Ready, Aim...I Do!: Missing

by Debra Webb

  Inside the shack, considerable evidence indicated that Polly Shepherd had been held there. But there was no sign of the child now.

  More frightening was the blood trail that led from the floor of the shack, across the porch and deep into the woods. The blood had run out but the evidence that a body had been dragged had not.

  Chief Talbot lifted his hand. “Hold up.”

  Jonathan studied the ground in front of the chief. A broken clump of small tree limbs indicated that perhaps whoever had been dragged wasn’t quite dead at that point.

  Talbot crouched down and inspected the ragged brush. “Those forensics techs here yet?”

  “Ten minutes out, Chief,” one of the deputies reported.

  Talbot shook his head. “We need them now.”

  Jonathan scanned the woods in front of them. The hum of the river was louder now. They were close. His instincts warned that the body—whoever it belonged to—had been dumped in the river. Perhaps while the victim was still alive.

  Jonathan crouched down near the chief. “This trail appears to be too large for a child’s body. The perp would simply have carried the child.” That was the only good thing about this day so far.

  He glanced back toward the shack. Melissa and her uncle were being detained at the road. They didn’t need to see any of this...not until they knew something conclusive about the victim.

  “I’d say you’re right.” The chief pushed to his feet. “Looks like we’re headed to the river.”

  The chief’s face had paled. He took out a handkerchief and dabbed at his forehead.

  The two deputies trailing their steps stared at the ground. Jonathan was clearly missing something here. As the chief moved forward, Jonathan hung back, falling into step with the deputies.

  “Man, this sucks,” the deputy to Jonathan’s right mumbled.

  “It does,” Jonathan agreed.

  The deputy shook his head. “More than you know.”

  The other deputy cleared his throat and exchanged a look with his colleague.

  Jonathan slowed his step, hoping to slow the progress of the other two men. “What does that mean?” he asked when the chief was several meters ahead.

  “This is the river where his daughter drowned.” The one who’d spoken nodded toward the chief.

  “He and his family used to come here in the summer and fish and swim,” the other deputy said. He shook his head. “This place has been deserted since that little girl died.”

  Jonathan processed the information. Why would someone keep Polly Shepherd hidden away here of all places? The better question at the moment was who killed Stevie Price? And who else had been murdered in this place? Judging by the amount of blood the victim who’d been dragged had lost, it was unlikely he or she would’ve survived in or out of the water.

  Why had Stevie bought a bus ticket for Nashville and then hidden away out here? From what Melissa had told him, Stevie lacked the mental capacity to formulate such a complex plan. Jonathan looked up and around at the thick canopy of trees that almost completely blocked the morning sun.

  The tree line broke as the land disappeared into the murky water. Chief Talbot was moving faster now. Jonathan quickened his pace to catch up to him.

  When they reached the water’s edge, the chief staggered a bit. Jonathan moved up behind him, covertly steadying him. The chief glanced at him, a glimmer of gratitude amid the agony in his eyes.

  The deputies scoured the shoreline. Jonathan studied the rocks protruding in the shallower sections of the water. “There.” He pointed to a cluster of rocks down river. Barely visible was something light green or bluish.

  Chief Talbot waded into the water.

  “Chief, wait,” one of the deputies called after him. “I can do that.”

  The chief kept going, trudging through the hip deep water toward what appeared to be a body trapped between two large boulders.

  Jonathan was right behind him. He consoled himself with the fact that the body—if it was a body—was far too large to be Polly’s.

  The chief stumbled. Jonathan helped him up then plunged forward to reach what was indeed a body, facedown, caught between the rocks. He touched the carotid artery. Definitely dead.

  “This one didn’t make it, either,” Jonathan said as the chief approached.

  Talbot steadied himself and nodded to the body. “Turn it over,” he said to his deputies. “Let’s see who this is and get ’em out of this damned river.”

  The two deputies wrestled the bloated body free of the rocks and turned the man face up.

  Scott Rayburn.

  “Holy Moses,” the chief muttered.

  “We’ll get him to the bank,” one of the deputies said. He looked almost as pale as the chief.

  Talbot motioned for the two to get on with it. He plowed through the water, stopped midway to the bank and surveyed the area.

  Jonathan stayed close by. The man had the look of one about to keel over.

  “This just doesn’t make sense,” the chief said more to himself than to Jonathan. “Why would Stevie and Rayburn do something like this?”

  Jonathan didn’t have to point out the obvious. A third party was involved. He understood what the chief meant. Why would either man be involved in abducting Polly Shepherd?

  “I guess this explains why Harper is dead.”

  Chief Talbot shot Jonathan a look. “I’d say so.”

  Harper had lied, it would seem, about seeing Price get on the bus. Whoever had prompted him to do so had obviously gotten nervous and tied up that loose end. But why? What did Harper and Price have in common? And what did that have to do with Rayburn’s accusations against Harry Shepherd, if anything? Was there bad blood between the elder Shepherd and Rayburn?

  Not according to Melissa.

  “Oh, Lord, have mercy.”

  The chief fell against Jonathan. “I’ve got you.” As soon as the man was steadied, he lunged through the water. “Wait, Chief...”

  Then Jonathan saw what had captured the chief’s attention, what had taken him to his knees.

  Amid the thick growth lining the shore a dozen or so meters away a small blond head bobbed in the water.

  Jonathan bounded forward, the water pulling at his legs. His heart rocketed into his throat.

  No. No. No. Don’t let it end like this.

  He reached the bushes before the chief. Jonathan reached through the limbs and closed his fingers around the...doll.

  Jonathan’s knees gave out under him. He sank into the water, its murkiness lapping at his neck. The chief practically fell on top of him.

  “Let me see. For God’s sake, let me see.”

  Jonathan held the doll up for his inspection.

  A sob tore from the chief’s throat.

  It was a while before either of them could walk back to shore. By the time they reached Rayburn’s body and the two deputies, the forensics techs had arrived.

  Chief Talbot sat down on the ground and held his head in his hands.

  The deputies worked with the techs to attempt recovering any trace evidence. At some point the coroner arrived to examine the body.

  Jonathan watched, unable to speak or act. When he’d seen the blond head in the water all he’d been able to think about, besides the tragic loss of a child, was what this would do to Melissa, and to her family.

  He closed his eyes and blocked the kind of pain he hadn’t allowed in in years. Not since he’d watched his men, his squad, die one by one because he refused to talk. To sell out his country.

  That was when he’d stopped allowing himself to feel. Melissa had stirred the desire to feel again, but he’d blocked her out, too.

  He’d stopped being human and he’d lost her because of it.

  Jonathan opened his eyes. Fury tightened his jaw. Whoever had done this to her and her family, he would find them and he would make them pay.

  Chief Talbot managed to pull himself together enough to finish the job he’d come here to do. He gave the order to
drag the river.

  If the doll was confirmed as belonging to Polly, and Jonathan felt certain it would be, the next step would be to search for her body.

  He needed to break this news to Melissa before she heard it from the crowd that had in all inevitability gathered at the road. The news vultures would be monitoring the police band.

  * * *

  MELISSA WAS LOSING her mind.

  Why didn’t one of the deputies come back and tell them something? They’d been gone nearly an hour. She scanned the crowd that had gathered. Dozens of Bay Minette citizens stood alongside media crews, waiting for news.

  William had been restrained when he’d attempted to breach the crime scene. Presley sat in the backseat of the patrol car with him. Both were out of their minds with grief and guilt.

  A rumble in the crowd drew her attention back to the woods in time to see Jonathan appear. Melissa’s heart thundered. Fear closed around her throat as he came near enough for her to see his grim face.

  His clothes were wet.

  Her knees began to buckle but she locked them, held on to her uncle’s arm.

  Jonathan crossed under the yellow tape and was immediately assaulted by reporters. He pushed through without a word. His right arm went around Melissa. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “What happened?” Harry demanded.

  “Not here,” Jonathan warned.

  Melissa’s head spun. She and Harry clung to each other as Jonathan said something to the deputy at the car where Will and Presley waited. Then he ushered Melissa and her uncle to her car.

  The reporters tried again to get some answers or at least a comment. Jonathan’s lethal glare shut them up in an instant.

  “What happened back there?” Melissa demanded when they were driving away from the persistent reporters. “Was it really Stevie?”

  Jonathan put a hand over hers. “We’ll talk when we get to your house.”

  When Melissa would have argued, he added, “We didn’t find Polly.”

  Melissa wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or more worried. For now, she chose the former. At least there was still hope that Polly was alive. When the call had come about Stevie... She closed her eyes. How could this be? Stevie had been like a part of her family.

  The twenty minutes it took to reach her house felt like a lifetime. The utter silence had been deafening and agonizing. She’d wanted to ask so many other questions but she’d been afraid of the answers. Harry had sat in the backseat, apparently suffering the same horrific fear.

  Will and Presley arrived right behind them. When they were all inside, seated, braced for the worst, Jonathan finally broke his silence.

  “Stevie was shot,” he explained. “We’re not sure by whom, but...”

  Melissa couldn’t imagine who would want to shoot Stevie. Maybe he’d discovered where Polly was being held and the person who’d taken her had shot him.

  “Scott Rayburn’s body was found, too. He’d been shot, as well.”

  “What?” Will demanded. “That’s crazy.”

  Presley broke down into sobs.

  Harry simply sat there. He said nothing and looked at no one. Melissa worried about him. He wasn’t a young man anymore. As hard as this was on her, it was worse for him, on a physical level.

  Jonathan shook his head. “There are no answers yet.” He sat down on the sofa arm next to Melissa. “There was evidence that a child was being held in the shack.”

  “What kind of evidence?” Will was on his feet now instead of comforting his wife. “They should’ve let me in there.”

  “Toys. A couple of changes of clothes—girl’s clothing.”

  Jonathan kept his voice steady and calm but his words ripped Melissa’s insides to shreds. “Was there anything else?” Please don’t let him say blood.

  “There was some blood inside,” he explained, “but the preliminary estimation is that it belongs to Rayburn. It appears he was shot in the shack and then dragged to the river.”

  The idea that the chief’s child had drowned in that river hit Melissa hard. What the man must have gone through. “But Polly wasn’t there?” Melissa looked up at Jonathan. “This doesn’t make sense. Two people are dead.” She shook her head. “Three counting Floyd Harper. And Polly is still missing.”

  Jonathan scrubbed a hand over his face.

  There was more. Melissa’s heart sank. “What?” she demanded. It might have been three years, but she knew that look. “What aren’t you telling us?”

  “When we found Rayburn’s body...” He struggled to find the right words, the battle playing out on his face. “In the water, there was a doll, too.”

  Presley sat up straight. “Pink dress?” she demanded. “Blond hair?” Her voice grew higher and tighter with every word.

  Jonathan hesitated then said, “Yes.”

  Presley cried out in anguish. William collapsed onto the sofa next to her.

  Melissa felt numb. She couldn’t cry. She couldn’t ask any more questions.

  Jonathan exhaled a troubled breath. “The chief has ordered a team to drag the river.”

  Surely that river hadn’t taken another child, Melissa thought. God wouldn’t be that cruel.

  “I have to go...” Harry stood. He looked around as if he were lost. “I need to help.”

  Melissa pushed to her feet, wobbled a little. “There’s nothing you can do right now, Uncle Harry.”

  He shook his head. “I have to go.”

  Before Melissa could say more he rushed out the door.

  Melissa looked from Jonathan to her brother and his wife.

  They were all a mess. There was nothing they could do for Polly.

  They had failed.

  Pull yourself together. The inner voice reminded her of her resolve to be strong. She dragged in a broken breath. “I’m calling Dr. Ledford. He can call in something for Presley.” Presley cried hysterically. The sound was devastating.

  At the mention of his wife’s name, Will met Melissa’s gaze. “It would be better if Presley got some rest now,” she told him. “Maybe you, too.”

  He shook his head. “I need to be out there.” His voice was hollow, weak.

  Melissa didn’t argue with him. He was right. His daughter was missing. He needed to be out there. She nodded. “You go. I’ll take care of Presley.” Melissa walked to the window and checked the drive. “Uncle Harry’s still out there. Ride with him,” she said to William.

  She worried about Harry. He’d rushed out of the house then just sat there in the car. He would need William with him. They needed each other.

  When her brother had gone, Melissa made the call. Dr. Ledford’s nurse, a friend of hers, promised to call the drugstore immediately and have someone deliver a sedative for Presley.

  Melissa tucked Presley into the bed William had slept in growing up, then she wandered back into the living room. Jonathan was on the phone.

  She stared out the kitchen window at the swing Polly loved to play on whenever she stayed over. Melissa could imagine the little girl swinging high, her blond hair flying behind her. She was the sweetest child.

  Melissa refused to believe she was dead.

  She was out there, waiting to be found.

  And then everything would be all right. Just like her Uncle Harry said.

  It had to be.

  Jonathan ended his call and joined her at the window. “You need to eat.”

  Melissa shook her head. There was no way she could eat right now.

  “There’s not much else we can do until we hear from the chief,” Jonathan offered. “I’ll fix you one of my famous omelets and we’ll review what we know so far. See what we can figure out.”

  What they knew was a lot of confusing details and not much else. But he was right. She needed to be strong. Part of being strong meant taking care of her basic needs. “Okay.” Her lips lifted in a small smile that surprised her. “I remember your omelets. They were pretty darned awesome.”

  “Sit.” He guided her t
o the table. “While I cook I want you to tell me more about Stevie Price and Polly.”

  Melissa felt sick to her stomach. Why would Stevie do this?

  Jonathan pilfered through cabinets and the fridge until he’d gathered everything he needed. He prodded Melissa for answers as he worked.

  She did the best she could, but that old, ugly fear kept vying for her attention.

  Polly’s doll had been in the river with Scott Rayburn’s body. Images of Polly’s favorite doll floating in that murky river kept flashing in Melissa’s brain.

  The hope Melissa had been holding on to slipped from her grasp...

  Chapter Eleven

  12:03 p.m.

  “I did this.”

  Harry sat in his car, staring straight ahead at nothing.

  Polly was gone.

  Stevie was dead.

  What in the world had Rayburn done? How had he found Stevie and Polly?

  If they found that baby in the water... Harry’s fingers squeezed into fists. There would be only one thing he could do.

  He’d left William with the search team, but Harry had needed to talk to her. She was the only one who would understand.

  “No,” Carol argued. “You didn’t do this. Something went wrong.” She curled her arms around him, tried to comfort him. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

  Harry couldn’t look at her. If he did, she would see the ugly truth in his eyes. He was a monster. One who had caused the death of his precious Polly. One who had destroyed his nephew. William would never forgive him. As well he shouldn’t.

  “Rayburn did this,” Carol insisted. “He spent every waking moment attempting to stir trouble. To hurt someone.” She pressed her forehead to Harry’s arm. “Now he’s done it. He’s ruined everything.”

  “I was there,” Harry said, his voice coming from a hollow place inside him. “Before dark last night. Stevie and Polly were fine. She...” He swallowed back the lump in his throat. “She was playing with that doll.”

  “Who else could have known?” Carol asked softly, the plea nearly more than he could bear.

  Harry had no answer. No one had known. Only the two of them. Stevie hadn’t understood. He’d thought he was babysitting for a few days. Floyd Harper hadn’t known. He’d just done what Harry paid him to do. Until he’d decided he needed more money.