by Deirdre Dore
She was wearing a white robe. She’d never done that before, but the fabric was already soaked. “Come here,” he shouted at her over a sudden peal of thunder, but she shook her head.
Raquel interjected, “Why don’t you put down the gun, George, and we’ll all go in the woods? We’ll find Summer together.”
George blinked water out of his eyes as fast as he could, but it kept pouring down, kept blurring his vision.
“No,” he shouted, “just me and Jane.” He stomped his foot, splashing muddy water. “Jane, you come here.”
BRENT IS ALIVE. Raquel kept that thought at the forefront of her mind while her pulse raced and her arms, still raised, shook from strain and from the chill that was seeping into her bones. She wasn’t sure what to do. He had a gun pointed at Brent and could easily shoot Ro as well if she tried to run. This wasn’t what she’d planned. She been hoping to lure George with Jane’s presence, not endanger anyone else. She’d been foolish, she realized, foolish and too caught up with her need to think about anyone else. She couldn’t bear it if Brent or Ro died because of her.
She was going to lose Summer again. But Brent would live.
Brent, who’d told her that the world was a better place with her in it. Brent, who kissed her like the world was ending.
“Okay,” she called, licking rain off her lips. Her throat was dry, parched, but she was soaking wet. “Why don’t you and Jane just go? I’ll put my gun down and step away. You and Jane can run.”
“What are you doing?” Jane screeched at her.
“You’ve been helping him for years. Go help him now,” Raquel shouted at her, out of patience.
“Jane. Come here, Jane. Raquel, toss your gun away,” George called out.
Raquel watched him, wondering if she was making the stupidest mistake of her life. She undid her holster and threw the gun a few dozen feet away.
The splash it made mixed with the rest of the rain. Raquel wasn’t even certain where it landed.
George pointed his gun at Jane and beckoned to her while he backed away from the cars, away from Brent. He was carrying a cigar box under one arm.
“Come on, Jane. One more time. Help me find her one more time, or I’ll shoot you.”
Jane ripped the white robe off her head and hurled it on the ground. “I don’t deserve this,” she complained, but she stalked over to George. “It’s not fair.”
“Shut up,” George told her. “Let’s go.”
The two of them retreated quickly up the muddy slope behind the house and into the trees. As soon as they were out of sight, Raquel hurried over to where Brent lay squeezed into the back of the Subaru.
She felt for a pulse, breathing a sigh of relief.
“Is he okay?” Ro came around to the back of the SUV.
“I think so, but we need to get him out of here.”
Raquel straightened his legs, and he groaned.
“Brent, baby, are you okay?” She patted his face, practically climbing onto the back of the car.
He groaned again and opened his eyes, just for a second, then they drifted closed again.
“Brent.” Raquel shook him. “Brent, wake up.”
He opened his eyes again. Blinked. “Raquel?”
“Yeah, honey, it’s me.”
He lifted one of his arms like it was incredibly heavy and touched the side of her head. “Why are you all wet?”
Raquel smiled at him. “It’s raining.”
“Raining?” He frowned and tried to sit up. Raquel helped him. The rain had lessened and was no longer pounding on the open hatch of the SUV above their heads.
He looked around, obviously confused when he saw Ro standing just a foot away, her blond hair stuck to her head and her white shirt drenched, her undershirt clearly visible.
“Ro,” she reminded him of her name.
“I know. I’m just not sure where you came from. Where are we?” He looked at Raquel.
“We’re at Abraham’s. George just took Jane into the woods.”
“What?” Brent sort of shook himself. “I remember”—he paused—“I came to my uncle’s house, and there was blood. My uncle is the one who’s been helping the motorcycle gang run drugs,” he said.
“We know,” Raquel told him, stroking his head. “But the police are on their way. They’ll catch him.”
Brent caught at her hand. “But what are you doing here? How did he get Jane?”
Raquel looked away. “I took her. I thought that if I brought her to the woods, she’d have to tell me the truth, she’d have to tell me what she’d done all those years ago. She’d have to explain.”
“You took her?” He sounded incredulous. “But”—he glanced at Ro as if he thought she might know—“why would George take her instead? I don’t understand. What’s in the woods?”
Raquel took a deep breath. “Jane says he’s obsessed with finding Summer. He thinks that she’s escaped death and he wants to find her. He thinks she’s magic.”
Brent appeared to be lost in thought. The rain was now just drizzling some. Down the hill, still fairly far away, Raquel heard the sirens.
“He did always have pictures of her. He talked about her disappearance all the time.”
Raquel nodded. “Apparently, he’s been obsessed with Fate for a long time, but what happened with Summer that day changed him somehow.”
“He knows where she is?”
Raquel shrugged, trying not to show how much she wanted to run after George now, try to find him in the woods, but she wasn’t a tracker, and she didn’t want to leave Brent and Ro unprotected. “Jane said he’d found a new place for her to search.”
She climbed out of the Jeep and fetched her gun from the mud, wiping it off on the pant leg of her uniform.
“Raquel,” Brent called, “I think I know where he went.”
Raquel turned around. “What?”
Brent unfolded himself from the trunk of the car and straightened, wincing. “Come on, I saw a map that he had on his office wall. He’d colored in a small section of a valley between two ridges. Somewhere north of here, where two of the ridges meet.”
“You’ll still need help finding them,” a voice interjected, and Tavey, outfitted in her search gear, leaves tangled in her hair and sweat on her brow from rushing through the trees, was standing with Dixie, her favorite tracking dog, a gun on her hip and her dark hair pulled back in a tight braid. “Have you got anything of Jane’s?”
31
GEORGE DIDN’T THINK Jane was coming back from Circe this time. She was mumbling to herself, every so often saying a name, usually Mark’s, her voice plaintive and whiny.
She would do it, though, he knew. All it took was threatening her life. He’d threatened Mark’s life, back when Mark was alive, but Jane was at heart selfish; she wanted to live more than anything else, more than anyone else.
“Come on.” He tugged her elbow, pulling her through the trees. He’d programmed his phone with the GPS coordinates, but the signal came in and out. It didn’t matter that much. He knew the way mostly. He’d been in the woods for so many years, it amazed him that he’d never realized before.
The ground beneath the valley was limestone. There were steep ridges in some places, and when the groundwater flowed through the limestone below, sinkholes would form, even caves along some of the tributary creeks that ran to the lake. He’d thought of it while dumping Gloria Belle’s body. There had been water moccasins in that creek; he’d seen one slithering out of a hole covered in the roots of the trees that grew along the bank. The valley was like that—the valley that she’d disappeared into all those years ago, wreathed in fog in the cool fall air.
Jane tripped on something, a tree root, and George yanked her up, huffing a little. “Come on, Jane, we have to perform the ritual before the sun goes down.”
“I’m so t
ired,” Jane protested. “I’m cold, George. Won’t you help me?”
“No.” He gripped her elbow and squeezed. “You were with them when Charlie killed the couriers. You knew. You knew that Mark hid the money and Charlie’s body. I was just coming to check out Mark’s story. I knew my niece, she wouldn’t have run away with Nick without a lot of money. I knew Mark was lying, and I knew you were lying to both of us when I found you with that money, but I kept your secret. I made sure you had plenty of money, didn’t I? And I never told.”
“Ouch, George, my arm.”
He shook her a little. “Did I?”
“No,” she agreed. “You never did. You kept me safe. Thank you. I’ll help you. Thank you,” she babbled when he released her.
“Now come on,” he snapped, “we have farther to go.”
32
RAQUEL WAS SO happy to see Tavey and one of her stupid dogs that she wanted to cry, but Tavey had that stern expression she wore when she was completely pissed.
“When this is over,” she said to Raquel, “we’re going to talk.”
“Okay,” Raquel agreed, but the sound of sirens was getting louder. “But for now, let’s go.” She started toward the trees, but Brent stopped her with a hand on her arm.
“I’m going, too.”
“No you’re not,” she insisted. “You’ve been unconscious most of the day.”
“I’m fine, and I’m going.”
Tavey walked past them, her dog at her side. She held up the white sheet she’d picked up off the ground and stepped so that the dog was between her legs. She bent down and gave the dog the scent, praising her the entire time.
“Whoever’s going, let’s go,” Tavey ordered. “Dixie girl, you ready? Get ’em.” She gave the command, and Dixie started off for the trees in the direction that George and Jane had gone.
Brent started following. Raquel chased after him, calling to Ro, “Stay here. The cops will be here in a minute.”
“This is stupid,” Raquel told Brent.
“Tell me about it,” he agreed, long legs drawing him ahead of her.
“You’re in danger,” she protested, but he didn’t seem to care about that.
“We all are now.”
“You’re angry with me.” Raquel was angry now as well. She was trying to keep everyone safe.
“You bet your ass I am,” he said angrily, walking deliberately faster with every step, outdistancing her with his long legs.
“I had to find Summer,” she protested, slipping a little on the wet earth as she tried to keep up. The dress shoes she wore with her uniform weren’t meant to be worn in the mud.
“And you didn’t think I’d help you, is that it?”
From a little way ahead, her hands occupied with the long lead attached to Dixie, Tavey called back, “Me, either, I suppose?”
“I didn’t want you to risk yourself, not after Tyler,” Raquel defended herself, raising her voice. “I had to find her, Tavey. There was no one else for me to lose. You had Tyler, and Chris had Ryan.”
“You had me. And Chris. And Tavey,” Brent snapped, his breath coming faster as they reached the steep incline that marked the edge of the woods. They all climbed silently, Raquel using both her hands and feet because of her slippery shoes, feeling the cool wet mud beneath her fingers. She hated the woods.
When they reached the top, she muttered to Brent, “I tried not to have you,” in response. It was growing dark. The sun was already behind the trees in the mountains north of them, and it would be dark in the valley in an hour or less.
He ignored her, and they walked a few hundred yards deeper into the trees. It didn’t take long before the forest seemed to swallow them up; the only sounds were the occasional drip of the leaves on the trees above. Wild oak, Raquel thought, remembering Summer’s lesson. That one was wild oak.
They all went quiet while Dixie sniffed in circles.
Tavey turned on her flashlight.
Brent took Raquel’s hand, holding her tight. His anger seemed to have morphed into a tight-lipped fear. Rain dripped off the end of his nose. “You’ve always had me, Raquel. And you always will.”
And how can I resist that? she thought, looking at him as he hunched over her, trying to keep the rain off her face.
She started to reply, but Dixie seemed to find a scent and took off, leading them deeper into the wilderness.
33
GEORGE KNEW THEY were close when the trees opened a little and he saw the massive oak tree, its roots gnarled and lifted, rolling out of the earth like a giant sea monster, while up above, its branches twisted and reached for land and sky.
The sky was dark already, though somewhere in the distance the sun cast a slight yellowish glow, revealing the blue-black cumulus clouds that had not quite expended all of their energy, not yet.
“Under the tree,” he ordered Jane. “Start the ritual.”
She hurried alongside him, her bare arms pale, her teeth sunk into her lower lip. When they reached the tree, she knelt next to the roots, swinging her long hair forward and rocking a little.
“I don’t have time for you to be crazy, Jane. Here.” He shoved the box in her direction. “Take something from here. Take everything from here.”
Jane took the box, her eyes wild. “We’ll be hit by lightning. Somewhere else. Somewhere else,” she begged.
As if to underscore her words, lightning staked the sky, jumping from sky to the ground somewhere in the forest.
“See,” she pleaded. “Please, George.”
“No,” he argued. “It has to be here. She ran this way.”
The thunder followed, so loud that Jane dropped the box and ran, clapping her hands over her ears.
George fired the gun at her, trying to hit her somewhere that wouldn’t kill her. He needed blood anyway, for the ritual, but he missed.
She stopped, sliding to the ground on her knees, terrified.
“Come back, Jane. One way or another, we are going to finish this.”
He bent awkwardly and pulled her up by her hair. He’d done that before, he remembered. When the girls had run away, he’d grabbed the blond one. He’d grabbed her while the other one escaped. There’d been fog. It had circled them, filling the valley, surrounding the big oak tree.
He’d heard rushing water somewhere, and then Summer had been gone.
He looked around, thinking that he’d see her, the girl in the woods, but there was nothing but trees and rain and the slight creak in the branches of the oak.
She would come. She had to come.
34
A SHOT RANG out, and Raquel grabbed Brent’s arm.
“That was a gunshot,” she told him.
He nodded, calling to Tavey up ahead, “Gunshot.”
Tavey didn’t respond verbally, but her braid bounced. Her attention was on the dog, who was following the scent easily, moving at a steady pace over the leaf-strewn ground. The noise of the rain in the leaves above increased dramatically, though they were fairly dry beneath the trees at the moment. They were headed downward again, and thicker brush and vines were crowding in on the edges of the trees.
When they reached what appeared to be a natural break in the trees, the brush grew even thicker, so that Tavey had to crawl beneath some of the growth after the dog. Raquel and Brent followed, covering themselves in mud and leaves as they squirmed beneath thorny vines and weeds.
The sharp smell of wet dirt filled Raquel’s nose, and she remembered her dream. She and Summer had hidden in the woods from her mother at some point. They’d had to crawl, and Summer had promised Raquel there were no worms or bugs.
She’d lied, Raquel knew, because she was looking at worms and bugs now as her grasping hands turned over handfuls of leaves.
Brent helped her up when they’d cleared the worst of the brush, and Raquel caught her
breath at the scene before them. They were on the side of a small ridge, and below, a valley dipped with a huge oak tree next to a small creek.
The woods picked up again a little farther beyond, but dark clouds boiled overhead, lit from underneath by the gold-red light of the setting sun.
“Holy shit,” Brent said above the noise of the rain. “I don’t have my camera.”
Raquel couldn’t laugh. She’d spotted George. He was grabbing Jane by her hair and pulling her toward the tree, his big body strong in spite of its weight. They weren’t far away, but in the wind and the rain, she couldn’t hear if they were saying anything.
Then suddenly she could. George, his clothes soaked, his hiking boots thick with mud, was shouting at Jane to perform the ritual.
“What ritual?” Tavey asked quietly while patting Dixie and rewarding her with treats. The dog shook herself, trying to stay dry, and splattered all of them.
“George believes that Summer can be brought back from wherever she is,” Raquel said.
“So where is she?” Tavey snapped. She was impatient with the idea of magic, of places other than the ones beneath her feet. “Where is her body?”
Raquel wanted to know that as well, but George had a gun.
“Stay here,” Raquel told Tavey and Brent, and took out the weapon she’d fished from the mud. She just hoped the damn thing still worked.
“No,” Brent argued, but Tavey grabbed his arm.
“She’s a cop. An idiot, but a cop. She’s wearing a vest. I can tell. This part is her job,” she said.
Raquel ignored them both and walked forward, calling out, “George, it’s time to give up. Summer’s not here.”
“No!” George screamed, releasing Jane and waving the gun at Raquel. “She is here. She ran away from me into the fog right here!” He stomped his foot, and suddenly the soft earth between the roots of the trees gave way, and he was gone.
