by Cindi Madsen
While frequently breaking her rule about how often she could surf the internet for news in Trenton, she mixed in a few searches on Vince DaMarco. The only thing she found was a tiny mention of Rossi’s. She wished she’d insisted on seeing his place while they were together so she could send him a letter or something. She supposed she could send it to Rossi’s, but there was too big a risk of it getting into the wrong hands. Given what she planned on doing, he’d probably get mad and tell her no anyway.
This way, he couldn’t say no. He’d just have to deal, like she had to when he left her at the Greyhound station.
Occasionally, she worried Vince might’ve moved on in the past several months, but regardless of where they stood, that didn’t change the fact that Carlo Rossi had murdered innocent people. So if Vince had moved on with someone new, she’d deal with it. That’s what she told herself, anyway.
She was helping dish giant slices of chocolate cake when Maude put her hand on her shoulder. “Katie, dear?”
Cassie reached for the silverware drawer. “Need me to grab the forks?”
“No. I need you to stop for a second and look at me. We’re all worried. You’ve been…disconnected lately. And when you first arrived in Oklahoma, you were talking about culinary school, but suddenly that stopped. You know Levi and Owen would work around your schedule. In fact, I’m pretty sure Owen would give you anything you asked.”
Cassie winced. She and Owen had become friends, but she sensed he wanted more. He showed up at her apartment last week and insisted they watch a movie. They had a nice night, filled with great conversation and laughs, and she worried she’d accidentally crossed into flirting. The more time they spent together, the harder it was to draw lines. “I don’t have to tell you that Owen’s a great guy—”
“No, you don’t,” Maude said, her no-nonsense tone in full force.
Tread carefully… Cassie decided to switch topics. “As for school, I’m saving up my money first. This semester just didn’t seem like a good time to start.”
Maude crossed her arms.
Damn. I should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy.
“It’s that guy still,” Maude said. “Don’t think you’ve fooled me that he’s not somehow involved in this. You think if you go back he’ll leave his family? Is that really what you want? The Katie I know wouldn’t do that to a family, and she wouldn’t settle for someone who lied to her.”
Cassie wished she never let Maude assume that about Vince. The lying comment stung, too. At first she’d been so furious and hurt by all of Vince’s lying, but he was right about the truth sometimes being dangerous, and while the guilt over not being completely honest ate at her, it was nothing compared to what would happen if these wonderful people who’d taken her in got hurt because of her.
“If you’d just try to move on, you’d see that it’s possible,” Maude said. “There’s a better guy out there for you. Now, I won’t lie and say I don’t hope it’s someone you and I both know quite well, but I’m trying to stop myself before completely overstepping, even if Harold thinks my lines are too far out there.”
Cassie nearly laughed at that—overstepping was Maude’s middle name. It was why she was standing in this kitchen right now, attached to the woman who wouldn’t take no for an answer from the day they met.
“Look, I’m glad y’all worry about me…” Cassie tried to ignore the fact that she’d said “y’all.” Oklahoma was starting to work its way in. “But I’m not used to so many people questioning my every move. I was a loner for a long time. I hold things close and sometimes need to retreat into myself a little bit. I need you to respect that.”
“Well, don’t be gone too long,” Maude said and handed her a couple of plates of cake to pass out. “We miss you.”
A dull ache formed between Cassie’s ribs. The thought of leaving was starting to hurt almost as much as never seeing Vince again. I’ll miss you, too.
***
Jim had chewed his pen lid to a mangled plastic mess that now resembled a wad of blue gum. Usually he liked to drive—liked the control of it—but Mancini had offered to drive the rental car, and Jim’s nerves were jumping high enough he gladly took him up on it.
As both sides were preparing for Carlo Rossi’s trial, he’d chased leads on Cassandra Dalton in his spare time. Nothing was quite as powerful as eyewitness accounts. Vince’s would be good, but Cassandra’s would seal the deal.
So he looked into every stop along the two possible buses’ paths, calling in favors to police in each city. He nearly gave up—in fact, he had for a little while—because the trail was icy cold.
But then a pair of police officers in Tulsa, Oklahoma found a clerk who not only recognized her, but said she’d looked friendly with an older couple who often made trips from the station. As luck would have it, he also knew about a restaurant they used to run, which gave Jim enough information to find their names.
At first he was going to have local authorities question Maude and Harold Hurst, but it was the first lead in ages, and he didn’t want anyone scaring Cassandra before he got a chance to talk to her. His instincts told him this was a real lead, so he decided to trust them.
“Vince would try to take on the both of us if he knew what we were doing,” Mancini said.
“You scared of Vince DaMarco?”
His partner pshawed the suggestion, but his eyes went a bit wider than usual. “I’m just saying that we’re going to piss off our strongest witness, and if we do find Cassandra, we’re going to want to be armed when he finds out. Something tells me he won’t care all that much about assaulting an officer. And if we charged him, it’d make his testimony weaker because they’d bring that up as a mark against his character. Just stating the obvious, so we’re prepared for the repercussions.”
“For another witness against Carlo, I’ll deal with it.” Jim’s GPS instructed them to make a right. They turned down a driveway and parked next to the other vehicles crowded in front of the two-story house. Every window glowed with warm yellow light. “Looks like they’re having a party.”
Jim climbed out of the car and ran a hand down his suit coat. After the plane ride and the drive, he was a bit crumpled and a lot tired. If this trip turned out to be a waste of time, he might have to throw a temper tantrum that’d impress a two-year-old.
He and Mancini walked up to the front door and knocked. A friendly woman with a kind, wrinkled face opened the door. “Maude Hurst?” he asked.
“Yes?”
“I’m Special Agent McVee from the FBI and this is my partner, Agent Mancini.” They both displayed their badges. “We’d like to ask you and your husband a few questions.”
“What is this about?” she asked.
“We’re looking for someone, and we thought you might have seen her. Her name’s Cassandra Dalton.”
The woman continued to stare, not even a flicker of recognition. Shouts and cheers came from deep inside the house, a whole mess of them at once.
“Where’s your husband?” Jim asked.
“Watching the game, of course. It is Sunday, isn’t it? Look, I don’t know any Cassandra, and he gets mighty cranky if I interrupt him during the game. It is playoffs, you know.”
“We understand a good football game just like anyone else, ma’am,” Mancini said. “But this is really important. This girl we’re looking for usually goes by Cassie. Her name might not ring any bells, but maybe her picture will; she might be going by a different name.”
Mancini held up a picture of Cassandra. “We know you rode the same bus from Maryland, and a few people saw you talking in the station in Tulsa. It’s very important we find her, and we were hoping you might know where she is.”
Mrs. Hurst opened the door all the way and gestured them inside. “Come on in, and I’ll go get my husband.”
Chapter Forty-One
After dinner, Owen had asked Cassie to take a walk with him to look for golf balls on the course that backed up to Maude and Harold’s house
. When she asked the Hursts if they golfed, they’d both looked at her like she was crazy and then informed her they were there first. The stretches of green and trees made for a nice backyard, even though she wondered if they were technically trespassing.
Apparently Owen did golf, and he claimed he hunted for lost balls on the course so he could use them at the driving range. Cassie suspected he wanted an excuse to talk to her alone, and for that reason, she’d almost refused. But everyone else was watching the game, a walk in the almost-spring sunshine sounded nice, and Maude and Deanne had pretty much shoved her out the door.
After they made it a considerable distance from the house, Owen grabbed her hand. “Katie…”
“Owen, whatever you’re going to say—”
“No, I’ve waited long enough. You need to hear it, and then you can decide. My grandma told me you’ve been hurt before and I’d have to be patient with you. I’ve tried, and I don’t mind taking things slow, but I like you. I’m just asking you to give me a chance.”
Like Officer Tom Duffy, he might’ve stood a chance before she met Vince.
Tom. I bet he’d know more about the trial.
Cassie shoved that thought away for later, because Owen just poured his heart out, and she knew it couldn’t have been easy.
The fact of the matter was, she had somehow started over. She’d be much safer if she continued on being Katie Jones, went to college as she worked at Front Range Steakhouse, and dated future vet Owen Hurst, no question about it.
Admittedly, it had crossed her mind a couple of times. What would it be like to drop her obsessive searching, fully embrace being here, and truly move on?
She certainly didn’t relish the thought of going back to a place where she’d be in danger as she waited to testify. Big surprise, being shot at wasn’t fun. But while it would be easier to stay gone in a lot of ways, she wouldn’t let fear of Carlo Rossi and his men scare her away from doing what she knew in her bones she needed to do.
She couldn’t let Vince face it alone, either.
She couldn’t be that girl, even if that girl would be safer.
“Owen, you’re a great guy—”
“Not the great guy speech. I’m a horrible guy, actually. You know those bad boys your parents warn you about? That’s me.”
She laughed, and luckily he smiled, too. “If I wasn’t in love with someone else, you’d be the bad boy I’d go for. The truth is, I’m leaving. Tomorrow I was going to put in my two weeks notice. It’s time for me to move on. Time for me to make things right.”
She knew she should simply leave one day so there’d be fewer questions, but she didn’t want to leave them shorthanded after everything they’d done.
Owen opened his mouth, but Deanne came tearing down the path, drawing their attention. She stopped in front of them and braced her hands on her knees as she struggled to catch her breath.
“You guys can’t go back to the house.” Deanne popped upright. “There are two men looking for you, Katie.”
Cassie glanced toward the Hurst’s home, which was now only a small outline, and panic rose up and bound her lungs. “Describe them,” she said.
Deanne shook her head. “I didn’t see. Maude came into the family room, told us, ‘No one knows Katie, no matter what anyone calls her,’ and then instructed me to make sure you and Owen stay gone until she comes and gets you.”
The image of Maude and Harold being tortured by Carlo’s men popped into Cassie’s head, and she started for the house. Arms came around her waist and pulled her back. For such a scrawny guy, Owen was surprisingly strong.
“You don’t understand,” Cassie said, tugging against him. “You’ve gotta let me go. If they hurt anyone, I’ll never forgive myself.”
“Between my dad and my grandparents, they can handle whoever it is.”
“They aren’t people you can just handle.” Cassie wished for her gun, cursing herself for leaving it at home. She wondered how much Owen would hate her if she used an elbow to his nose to make him release her. “We need to…do something. Maybe even call the police. Before it’s too late.”
“Maude was calm,” Deanne said. “I don’t think it’s anyone scary.”
“No, they’re all charm at first.” Cassie looked over her shoulder at Owen. “Please tell me you have a gun in your truck.”
***
Once Harold Hurst came into the room, Jim handed him the picture. “This is Cassandra Dalton, and it’s very important we find her. You guys rode the same Greyhound bus several months ago.”
Mr. Hurst squinted at the picture. He glanced at his wife, and his eyebrows arched.
Jim leaned forward. He remembers her. We finally found her.
“Wasn’t this that girl you talked to on the bus? And then she asked for directions to… Where was it?” Mr. Hurst turned to Jim. “She was pretty closed off, but my wife talks to everyone, whether they want her to or not.”
Mrs. Hurst shot her husband a dirty look before turning a sugary smile as sweet as the iced tea she brought Jim and Mancini their way. “I do like to talk to everyone. I think it’s called being a nice person. And now that he mentions it, she did ask for directions to…” She tapped her lip. “Sorry, memory’s not what it used to be.” Another couple of taps and then she held up a finger. “Oh yes. Directions to Little Rock, Arkansas. Wasn’t that it, Harold?”
He shrugged. “I tuned you out long before the conversation got to that point.”
Mrs. Hurst gave a Lord-give-me-strength sigh. “Anyway, I told her she’d want to get on the I-40 and go east. She seemed like such a sweet girl.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “She’s not a criminal, is she?” She shoved her husband’s shoulder. “I told you criminals ride that bus. This is why we should fly.”
“If a bus rolls, we’ve got a chance of surviving,” Mr. Hurst said. “If we crash in an airplane, we’re dead. Unless it’s the movies, and we don’t live in the movies.”
As they launched into an argument they’d obviously had several times before, Jim fought the urge to shout at them to stop bickering and try to think of details he could actually use.
“She’s not a criminal,” Mancini said, although with the fighting, Jim wasn’t sure they even heard. “Did she maybe give you her name?”
Mrs. Hurst’s eyebrows drew together. “Jeez, hon, not that I remember. We only talked briefly. If she gave it to me, I sure don’t recall it. I meet so many people on those trips. Since my husband refuses to fly.”
The Hursts exchanged dirty looks.
What a waste. The flight, the drive. Jim wanted another witness so badly that he’d jumped on this tiny clue and ran wild with it. He pulled out a card and slid it over to Mrs. Hurst. “If you remember any other details, anything that might help us find her, please give me a call.”
“Sure thing. Did you boys want some cake before you go? I’m famous ‘round here for my desserts.”
“But the game,” Harold said in a sorry excuse for a whisper.
“We’ll let you guys get back to your evening,” Jim said.
The screech of the screen door punctuated their walk to the rental car. The thought of catching a late night flight made Jim want to bang his head against the dashboard. “Might as well stay here a night. Unless you’re in a big hurry to get home.”
Mancini covered a yawn with his hand. “Maybe we can poke around the area a little more since we’re already here? Or should we head to Little Rock?”
Little Rock was a complete shot in the dark. The question was, would their time be better spent on another avenue? But he kept picturing Carlo’s smarmy lawyer in court saying “reasonable doubt” over and over again, and wanting something that’d crush all doubt. “You think we’ll find something?”
Mancini sighed. “I just know that we’re already here.”
***
The gun comment pretty much sent Owen and Deanne over the edge. Finally, Cassie convinced them to creep up to the house and check on things. The red taillights of
a car heading toward the main road seemed like a good sign.
Maude burst out the back door, making all three of them jump.
“Are you okay?” Cassie asked, looking her over for signs of being roughed up for information.
“I’m fine, but we need to have a serious talk. Owen, Deanne, if you’ll excuse us…”
“I want to know what’s going on,” Owen said, jutting out his jaw.
“Me, too,” Deanne said, crossing her arms.
“Let me talk to Katie first.” Both of them cast hurt glances at Maude and then Cassie before going into the house. Once they were alone, Maude looked her square in the eye. “Who’s Cassandra Dalton?”
Cassie sighed. “Depends on who’s asking.”
“I am,” Maude said.
“I need to know who came looking first. If they were big Italian guys, then we all need to—”
“Two FBI agents. Harold and I lied right to their faces. Pretty sure that’s frowned upon, but you’re my family, Katie. Or…Cassandra? The entire time I told myself I know you, and you’ve got to have your reasons, but now I need an explanation. I deserve one, too.”
Cassie’s mind spun over the fact that the FBI came looking for her. They made the arrests. This could be a good thing. But then she thought of Vince telling her Carlo had too many contacts to trust anyone. “How’d the FBI find me?”
“That’s what you want to say to me right now? You’re simply horrible at explanations.”
Cassie ran a hand through her hair. “I just need to make sure there won’t be worse men coming to poke around next.”
After an epic sigh, Maude explained about the Greyhound station and that she and Harold told the agents they’d given her directions to Arkansas.
Hopefully that buys me some time. Priorities. First, Maude. Then goodbyes, and then I need to get the hell out of Dodge.