by Kylie Brant
She hadn’t seen her mom in four days, and Aunt Alma’s updates were notoriously unreliable. Cady had learned that dropping in often and unannounced was the best way of determining her mother’s deteriorating mental condition. It wasn’t yet nine. Now that Hannah Maddix was no longer able to work, she often stayed up at least until the ten o’clock news came on.
She slowed and turned into the badly rutted lane to the cabin. Her headlights caught another vehicle parked in front of the building. Cady mentally swore when she recognized the rusted primer-gray pickup parked near the home. Like dealing with one asshole today hadn’t filled her quota.
She slammed the door to her Jeep and headed toward the shabby porch. The sound of her arrival had the front door opening, and two figures stepped out to watch her approach, looking like twins in the dim light with their long hair and matching black Carhartt jeans and jackets.
Cady didn’t extend a greeting. Bo and LeRoy might be her cousins by blood, but she’d mentally excised the relationship long ago. They took up positions leaning against porch posts as she walked up the steps. When she drew even with them, Bo removed the toothpick from his mouth. “Hey, killer.”
She slowed a fraction. He could have been referring to the incident in Saint Louis two years ago. Or perhaps alluding to ancient history when she’d given him the scar hidden beneath the ball cap he wore.
But she knew he was referencing neither.
“Bo. Didn’t know you were out of county lockup. Did the sheriff get a sudden attack of mercy, or was he just anxious to get rid of you?”
The man spit a wad of tobacco, just missing the toe of her left boot. “Good luck trying to talk to your ma. She was even loonier than normal today.” LeRoy snickered. No surprise there. His entire life had been spent as his older brother’s stooge.
“Well, she’s got early-onset Alzheimer’s. What’s your excuse?” Without waiting for a rejoinder, she let herself in the screen door. “It’s Cady, Aunt Alma.”
Her aunt leaped up from the couch where she was lying watching TV. “I swear, Cady, don’t know how many times I asked you to call before you come.” The woman bustled around, picking up glasses and plates and taking them to the kitchen before hurrying back. “Give a person a warning so I can make the place presentable.”
Cady didn’t tell her the last thing she wanted was to alert her prior to a visit. She needed to see her mom in the real environment, not the one Alma would present if given the opportunity. “Sorry. My schedule can be unpredictable.” She glanced at the empty rocker in the corner. If her mom were awake, that was always where she found her. Frowning, Cady looked at her aunt. “Did she go to bed early?”
The woman’s hesitation had Cady’s gut tightening. “She had a bad day.” Alma shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her housedress. “If’n you’d a called first, I’d a told you to wait until tomorrow.”
Without another word, Cady strode toward the tiny bedroom in the corner of the cabin. Alma caught her by the sleeve when she would have turned the doorknob. “She’s sleeping now,” the woman whispered. “I’ve been watchin’ her real close. Hannah was confused on and off all day, and dizzy. Late this afternoon she got up to go to the bathroom. She musta fell against the wall and rapped her head. She’s got a goose egg. I ran her to urgent care in Waynesville and had her checked out, but the doctor didn’t think any tests were necessary. Hannah seemed fine. Well . . .” Alma lifted a beefy shoulder. “For her, anyways.”
Cady’s quick stab of guilt was a reminder that she couldn’t protect her mother from the ravages of the disease, even if she’d been here. Then suspicion flickered. “Do you have the receipt from the doctor’s office?”
Alma stared at her incredulously for a moment before setting her jaw. She turned and stomped into the kitchen and snatched something off the counter. Marching back toward Cady, she slapped the sheet of paper in her hand. “Think you’d be more trusting of your kin than that.”
Cady studied the paper with a flicker of relief. She wished she had more confidence in her aunt as well, but it wouldn’t have been the first time the woman had skirted corners to save a dime. “Thank you for taking her, but you should have let me know when it happened.” Her mother’s declining mental health had been the reason for her seeking a position closer to home. But she was still struggling with balancing the demands of her job with the time needed to properly supervise Hannah’s care.
Her aunt’s jaw jutted. “I was fixin’ to call you later. The boys came for dinner, and I’ve been on my feet all day. Just taking a minute’s rest, is all.”
“Uh-huh.” It was more likely Alma hadn’t intended to tell her at all. “How many other incidents like this have you kept from me?”
“Now just you settle yourself, missy.” Alma was a large woman. She’d intimidated Cady when she was a child. But in the last several years, Cady had faced far worse dangers than Alma Griggs. She stared levelly at her until her aunt finally looked away. “I don’t follow her into the bathroom. Might be a time when I’ll need to, but that time don’t seem to be yet. She’s just having a bad spell. You remember the doctor warned us to expect them.”
Because Cady kept in touch with her mother’s doctor in Asheville, she had a good idea of what was in store for Hannah Maddix. The periods of confusion were coming more frequently. And there was no way Cady was going to let Alma know how much the realization scared her.
“Let me know when it gets to be too much.” A memory unit in a nursing home would be necessary at some point in Hannah’s future. Cady would have to rely on the doctor’s assessment as to when her mother required professional care. She couldn’t rely on Alma to be objective. The woman received Hannah’s entire disability check and a supplemental grocery account Cady had set up at the Waynesville supermarket in return for caring for her sister. Hannah seemed comfortable in the cabin, where she’d lived on and off for over two decades. The situation here wasn’t ideal, but Cady was reluctant to uproot her mom before it was necessary.
She was also aware Hannah and Alma would team up to make Hannah’s condition appear better than it was.
Easing the door open, Cady peeked inside. Just as Alma had indicated, her mom was in bed, the light off. Sounds of her quiet breathing defused some of Cady’s tension. She closed the door quietly. She’d double-check with the clinic doctor, but for now she’d have to take her aunt at her word.
“Tell her I’ll try to come by tomorrow.” Cady ignored the expression on Alma’s face as she brushed by her. Unless something else came up in the next few hours, she’d take some comp time Monday.
“Wait up, now. As long as you’re here . . .” She turned at her aunt’s voice. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something. I went to the grocery store yesterday, and they wouldn’t let me charge everything in my cart. Said you had a cap on the monthly amount.”
“You knew the monthly amount we agreed on. We sat down and discussed how much you’d need for the two of you.” Cady had a vivid memory of the conversation. It was before she’d moved back. When it had become apparent Hannah could no longer hold a job and shouldn’t live alone anymore. Cady had come home from Saint Louis to make the current arrangements for her mother’s care.
“Prices have gone up. I need more.”
Cady cocked a brow. “You’re telling me the grocery money ran out less than halfway into the month? Pretty coincidental, you needing more cash around the same time Bo got out of county lockup.” He’d had a job before his sentencing, she recalled. But it wouldn’t be waiting for him after three months.
“Now there you go, blaming something on your cousin again for something not his fault. Ain’t the first time, either, is it?” Alma folded her arms across her impressive chest. “This has nothing to do with him. It’s about you paying enough for me to take care of your mama proper.”
Not his fault. The memory summoned by the words seared across Cady’s mind. She slammed a mental door before it could take shape.
“I�
�m not raising the cap.” She brushed by the woman and headed toward the door. “If you want to pay for his groceries out of your own money, that’s your decision.”
“We ain’t done talking about this,” her aunt called after her.
Yes, Cady thought as she let herself out of the house and jogged down the steps. We are. By some cosmic miracle Bo and LeRoy weren’t in sight, which, given her current mood, was rare good luck for both men. She put her keys in the ignition and backed up enough to get turned around. She drove cautiously down the pitted drive, unable to escape the most bitter of ironies.
Her mother’s problem was not being able to remember.
Cady’s was an inability to forget.
She turned her vehicle onto the blacktop, then pressed her foot on the accelerator, wishing it were as easy to leave the tenacious mental images behind. At twelve, she’d already been a wary kid, the trait honed by the revolving door in her mother’s social life and the resulting disappointments. So Cady was still shocked her younger self had ever believed her cousins when they’d lured her from the garden by promising to show her a rabbit’s nest. The moment she’d gotten down to peer into the thicket they’d pointed out, Bo had been on top of her.
Her palms slipped on the wheel, dampened by sweat. The recollection could still do that to her, even after all these years. His hands tearing at her clothes, loosening his own. Her screaming. Struggling. Shit, she hardly got no titties! And LeRoy’s donkey bray of a laugh. She’s got a pussy, ain’t she? The panic had lodged in her chest as her fingers searched for something, anything, to use as a weapon. When they’d closed around the fist-size rock, she’d slammed it against Bo’s head with all her twelve-year-old might.
She hadn’t realized it then, but the incident would mark the end of her childhood.
Cady’s eyes burned as they remained on the strip of blacktop. Ancient history. Her past was a bottomless well of insidious remembrances. She’d built a formidable inner wall to keep them from slithering out.
But tonight had scored a chink in her mental armor. Squinting against an approaching vehicle’s brights, she worked her shoulders in an attempt to dislodge the tightness there. She already knew the full onslaught of memories would wait until she was asleep to waylay her. Making a sudden decision, Cady reached across the console to her purse. Rummaged in it until she drew out her cell. She checked the time before pressing a familiar number.
“Gabe. Hey,” she said when a man’s low tones answered. “Sounds like I woke you.” It was barely after nine. She’d called later at night. Lots later.
“Might’ve dozed off.” The words were swallowed by a yawn. “Just got home a bit ago from a two-day op.” Gabriel Pearson was a special agent with the ATF, stationed at the Asheville office. Like her, he chose to commute to work in order to be closer to family. They’d met on a case a couple of months after she’d moved back. Their occasional after-hours relationship was casual, built on mutual interests and convenience. At least on her part. She assumed it was the same for him. She’d never met a man who was averse to a friends-with-benefits hookup. As evidenced by his answer now.
“But I’m awake now. Want me to come over?”
Something in her chest eased. “Sure. I’ll be home in twenty minutes.”
“I’ll meet you then.”
She disconnected and dropped the phone on the console beside her. There was a thin trail of shame trickling down her spine, one she quickly shrugged away. Some people sought oblivion in a bottle, but she’d seen firsthand how destructive alcohol could be. Sex brought similar results, with far fewer side effects.
Her cell awakened her. Cady’s hand snaked out from beneath the bedcovers in search of the phone on the bedside table. The screen said 1:00 a.m. She’d been asleep less than an hour. “Maddix.” She kept her voice low to avoid awakening the man sleeping beside her, but she was already swinging her legs over the side of the mattress.
“Cady, we’ve got an escape at Fristol Forensic Center in Haywood County.” She recognized Supervisory Deputy US Marshal Allen Gant’s voice immediately. “The regional task force is being called out. I need you over there.”
“Do we have details?” She was already striding to the bathroom, mentally figuring how long it would take her to get to the Fristol property. Five minutes for a quick shower before dressing and another thirty to the facility. Shave ten minutes off that time if she used the dash strobe.
“Samuel Martin Aldeen. Sentenced five years ago for the kidnap, rape, and cannibalization of six children in a three-state area.”
The muscles in her gut clenched. She remembered the case. Although she’d been working in the Saint Louis office at the time of his capture, his crimes had made national news. As had the sentencing, when a judge had found the man guilty but insane. “I don’t recall him being sent to Fristol.” She swung the bathroom door closed and grabbed a towel from the closet before turning on the shower.
“He was in the Bridgeport facility originally, near Greenville, South Carolina,” Gant responded. “His attorney filed a hardship plea and got him transferred closer to home. I’m light on details right now, but the Haywood County Sheriff’s Office is in charge of the scene. The State Bureau of Investigation is on their way. We’re pulling together Aldeen’s personal information and making a list of former places of residence, friends, and relatives.” Cell still pressed to her ear, Cady stripped with her free hand. “Call in when you get there.”
“You got it.” Disconnecting, she set the phone aside and then set a record for the world’s shortest shower before stepping out of the stall and drying off quickly. Her mind was racing. She’d never had reason to visit Fristol but given its population, she assumed its security measures would be similar to a prison’s. Learning everything she could about how the man managed to walk out of the place would give them an excellent starting point.
She pulled her hair back into a ponytail before striding into the bedroom and dressing swiftly. When she walked into the kitchen, she stopped short at the sight of a shadowy figure leaning against the counter. It took a moment for Cady to make the mental adjustment. “Gabe. I’m sorry I woke you.”
He took a couple of coffee cups out of the cupboard. “Twice in a matter of hours. Some sort of record, even for you. What’s going on?”
Cady filled him in as she strapped on the weapon she’d carried in from her bedroom.
“Aldeen? There’s going to be a shitstorm of panic when this goes public.”
“Don’t I know it.” PR wasn’t her problem, but public opinion impacted every law enforcement job in a myriad of ways. It wouldn’t be the major factor in the manhunt for Samuel Aldeen, however.
Capturing him before he killed again would be.
“I gotta go.”
She turned and went to the small living-room closet, pulling out a navy jacket with sheepskin lining. It wasn’t until Gabe spoke again as she was threading her hair through the back opening of her matching ball cap that she realized he’d followed her from the kitchen.
“Coffee will be ready in another couple of minutes.”
She was tempted, more than she’d like to admit. Regretfully, she shook her head, pulling the gloves from the pockets of her coat and putting them on. “Can’t wait. Wish I could.” She scooped up the car keys she kept on the tiny oak stand next to the closet door. “Be sure to engage the alarm when you leave, okay?” She backtracked and started toward the kitchen again and its adjoining door to the attached carport.
Gabe caught her arm as she was going by. “You got an extra house key? If I had one, I wouldn’t have to wait outside for you like a homicidal stalker the way I did last night before you got home.” His tone was light. But his underlying meaning had her squirming.
“Uh . . . can we discuss this later?”
His hand fell away. “Yeah. Sure. Bad timing.”
Uncertain how to respond, Cady hurried to the kitchen and out the side door toward her vehicle. Apparently, she’d misjudged him. Exchan
ging house keys wasn’t as casual as she liked to keep her relationships. She cursed mentally. She’d rather race to apprehend a dangerous escapee than navigate sticky relationship waters.
And she knew exactly what that said about her.
Eryn: Then
“Mama says the cake has to look like The Starry Night, my favorite painting.” Eryn’s voice still felt scratchy and raw from last week. She danced with excitement as she watched Mary Jane mix food coloring into bowls of white frosting. She wished she dared sneak a taste. But she already knew the woman would rap her knuckles with the spoon. Mama would’ve let her have a sample, if she cooked. And if she was in a good mood. But Mary Jane was never in a good mood. Usually the edges of her mouth were turned down like its corners were reaching for her chin. Not today, though. Today her mouth was pinched tight, like she was sucking on something sour.
Eryn didn’t care. It was her birthday, her special day. That’s what Mama had said. You’re nine today, Eryn. You’re growing up. No more doing silly, careless things. Mama didn’t know why Eryn had done what she had last week, and she wouldn’t understand. Eryn had told her it was an accident. If she’d told the truth, Eryn would get dragged to the doctor again, the one who liked to hear himself talk. He asked questions she didn’t always know the answers to. She knew she couldn’t tell him the truth, either, about anything. She’d learned long ago to tell adults exactly what they wanted to hear. Everyone was so much happier then.
Mama was in her room, finishing a painting for Eryn’s birthday. It was one of the two of them together. She’d snuck a look at it when Mama had gone to lunch with a friend. She couldn’t wait to hang it between the two small windows in her room that faced the pond.