Paige had gone to the party with Sarah, and she’d been determined not to go home without her. Sarah was having too good a time dancing and had refused to leave with her sister. She remembered telling Paige, “You never want to have any fun. Go, if you want. I’m staying.”
Paige had left alone. And disappeared. And never been found. Sarah had never stopped feeling responsible.
Many, many nights since then Sarah had woken up in a cold sweat, fleeing nightmares of what had happened to her elder sister, feeling regret and guilt and wishing she could relive that night and make a different choice. Sarah was certain that if she’d gone home with her sister, Paige would be alive today.
Sarah had tried to explain to her husband why it was so important to her to find the girls who’d gone missing in Jackson. That it was a way of seeking absolution for her part in Paige’s disappearance, a way of sparing the families of those girls the hell she’d lived with for the past fifteen years.
Tom had insisted the past was done and over, and that he was here now and needed her. She’d ignored him. And he’d disappeared. And she’d felt she was to blame. Again.
Sarah desperately wanted to find the three missing girls. Alive. It was almost an obsession. It was the only way she could make up for the past, the only way she could escape her guilt, if not her pain.
When Clay wasn’t able to offer another suggestion for how to find his daughter, Sarah said, “You might want to question Kate’s friends at school again. Maybe they’ll remember something.”
“All right,” Clay said.
“You can call me anytime,” she said. “Here’s my home number.” When she saw their looks of surprise, she repeated, “Anytime.”
“Thank you,” Libby said. “We’ll call if we find out anything.”
After they left, Sarah sighed and dropped into the chair behind her plain wooden desk. Her small office was at the end of a labyrinthine hallway, but at least she had a door she could shut, which she did now.
It was much worse, she knew, not to know what had happened to a loved one, than to face the knowledge of their death from foul play. At least when you knew what had happened, you could bury the dead and go on with your life. Sarah had never been able to put Paige to rest. She would always wonder what had happened to her sister.
Which was why she’d spent so much time, to the detriment of her marriage, searching for the missing teenage girls. Once a trail went cold, it was only a matter of waiting for a body—or in this case, bodies—to show up.
Sarah fought against accepting that eventuality. Which was why she was going to spend some of her time today looking around Jackson to see if she could find any more clues that would lead her to Kate Grayhawk.
Sarah straightened when she heard a knock on the door and said, “Come in.”
“Well, now. Here you are, Deputy Barndollar.”
“Detective Barndollar,” Sarah said, bristling at the smile on Drew DeWitt’s face because she was so glad to see it. “What can I do for you, Mr. DeWitt?” she asked in her most official voice.
Drew made a tsking sound. “It was Drew and Sarah last night.”
“Last time I looked the sun was up. What do you want?”
“That’s no way to treat a citizen of the county, Detective Barndollar. Especially one who’s come here on an official visit.”
Sarah ground her teeth. Trust Drew to put her on the defensive. And on the spot. She rose and put her hands on her hips above her utility belt, because she was feeling intimidated by his towering male presence on the other side of her desk. “I’m listening. Talk.”
“I had an idea where we might look for Kate.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t suggest it to Mr. Blackthorne, since I believe he’s your friend.”
“It’s because Clay’s my friend that I don’t want to go looking for Kate with him,” Drew said.
Sarah met his gaze and realized what he was implying. “You think she’s dead.”
Drew nodded. “Clay called and told me you found Kate’s backpack on 25 Short, and that her money and credit card were still inside.”
“Where is it you think we should be looking for Kate?” Sarah asked.
“There’s a hunting cabin in the woods near 25 Short. I think whoever took Kate might have hidden her there.”
Sarah frowned. “I’ve been in those woods. I’ve never seen a cabin.”
“It’s not much of a cabin, just a place some mountain man put together as a shelter a hundred and fifty years ago. It’s completely hidden by brush and trees.”
“How did you find it?”
“Clay and I used to ski 25 Short. We got separated one day and I found it.”
“You never told your friend about it?”
Drew shook his head. “A lot happened that day. It kind of slipped my mind.”
“Until now.”
“Until now,” Drew said. “Do you want to take a look with me or not?”
“Sure,” Sarah said. “My shift is over. I need to change out of uniform and check in with my kids first.”
Drew’s mouth twisted, and Sarah said, “You don’t have to like the fact that I have kids, but I could do without the aggrieved faces whenever I mention them.”
“I don’t have anything against your kids personally,” Drew said. “And I admire people who think they can raise good kids. I just don’t happen to believe I could manage it myself.”
Sarah grabbed her coat and headed for the door as she asked, “Why not?”
She felt Drew’s hand on the small of her back urging her through the door as he said, “Too much uncertainty.”
“About what?” Sarah asked, edging away from his hand as they made the trip through the maze of corridors to the back of the building where her Chevy Tahoe was parked.
“About whether you’ll fail,” Drew said.
“I’ve got skis on the roof,” Sarah said. “Did you bring yours?”
Drew pointed to a shiny black Porsche with a ski rack mounted on the roof holding a pair of cross-country skis.
“Nice wheels,” Sarah said.
Drew grinned. “It pays to be rich.”
“And modest.”
Drew shrugged. “No sense pretending. Might as well enjoy the fruits of my forebears’ labor.” He transferred his skis to the Tahoe’s roof as he muttered, “Couldn’t spend it all if I tried.”
“Have you been trying?” Sarah asked, standing on the opposite side of the Tahoe.
“I’ve earned every penny I’ve spent,” Drew said as he finished lashing on his skis and let himself inside the SUV.
Sarah frowned, then got in behind the wheel. “You just said—”
“I can’t help the fact that my grandfather’s money came to me,” Drew said, fastening his seat belt. “But I can choose whether or not to spend it.”
Sarah fastened her seat belt and started the vehicle. “It sounds like you didn’t care much for your grandparents.”
“My stepgrandmother was a Bitch—with a capital B. She’s the reason my brother—”
Sarah eyed Drew sideways as she pulled out of the lot, wondering whether she should prompt him to finish his sentence. She wasn’t sure how well she wanted to get to know him. From the hint of anguish she’d heard in his voice, whatever had happened to his brother hadn’t been good.
Once home, Sarah quickly changed her clothes in her bedroom, leaving Drew to wander around her living room. She took advantage of the moment of privacy to check in with her kids on the phone.
“How are you doing?” she asked when Brooke answered the cell phone the kids shared.
“I haven’t seen Nate since he took the tram up to the top of Rendezvous Mountain this morning,” Brooke complained. “I’ve been stuck with Ryan all day.”
“I’ll talk to Nate when he gets home,” Sarah promised. “Let me speak with Ryan.”
“He’s skiing,” Brooke replied.
“By himself?” Sarah asked.
“He’s a good skier, Mom. Any
way, I told him to stay on the bunny slopes.”
Sarah knew that was no guarantee that he had. “Please go find him, Brooke.”
Silence met her on the other end of the line. Finally, Brooke said, “All right.”
“I mean it, Brooke,” Sarah said, hearing not only reluctance, but defiance in Brooke’s response. She felt helpless, torn in two. She needed to go be a mother. Yet she felt compelled, in a way she couldn’t deny, to search for the missing girl.
“You worry too much, Mom,” Brooke said. And then, before Sarah could interrupt, continued, “I’ll find him. I promise.”
“Thank you, Brooke.”
Brooke clicked off the phone in response.
Sarah took a deep breath to calm her agitation, then headed back to the living room.
When she reappeared, Drew pointed to a picture on the piano and said, “Is that your husband?”
“That’s Tom.” Sarah was surprised by the sudden lump in her throat. She missed her husband, missed their normal, up-and-down married life. She wished…
“You miss him,” Drew said flatly.
She met his gaze. “I loved him. Of course I miss him.”
“Even though he walked out on you?”
“I don’t think that’s what happened,” Sarah said. “He did a repair job on Bear Island that morning. There was nothing to indicate anything out of the ordinary. He just…didn’t come home that night.”
“He didn’t pack anything? Nothing was missing?”
“Nothing. No pictures, no money from the bank. Only Tom’s truck. And Tom.”
“Did you search Bear Island?” Drew asked.
“We did. And found nothing,” Sarah replied.
“Did you drag the river for his truck?”
Sarah frowned. “There was no reason to do that.”
“Why not?” Drew asked. “Maybe he had an accident, went into the river and—”
“There’s no road leading to the river that he could have driven off of,” Sarah said. “There’s only a walking land bridge from the houses to the actual island.”
Drew shrugged. “Just a thought.”
Sarah didn’t want to think about Tom. It hurt too much. “Let’s go,” she said.
They drove in silence through Jackson, past the quaint town square. A lot of towns had preserved a plot of grass in the middle of the business district, but in Jackson, each of its four corners was adorned with an impressive, freestanding archway of sun-
and-wind-bleached elk antlers.
Like most of the tourists who passed through Jackson on their way to Yellowstone National Park, an hour’s drive away, Sarah had taken her share of pictures in front of the unique arches. The antlers also provided a temptation for tourists and local teens—to take just one—that was hard to resist.
Sarah waited for Drew to comment about the elk preserve on their right as they headed out of town, but he acted as if the enormous herd of elk that wintered every year on Jackson’s outskirts was nothing out of the ordinary.
She would have used any comment he made as an opening to find out more about him, but at last she decided simply to ask the question on her mind. “Does whatever happened to your brother have anything to do with your attitude toward children?”
Drew slanted a glance in her direction but didn’t answer. She’d learned long ago that the best way to get a perp to talk was to stay silent herself. They traveled for ten more minutes before he spoke.
“I’ve never understood what would make someone decide that the best solution to his problems is to kill himself,” Drew said.
“Ah,” Sarah said. Now she knew what had happened to Drew’s brother. All she lacked was the details. “I don’t suppose it’s a person’s first choice,” she said. “Maybe when all else fails—”
“Death is never a better choice than life.”
“Was your brother ill?” Sarah asked, wondering if he might have chosen death over the disintegration of his body during a terminal illness.
“He was only twenty-three and healthy as a young bull. He’d just finished law school and been recruited by a high caliber New York firm. He had his whole life ahead of him.”
“Oh,” Sarah said.
Silence reigned in the Tahoe for another five minutes.
“I blame my grandfather’s second wife. The proverbial wicked stepgrandmother,” Drew said. “She made sure Dusty felt unwanted and unimportant and…useless.”
“How did you escape her clutches?” Sarah asked.
“It’s a long story.”
“I’ve got time.
Drew stared out the window as he spoke. “My grandfather had two daughters, my mother Ellen and Clay’s mother Eve. He fell in love with a woman named Shelby and divorced my grandmother, who fell apart and turned to alcohol and drugs. She finally slashed her wrists three years later.”
“That’s terrible!” Sarah said.
“I wasn’t born yet when all that happened,” Drew said sardonically. “The good part comes later.”
Sarah made a face. “How can you make fun—”
“My life was anything but funny,” Drew said bitterly. He turned and looked out the window again, regaining his composure, then began talking as though he hadn’t stopped.
“Shelby had a daughter Elizabeth, my aunt Liz, who became the favored daughter.”
“That sounds way too much like the fairy tale about the wicked stepmother and the ugly stepsisters,” Sarah said.
Drew glanced at her and said, “Only the wicked stepmother part applies in this case. Aunt Liz was always nice and very pretty. Shelby was hell on wheels. She thought she ought to run all three of her daughters’ lives.”
“Uh oh,” Sarah said.
“She couldn’t stop my mother Ellen from marrying the man she loved, but Shelby didn’t like Dusty’s and my father, so she hounded him until he divorced my mother. Mom married a second husband, my stepbrother Morgan’s father. He lasted a couple of years before Shelby ran him off.
“If Shelby didn’t like you—and for some reason, she took a dislike to Dusty—she knew what to say to make you feel like a bad person,” Drew said.
“She sounds like an awful woman.”
“She was,” Drew said. “She’s the reason Aunt Eve married Jackson Blackthorne instead of King Grayhawk.”
Sarah turned to him in surprise. “Really?”
Drew nodded. “Aunt Eve was being courted by King, but Shelby didn’t want her stepdaughter going so far from home, so far from her grasp and control. So she told a few lies to convince Aunt Eve that Blackjack was the better choice. My aunt became a Blackthorne, and the rest is history.”
“Whatever happened to the wicked stepgrandmother?”
“She’s still alive and kicking in the hill country of Texas, madder than a peeled rattler because my grandfather left his ranch in Texas to his daughters—and her daughter. My grandfather’s will stipulated that each of the three sisters had to name the other two as their heir to the DeWitt property, so the ranch would stay in one piece. My aunt Liz, the only sister living, owns the entire DeWitt ranching operation.”
“I’m confused,” Sarah said.
“About what?”
“If you know your grandmother was a terrible person—and the exception, rather than the rule, as grandmothers go—why do you think you wouldn’t be a good parent?”
“Kids need too much.”
“You’ve just told me you have more money than you can spend in your lifetime,” Sarah pointed out.
“They need attention,” Drew qualified.
“You could hire a registered nurse or a nanny.”
“Love,” he said curtly. “They need too much love.”
“I can’t disagree with that,” Sarah said. “Everyone needs to be loved. Surely you—”
“I’m done loving,” Drew said, cutting her off.
“Right,” Sarah said. “I forgot about the girlfriend who dumped you.”
“She’s none of your business.”
<
br /> “I suppose she was the straw that broke the camel’s back.”
Drew made a disgruntled sound in his throat. “Let it go.”
“I have to admit true love wasn’t any part of what I had in mind last night,” Sarah said. “Just some satisfying sex.”
Drew eyed her with interest. “That can still be arranged.”
Sarah laughed. “It wouldn’t work now.”
“Why not?”
“I should have said that what I wanted was anonymous sex. Now I know too much about you.”
“Lady, you know nothing about me,” Drew retorted.
“Very little, I’ll admit,” Sarah said. “What I do know makes any involvement between us impossible.”
“You should know better than to throw down a gauntlet like that.”
“I wasn’t offering a challenge, just stating a fact.”
Drew snorted. “You’re lucky my head still hurts.”
Sarah eyed his bruised forehead. “Did you have that checked out by a doctor?”
“I’m fine.”
“Except your head still hurts.”
“It’s nothing,” he insisted.
Sarah suspected Drew, like many of the men she worked with, would have to be prostrate before he’d seek out a doctor. Which made her wonder whether she should head up into the mountains with him on skis. “Maybe you should tell me where this cabin is and let me go on my own.”
“I would have done that, if I’d thought you could find it without me,” Drew admitted. “It’s tucked into the trees so well I didn’t see it myself until I nearly tripped over it.”
“Why are you so sure you can find it again?” Sarah asked.
“I know exactly where I was, because thirty seconds later I was on my way down that mountain in the middle of an avalanche.”
Sarah stared at Drew. “And you’re willing to go back up there?”
“For Kate I will,” Drew said soberly.
For the first time Sarah noticed the beads of perspiration on his upper lip. “What’s your relationship to Kate Grayhawk?”
He turned to stare at her and said, “Let’s just say I care about her and leave it at that.”
Sarah believed Drew knew full well that Clay was Kate’s father, but in case he didn’t, she couldn’t admit she knew the truth. “How did Kate Grayhawk get under your ‘no kids’ radar?” she asked instead.
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