by Cindi Myers
“What size?” Dwight asked.
Wade scratched his head. “Size?”
“If the thief took them to wear himself, it might help us pin down what size man we’re dealing with.”
Wade nodded. “They were eights. Kind of small for a man, which is why we used them for a display.”
Dwight made a note of this. “We got a couple of shoe impressions from the high school,” he said. “Maybe this will match.”
“The high school?” Wade asked. “Do you think the same person who took the climbing ropes from the high school hit my store? Maybe it’s those two guys I told you about. Did you talk to them?”
“We haven’t been able to find them,” Gage said. “Have you seen them since the day you and Brock met up with them while climbing?”
“No,” Wade said. “And I’ve been keeping my eyes open for them. Talk about suspicious characters—so you think they hit the high school the other day?”
“Someone broke into the high school again tonight,” Dwight said, before Gage could signal him to keep quiet.
“No kidding?” Wade said. “What did they take this time?”
“We’re not sure yet,” Gage said before Dwight could answer. Al Dawson had showed up for work and found broken windows and called the sheriff’s office. Inside, someone had emptied the contents of three fire extinguishers around the gym. They had made a mess, but so far it didn’t appear that anything was missing. As Dwight had said, the perpetrators had left a couple of shoe impressions on the edge of the gym floor, but Gage wasn’t hopeful they would prove very useful.
“I’ll ask Brock if he remembers anything else about those guys,” Wade said. “He’s better with details than I am. I just—”
Gage’s phone rang. Checking the display, his heart sped up when he saw Maya’s name. He put a hand up to silence Wade and answered. “Hello? Are you all right?”
“Casey’s gone. Someone’s taken her.” He hardly recognized Maya’s voice, ragged with terror.
“Are you all right?” He gripped the phone tighter. “Is the reserve officer there?”
“Yes. He’s parked out front. Someone came in the bedroom window while I was in the kitchen.” Her voice broke. “Gage, I’m so scared.”
“I’ll be right there.” He ended the call and shoved the phone back in its holster. “We have to go,” he told Dwight. “Someone’s kidnapped Casey Hood.”
* * *
MAYA PULLED A jacket and jeans over her pajamas and went to the front door to summon the reserve officer. Maybe she should have contacted him first, but all her instincts had told her to call Gage. He was the one who had helped her before, the one who cared about Casey almost as much as she did. The officer met her at the door. “Gage called and told me what happened,” he said, his eyes dark against a pale face. “I don’t know how. I was out front, watching the house and the street, the whole time.”
“He came in the back,” she said. “Through the bedroom window.” She started past him, but he took her arm, holding her back. “I just want to see where he came in,” she protested, trying to pull free.
“You might destroy evidence,” the officer said. “We need to wait for Gage.”
They didn’t have to wait long. Gage’s SUV screeched to a halt behind the patrol car, followed by another sheriff’s department vehicle. Gage jogged up the walk and took the steps two at a time to reach them. “Gage, I swear I was watching the house the whole time and I never saw a thing,” the reserve officer said.
“Not now, Carl.” Gage took Maya by the shoulders and looked her in the eyes. “Are you sure you’re okay? Did the kidnapper try to hurt you?”
“I never even saw him,” she said. “I was in the kitchen making tea, and when I came back to the bedroom, Casey was gone and the window was open. I know it was locked when I went to bed. I always check and—”
“It’s all right.” He squeezed her shoulders—more of a caress. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” The steadiness of his voice and the tenderness in his eyes calmed her.
“I started to go around back to check, but your officer stopped me. He said I might destroy evidence.”
“He was right.” Gage gave the young officer a nod. “Carl, you stay here with Maya while Dwight and I check out the scene. The crime scene techs are already on the way.”
Maya hugged her arms across her stomach and watched as Gage and Dwight made their way around the side of the house. Carl, looking miserable, stood beside her, shoulders slumped, staring at the porch floor. The lights in the houses across the street came on—the neighbors were probably watching out the window, curious as to why three cop cars were parked in front of the house.
Gage opened the front door and stepped out onto the porch. “I left Dwight guarding the scene until CSI gets here,” he said. “It looks like the kidnapper cut out a pane of glass, reached in and unlocked the window, then came in and out that way. It probably only took a few minutes.”
Some of the shock was wearing off and Maya focused on picturing the scene Gage had described. “Did they plan to knock me out again and take her?” she asked. “Or was he watching the house, waiting for me to leave the room?”
“I think he was probably watching the house,” Gage said. “I think the break-ins at the high school and Eagle Mountain Outdoors may have been designed to draw me away from the house so the kidnappers could make their move.”
“So we could be talking about an organized group,” Carl said. “Not just the person who took Casey.”
“That’s the way it looked to me,” Gage said. “Carl, I need you to take over for Dwight guarding the scene. I need him to follow up on some other things for me.”
When they were alone, Gage opened his arms. “Come here,” he said.
She went to him, sighing when he wrapped his arms around her and drew her close. She closed her eyes and tried to draw on his strength. As tempting as it was to collapse and weep into his arms, she needed to stay strong for Casey. “I can’t believe this is happening,” she said. “I feel so helpless. What can I do?”
“Don’t give up hope.” He pulled back enough to look her in the eye. “I’m sorry they took Casey, but I’m glad you weren’t in the room when the kidnapper came through the window. He might have done more than just knock you out.”
The impact of his words shook her. “You think he might have killed me to get to Casey?”
“If this is the same person who murdered your sister and her husband, he’s already proven he’s capable of murder.”
“But they didn’t kill Casey. Why not?”
“I don’t know. But every indication so far is that they wanted to take her alive.”
Maya covered her face with her hands. “I can’t bear to think what they might do to her.”
“Don’t.” Gage gently tugged her hands away. “Come with me into the bedroom and tell me everything that happened after I left the house tonight.”
She walked with him to the bedroom. The window was still open, curtains rising and falling in the breeze like ghostly dancers. The covers on Casey’s side of the bed were pushed back, the faint indentation made by the small body still visible. Gage went to stand beside the bed. “I don’t see any sign of a struggle,” he said. “She may not have awakened when they snatched her. Or they might have sedated her.”
“Drugs?” Maya shuddered.
“It would keep her quiet and make her easier to transport,” Gage said. “She isn’t a very big child, so a man, or even a strong woman, could carry her back out through the window and across the yard fairly easily. If they had a car waiting on the street behind this one, they could get away unnoticed. We’ll canvas the houses on both streets. Maybe a night-shift worker or someone with insomnia saw something unusual.”
He moved to the window. “Was it exactly like this when you first saw it?” he asked. “You didn’t open
it wider or push back the curtains or anything?”
“No. As soon as I realized Casey was gone, I called you.”
“We’ll get the crime scene techs in here to take pictures and look for trace evidence.” He turned away from the window. “Is anything else in the room out of place? Anything missing?”
She looked around, trying to remember how the room had looked when she went to bed. She had folded her clothes and put them on the chair by the door, and Casey’s clothes were on top of the dresser. “Casey’s jacket. It was hanging on the bedpost and now it’s gone.” Hope rose in her chest. “If the kidnapper took the time to get her jacket, that must mean he doesn’t intend to harm her, right?”
“I don’t know what it means,” Gage said. He took out his notebook. “So she was wearing pink-and-white pajamas with some kind of design on them.” He frowned. “Princesses or something?”
“Disney princesses. And her jacket is pink, with white trim. It zips up the front and has pockets.”
He scribbled in the notebook. “We’ll make sure this is part of the Amber Alert.” He slipped the notebook back into his pocket and put his arm around her. “I could use some coffee. Could you make me some?”
She recognized the attempt to keep her busy and out of the way, but didn’t argue. “Sure. Anything else?”
“Just some coffee would be great.” She started to turn away, but he grabbed her hand. When she turned toward him again, his gaze met hers. “We’re going to get whoever did this,” he said. “We’re going to find Casey.”
She nodded. “I believe you.” Gage would do whatever it took to find Casey. Maya only hoped he found her alive and well, before it was too late.
Chapter Eighteen
The more Gage reviewed the events of that night, the more convinced he became that the break-ins at the high school and Eagle Mountain Outdoors had been designed to get him away from his house, leaving Maya and Casey vulnerable. That pointed to a perpetrator who knew him, and who knew enough about the Eagle Mountain Sheriff’s Department to know they didn’t have the staff to handle multiple break-ins without calling in Gage. That meant the person would also know that the only officers left to guard Maya and Casey would be less-experienced reserve deputies—officers who were less likely to take the initiative to patrol the property on foot. Gage cursed his own carelessness in not recognizing an attacker might approach from the rear, and that locked windows were no barrier to a really determined criminal.
“Both of the break-ins that night were a lot of flash and noise, but no real substance,” he reported the next morning, when every available officer gathered at the sheriff’s department for a briefing. “Nothing was taken from the high school, and less than fifty dollars and a pair of climbing shoes from Eagle Mountain Outdoors. There was nothing sneaky about either crime. The thief didn’t care if he set off alarms—in fact, he wanted to.”
“None of the neighbors around Gage’s house saw or heard anything suspicious that night,” Dwight reported. “That’s not surprising, considering it was three in the morning.”
“Not an insomniac or newborn who needed feeding in the bunch,” Travis said. “What did CSI come up with?”
“No prints.” Gage read from the report he had pulled up on his tablet. “The perp wore gloves—another indication that this was a well-planned hit and not a random grab. Right now, we’re operating on the theory that whoever kidnapped Casey Hood is connected with the two men who murdered Angela and Greg Hood.”
“That had earmarks of a professional hit, also,” Travis said.
“Have we had any results from the drawing Tim Baker did using Casey’s description of her attacker?” Gage asked.
“Nothing useful,” Travis said. “We’ve had a few calls from people saying they thought the person shown in the drawing looked familiar—like someone they had seen around town—but nothing concrete that even leads to anyone we could question.”
“If these guys thought they needed to silence the kid because she could identify them, why not just kill her, too?” Dwight asked. “Why take the risks involved in kidnapping her?”
“We don’t know,” Gage said. “But if they believe they have a reason to keep her alive, that buys us more time to find her.” He didn’t say what he knew every person in the room was thinking—they were working against the clock to find Casey alive. Time could make the kidnappers change their minds, if they hadn’t already.
“So we think the break-ins at the high school and Eagle Mountain Outdoors are related to the kidnapping,” Dwight said. “Carried out by accomplices of the kidnappers in order to draw you away from the scene.”
“That’s the way it looks to me,” Gage said. Beside him, Travis nodded.
“What about the earlier break-ins at the high school?” Dwight said. “When the climbing rope and mats, and the lab equipment were taken.”
“Hard to say,” Travis said. “My instinct is no—those break-ins were to steal specific things. The one last night was fast and loud, with general vandalism and nothing stolen. I think someone knew about the other crimes and figured doing something similar was a good way to get every available officer on scene and away from the vicinity of Gage’s house.”
“What about the skinheads Wade Tomlinson reported as suspicious characters?” Gage asked. “Do we have anything else on them?”
“We searched the camping area Wade said they were in and talked to other climbers in the area,” Travis said. “No one remembers seeing anyone like them around.”
“Those types would stand out around here,” Dwight said.
“Exactly,” Travis said. “I’m beginning to think Wade made them up.”
Gage stared at his brother. “You mean he deliberately lied to us? Why?”
“I don’t know. Maybe to grab some attention for himself or his business—you know it happens.”
Gage nodded, letting the idea sink in. Plenty of people got an adrenaline charge from being involved, even peripherally, in a police investigation. But Wade Tomlinson had always struck him as much more grounded than that. Still, how well did he know the man? They weren’t close friends who spent time together. “It’s something to consider. Do you think he made up the story about the break-in at his store, too?”
Travis frowned. “Throwing a rock through your own front window is pretty drastic, but we’ll be giving him a closer look. I put a call in to the police chief in Butte, where Wade and Brock supposedly worked for an outfitter before they came here to open up shop. We’ll see what he has to say.”
“What about Henry Hake’s disappearance?” Dwight asked.
“What about it?” Gage asked.
“Do you think it’s related?”
Gage and Travis exchanged glances. “Why do you think it would be?”
“Timing and proximity, mainly,” Dwight said. “The resort Hake wanted to develop was adjacent to the land the Hoods had purchased.”
“That might be just coincidence,” Gage said. “Hake disappeared weeks ago, and we haven’t found anything to connect him with the Hoods or their property.”
“Right now, we’re treating Hake’s disappearance as a separate crime,” Travis said. “And we can’t forget about it while we’re dealing with Casey’s kidnapping and the Hoods’ murders. We’re still trying to figure out what happened to the files that were in Hake’s home office and if they’re related to his disappearance.”
“Still, it wouldn’t hurt to look for more connections between Hake and the Hoods,” Gage said. The hairs on the back of his neck had stood up when Dwight had suggested a connection between Greg and Angela Hood and Henry Hake. “I’d like to get Maya back in to take another look at her sister’s belongings. Maybe now that she’s had more time to think, she’ll see something significant that she didn’t notice before.”
“Do it,” Travis said. “Meanwhile, the rest of us are going to be com
bing every possible camping site and climbing area, just in case those skinheads Wade described show up.”
* * *
CASEY OPENED HER eyes to darkness. Her stomach hurt and she felt dizzy, but gradually she realized she was in the back seat of a car, which was driving over a rough road. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she realized the two people in the front seat weren’t her parents, but two men—she had only glimpsed one of them for a few seconds, but had recognized him as the man who had tried to grab her at the inn where she and Aunt Maya had spent the night. One of the men who had killed her parents. Her heart pounded so hard she thought it might burst out of her chest, and she had to bite her bottom lip to keep from crying out from fear. But she must not let them know she was awake. As long as they thought she was still out, maybe they would leave her alone.
She tried to think what to do. She had been sleeping so good in the bed she shared with Aunt Maya in Deputy Gage’s house when the man had grabbed her. He had put his hand over her mouth so she couldn’t scream, then pressed a handkerchief that smelled sweet over her face and everything went black again.
She couldn’t see the other man—the driver—very good, but he was shorter and wider than the first man. He was probably the man who had helped to kill her parents. Were they taking her somewhere to kill her? The thought made her feel cold all over, and she started to shake. She tried very hard to keep still. Think, she told herself. She had to get away. Aunt Maya and Deputy Gage would find out she was missing and they would come looking for her. She had to stay alive long enough for them to find her.
She closed her eyes again, afraid one of the men in the front seat would look back and notice her staring at them and realize she was awake. Her hands were tied in front of her with some kind of rope. There were several big knots, but the rope wasn’t too tight. She could move her hands a little apart. She had small hands and strong fingers, from using them so much to make words, instead of using her voice. She wiggled her hands and moved her wrists. The rope rubbed against her skin and hurt some, but the pain didn’t matter, did it? Not if she could get free.