by Tess Oliver
For a second, the thick clouds overhead parted and sunlight streamed through the trees. My gaze flashed across the bottom of the trench and something shiny caught my eye. I pointed at the object. "Do you see that, Tyler?"
He stooped down and pulled out his phone. "Looks like jewelry. I'll take a photo so we remember where we spotted it." He took close-ups of the trench and the bracelet. Then he stepped back to get a few broader photos of the area. "All right, that's good."
I hopped down into the trench and swept aside the loose dirt. A small gold heart was attached to a thin gold chain. I picked it up and climbed out of the trench.
"What's that?" Sutton asked. She was across the trench and couldn't see what I was holding.
"It's a gold bracelet with a heart-shaped charm." I cleaned it off on my shirt and held it up in the weak sunlight coming through the canopy.
Sutton nearly fell into the trench in her frantic hurry to get a better look at the jewelry. She scurried around the end of the hole, kicking piles of dirt out of the way. Her hand shot out, and she took the bracelet from my fingers. She stared at it on her palm until I heard the first sniffle.
"Sutton?" I asked. "Do you recognize it?"
She nodded. "This was my mom's bracelet. She only took it off to wash dishes." She pinched the gold heart in her fingers and opened it like a locket. She stared at the tiny photos inside the heart, then lifted it for us to get a closer look. There was no mistaking the sparkling eyes and smiles of the Jensen twins. They looked to be about eight or nine and were both wearing frilly dresses.
"I remember when she took us to get these photographs. Dad had bought her the charm bracelet for Christmas, a rarity for him. She sewed us the dresses." Sutton sniffled and smiled up at me with tears in her eyes. "We went out for ice cream afterward. Mint and chip, our favorite."
I looked at Tyler. A serious, professional, cop-style look crossed his face. "I'm going to have to take that with me, along with the pictures I just took. I'll probably need a statement from you, Sutton. We can do that later. It looks like you're going to need a little time to process this." By the time he said it, tears were streaming down her face. "I'm going to walk down to the park where the reception is better and makes some calls. I'll get a proper search crew out here." He nodded at me. "It'll give you some private time," he added.
"Thanks, Tyler,"
He headed down the trail. I stood silently next to Sutton, letting her tears flow freely but badly wanting to hold her. She wasn't ready for that yet.
Sutton sat down on the edge of the trench, not caring that she was getting covered with dirt. Her legs hung into the ditch. "She was here," she said in a voice that sounded as lost as it was sad. "I can sense it. She was here. That animal killed her." She covered her face with her hands.
I crouched down next to her. "We've got him now, Sutton."
She didn't drop her hands as she shook her head. "No," she muttered, then she lowered them and looked at me with tear stained cheeks. "You don't understand. He's never going to take the fall. He still wields too much power. You'll see. It's hopeless. All we have is the bracelet she always wore. Can't believe he missed that detail. Where is she? Why isn't she here?"
"Your dad must have been worried she would be found, so he moved her somewhere else. I admit, that makes the case against him harder, but we can't give up. You need your life back. That asshole has already stolen enough from you."
I sat next to her. She rested her head against my shoulder. "It just doesn't seem possible," she said between sniffles. "The temperamental, scary man I grew up with was like a super villain, untouchable, unstoppable. Do you really think we can put him in jail based on a bracelet?"
"Tyler looked pretty intense those last few minutes. He knows more about this kind of stuff than me. He didn't waste any time taking pictures and making calls. I think it's a start."
Sutton took a deep breath. "I guess I'm worried we've opened the can of worms and there's no putting the suckers back." She lifted her head and looked at me. Her tiny nose was pink from crying. "That means word will get back to my dad."
I searched for a counterargument but couldn't find one. She was right. Word would get out and with Jensen still having a lot of connections, that same word would eventually trickle his direction.
"All I can say is I'll take care of you, Sutton. You don't need to run anymore. Time to face that asshole. Besides that—I've got another idea. There was another witness that night on this hillside other than me, and I think we should talk to him. Might not get any straight answers, but it's worth a try. Are you up to some more investigating?"
She took a deep, shuddering breath. "Like I said, the worm can is open and there's no putting them back."
22
My brilliant idea of visiting the other witness from the night Jensen hid the body of his wife seemed far less brilliant once I truly started thinking about it. Tyler had called for a search of the area and was going to let us know if anything was found. He also wanted me to bring Sutton into the station for a statement about that night thirteen years ago, along with one about the bracelet. He expected a similar statement from me. The idea of going to the station and seeing people who knew her father had sent her into a panic attack, which was followed by a sullen mood change.
We sat in the truck parked just outside town. "I know this all sounds a little scary—" I started.
"A little scary? Once I walk into that station, it's all over. For years, I've managed to stay clear of the man, but after this, I'll have no choice but to come face-to-face with him and frankly, Kingston, I don't think I have that in me. As much as I want to stand in his face and tell him I know he killed my mom and tell him he made our lives a nightmare and that I wish he would die a long, torturous death, I don't think I have the courage. I need my sister by my side and she's gone. She was the one with the head on her shoulders, the courage, the backbone."
I turned slightly to look at her. "Uh, I think you've got that backwards, Sutton. You're the one with the backbone and the courage. And your sister will always be by your side in spirit."
She shook her head. "No, no you don't understand," she growled in frustration. "I can't explain things. Everything has gotten too out of hand. I should have just left town when I had the chance."
Those words struck me like a fist in the chest. "You want to leave me then," I asked tentatively. "You want to give up this quest, return to your life on the road, no name or home or life to call your own? I wanted to be all that for you, Sutton, but I don't want you to be unhappy. If you'd rather just pack up and leave—"
Her small fist swung out and punched my shoulder. "No, I can't now. Don't you see? I can't leave you now. I've been happier with you these past few days than I've been since—shit—since I can remember."
"I feel the same way."
She slumped back against the seat. The emotional day had taken its toll on her. "If we'd found her, if we'd found my mom, I think I would feel more confident about this, but it's just a bracelet. Dad could say she lost it on a hike years ago or something stupid. He's a damn good liar."
"That's why I thought I might drive out and visit Isaac Rangel. He knows what happened. Tyler said he's gotten even crazier, but maybe he'll know where your mom is buried."
She reached over and stroked the side of my face with her hand. "You are certainly putting yourself in a lot of danger helping me. I always knew you were different." Her last words helped bring me back to earth on a crazy ass theory that kept floating through my head. I remembered clearly the day at the river, when Kenzie had already floated downstream with Bret Harper and I overheard Sutton singing, with that incredible voice. She'd told me then that she thought I was different. In her own way she was telling me that I'd disappointed her because I had not been different at all. I was like every other guy, nuts and out of my mind over her twin sister.
I knew the notion I'd been tossing around in my head was bonkers, but it was nice to have some confirmation that it truly was o
ff the rails.
"I'm sort of hungry," I said. "That burger was hours ago. Are you in the mood for some ice cream? Then we can talk more about this because there is one thing I know for sure, I'm not letting you walk out of my life."
She leaned over the console and kissed me, long and deep enough for me to convince myself I was hungry for something other than ice cream. Sutton sat back. "Ice cream sounds good. I assume that Orson's Ice Cream still carries my favorite mint and chip." She leaned down and grabbed her hat and sunglasses from the floor.
I started the motor. I had to erase the residual effects of the kiss from my mind and body. "I think it has new owners, but last time I went in there with my dad it was pretty much the same place, same flavors too."
"I assume you'll be having rocky road?" she asked as the truck tires hit solid pavement.
My face snapped her direction. "How did you know that I'm a rocky road fan?"
Her thin shoulders popped up in a shrug. "I'm sure you must have told me some time." She laughed off the question.
"I remember having a debate with Kenzie about favorite ice cream flavors. She said hers was mint and chip."
"Yep, we both loved it." Sutton stared out the window as I headed down the road toward the ice cream parlor.
"I can count the number of discussions you and I had growing up on my hands, and I just don't remember talking about ice cream." The stupid fucking theory was back, and it had really lodged itself deep in my brain this time. It would explain a lot of things. At the same time, it would confuse the hell out of everything . . . including us.
"Kenzie told me," she said as she glanced over and favored me with one of her breath-stealing smiles. "That's how I know. I just remembered that she told me."
"You've got a good memory," I told her, only everything was starting to feel off, like I was in the middle of some weird, gigantic prank.
23
The rocky road hit the spot, but I was still feeling out of sorts. One thing I knew for certain—I was going to get to the bottom of Mary Jensen's disappearance. I'd been an unwitting witness in the crime, and I was going to follow it through to the end.
Tyler texted just as we finished our cones. "We didn't find anything else up here except that bracelet. I'm on duty from seven until five tomorrow. Bring Sutton in then so she can make a statement."
"Sounds good. I'll let you know when we're heading in," I texted back. Sutton was smiling weakly as she watched a woman with her two little girls sitting on the bench outside of the ice cream shop. She had them bundled in scarves and big coats as if a winter storm was about to blow through. The girls looked a lot alike, but there seemed to be a few years between them.
"My mom used to take us here after dentist or doctor appointments," she said wistfully.
I hated to interrupt her memories but the sun was getting lower in the sky, and I was suddenly resolved to talk to Isaac Rangel. "That was Tyler."
Her face turned my direction. "What did he say? Did they find anything?"
"Sorry, no luck. That bracelet is all the evidence we have so far."
Her lips pulled down. "My dad knew how to cover his tracks. What are we going to do now?"
"Tyler is working tomorrow. We need to get you in there, so he can take a statement from you. That will hopefully get the ball rolling."
She shook her head and started rubbing her hands together. "Too risky. I can't. I don't want to put Tyler in danger either. His job, his life, everything could get ruined. The evidence is too sparse. And I—I don't want to give a statement."
"Why the fuck not?" I asked. I hadn't meant to sound angry, but it couldn't be interpreted as anything but. She looked plenty hurt too.
"Because I'm scared, Kingston. You don't know what he's capable of."
"Murder," I said brusquely. "I know he's capable of murder."
"Why are you so pissed?" she asked. There was anger in her tone too.
"I just thought—I thought you wanted to stop running. I thought we could nail this asshole and then we could—"
"Have a normal relationship?" she asked. "With my murderer father in jail?"
"Yeah, actually, yes, something like that. Why does that sound so crazy to you?" My own hurt was showing through.
She crossed her arms around herself. "I guess I've just been living such a loner's existence, the thought of caring for someone, being someone's significant other seems strange . . . hard . . . impossible. Besides that—" she started, then faded off. "Never mind."
"Besides what? Tell me."
"No, you know what? Let's go see that stupid asshole Isaac. He always liked me." She shivered. "Unfortunately. But maybe I can get him to talk."
24
My truck grumbled in complaint as the four tires waddled along the uneven dirt road. It had been years since I'd traveled up what we all used to call the haunted road, an unpaved road so shaded by trees the sun never reached the ground. Nights when we were bored and the moon was full enough to provide whispers of glow, we'd ride our bikes beneath the thick trees. We'd made up so many creepy ghost stories about the area, that we usually freaked out and pedaled like hell out of the place long before we reached Isaac's cabin. Considering he didn't appreciate any of us 'hoodlums' as he liked to call us, it was probably a good thing we never made it to his front yard. Not that the overgrown patch of weeds and brambles could be considered a yard, but there was definitely a forbidden zone around the old place.
It had always seemed weird to me that the highly respected and mostly feared sheriff of the entire county would be chums with the likes of Isaac Rangel, but now that I knew more about Jensen, it sort of made sense. They obviously both had mental health issues that were never dealt with. My parents insisted that Jensen's friendship with Rangel was out of compassion and charity, but that sounded like the most implausible excuse ever written in the history of excuses. It seemed I'd been right and my parents had been wrong. The friendship had some majorly evil underpinnings.
Sutton had relaxed enough to doze off on the drive back through Westridge. The rough road jostled her awake. She squinted out the window into the darkness. "My gosh, how long was I sleeping?"
I chuckled. "It's not nightfall. We just entered the haunted forest." I put on my best Dracula voice for the last two words.
She laughed as she sat up straighter to see through the windshield. "It's been years since I've been on this road. It did always feel haunted. One time I was on the back of Bret Harper's bike. I kept telling him I wanted to turn around. I was hitting his shoulders and everything. Then something big moved in the trees. He swung around so fast, I nearly flew off the back of his bike. I laughed at him the whole way back to the road."
I listened to her story, taking it all in and trying to calculate what the odds were that Sutton Jensen ever climbed on the back of Bret Harper's bike.
She laughed airily at the story ending, then seemed to sense the whole thing wasn't sitting right with me.
"I know you think I always just sat at home doing homework and practicing clarinet, but I did occasionally get out and have a little adventure."
I turned on the high beams to make sure we didn't end up in a rut. "Guess I had a whole different picture of Sutton Jensen because yes, I pictured you at home doing homework and practicing music. The one place I would never, ever picture you was on the back of Bret Harper's bike. You hated him almost as much as you hated me."
Another one of those 'whatever' shrugs. "I must have been feeling like a bike ride that day. Don't know what else to tell you."
We emerged from the densest part of the road. The waning daylight was a welcome sight. I stopped the truck abruptly and looked at her. "Are you sure about that? Are you sure there's nothing else you want to tell me?"
Her long lashes fluttered innocently. For the first time since I'd run into her at the coffee shop, I was asking myself what the hell I had gotten myself into? "What do you mean?" she asked.
"It's just that sometimes I think—"
; Crack! A rock hit the windshield hard enough to startle both of us out of our conversation and put a hole in the glass. The rock was about the size of a tennis ball. It bounced and rolled like one too as it tumbled off the hood of my truck.
"Fucking hell. Duck down, Sutton, and stay put." She slipped off the seat and below the dash and, in the process, she pulled on her hat and glasses.
Tyler had warned me that Isaac was off his rocker. I quickly wrote a text to Tyler that I could send with the flick of my thumb if I needed to. "We're out at the Rangel property send help." I also decided to record everything that happened outside the truck . . . just in case. I kept the phone in my hand and climbed out of the truck.
My high beams were still on. They illuminated the cabin ahead of me. Isaac had dragged large metal feeding troughs in a circle around his property. I could only guess that they were meant to be some kind of shield from intruders. One side of his roof was no longer shingles but a large, black tarp that fluttered in the light forest wind. It was held down by bricks. Most of the front windows were entirely boarded up, and a screen door hung half off over of the front door. I saw movement on the porch, but the poor lighting, the overgrown landscape and the way Isaac skulked in the shadows made it hard to see him clearly.
"Turn off those lights," he yelled. "Then turn back around. You've come the wrong way."
His voice was older and more craggy than I remembered. Even in the shadows, it seemed he had grown hunched over with age. Sad thing was he wasn't much older than my parents. It seemed the off the grid, hermit lifestyle had aged him twice as fast.
I reached into the truck to turn off the lights. Sutton was curled into a ball beneath the dash. The rock had scared her. I was relieved she'd decided to stay in the truck.
I shut off the lights, stayed outside the truck but left the door open in case I needed to jump inside.