “Such a lot of trees,” her husband, Ira, said. “Open your eyes, Doris. You’re missing the view.”

  “What I’m about to miss is my lunch,” Doris said, but she opened her eyes. At least they were heading back to Skagway. Soon this ordeal would be over. “How can you see?” She dared a look out the window. Although the sky was still light, the river valley between the mountains was bathed in shadows.

  “I can see.” Ira held the binoculars toward her. “Look across the valley. There’s a tour bus on the road over there. With these glasses, it looks like it’s only a few feet away.”

  “I know, I know. Such a good deal you made buying those. You’ve been telling me that every day since you bought them.”

  In spite of her grumbling, she took the binoculars and looked across the pass at the bus traveling down the Klondike Highway. Once she’d adjusted the focus, the bus did seem as close as her hand. She could even see a break in the guardrail the bus was passing.

  “They should take care of that,” she said.

  “Take care of what?”

  “That broken guardrail. Guardrails are there for a purpose.” Using the binoculars, she looked farther down the side of the mountain. “Do you think someone went over the side?”

  “How should I know?”

  Spruce and fir trees were interspersed with rocks and boulders. How shrubs and trees managed to grow on such a rugged surface was beyond her. The valley looked as if a giant had chiseled his way through the granite mountain, making a colossal wedge.

  As deeply shadowed as the valley had become, she could see fairly well. A touch of silver amid the green caught her eye, and she grunted.

  “What?” her husband asked.

  Doris lowered the binoculars. “There’s something down there.”

  “You saw something?”

  “That’s what I said.” She handed the binoculars back to him. “A truck. Or a car . . . Something.”

  Ira raised the glasses to his eyes and stared out the window. “I don’t see anything.”

  “Halfway down.” She tried to find the spot without the binoculars. They were rapidly moving away from the area, and she couldn’t be sure exactly where she had seen what looked like the back end of a vehicle.

  “I see nothing,” Ira repeated.

  “It was there.” She sat back in her seat. “We’re too far away now.”

  “Maybe. Or maybe you saw a rock that looked like a car. I’m hungry. I hope we get back to the station soon.”

  “You’re always hungry,” Doris said. “And it was no rock. I think that’s why the guardrail is broken. Someone drove over the side.”

  “So, I’m sure somebody’s reported it by now.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. We need to tell someone.”

  “So, who you gonna tell?” He put the binoculars back in their case and snapped it shut.

  “Someone,” Doris said, looking around the train. Where was a conductor when you needed one?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Vince knew something was wrong the moment Officer Ward stepped out of the house. For a moment she simply stood on the doorstep, staring ahead. He had a feeling she wasn’t even aware of his presence.

  He saw her shudder, saw the quiver of her chin and the tightness of her mouth. Leaving her grandfather’s side, Vince walked over to her. “What’s the matter?”

  Her head jerked, and she looked at him. Even so, it took a moment more before he knew she saw him. Her voice was shaky when she spoke. “We’ve got another teenager missing.”

  “Another runaway?” It seemed too much a coincidence.

  “No. I don’t think so.” She took a deep breath. “I mean, I don’t think she’s run away. Maybe she’s just with friends. Maybe . . .”

  She didn’t finish, and once again she was staring off into space. “So, what are you going to do?”

  “Do?” She looked at him, and then abruptly turned back toward the house. “I need to call Sergeant Landros.”

  Vince glanced at her grandfather. The old man was once again hoeing around his flowers, his actions robotic and producing little results. He seemed totally unaware of his granddaughter’s distress. Vince followed her through the side door into the house.

  He stepped into a small room, hooks on the side walls holding a variety of coats and jackets, while boots and shoes were scattered about on the floor. Another door—open—led to a spacious kitchen. Officer Ward stood by the counter, phone up to her ear. Vince leaned against the kitchen doorway and listened.

  Tension radiated from every inch of the officer’s body, her breathi
ng shallow, and her words stilted. “You’re sure?” she said. “I mean . . .” She paused. “No, I understand.”

  She placed the phone back in its cradle and stared out the window above the sink. Vince cleared his throat, and she turned and looked at him. “Is everything all right, Officer?” he asked.

  “I don’t know.” She sighed, and then forced a smile. “Probably. Probably just a case of a forgetful teenager.”

  She looked at the refrigerator against the opposite wall. “Gordon told me to go ahead and fix my grandfather some dinner, and to get something to eat myself. He said, while I’m doing that, he’ll check around town. He thinks the girl who was supposed to come here probably got sidetracked and is with friends.”

  “And what do you think?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Concern laced her words, making him worry. “How old is the girl?”

  “Fourteen.”

  He saw her frown, and then shake her head, as if brushing away another bad thought. Her smile was tight. “As long as I’m making sandwiches, do you want one?” Again, she shook her head. “No, of course you don’t.”

  “A sandwich sounds great.”

  “No, no.” She waved a hand in the air. “You’ll get a better meal in town. The Corner Café isn’t far from here.”

  “I’d rather have a sandwich.” Actually anything sounded good. It had been a long time since he’d eaten. “Anything I can do to help, Officer Ward?”

  “Maybe set the table.” For a moment she stared at him, then she managed a smile. “And I guess if we’re going to have dinner together, you can call me Katherine.”

  “And you can call me Vince.”

  He found where they kept the flatware, dishes, and napkins. She made turkey sandwiches and heated a can of tomato soup. Her breathing remained shallow and her mind seemed to be elsewhere. Finally, he asked, “Are you close to this girl?”

  She jerked around and looked at him, and he knew she’d forgotten he was even in the kitchen. “Close?”

  “You seem very upset.”

  “I . . . No. I mean, yes. Around here, we all know each other, but . . .” She shook her head. “I’m . . . I’m just worried.”

  She walked to the door and called to her grandfather. Vince waited out of the way until the old man came inside, washed his hands, and sat down at the table. Katherine set food in front of her grandfather and then went to the refrigerator for a bottle of milk.

  Vince stood by the table, waiting for her to sit. Her grandfather started to eat, stopped, and looked up. “Well, are you going to stand there all day? Sit down. Katherine, bring your boyfriend some food.”

  “Coming right up.” Katherine motioned for Vince to sit in the chair to the right of her grandfather. “He’s not my boyfriend, Poppa. Mr. Nanini’s helping me with a case.”

  The old man merely grunted and started slurping his soup. She poured his milk, then looked at Vince. “Milk okay for you?”

  “Milk’s fine,” he said, though he would have preferred a stiff drink.

  The sandwich and soup weren’t anything special, but they were better than the granola bar and coffee he’d had that morning or the overcooked hamburger he’d gotten the night before while waiting for his flight out of Washington’s Reagan National.

  Initially he hadn’t been overly worried when he received Tom’s phone call; he really thought Tom was overreacting. He’d thought Bob would be in Seattle and could go to the Morgan house and check Misty’s emails. It was only when Vince learned that Bob was also out of town that Vince decided—for the sake of friendship, and maybe the fear of losing the Tomoro contract—he would take a red-eye back to Seattle. Now he was glad he had.

  His food gone, Vince noticed Katherine had barely touched hers. One bite, maybe two, of her sandwich and a spoonful or two of the soup. She might be an officer who went by the book, but she obviously cared about the people she served. Knowing what had happened to Misty had eased some of his fears, but he wouldn’t feel relieved until they’d found her. Damn, headstrong kid.

  As soon as they finished eating, Katherine stacked their dishes in the sink and gave her grandfather a kiss on his forehead. “I’ve got to go, Poppa,” she said. “I’m going to go look for Sarah. She’s missing.”

  Vince also stood. “Nice talking to you, Mr. Ward.”

  “Nice talking to you.” The old man pushed himself away from the table and started looking around. “Did we get a bill, Katherine?”

  “We’re at home, Poppa. You don’t have to pay for dinner.”

  “Oh.” He smiled up at Vince and sat back down. “That’s good, isn’t it?”

  “Very good.” Vince shook the old man’s hand. “Take care.”

  “I’ll be back in a while,” Katherine started for the coat cloak room. “If Sarah shows up, tell her to call her mother.”

  “Sarah?” The old man frowned. “You mean the little Wilson girl?”

  “Yes, but she’s almost grown up now. She’s a teenager, Poppa.” Katherine paused at the door. “You coming, Nanini?”

  “My granddaughter went missing when she was a teenager,” Russell Ward said, and sighed. “She was gone for a long time.”

  “Your granddaughter?” Vince looked at Katherine. “Is he talking about you?”

  Katherine had a hand on the knob, but she didn’t open the door. Like a deer caught in the headlights, she stood frozen in place.

  “I think I’ll go watch some TV,” the old man said and slowly stood and moved away from the table.

  “You coming or not?” Katherine asked, a throaty rasp to her words.

  “I’m coming,” Vince said, hurrying to follow Katherine out of the house and to the Chevy Tahoe. “Did you run away?” he asked before she had the vehicle’s door open.

  “What I did as a teenager is none of your business,” she said and slid into the cruiser.

  She was on her radio-phone by the time he made it to the passenger side and climbed in. Vince said nothing until she signed off. “News about Sarah?”

  “Maybe.” Katherine started the motor. “Gordon thinks she might be in Dyea, at a rafting party. From what he’s learned, a lot of kids were going there.” She slipped the Tahoe into gear and backed out of the drive.

  “If there’s a party, maybe Misty’s there.”

  “I’ll look for her.”

  “I thought I was going with you.”

  “No.” She glanced his way. “Buckle up. I think it would be better if I dropped you off at the airport.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  This time Katherine ignored his protests. She wanted Vince Nanini out of her cruiser and out of her life. The man asked too many questions, and her grandfather had said way too much. Why did that particular memory have to come back while Vince was in the house? She and her grandparents had vowed never to talk about her past, not to anyone in Skagway. Why couldn’t her grandfather have remembered that?

  She made the drive from her grandfather’s house to the airport in less than three minutes. Not that she had to drive fast. Skagway’s one-runway, no-control tower, public airport was located only three blocks from her grandfather’s house. “I should go with you,” Vince argued as she pulled into the parking area.

  “No need. I’ve got their pictures.” Katherine motioned toward the two photos they’d been showing in the RV parks. “If they’re at the party, or if any of the kids at the party have seen them, I’ll let you know right away.”

  “If I’m with you, I’ll know right away,” he said, not moving out of the cruiser.

  “This is not open for debate, I—”

  The call that came over her radio stopped her. For a moment she didn’t move, didn’t breathe . . . and she had a feeling Vince Nanini didn’t either. And then he groaned. “Did he say a green Chevy Blazer?”

  That was what she’d heard.

  “Where did it go off the road?” he demanded. “Where are they talking about?”

  “The Klondike Highway,” she said and a
gain put the Tahoe into gear. She knew she shouldn’t take him with her. She also knew he’d get there, one way or another.

  “Damn.” He sank back against the seat. “How long ago did it go over the edge? Are they dead?”

  “Vince, hush.” She’d turned on her siren, but she needed to concentrate as she made her way toward the highway. “You’re hearing as much as I am.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  8:30 P.M.

  Charles Bell heard the chatter on the radio and smiled. The police were on their way.

  Finally.

  He’d known he would need a police radio. Getting one had been easy. A few questions asked, and he’d picked his target. A police officer who liked to fish. Unmarried. A friend of Russell Ward.

  In Skagway, the police were friendly, accustomed to tourists’ questions. “Do you know a good fishing spot?” he’d asked, and Officer Friendly was hooked.

  The poor guy never saw it coming. Just like the Graysons never did.

  The first calls that had come through the radio that morning had been inquiries about Phil Carpenter’s whereabouts, along with reminders that he was on the schedule to work today. Then came the warnings that he was late. As time progressed, the voices became more demanding, concerned. “Phil, where are you? Are you all right? Check in . . . please.”

  Was he all right?

  Evidently they hadn’t found Officer Carpenter or they would know the answer to that question. Maybe they would never find him. It had certainly taken them long enough to find the Blazer.

  Bell glanced at the clock on the wall. Talk about inefficiency. Over twelve hours had passed since he’d watched the kid’s SUV go off the road and over the edge. He’d almost resorted to making an anonymous call, but now he could hear what was going on, could imagine their reactions.

  The buzz on the radio excited him. They were swarming to the site like bees to the sweet nectar of new blossoms. The image aroused him, and he licked his lips.

  For the last few hours, he’d forced himself to ignore the pressure in his jeans. He was in Skagway to do a job, and until he knew the father would get the message, he’d put aside his own needs. But now—at last—she would understand what was happening. She alone would realize it wasn’t just the money he was after.