The Darkness We Hide

by Debra Webb

  “Come in.”

  The door drew inward a little more and Halle crossed the threshold. Her heart was really pumping now. She reminded herself that just because she was inside didn’t mean she would manage an interview.

  One step at a time, Hal.

  The elderly lady closed the door and locked it. So maybe she anticipated Halle staying awhile. Another good sign.

  “I was having tea in the kitchen,” that rusty voice said.

  When she turned and headed deeper into the gloom of the house, Halle followed. She knew this house as well as she knew her own. Until she was seven years old it had been her second home. More of those childhood memories whispered through her, even ones her mother had told her about before Halle was old enough to retain the images herself.

  Her mother had laughed and recounted to her the many times she’d had tea with Nancy while the babies toddled around the kitchen floor. The Clarks had not always lived in Winchester, Halle’s mother had told her. They had bought the house when their little boy was two years old just before Easter. Judith Lane had been thrilled to have a neighbor with a child around the same age as her own. Halle had been twenty months old. Even the fathers, Howard and Andrew, had become fast friends.

  It was perfect for five years.

  Then Andy disappeared.

  The shriek of the kettle yanked Halle’s attention back to the present.

  “You want cream?”

  “That would be nice.” She forced a smile into place as she stood in the kitchen watching Mrs. Clark fix the tea.

  Nancy prepared their tea in classic bone china patterned with clusters of pink flowers ringing the cups. She placed the cups in their saucers and then onto a tray. She added the matching cream pitcher and sugar bowl.

  Halle held her breath as the elderly woman with her tiny birdlike arms carried the tray to the dining table. To be back in this home, after so many years, to be talking with this woman who’d occupied a special place in her heart because of her relationship to Andy was enough to make Halle feel light-headed.

  “Get the cookies,” Nancy called over her shoulder.

  Halle turned back to the counter and picked up the small plate, then followed the same path the lady had taken. They sat, added sugar to their tea and then tested the taste and heat level. Mrs. Clark offered the plate of cookies and Halle took a small one and nibbled.

  Rather than rush the conversation, she reacquainted herself with the paintings and photographs on the wall. Beyond the wide doorway, she could see the stunning painting over the fireplace in the main parlor. Andy had been five at the time. His hair had been so blond, his eyes so blue. Such a sweet and handsome boy. She hadn’t a clue about what handsome even was or any of that stuff back then; she had only known that she loved him like another part of her family...of herself. They had been inseparable.

  “Twenty-five years.”

  Halle’s attention swung to the woman who sat at the other end of the table. She looked so frail, so small. The many wrinkles on her face spoke of more than age. They spoke of immense pain, harrowing devastation. Worrying for twenty-five long years if her child was alive. If he had been tortured and murdered.

  If she would ever see him again.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Halle agreed.

  Nancy Clark set her teacup down and placed her hands palms flat on the table. “You want to write an article about him, don’t you?”

  Halle dared to nod, her heart pounding. This was the moment of truth. Would she be able to persuade Mrs. Clark to open up to her, to give her the answers she needed as much for the story as for her own peace of mind? “It would mean a great deal to me.”

  “If you’ve done your homework, you’re aware I’ve never given an interview. Nor did my Andrew.”

  “I am and I understand why.”

  Her head angled ever so slightly as she stared down the table at Halle. “Really? What is it you think you understand?”

  Halle nodded. “How can you adequately articulate that kind of loss? That sort of pain? You loved him more than anything in this world and someone took him from you. How could you possibly find the right words?”

  Mrs. Clark’s gaze fell first, then her head bowed.

  Halle held her breath. Whether the lady believed her or agreed with her, Halle did understand. She had loved Andy, too, and she had missed him so very badly.

  Deep down she still did. A part of her was missing. There was a hole that no one else could possibly fill. The bond between them had been strong.

  When Mrs. Clark lifted her head once more, she stared directly at Halle for so long she feared she had said the wrong thing. She was making a decision, Halle knew, but what would it be?

  “Very well,” she said slowly but firmly. “I will tell you the story and you can find the right words. It’s time.”

  Halle’s lips spread into a smile and she nodded. “I would love to.”

  Silence filled the room for a long minute.

  “I was almost forty before the good Lord blessed me with a child.”

  Halle reached into her bag for her notepad and a pen. “Do you mind if I take notes?”

  A glint of bravado flashed in Nancy’s gray eyes. “I’d mind if you didn’t.”

  A nervous laugh bubbled up in Halle’s throat, and she relaxed. She placed her notepad on the table and flipped to a clean page, then readied her pen.

  “Andrew and I were so happy when Andy came into our lives,” Nancy said, her voice soft, her gaze lost to some faraway time and place. “We wanted to raise our boy somewhere safe, with good schools. We did a great deal of research before selecting Winchester.” She sighed. “It was perfect when we found this house right next door to a couple who had a child almost the same age.” She stared at Halle for a moment. “Andy adored you.”

  “I adored him.”

  Distance filled her gaze once more. “We were happier than we’d ever believed it was possible to be.”

  “What do you remember about that day, Mrs. Clark?”

  It wasn’t necessary for Halle to be more specific. The other woman understood what she meant.

  “March 1. Wednesday. I walked to school with you and Andy that day. It was chilly, like today.” Her lips—lips that hung in a perpetual frown—lifted slightly with a faint smile. “He was wearing that worn-out orange hoodie. He loved that thing but it was so old and shabby. I feared the other children would make fun of him.”

  “I remember that hoodie. I begged my mother to get me one just like it but, you know my parents, they’re hard-core Alabama football fans. No orange allowed. And don’t worry, no one ever made fun of Andy. All the other kids liked him.”

  Mrs. Clark dabbed at her eyes with her napkin. “Thank you for saying so.”

  “My dad picked me up early that afternoon,” Halle said. “He’d had to take Mother to the hospital.”

  Nancy nodded. “I remember.”

  What Halle’s mother had thought was a lingering cold turned out to be pneumonia. She’d almost waited too long before admitting that she needed to see a doctor. They’d hospitalized her immediately. Halle had stayed with her aunt Daisy for a solid week in that garage apartment where she lived now.

  But that day, March 1 twenty-five years ago, the police had arrived before supper. Within twenty-four hours reporters from all over the state were camped out on the street.

  Andy Clark had vanished.

  “I was late,” Nancy confessed, pain twisting her face. “Andrew was at work in Tullahoma and I had a flat tire. With your parents at the hospital, there was nothing to do but call someone to repair my tire. By the time I was backing out of the driveway, school had been out for only fifteen minutes but that was fifteen minutes too long.”

  “According to the police report,” Halle said, “witnesses stated that Andy waited about ten minutes and then started to walk ho
me.”

  She nodded. “There were witnesses who saw him less than a block from home.”

  Whoever took him had snatched him only a few hundred yards from his own front door.

  “There was never a ransom demand,” Halle said. “No contact at all from the kidnapper.”

  “Nothing.” A heavy breath shook the woman’s frail shoulders. “It was as if he disappeared into thin air.”

  “You and your husband hired private investigators.” Halle’s parents had said as much.

  “The police and our community searched for weeks. But there was nothing. Not the hoodie. Not his backpack. Nothing. No other witnesses ever came forward.”

  These were all details Halle already knew. But perhaps there would be others she didn’t. Something that no one knew. There was one thing she would very much like to know. She hoped the question wouldn’t put Mrs. Clark off.

  “I would like to ask you one question before we go any further.”

  The lady held her gaze, a surprising courage in her expression. “I’m listening.”

  “What made you decide to grant an interview now? To me?”

  The courage vanished and that dark hollowness was back.

  Halle immediately regretted having asked the question. When she was about to open her mouth to apologize, Mrs. Clark spoke.

  “I’m dying. I have perhaps two or three months. It’s time the world knew the whole story. If anyone tells it, it should be you.”

  A chill rushed over Halle’s skin. “I will do all within my power to tell the story the way you want it told.”

  “I’m counting on you, Halle. I want the whole story told the right way.”

  Halle nodded slowly, though she wasn’t entirely clear what the older woman meant by the whole story. But she fully intended to find out.

  Whatever had happened to Andy, the world needed to know.

  Halle needed to know.

  THEN

  Wednesday, March 1

  Twenty-five years ago...

  Halle hated her pink jacket.

  Pink was for scaredy-cat girls. She was a girl but she was no scaredy-cat.

  She was a brave, strong kid like Andy.

  She wanted an orange hoodie like the one he wore.

  “Wear this jacket today,” her mom said with a big sigh, “and I will get you an orange one.”

  Halle made a face. She might only be seven but she wasn’t sure if her mommy was telling her the truth or if she was just too tired to argue.

  “Promise?”

  Judith smiled and offered her little finger. “Pinkie promise.”

  Halle curled her pinkie around her mommy’s. “Okay.”

  “Come along,” Mommy urged. “Andy and his mom are waiting.”

  At the door her mommy gave her a kiss and waved as Halle skipped out to the sidewalk where Andy and his mom stood.

  He had on that orange hoodie and Halle hoped her mommy was really going to get her one.

  “Hey,” Halle said.

  Andy tipped his head back the tiniest bit. “Hey.”

  He had the bluest eyes of any kid in school. Halle wondered how it was possible to have eyes that blue. Bluer than the sky even.

  “How are you this morning, Halle?” Mrs. Clark asked.

  “I’m good but my mommy’s still a little sick.” Halle didn’t like when her mommy or daddy was sick. It made her tummy ache.

  “I’m sure she’ll be better soon,” Mrs. Clark assured her. “That pink jacket looks awfully pretty with your red hair.”

  Halle grimaced. “Thank you but I don’t like it very much.” She gazed longingly at Andy’s orange hoodie.

  He took her hand. “Come on. We’re gonna be late.”

  Halle smiled. He was the best friend ever. They were going to be friends forever and ever.

  They walked along, swinging their clasped hands and singing that silly song they’d made up during winter break.

  We’re gonna sail on a ship...

  We’re gonna fly on a plane...

  We’re gonna take that train...

  We’re taking a trip...

  But Andy wasn’t supposed to go without her.

  Don’t miss Before He Vanished

  by Debra Webb, available now wherever

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  www.Harlequin.com

  Copyright ©2020 by Debra Webb

  Keep reading for an excerpt from Conard County Justice by Rachel Lee.

  Conard County Justice

  by Rachel Lee

  Chapter One

  Cat Jansen was sitting at the front desk in the Conard County Sheriff’s Office when trouble came through the door.

  Rotation had brought her to this day of desk duty in the office. She wasn’t expecting to be too busy, which was one of the reasons she had decided to stay in this county after her mother’s death two years ago.

  She had previously worked for a sheriff in Colorado but had left the job to come to Conard City to care for her ailing mother. Cancer was a brutal disease, and all Cat could say for the months she’d spent nursing her was that her mother hadn’t been alone. Then she’d taken a job as a deputy to the sheriff here. Today she busied herself with a day of paperwork and a few relatively minor complaints.

  Until the big guy in an Army uniform walked through the door. She took a rapid inventory as best she could. Major’s oak leaves, a stack of colorful ribbons. He pulled off a tan beret as he entered.

  His dark eyes reflected cold anger. More worrisome than rage, the coldness suggested a determination that wouldn’t quit. Oh heck, she thought. What had made this guy look like this?

  “Are you the desk officer?” he asked in a deep voice, suggesting a rumble of thunder in the distance.

  “Yes, I am.” An imposing man. And whatever had brought him so far out of his way was likely a serious problem.

  “I’m Major Daniel Duke. My brother, Larry, was murdered a week ago.”

  Well, that explained the steel in his dark eyes. “I’m so sorry,” she replied. “How can we help you?” But she had an idea. Definitely trouble. She could feel it brewing like a building storm.

  “I want to know how the investigation is going.”

  “It’s going.” She wasn’t permitted to give him confidential details of an ongoing investigation.

  “Are you checking into the possibility of a hate crime? My brother was gay.”

  A bald accusation phrased as a question. If she hadn’t felt so disturbed and chilled by the look in his eyes, she might have done more than sigh.

  “Of course we are,” she answered. “I knew Larry. We’re not overlooking anything, believe me. But in all honesty, we’ve never had a crime of that type in this county.”

  “Not yet,” he said flatly.

  Which was a point she couldn’t argue. This county evidently always seemed peaceful until something blew up. It wasn’t as frequent as in heavily populated areas, but it still happened.

  The major was framed against the front windows, the bright spring sunlight now casting him in silhouette. Not comfortable for her to look at.

  She pointed to the metal chair beside her desk. “Sit, please. I’m having trouble seeing you.”

  He came around immediately and sat. Now she had a clear view of his face. It had the chiseled appearance of someone in prime physical condition, and sun had put some slight lines at the corners of his eyes. He looked as unyielding as the concrete she suddenly imagined him walking through. She suspected he wasn’t going to hang around just to identify Larry’s body, which hadn’t yet come back from the medical examiner, and arrange a funeral. No, he had other things on his mind.

  “I’m not going to leave this town until the murderer is caught.”

  “We’ll find him,” she said with more confid
ence than she felt. So far they hadn’t uncovered any clues. At least none they could yet recognize. Maybe the ME would find something.

  “You find him, or I will.”

  Whoa. She felt her first stirrings of sympathy sliding away into apprehension. “Let us do our job. You do realize that anything you find probably won’t be usable in court, because you won’t have a warrant. You certainly don’t want to get in our way or get yourself in trouble with the law.”

  He didn’t answer immediately. When at last he spoke, his voice was clear, flat, hard. “I don’t care what happens to me. This is about my brother. He deserves justice. The dead should get that. Justice. That’s one of the things Larry believed.”

  She saw pain pass over his face, quickly erased, and she sensed that this wasn’t about his brother’s death. Not exactly. Something else was going on here.

  She also wondered what could be done about this man. He’d only said he wanted to find the murderer. He hadn’t said he was going to do anything illegal in the process. What were they to do to prevent him? Jail him without a charge?

  Never. So they were stuck with this cannon. Whether it was a loose one or not, she had no idea. She did suspect that a Ranger could probably cause more trouble than a typical man on the street.

  “You need to talk to the sheriff,” she said, ticking possibilities over in her mind. “If you coordinate your efforts with ours, there may be a way for you to satisfy yourself.”

  “Is he here?”

  “He’s at a county board meeting.” To discuss funding for expanding the department by a couple more cops, hoping to get funding for a better dispatch situation. Sticking communications over in the corner with the coffee machines was becoming a problem. They needed better equipment, a place to put dispatch out of the line of fire and noise in the front office. She’d been kind of startled when she began working here to realize that the department had been so small for so long they were stacking most duties all in one room. Time to move into the twenty-first century.