by Mary Stone
That vile, acrid taste rose in Clay’s throat. The way it had been every day since his sister disappeared.
The detectives murmured some soothing words to his parents, but Clay knew they were meaningless. From his spot where he curled in a chair in the far corner of the room, he glared at the two men. When were they going to do something to help actually find her?
The taller detective rubbed his neck and whispered to his partner. As he turned his head, his gaze fell on Clay.
His stomach filled with dread, and he immediately dropped his head and curled into a tighter ball. No more questions. They’d already asked so many. The same ones, over and over again.
“Did you have a good relationship with your sister?”
“Did you two ever fight?”
“When did you last see her, and what did you two talk about?”
“When did you realize she was gone?”
Clay squeezed his eyes shut. Why couldn’t they leave him alone? But as the backs of his eyes burned and the sour taste grew stronger, he answered his own question.
The cops were obviously just as convinced of Clay’s guilt in his sister’s disappearance as Clay was.
Clay jumped when a hand landed on his arm, yanking him back into the present. The memory vanished, replaced with the image of Ellie peering up at him with a worried expression wrinkling her forehead and a question in her eyes.
“You okay?” The question came from Jillian, making Clay realize that he must have really been zoning out.
He forced a lighthearted chuckle he didn’t feel. “I’m fine. Tired after my early morning. Guess I’d better start pounding more caffeine.”
Grateful for the excuse to escape their concerned gazes, Clay turned away under the guise of grabbing his coffee and taking a long, drawn-out sip. The warm, bitter liquid grounded him in the here and now. He wasn’t a little boy anymore, and this case wasn’t about his sister. Danielle Snyder deserved his full attention.
He tilted his head back, drained the cup, and then returned to the other table. “So, what did you two come up with while I was nodding off on my feet?”
The skeptical look Ellie flashed him let Clay know that she wasn’t fully buying his story, so his shoulders eased when she turned back to the scattered evidence.
“Not much. Mostly speculating on what might have happened. Did the killer move Dani to murder her at some other location? Or did he kidnap her, and she’s still out there somewhere?” Ellie tapped a finger on a photo of a teenage girl with thick, dirty blonde hair that fell in waves past her shoulders, wearing a wide smile and a plaid flannel.
“And if she was kidnapped, to what end? Did she suffer, and is she still suffering now? Why would she reach out to her father after all this time?”
The photo of the smiling teen blurred around the edges. In Clay’s head, it rearranged itself into an image of a different girl. A younger one with bright blue eyes and a mischievous smile. His heart twisted when he realized that his memory was so old that he’d have no idea what his sister would look like now if she were still alive. Would he recognize her if he passed her on the street? Or would they walk right by each other like two strangers, neither of them the wiser?
Caraleigh, what happened to you? Are you still out there somewhere?
A cough interrupted his pointless musing. When Clay blinked back to awareness, both women stared at him with identical concerned expressions. Not that he blamed them. If one of them were acting the way he had over the last ten minutes, Clay would be worried too.
His gaze wandered back to Danielle’s smiling face. Almost immediately, he averted his eyes and tugged at his collar. The underground space with low ceilings and no windows was starting to feel cramped and airless, like a trap. “I need to head back to the field office and get started on assembling the task force. See you two back at the apartment.”
Without waiting for a reply, Clay pivoted on one booted heel and strode straight for the door. He figured the second he escaped the room and into the corridor, that sensation of being locked into a dark cell would subside, and it did. In its place, an icy finger shivered across his back, like a spectral presence trailed him as the evidence room door clanked shut.
“I’m sorry, Caraleigh.”
His whisper floated down the narrow hallway and vanished, swallowed by the repetitive click of his boots.
He shivered before clenching his jaw. It was too late for Caraleigh, but Danielle was a different story. Maybe if he helped Ellie find Danielle, it would ease some of the guilt he’d carried with him all these years, like an extra thirty pounds strapped to his chest.
Maybe if he helped find Danielle, he’d be one step closer to forgiving himself for losing his baby sister.
7
Katarina whipped a dust cloth across the gleaming surface of the wooden dining table before turning to inspect the rest of the room. It didn’t take long for her to admit the truth: nothing needed attention.
And she was bored to death.
The house was small, almost cabin-like, with an open living and dining area featuring rustic wooden panels and comfortable plaid upholstery in shades of cream and hunter green. She carried her cloth down the short hall and into the master bedroom, scowling at the blue and white checked comforter she’d already straightened that morning and the wicker laundry basket, empty from when she’d folded and put away the clothes last night.
“Just call me Cinder-fucking-ella,” she muttered.
Maybe she’d be lucky, and a handsome prince would find her here and whisk the daily grind of housekeeping away. He’d slip a glass slipper onto her foot and…
And what?
Watch it crack under her every step?
Send sharp splinters into her soles. Slash her Achilles?
No thank you.
Who in the hell wore a glass slipper anyway? That was a sure ticket to the emergency room.
She just needed to keep busy. That was all.
After delivering a swift kick to the laundry basket with her fuzzy slipper and savoring a moment of satisfaction as it cartwheeled across the hardwood floor, Katarina brightened. Harmony’s room! Surely there was something for her to tidy in there.
Katarina pivoted and made her way to Harmony’s doorway before she flinched, remembering. She corrected herself. No, not Harmony. Bethany.
They were Bethany and Katrina now.
Mother and daughter.
The notion warmed Katarina’s heart. When she’d been told her baby had died right after birth, Katarina had been devastated. And six years later, when she’d discovered that Kingsley had lied and placed her newborn baby into adoption, she’d been overcome by a murderous rage, coupled with determination.
Katarina had vowed that nothing would stop her from reuniting with her daughter, and nothing had. Her dream of them sharing a normal life together had come true.
As normal as a life could be within the WITSEC program.
Katarina surveilled her daughter’s tidy room and flopped onto her back on the moss green comforter with a groan. Yes, Bethany and Katrina. A normal mother and daughter, living together in this little house, in the middle of Nowhere, Wyoming. A place where Katarina was convinced she would die of boredom before the year was out.
She stared up at the wooden beams that crossed the ceiling, deliberately slowing her breathing to calm the claustrophobic feel of the walls closing in. If Kingsley were here to witness Katarina’s sad little attempt at domestication, he’d laugh his head off and tell her, I told you so. You and I aren’t meant for a mundane life, Katarina. We’re not like everyone else. We need to hurt people to feel alive.
“No!” Katarina’s denial echoed in the tiny room. Great, now she was arguing with ghosts from her past. Out loud, no less. Kingsley was the whole reason she was stuck in the boondocks in the first place. And if she planned on keeping that son of a bitch confined to the past instead of haunting her future, then she’d better quit whining and accept her new reality here in Wyoming. �
�I do want a normal life. I finally have Har-Bethany back, and things are perfect. I just need a little time to get used to this life.”
Katarina wasn’t sure if she truly believed what she was saying or if she was trying to convince herself. Either way, she felt a little better. Across the country, millions of women stayed home with the kids and took care of the house. If they could do it without smashing their heads against the wall to relieve the boredom, she could too.
A little boredom was a small price to pay for a normal life.
Katarina stretched her arms over her head and contemplated what she could do to fill the time. What she needed was a hobby. Knitting? She snickered at the image of her sitting in a rocking chair, patiently hooking a pair of those oversized needles through colorful yarn.
Please.
She was far more likely to stab someone with a needle than craft some silly blanket that would end up in the corner of someone’s closet. Who wanted a blanket full of holes, anyway? Not Katarina. She required a hobby that raised her pulse above dead to entertain herself. An activity with a little violence to take the edge off. Like hunting.
She pushed up to her elbows, brightening. Now, that might work. The Feds wouldn’t allow her to have a gun, but what about a bow and arrow? She was picturing herself spearing a chattering, annoying squirrel from fifty feet away when a rustle trickled in through the window.
She went completely still, straining to hear over the sudden frantic drumming of her pulse. She was probably imagining things. This wasn’t the first time since entering WITSEC that her imagination had conjured up an unsettling noise.
Crunch!
No, she hadn’t imagined that.
A shiver raced over her. On cat-like feet, Katarina eased off the bed and crept toward the window, pausing only to listen and grab one of the solid buffalo-shaped bookends she’d picked up for her daughter in town. When she reached the window, she edged the heavy green curtains aside, peering through the sliver of an opening.
At first, all she saw were trees. Trees and rolling hills, and in the distance, a view of the Grand Tetons. Apart from the insistent chirping of a bird, the yard remained silent.
Crunch!
Katarina flinched, whipping her head to face the direction of the noise. She caught a flash of movement behind a tree. Her breath caught in her lungs and then released again when she identified the source. A damned buck, nibbling on a wild plant.
Her panic subsided, leaving Katarina feeling foolish and more than a little annoyed. With her free hand, she rapped on the window. “Get out of here! Go find dinner somewhere else!”
At her knock, the buck’s head whipped up, but the stupid thing didn’t budge. That was how low Katarina had fallen. Once upon a time, not even that long ago, she’d been an apex predator. Now, she couldn’t even scare off a prey animal.
Her fist tightened, and she banged on the window again, hard enough this time to make it rattle. “Get out of here!”
This time, the deer whirled and fled, leaping away on long legs. When he disappeared from sight, she let the curtains fall closed and headed from the room, her back stiff and her teeth clenched. She needed to get a grip on herself and figure out how to settle into this new life. For her, and for Harm—no, Bethany. If she didn’t, then Kingsley would win. And Katarina had no intention of letting the man who’d first abducted her and then her daughter win, or proving him right when it came to her.
She could make this regular life thing work. She simply needed a way to stay busy. Striding into the hallway, she whipped open a closet and pulled out the broom before heading into the kitchen. After hitting a button on her phone, music filled the tiny space. Soon, she lost herself in the rhythm of a hip hop beat and the methodical sweep of the broom across the wooden floor.
Her mind drifted and filled with memories of more exciting times. Of the satisfying crunch a nose made beneath her fist or the way a knife felt, sinking deep into human flesh. Of the thrill that came along with deceiving someone and leading them straight into a trap.
When she realized the direction her thoughts had taken, Katarina froze. “Stop it. You’re a mother now.”
But a glance around the empty house only made her frustration grow. Bethany spent most of the day at school. What was Katarina supposed to do in the meantime? Spend long hours watching soap operas and cooking shows and sweeping up floors that didn’t need cleaning?
Or…even more laughable…get a job.
Though the clock was ticking until she’d need to get one of those.
“Argh!” Katarina’s hands clenched hard around the broom, and she brought it down over her raised knee. “Ouch!”
The stupid thing didn’t even break. Katarina flung the broom across the room and hopped around on one leg, cursing and clutching her throbbing thigh. By the time she realized how ridiculous she must look, her breath came in ragged pants. Great. Not only was she bored senseless, she was weak and out of shape too.
Her hands flew to her sides and squeezed the flesh hanging over her pants. There, see that? Rolls! She even had rolls now! Not a lot, but still. Any amount of fat around her midsection was noticeable compared to the washboard abs she’d once sported.
Katarina had always busted her butt to ensure her body stayed fit and honed, in keeping with the weapon it was. Now even that part of her life was changing, and she hated the shift. She detested everything about this stupid house and new existence.
A sharp pain stabbed her rib cage when she remembered. Bethany. She hated everything except Bethany. Duh.
After stomping over to the sink for a glass of water, Katarina sipped the tepid liquid and gazed out the front window. In her view, a middle-aged man walked his scruffy dog down the road. Maybe only sixty feet separated her sink from the walkway. So close.
As Katarina continued sipping from the glass, she allowed her mind to drift away. To ponder the what-ifs.
What if, for example, Katarina set down her glass, selected a butcher knife from the wooden block, and strolled over to the front door?
What if she opened the door, balanced her hand on her hip, and tilted her body in an inviting way, showcasing her curves to their advantage?
What if she called out to him? In her sweetest, most helpless voice.
“Excuse me, sir, could you come help me for a minute? I’m cooking, and I need a strong pair of hands to pry a jar open for me. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”
The man turned toward her voice until he located her, his uncertain gaze becoming more confident as he eyed her up and down. “Sure, happy to help.” In reality, he was sizing her up as prey, convinced that Katarina was too stupid to grasp what he had in mind.
But she knew. She allowed her smile to widen as he dragged the scruffy dog toward her. Drawing closer. And closer. The nearer he came, the more Katarina’s skin tingled. She fluffed her hair back with her right hand, even as she kept her left hidden behind her back, the knife clutched in her fist. Anticipating the perfect moment to deliver his surprise as she opened the door wider, beckoning him inside.
That’s it. Come to me. Come inside and play a little while.
Katarina blinked away the fantasy to find herself standing in the open doorway. No man or scruffy dog approached her porch. Instead, they were disappearing farther down the road. She swallowed hard, pulled her left hand out from behind her back, and inched her gaze down to the glimmer of a long piece of metal. With a yelp, she uncurled her fingers. The knife clattered to the floor.
She backed away, shaking her head. “This isn’t working. I can’t be cooped up in here all day.” A glance at the clock told her she still had an hour until she needed to pick up Harmony—no, dammit, Bethany!—from school.
Screw this. Katarina grabbed her coat off the hook by the front door, shouldered her purse, and fled to the car. She reversed out of the driveway and drove aimlessly down the streets without any goal in mind other than to get the hell out of that house. A few weeks of housework was all it took for Kata
rina to start losing her mind. That had to be some kind of record.
After ten minutes of cruising, a sign caught her attention. An old-school cheesy neon one that proclaimed BEER, with an arrow pointing at a dingy-looking wooden structure with darkened windows. Another sign flashed above the first one: Bob’s Bar.
On impulse, she whipped the car into the parking lot with a squeal of tires and parked out front. Most of the spots were empty, but a handful of dusty trucks and Subarus filled a few of the spaces. Katarina passed them by on her way to the front door.
Just one drink. That was all she needed to take the edge off. Then, she’d drive to the school and wait in the mile-long pick-up line to get Bethany like a good little mom. Maybe she could take Harmony Christmas tree shopping after—no, no, no! Fuck! Bethany, dammit! She could take Bethany Christmas tree shopping, buy some ornaments, and pick up some hot chocolate to drink while the two of them decorated the tree back home. The way families did.
She entered the bar to Bono serenading the patrons with his smarmy lyrics and debated turning right back around and leaving. Please. Easy for him to croon about a beautiful day while wallowing in his millions. Take away his money and stick him in Katarina’s monotonous Wyoming existence? She bet that obnoxious joy petered out in a month, tops.
Whatever. The music would change soon enough, and it wasn’t like she had anything better to do. Squinting in the dim lighting, Katarina’s nose wrinkled at the pungent, sweet odor that assaulted her. Stale beer, most likely. She shrugged and headed straight to the back. She’d smelled far worse.
Stopping in front of a sixty-ish, gray-ponytailed bartender who tended a long bar wallpapered with faded band flyers, she gave him a once-over before discretely scanning the business’s other occupants. Her inspection didn’t take long. Besides a cluster of four men laughing at a table in the far corner, the only other day drinkers were an elderly couple who sipped domestic beers and watched sports on one of the two TVs.