“I’ll make you some tea,” Laney offered. By the time she returned with the steaming mug, Mary had managed to sit back up, though she still shook like a kettle at full boil.
“I’m so glad you two are all right,” she murmured. Laney crouched beside her, offering the tea, and Mary took a tentative sip.
“I’m going to call Dad,” Ryan said, pulling out his cell phone. His father’s anger reverberated back from the other end of the line. A second attack on their home, and this one had put more than Laney’s life in danger. When he hung up, he turned back to his mother. “Dad says he’s on his way. What happened?”
“I was working on supper, and then the doorbell rang—”
“Mom!” he interrupted. “You didn’t open up, did you?” Hadn’t they gone over this before? How she had to be more cautious than ordinary folks on account of her husband being police chief?
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think.” At least some of the color was returning to her round cheeks. “I assumed it was a neighbor. The storm made it dark and hard to see, and whoever it was wasn’t large.”
“Was it a man or a woman?”
“I couldn’t tell, but based on size, I’d guess a woman,” Mary said. Laney glanced at him, mouthing the words Kathleen Kincaide. His mother continued, “She had a dark hood pulled up—I figured it was because of the rain. I only opened the door a crack, but she shoved inside. She had a gun.”
Anger twisted inside his chest. First Laney’s mother, then Laney herself and now his mom? They had to catch whoever was behind these attacks. “Did she hurt you?”
“No. But I cooperated. I didn’t realize she’d leave a bomb.”
Laney squeezed Mary’s hand. “You did the right thing. You didn’t get hurt, and neither did we.”
“Did the suspect say what she wanted?” Ryan asked.
Mary shook her head. “Only that I wouldn’t get hurt if I did what she said.”
By the time his father arrived home, Mary had more or less made a full recovery. Mom had always been sturdy like that—reminded him of Laney, actually. Both women were tough as nails, each in her own way. While they sat together drinking tea, Ryan pulled his father aside.
“Dad, maybe I should get Laney out of here. I hate that Mom’s been put in danger.”
Jim let out a long breath but shook his head. “Laney’s family to us, Ryan. She’s safer here than anywhere else you could take her, short of sending her home. I’ll assign a plainclothes officer as an extra patrol.”
Laney must’ve seen them whispering together, because she left Mary and came to join them on the far end of the kitchen. “Did you tell him about the map?”
Jim raised an eyebrow, and Ryan fished the map out of his pocket. His father cast a quick glance at him. “Very odd, indeed. Why give you this, but then plant a bomb in our house?”
“Based on what happened at the airport, we’re dealing with two people,” Ryan said. “A man and possibly a woman. We’re still waiting on confirmation from the forensics, but we think we’ll be able to prove Ronald Wilson was framed and that the real killer is still at large.” He filled in his father on the getaway truck and the other evidence they’d found. “So the question is, what do we do now?”
Jim cracked his knuckles, staring at the floor for a moment. “Here’s what I think. Fake Laney’s departure, and then you two lie low for a couple of days while we wait on lab results. In the meantime, I’ll get a team to poke around the bog and see what they can find. There’s no reason to throw yourselves in harm’s way.”
The plan was solid. Ryan nodded. “Sounds good.”
* * *
The next few days felt heavy to Laney, for lack of any better way to describe them. Like thick gray clouds burdened with rain, each passing moment seemed to foretell impending danger.
She and Ryan made a public show of Laney saying goodbye at the police station, packing up her meager belongings in a new tote bag from the store and driving to the airport. Actually, they went only about halfway before he decided they weren’t being followed and it was safe to circle back. They’d chosen a morning when Lawrence Brown wasn’t on shift, just to make sure he couldn’t track Laney inside the airport.
She spent the time hidden away in the Mitchells’ home, behind closed curtains, always with either Jim or Ryan or another officer assigned to keep guard. It felt like house arrest, and by the time the third day arrived, she was seriously contemplating breaking parole before she went crazy.
By late afternoon, it was Ryan’s turn to take over the watch. Laney slumped on the basement sofa, flipping through channels on the television but not really paying attention to anything that came on. Between repairs to the house and working the case, he hadn’t been around much over the preceding days—popping in to check on her and give updates but not staying long enough to renew anything close to the conversation they’d shared over ice cream.
She couldn’t avoid the thought that maybe he didn’t want to be around her. That regardless of his assurances to the contrary, maybe he couldn’t forgive her. The possibility niggled deep into her heart, like a thorn stuck in a lion’s paw, creating an ache with each step. But wasn’t that what she wanted? To close the door on this chapter of her life?
But the more she was around Ryan, the more she doubted that was possible. Long-forgotten feelings had been dusted off and spruced up and now demanded her attention. She’d been head over heels in love once, and those feelings hadn’t gone away—they’d only matured into a deeper, more powerful connection that time and geography hadn’t erased.
As he thumped down the basement stairs, she roused herself from her slump on the couch.
“Hey,” she called over her shoulder, twisting toward the steps.
He wore his uniform, having just come from work. Judging from the dark circles beneath his eyes, he felt as weary as she did. “Hey.” When he plopped down beside her, placing both hands on top of his head, the cushion tilted so that she leaned closer.
“Did you see the report from my lab?” she asked. One of her colleagues had emailed the file to her earlier in the day, copying it to Ryan.
He nodded. “Same killer, different weapons—proving Wilson was framed. How can you guys tell stuff like that?”
“Bones never lie. It’s amazing what you can see at a microscopic level. The mark a weapon makes is determined by its surface and weight, the angle and force of impact, and the type of motion, among other things.” She smiled. “It’s beautifully logical, unlike most of life.”
“Wilson’s lawyer called me back.”
“And?”
“Wilson blamed Lawrence Brown, same as Kincaide. Claimed they spent years playing poker together every weekend with a crew of some other locals. I got the names.”
“Well, that’s good news.” Why did Ryan still sound dejected? “It confirms our suspicions.”
“But I talked to the warden about Wilson’s contacts, and he had only one call from Kathleen Kincaide right after he was incarcerated, then nothing. No Lawrence Brown at all. As convenient as it is to point the finger at them, Laney, we don’t even have enough evidence for an arrest warrant, much less to win a court case.”
“Could they have used fake names to check on him?”
“Maybe, but that’s not enough to go on.” He let out a sigh, giving Laney the gnawing suspicion he had more bad news to share. After a long moment, he went on, “The chief gave the go ahead to search the bog for the other set of remains.”
She jerked upright, excitement driving out the somber disappointment of a moment before. “Then why do you look so gloomy? Let’s get out there and collect them.”
He’d been staring at the wall unit opposite them, with its large television bracketed by bookcases, but at her words, his brown gaze darted to her face. Worry crinkled around his eyes. “No, Laney. You can’t. We’ll do it ourselves. Or bring in some
body else.”
“Why—”
Now he sat upright, taking both her hands into his, triggering a cascade of flutters through her stomach. “Because the killer gave us that information. He’s after you, Laney. Why else would he do it?”
She squeezed his hands, then pulled her own from his grasp. “That’s what I thought, too, but then why bother planting a bomb here in your house?”
He ran his hands over his forehead and through his dark hair. “It doesn’t make sense to me, either, but I can’t think of any other reason he’d give us those remains. Maybe he’s trying to scare you into doing something reckless. Regardless, you’re in danger.”
“Hey,” she said, touching his cheek lightly. “My life is in the Lord’s hands. Same as yours. I won’t take any unnecessary risks.”
He clenched his fist and turned away. “It gets worse.”
Something about his tone made her stomach drop. “What?”
“We’ve got a lead on Madison Smith.”
“Your missing college student?”
Ryan held out a large manila envelope she hadn’t noticed before. “This arrived at the station today in the mail, addressed to me.” His jaw muscles tightened.
She opened the envelope and pulled out a single large photograph. A twentysomething blond-haired girl sat bound to a chair, duct tape across her mouth, her eyes red and puffy from tears, cheeks stained with dried blood. Behind her was a plank wall, almost like an old barn, with vertical boards covered in fading yellow paint. And at her feet, resting against her legs, stood a white sign with the same scrawled handwriting she’d seen far too often.
Your choice: you or her.
Tomorrow at dawn. Come alone.
The sinking feeling in her stomach opened into a pit. She had no doubt whom this message was for, and it wasn’t Ryan.
“Oh, Ryan...” she murmured, unable to stop staring at the girl’s face. The way her hair hung in clumps around her red, tear-streaked cheeks. The bruises on her exposed arms.
He pressed his hand to his forehead again, leaning one elbow on his knee. “It’s Madison Smith. Verified by facial recognition software, but we’ll confirm with her mother.” How awful, to have to share this photograph with the girl’s family. “Look at the time stamp on the photograph.”
“Two days ago?” Laney’s heart hurt. “That was after I supposedly left.”
“Yeah. Guess our ruse didn’t work.” His hair stood up on end from the way he kept running his hands through it. She’d rarely seen him this upset.
What she had to say next wasn’t going to make things better.
Fear rattled her insides, but the certainty that she was doing the right thing made her declaration easier. “You know I can’t let her die.”
“Of course we won’t let her die. We’ll figure out where he has her.”
“After we figure out who he is?” Laney asked gently. Ryan wasn’t quite getting her point. “We don’t have that kind of time.”
He pulled his hands away from his head to stare at her, dark brows pulling together. “What are you trying to say?”
“You’re going to use me as bait.”
SIXTEEN
Ryan’s chest constricted like it was caught in a vise. “No, Laney, you are staying as far away from that killer as humanly possible.”
“Hear me out.” She had that hard look in her eye that spelled stubborn. “You have an amazing team of police officers behind you. You guys can rig me up with one of those cool tracking gadgets like they use in the spy movies, and then once you’ve tracked us to the girl’s location, you can swoop in and get me out.”
“Laney, this isn’t a TV cop show. Sure, we’ve got some tools at our disposal, but there’s no guarantee things would go according to plan. You could die.” Anguish tore at his insides. After everything they’d already gone through, how could God let it come to this?
“That’s a risk I’m willing to take, both for Madison Smith and for your sister.”
“Jenna’s already gone. I can’t lose you too.”
“But her death demands justice.” She stood, apparently unable to sit still any longer, and paced back and forth in front of the television. Meaningless commercials advertised summer patio sets on clearance, a painful contrast to the real world and the lives at stake. “Maybe this is how God will accomplish it, through you and me. Who better to stand up for her?”
He rose from the couch, too, positioning himself directly in front of her. If only there was some way to get through to her. “I can’t let you do this. The last ten years without you nearly crushed me. And I know we agreed not to pursue a relationship, and you don’t owe me anything in the future. But I don’t think I could stand living, knowing I’d been the cause of your death.”
She offered a small, crooked grin. “Who says I’m going to die? You’ve always been there for me. You won’t let me down now. The Lord watches over His righteous ones. Even if the worst happens, I’ll be safe with Him in heaven. Like Jenna is.”
Every cell in his body rebelled against this idea. “We haven’t exhausted our leads yet. I’ll send the K-9 team to Kathleen Kincaide’s. We’re still waiting on the DNA results from the inside of the truck. Maybe it will give us the evidence we need.”
“We don’t have that kind of time, Ryan. Not unless you want another body on your hands.”
As much as he hated the thought of putting her life in danger, she had a point. “We don’t know where to find him. Where would you go?”
“He told me where. The map marking the remains, remember? Why else would he have given it to me?”
His jaw tightened until a muscle twitched. “You want me to leave you alone in the bog? Waiting for a serial killer to come take you?”
“Yes.” A flicker of fear darted across her face, but she squared her shoulders with typical Laney determination. It was just like her, offering to put her own life on the line to save someone else. For once, he wished she wasn’t quite so admirable.
“We need to discuss this idea with my father. I won’t agree without his input.”
She held a hand toward the staircase. “Then let’s go.”
* * *
He could barely keep it together as he escorted Laney into the police station early the next morning. While he agreed on a rational level that the plan was sound, his heart revolted against what was coming. But Chief Mitchell had given his approval, and from the grim set to Laney’s jaw, she was determined to see it through. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder if his father’s determination to get justice for Jenna wasn’t clouding his judgment about Laney.
So here he was, against his own personal wishes, taking her to the equipment room to get hooked up with a tracker, an earpiece and a tiny mic. There was nothing for it now but to put on a brave face for Laney’s sake.
And pray.
“Here’s the tracker.” He handed her a flat silver square resembling a nicotine patch. “It’s got an adhesive back. Peel off this backing and stick it somewhere no one will notice.” Turning his back, he waited.
“Done.” Her face was calm, but dark circles lined the undersides of her eyes. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who hadn’t been able to sleep last night.
“Now tuck this into your ear.”
She accepted the tiny earpiece, holding it up between two fingertips. “It looks like a wireless earbud.”
“Pretty much. We want to upgrade all our tech to wireless, but it’s expensive.” He winked—half-heartedly, but a wink all the same. “So don’t lose it.”
Her lips tried to tilt into a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I won’t.”
The mic was still hardwired to a battery case she’d have to wear at her waist. Ryan helped her attach it to her belt, then conceal it beneath her shirt. He stood back to examine her, frowning at the bulky box showing through her thin sweatshirt.
“Here.” He slipped off his police-issue black jacket. “You can wear this. It’s cool enough this morning to be believable.”
“Thanks, Ryan.” She slid it on, then held up both arms to show how her hands had vanished inside the sleeves. His heart twinged. “It’s a little big.”
“Just a bit.” He helped her roll up the sleeves before glancing at his watch.
“Is it time?”
He nodded. “Do you want to take a collection kit? To give you something to do while you’re out there?”
She shrugged. “Might as well.”
He let his gaze roam over her face—those bright, daring eyes, her pert nose, her pretty cheekbones. Would they have a moment like this again?
God, protect her. Please. They’d prayed together last night after talking to his father and then again on the way here. But extra prayers never hurt.
She blushed and glanced away. “Stop looking at me like that. You’ll see me again. I’m not that easy to shake.”
Despite everything, he grinned. “No, you’re not.”
He pulled her into a fierce embrace for a long moment, then released her to look into her face again. “Laney, I need you to know something.” His chest hitched, but he swallowed back down the fear and uncertainty. “I’ve never stopped loving you. You’re a part of me, and you always will be, no matter what happens.”
Maybe it was foolish to tell her now, and so bluntly, but he didn’t want a lifetime of regret for having held back. No matter how she felt about him in return.
Her expression softened until she looked almost wistful, and then she sighed as she stared at his shirt. His chest deflated.
“Ryan, I—”
“You two ready?” His father appeared in the doorway.
Her mouth hung open a fraction of a second before she clamped it shut and turned to Jim. “As ready as I’m going to be.”
Ryan waved weakly at her. “She’s got the tracker and the mic. We just need to test it.”
“Great. Let’s do it.” The chief moved aside to let Laney and Ryan pass. “Ryan, you and Henderson will follow and stay parked out of sight. We’ve got three other teams already in position. Laney, you can borrow my car and leave it parked on the dirt road.”
Buried Evidence Page 15