They finally reached the shore of Devil’s Creek, or Moon Creek, or whatever its name was. Lights flashed across the dammed up pond, but where the hell were the cops? Why hadn’t they followed him up the hill? And where the hell was that helicopter? Boone knew he’d been tracking Hank in that direction. It didn’t make sense.
Anderson pulled the kayak into the water with one hand, still holding the gun on Hank. Then he leaned over to grab the paddle, and Hank took advantage, rushing him like a barreling freight train. Anderson flew sideways over a big boulder and slammed his head on the rock. Stunned, he tried to get his bearings, but before he could stand, Hank was gone.
∞∞∞
Three hours later, Anderson, Grace, and Boone sat on the O’Rourke’s deck, talking with Sheriff Dunne. Boone’s arm had been bandaged by the EMTs, but he’d refused to go to the hospital. As promised, he’d stayed by Grace’s side until Anderson returned.
The police had indeed tracked Anderson up the hill, but they’d just missed him when he’d led Hank back down, passing within several hundred yards of each other. The elusive helicopter had located and rescued the shaken couple, who’d been whisked off to the local ER.
“So, now what?” Anderson asked, glancing up at the trees across the creek. “Hank just disappears again, and we give up?”
Dunne spoke into his radio before turning back to them. “We’re not giving up. My men have tracked him to the old North road, where it appears he hid a car. They found the ropes you’d tied him with on the ground beside the tire tracks. They lost the trail, but we’re putting up roadblocks all over the county. If he’s on any road within fifty miles of us, we’ll catch him.”
“He’s a real sicko, Sheriff. But he’s smart. Too smart. Look how long he kept poor Caroline’s body up there without anyone finding her. Nineteen years.”
Dunne held up one finger. “Well, we don’t know for sure she’s been up there all along. He might have recently staged it.”
Anderson wasn’t convinced. Something told him his poor Caroline had been in that shed for the past nineteen years.
Grace put a hand on Anderson’s, and he gave her a half smile. He still felt betrayed by his sex-crazed wife, but with the discovery of Caroline up in that shack, the intensity of his anger had faded.
Dunne stood and stretched. “You folks might as well go home. We’ve got what we need for now.” He leaned down to Grace. “We’ve got Hank for several things, including multiple counts of kidnapping and murder. But if you remember anything else you think could help us, give me a call. Okay?”
“Sure.” She took his card, although they already had the number programmed into each of their cell phones from last year’s debacle with Murphy.
Grace looked tired, Anderson realized. Defeated. And there were flashes of shame that crept onto her face from time to time. It was as if she were a different person from the usual bouncy, boisterous, bright woman he’d married. It worried him a little, but he was too tired to pursue the thoughts.
He stood. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
Boone dropped them at the hotel, and they picked up Grace’s Mustang. Anderson got behind the steering wheel without asking, and turned toward Bittersweet Hollow.
“Where are we going?” Grace asked suddenly, as if she hadn’t noticed that he’d headed in the opposite direction of their cottage.
“I’m bringing you home to your folks. I want you protected, and they’ve offered to let us stay for a while.”
She started to object, but when she caught the solemn expression on his face she stopped. “Okay. If you think that’s best.”
“I do. And in the morning, we’re going to talk about a program for you. I’m not sure yet what it will involve, but you’re going to get some intensive therapy. You need help, Grace. And I’m not going to sit around while you destroy yourself and our marriage.” He shot her a sideways glance. “I can’t take it anymore. Do you understand?”
She sank back into the seat, looking like a meek child. “Okay.”
“I’m serious, Grace.”
She sighed and tucked her legs under her. “I know. You’re right. I’ve got a real bad problem. I admit it.”
“That’s the first step, so they say.”
They drove in silence for a while, and he suddenly pulled over to the side of the road and put the car in park.
He almost spat the words. “Do you even love me anymore, Grace?”
She turned to him quickly, touching his face. “Oh, baby. I love you so much it hurts.”
“But, why? Why? Don’t I take care of you? I thought we were good together, you know, that way. Aren’t we?”
“I don’t know what comes over me. It’s not you. It’s not us. It’s something that bubbles up inside me and grows and grows like a sick tumor. The need is so strong. It takes over my thoughts, every second of every day. Until I fuck some stranger,” she said, her voice trailing off. “I’m seriously flawed.”
“Maybe there’s a pill for it,” he said, closing his eyes. “There has to be something we can do.”
She undid her seatbelt and slid closer to him. “I’m so sorry, Anderson. I don’t want to hurt you.”
He put his arm around her and pulled her close. “I know.”
They sat together for ten more minutes, taking comfort in each other’s steady breathing.
“Okay,” he said. “Let’s get back on the road. I think we both need some rest, huh?”
She buckled up and smiled through tears. “Yes, baby. Let’s go.”
Chapter 55
When they pulled into the driveway at Bittersweet Hollow, the sun had set and bright stars sparkled overhead. Daisy Lamont met them on the porch and after the prerequisite long hugs, she led them inside.
“Dirk’s asleep; he says he’ll see you for breakfast. Portia had a hard day; she thought she was in labor. She’s already lying down upstairs with Boone.”
Grace’s head snapped toward the stairway. “Is the baby okay?”
Daisy sighed, smiling. “Braxton Hicks contractions is all. She went in to be checked, but it was a false alarm.” She linked arms with her daughter. “Come on, honey. Let’s get you two settled in your old room.”
Anderson followed, realizing he’d have to go home in the morning and pick up some clothes. But they kept a few things here for when they slept over. They’d be fine for now.
Portia and Boone’s door was closed, so they tiptoed past it and headed for the end of the hall. Grace’s old room had been made over as a guest room, and the new queen-sized bed was comfortable. Anderson couldn’t wait to flop down onto it and fall into a deep sleep.
“Here you go,” Daisy whispered. “I’ve put some new toothbrushes in your bathroom. There are fresh towels in the cabinet, and turn on the little electric heater if it gets too cold, okay?”
“Thanks, Mom.” Grace pecked her mother’s cheek. “G’night.”
Daisy hugged Anderson extra long. She knew what he’d been through, and he could feel it in the way she patted his back and whispered in his ear.
“It’s gonna be okay, sweetie. We’ll take good care of you.”
“Thanks, Daisy.” He kissed her cheek, truly grateful to have such a loving woman in their lives. His parents had died young, and he cherished the relationship he’d developed with Grace’s folks. “Sleep tight.”
Grace quickly undressed and started the shower, turning to him with a guilty expression. “Oh. Wait. Did you want to get in first?”
Anderson looked away from her. He still pictured Hank in bed with her, and her current nakedness just made it worse. “It’s fine. You go first and I’ll jump in and rinse off when you’re done. I’m still pretty stinky from the creek.”
“Okay.” Still acting like a compliant child, she walked almost zombie like into the bathroom.
When they’d both showered and changed into pajamas, they spooned in the bed. She held his hands in hers, kissing them.
“I’m sorry.”
&nbs
p; Anderson knew this was coming. It was Grace’s pattern. After a day or two of wild abandonment, she’d let him bring her home, full of contrition and “never again” promises.
“Honey?” she said. “Did you hear me?”
He squeezed her to him, nuzzling her neck. “Of course.”
“But?” she said. “I hear a ‘but’ in your voice.”
He sighed, long and low. “But,” he said. “We need to fix this. It can’t happen again.”
She lay silently against him. “I don’t know how to stop. It comes over me like a force, Anderson. A powerful need. It’s like how I used to crave drugs.”
“I can’t pretend to understand. I honestly can’t imagine what you’re going through.”
She flipped over and turned to him, placing her forehead against his. “Please try. Please help me.”
“Do you talk about it with your therapist?”
She grimaced. “Yes.”
“And it doesn’t help?”
“No.”
“Then maybe it’s time for a new doctor?” he suggested.
“Maybe.” Her face fell and tears began to leak from her eyes. “I hate myself. I hate who I’ve become.”
Anderson felt a welling of empathy steal through him. “Honey. We’ll get you help.” He wiped away the tears from her cheeks. “I promise.”
She looked up at him and broke into deeper sobs. “I—I don’t deserve you.”
“Don’t be silly.”
“But I love you so much, Anderson. I really do.”
He hoped it was true. How her behavior could be so opposite to her purported feelings was a mystery to him. Could it be true? Could the illness from which she obviously suffered really override her true feelings for him?
He pulled her against him and let her cry against this shoulder, soaking his pajama top. “I know. I love you too, baby.”
“What will we do about Chandler? I mean, Hank? Do you think he’ll come back?”
He wanted to placate her, to say the man was long gone and they’d never see him again. But he couldn’t lie. “I don’t think he’ll give up.”
“Oh, God.” She lifted her face to him. “He must hate you.”
Anderson tried hard not to think of the chair in the cabin. He kept picturing the bonds that had held his dear Caroline tight until she died. Did she take her last breath in the dark? Was she cold? Starving? Thirsty? A shudder ran through him and he almost lost it.
“Honey?” Grace said, searching his face. “Are you okay?”
He shook his head, holding back the cries of grief that he felt welling inside. “No, Grace. I’m far from okay.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his face tenderly. “I’m so sorry about Caroline.”
He nodded and closed his eyes. It was all he could manage.
“I hope she didn’t suffer.”
He croaked the next few words. “I think she suffered terribly.”
Grace shivered, trying to kiss away his sadness. But Anderson felt a familiar aversion when she pressed her lips to his. He couldn’t help it. Those lips had just kissed the man who killed his sweet Caroline. They’d teased Hank the way she teased him when they made love. She may have kissed Hank in places that made Anderson sick with revulsion.
He needed a break.
“I’m sorry,” he said, pulling away and turning over. “I just need some sleep.”
He heard her crying on the other side of the bed, sniffling and sighing until she finally fell asleep. But his conflicting feelings took control now.
She’d lain with Hank, his nemesis.
Killing Caroline hadn’t been enough for him, had it? He’d taken the young girl, forced her into a chair in the middle of nowhere, and had watched her suffer until she died.
And then, he’d probably stayed with her as she decayed, year after year, turning to bleached white bones.
Maybe Hank thought that would be enough. But it wasn’t, was it? He’d stewed in hot revenge, year after year. He’d waited until now, wanting to hurt Anderson more. He’d tried to abduct Grace, and probably would have killed her if we hadn’t gone after him.
Would the bastard have left Grace tied in another chair in the cabin seated beside Caroline?
He drifted into a troubled sleep, but didn’t wake until morning.
Chapter 56
“But I want to go with you,” Grace said, sounding as petulant as a child.
Anderson squinted at the morning sun blazing through the bedroom window. He held up one hand as if to stop her tirade. “Listen. Caroline’s aunt won’t want an audience when she falls apart.”
“But I can wait in the car.”
She tried to slide her arms around his waist, but he backed away.
“No. Stay here with your family. You’ll be safer here if Hank decides to show up again. And don’t wander outdoors, you hear me?” He used an especially stern tone so she’d know he meant business.
But there was more to it. If he was honest with himself, he had to admit he still hadn’t forgiven her for her recent escapade. Even though he knew she’d been set up by Hank, he wasn’t sure if he ever would get past this.
Could their marriage survive?
Anderson tried to view the situation analytically as he drove up the winding driveway to Sunny’s cottage late the next morning. But his emotions had taken over, and the images of Caroline tied to that chair wouldn’t leave him alone.
Poor Sunny. This is gonna kill her.
He sat for a minute in the driveway, trying to pull himself together. Talking about Caroline’s death with the only other person who’d loved her would be hell. It would be admitting the whole horrible deal out loud.
He wasn’t looking forward to it.
Unfolding his long legs, he got out, stretching his arms above him. A crow cawed overhead, as if to encourage him.
Or was it a warning?
He shook his head and headed up the path.
The front door burst open, and there stood Sunny with her perpetual grin. As always, she wore a tie-dyed sundress and beads dangled from her neck. Her long hair still hung in cascading curls down her back. She was barefoot.
“Anderson?” She said. “Why didn’t you call first?” She trotted down the porch steps to greet him with a bear hug. “I would have cooked if I’d known.”
He kept the embrace going for longer than usual, taking comfort in her warmth and affection.
She stood back and stared up at him. “What? What is it?”
He could barely meet her eyes. “Let’s go inside.”
She frowned and took his hand, leading him inside. “Coffee?”
“Not now, thanks.” He motioned to the living room. “Please. Sit.”
She let out a nervous laugh. “You’re scaring me, Anderson.”
He waited for her to settle. Taking the armchair beside the couch, he lowered his head and clasped his hands. “There’s no easy way to say this.”
She met and held his gaze when he raised his eyes to hers.
“Just say it, dear.”
He took a deep breath and blurted it out. “We found Caroline.”
Her face drained of color. “Is she—”
He shook his head slowly. “She’s not alive.”
Sunny sank back into the cushions. “I knew she couldn’t be. Not with that awful hangdog look on your face.”
Anderson got up and faced out the window. “I know you felt she might’ve been alive all these years.”
She took a deep breath and let it out. “It was just wishful thinking. The dreams of an aging hippie.”
He turned and walked to her side, sitting beside her. “Me, too. I kept hoping beyond hope that some day she’d turn up.”
Sunny’s eyes streamed tears. “I’d imagine she had a concussion. She’d lost her memory. And suddenly, she’d remember and there she’d be on my doorstep.” Her voice hitched, and she bent over in sobs.
“Me, too.” Anderson slid an arm around her back.
<
br /> Sunny looked up suddenly. “Where is she?”
“Not far from here, in a cabin in the woods. It was Hank, of course.”
Woodenly, she nodded. “Of course. When did it happen?” she whispered.
“Years ago.”
“I should have known in my heart.” She wept into her hands. “Maybe I did. Maybe I knew all along. Who found her?”
“I did, because the bastard took Grace.”
She stiffened. “Are you serious?”
“I am. If Boone and I hadn’t found them, God knows what he would have done to her.”
“Oh my God, Anderson! That pathetic little sicko still hates you, after all these years?”
Anderson glanced down at his hands. “Seems so.”
After a few minutes, she dabbed at her eyes with the hem of her dress. “I want details, Anderson. I need to know what happened.”
He blinked. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. I need closure.”
“He took her to that cabin. He tied her up.”
“But how’d she die?”
Anderson hesitated. “We won’t know until the results are in.” Idly he wondered if the coroner could tell if someone starved to death, or froze to death, by examining their bones. Was it possible?
They talked for a while about what Anderson had found in the cabin, but he spared the details and tried to steer her away from the vision of her dear niece trussed to a chair with no food or water.
“He must have planned this for a long time,” Sunny said suddenly. “And what’s with the Devil’s Creek thing? I mean, you said it was really named Moon Creek?”
“Right. I think it was part of his plan to terrify us. The memories of Murphy, you know? References to that horrible time.”
“Well, it would have terrified me, that’s for sure.”
She rose and made coffee and tuna sandwiches, almost as if she were on autopilot. They ate, talking about Caroline. He noticed she seemed totally sober, and there were no bottles of wine on the counter or in the fridge.
They didn’t talk about Grace’s addictions, or the manner in which she’d been drawn into Hank’s web. For that, Anderson was grateful.
“We need to have a service,” Sunny said suddenly. “A real, decent, memorial to our girl.”
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