by Marci Bolden
Her brow creased for a moment before she seemed to catch herself and erased her automatic reaction.
“She loves Christmas. The lights and the decorations. I didn’t do that for her last year. For some reason I thought she was too old. Maybe I was just too lazy.” Blinking again, surprised at the surge of conflict raging inside him, he focused on unlocking the door. “Sorry. I don’t know why that came out.”
“Because you’re worried about your sister and sometimes the brain brings up strange things when we’re worried.”
He swallowed, neither agreeing with nor denying her explanation. Opening the door, he gestured for her to enter first, but she gave a gesture of her own and waited for him to step inside. He did so and held the door for her. She walked in as well but didn’t venture deeper into the house. She stood aside, waiting for him to close the door and drop his keys on the little table that had stood there for years. “I’m not sure what you’re looking for,” he said, leading her toward Mandy’s room.
She followed, and though he couldn’t see behind him, he suspected she was eyeing every inch they walked through, including the framed photos of three smiling faces. Alexa would probably notice that the last family photo was with their mom sitting between him and Mandy. They hadn’t had another portrait taken since she’d died. No. They hadn’t taken another portrait since she’d gotten sick. She didn’t like having her photo taken after she’d gained weight and lost her hair from the treatment.
“Cancer,” he announced.
“Excuse me?”
“My mom. Her name was Lily, and she died three years ago from cancer. You didn’t ask, but you were wondering.” He glanced back at her, and the curve of her lips seemed to confirm his suspicion.
“Ah. You’re one of those mind-reader types.”
He let a humorless chuckle leave him. “If that were the case, I wouldn’t need you, would I?” He stopped in front of Mandy’s bedroom door and gestured toward the space that had remained unchanged for several years.
Alexa stuck her head in, scanning the room. “I know it goes without saying that you and Mandy were devastated by your loss, but did anything about her grief unnerve you? Did she get depressed or withdraw?”
“No. Not really. Mom had been sick for a long time. Not that the length of her illness made losing her any easier,” he added, as if his reasoning might be taken wrong. “I just mean that we had time to accept what was happening.”
Alexa gave him another warm smile of understanding. He liked that smile. It’d been a long time since someone had tried so hard to comfort him. Most people seemed convinced that Mandy had dropped out of school to gallivant around the country or backpack across Europe or some other adventurous thing that was completely out of the norm for his sister.
Mandy wasn’t the adventurous type. She was focused and studious. She had goals and worked hard to achieve them. She’d always been that way.
Leaning against the doorframe, he watched Alexa enter Mandy’s room. She peered into the closet and then scanned the rest of the room as if looking for a booby trap. “Are you afraid someone’s going to jump out at you?”
The slight twisting of her lips showed her amusement. “Assessing your surroundings is the first step to safety.”
“And the reason you want to walk behind me?”
“Habit. Gentlemanly manners are wonderful but can also be dangerous. It’s a lot easier for an assailant to get the upper hand if you don’t see him coming.”
Her words, even though they weren’t meant to stab at him, hurt his heart, and the little smile that had toyed across his lips left.
“Sounds like common sense self-defense there,” he said. “I never taught her that.”
Alexa stopped looking over the room and met his gaze. “Hey, I’ve been trained to expect the worst in every situation. Most people—not just women—don’t consider the potential danger of their surroundings until it’s too late. Bad guys take advantage of that. Whatever is going on with Mandy is not your fault. If I had even the slightest inkling that you were responsible, I wouldn’t be here right now. My hyper-awareness has nothing to do with you. I simply see the world differently than you do.”
“With Mom’s illness, getting Mandy through the last of her teen years fell on me. I did everything I could to make her life happy and carefree. I sent her out into the real world unprepared. You can twist that into a misguided attempt to make me feel better, but I see my parenting faults much more clearly now. If you tell me what you’re looking for, maybe I can help.”
“Did you go through her room after she disappeared?”
“A little. I thought if I could find a journal or something, I might figure out where she went.”
“Any luck with that?”
“No.”
She opened the top drawer of Mandy’s dresser and carefully sorted through the contents. Socks and underclothes. He’d searched that already. And the next drawer she opened held pajamas, then T-shirts, and then a mix of jeans and other pants.
He didn’t tell her the search was futile. He’d emptied the drawers before returning the clothing.
But then Alexa did something he hadn’t. She wriggled each drawer until it came out. She examined the drawer, not the contents; then, using a little flashlight, she studied the dresser itself. She replaced the drawers and then moved on to the desk and did the same. There were only two drawers, but she went through them and the contents thoroughly.
She unmade the bed, manipulated pillows and stuffed animals, and lifted the mattress enough to peer underneath. She wouldn’t find anything. He’d already done this, but he didn’t stop her search. She leaned as far as she could over the nightstand, and he rolled his eyes toward the ceiling to stop the temptation of taking in the way her slacks pulled tight against her backside. However, the sound of her grunting drew his attention. Focusing on her again, he watched her stretch as far as she could to reach behind the headboard. He stepped from the doorway, closing the distance between them.
“There’s a basket on the back of the headboard,” she said. She climbed onto the bed and stuck her arm into the space between the wall and the carved pressed board that framed the twin-sized mattress.
When she leaned back, she pulled a small box with her. She didn’t ask if he knew what was inside. It was obvious he hadn’t been expecting her to find anything. The box was long and thin, the kind that incense might come in, but when she slid the top back, there were no sticks of frankincense or sandalwood inside. Alexa pulled out a small teal-and-silver pipe. She sniffed it and then held it out to show him what she’d found.
He’d never seen that particular one, but he’d seen plenty like that when he was a teenager. Even though the pipe was hidden in her room, tucked away out of sight, Dean shook his head. “That’s not Mandy’s.”
The look of disbelief that flashed across Alexa’s face let him know how ridiculous his words had been. Of course it was Mandy’s. She wouldn’t have someone else’s drug paraphernalia hidden behind her bed.
Rage flashed through him. Ridiculous as it was, he still refused to believe the implication of Alexa’s findings. “My sister does not do drugs.”
Reaching into the box again, she pulled out a small bag containing what was obviously pot. Furious, he stepped to the headboard and pulled the bed back as if it, and Alexa still perched atop, weighed nothing. There were no other drugs hidden in the basket screwed to the headboard, but there was a black and white composition book.
There it was, the journal he had searched for but couldn’t find. The secrets that his baby sister had kept hidden from him. The first key to finding Mandy.
“How did you know she was hiding something?” he asked.
“Most people are hiding things, Dean.” She eased off the bed and stood directly in front of him, giving him that understanding expression of hers. “Look, smoking pot doesn’t take anything away from who you think she is.”
“I didn’t say it did.”
“Your face
did,” she said firmly.
Sagging under the truth he knew was in her words, he shoved the bed back into place. “Medical marijuana wasn’t legal here when Mom was sick. But she needed something.”
“I’m not judging.”
“I know that. I’m just…being transparent,” he stated, reminding her that she had requested that from him. “Look at me. Mr. All-American Nerd in the flesh. Picture me searching the Internet finding a dealer.” He scoffed as he recalled the first time he’d bought drugs. “I was terrified of getting caught and going to jail. What would have happened to Mandy then? Mom was dying. Mandy would have ended up living with our dear ol’ dad while I sat in prison. But I did it because my mother was suffering, and that wasn’t fair or right. Mom didn’t like having drugs in the house either, but they did help. One night I caught Mandy in the garage smoking some of Mom’s pot. I lost it. I completely overreacted. I know in the scheme of things, trying a little pot isn’t a huge deal, but…” Alexa didn’t seem to be condemning him or Mandy, but he still felt the need to justify his reaction. “How would you feel if you caught your little sister doing drugs?”
“I imagine it’d be frightening.”
“It was terrifying. Mostly because I was the one who had brought drugs into the house.”
Alexa softened her eyes. Damn her and her sweet smiles. “You weren’t smoking meth in front of your sister, Dean.” Putting her hand on his arm, she rubbed gently. “You did what was needed to help your mom. Kids don’t always think things through. She saw her chance to try something forbidden, and the temptation was too great. Everyone gives in to the temptation to do something forbidden sometime.”
Her words struck him. He didn’t know why, but looking into her tender brown eyes, he had a curious moment of wondering if she meant something other than Mandy smoking pot. Shaking off the thought, he stepped back. “Do you mind if I look through her journal while you finish checking her room?”
“No. Of course not.”
“I’ll be in the living room if you need me.” Leaving her alone, he clutched the notebook to his chest, wondering what other secrets his sister had been hiding from him.
2
Alexa checked in with Holly before quietly walking the rest of the rooms that lined the hallway in Dean’s home. The smallest bedroom had been turned into a home office. The large monitor dominated the desk, but there was room for a calendar. She glanced over it, flipping the pages back to August, when Mandy had gone missing.
Several meetings were noted on various dates, as well as two birthdays, but nothing stood out to her. The pictures in the frames were five-by-sevens of Mandy. The images were posed by professional photographers—in one she had a volleyball resting on her hip, in another she held a clarinet, and the last was her holding a basketball in the palm of one hand. In each image, she wore corresponding uniforms in the school colors of red and black. She had been active in high school, but Alexa couldn’t tell if these were taken before or after her mother’s death.
The third room, the master, was obviously the most used room that she’d seen so far in the house. The queen-size bed was haphazardly made. The comforter had been pulled up, but not with much care. Clothes draped over a chair in the corner. Alexa stepped in, drawn by the photo that sat on the nightstand. Dean looked much younger in the photo as he smiled with Mandy, a tiny brunette, pulled against one side and a blonde, his mother, on the other.
Mandy was beautiful, and if the image was any indication, they’d been a normal, functioning family prior to their mother’s death.
Alexa felt a pang that could only be described as jealousy. She missed her sister more than words would ever express. The fear she still felt was immeasurable. The hope, though foolish, still lingered in her mind that Lanie was out there somewhere. But if she were, the odds of her being happy and safe were minuscule. If she was still alive, she was likely living in fear and being abused in one way or another. Twelve years? No. Nothing good could have happened to her in those twelve years.
Tears bit at the backs of Alexa’s eyes at the way Mandy was safely nestled against her big brother in the image. She’d probably thought nothing bad would ever happen when that photo was taken. She’d probably thought the world was a grand, adventurous place to be conquered. She probably hadn’t a clue how her life was going to so cruelly teach her she was wrong.
Swallowing hard, Alexa recalled how innocent and sweet Lanie had looked in the last picture that had been taken of her. She, too, had that same kind of naivety in her smile. The world had been hers for the taking…until she’d been taken.
The odds of finding Lanie now were nonexistent. But Mandy still had a chance. No, she would never be the same after whatever it was she’d gone through, but she could still come home.
“That was taken before Mom got sick.”
Alexa jolted at the sound of Dean’s voice. Her heart tripped over itself and dropped to her feet. Not because she’d been caught in his room—she was there to investigate his missing sister; he was literally paying her to snoop around. She was shaken because he’d sneaked up on her and she hadn’t heard him. She’d been so caught up in the photo, she’d completely let her guard down while in a strange location.
Holly would strangle her if she knew.
“Your sister is lovely, Dean.”
He nodded and then looked around the room. “My cleaning lady comes on Wednesday. I kind of let things go until then.”
“You’re going through a lot,” she said, returning the picture to its place.
He grinned as she faced him. “I’d like to use that as an excuse, but I’m kind of a slob.”
Smiling at his confession, she took two photos from her pocket that she’d found tucked away in the back of Mandy’s closet. The pictures looked to be taken at a nightclub. The outfits Mandy and the girls with her were wearing indicated they were out partying. Alexa showed the images to Dean, and his surprise was obvious.
“Do you know these girls?” she asked.
“No.” He only looked for a moment before shoving the photos back at Alexa. “I’ve never seen her dressed like that.”
“College girls out on the town. She was with friends. I’m sure they looked out for each other.”
“Do I even know her?” he whispered.
Alexa sighed. “As much as any brother can know his sister, Dean. Did you find something in the journal?”
His only answer was to look at his feet. “I’m going to make some coffee. You want some?”
“Sure.” She followed him to the kitchen. Mandy’s journal had been set on the counter next to a bowl that held three overly ripened bananas. “Mind if I look?”
“Go ahead.”
His clipped answer said all Alexa needed to know. There was information in the pages that he hadn’t known, or likely ever wanted to know, about his sister.
Easing onto one of the barstools, she opened the journal. Taped to the first page was a picture of Mandy and Lily. Unlike in the image in Dean’s bedroom, in this photo Lily was clearly frail. Her golden hair had been replaced by a purple scarf, and her eyes looked haunted. The dark circles under her eyes were a stark contrast to the pale skin of her face, but her smile was just as wide. Next to her, Mandy was smiling as well, but hers seemed forced. Alexa suspected her mother’s illness had taken a much larger toll on her than Dean realized.
She probably hid the depth of her grief to protect her brother. From what Dean had told Alexa, Mandy seemed the type to want to protect him from any fault he might perceive in her. Not because Dean seemed unreasonably strict but because she didn’t want to hurt him more than he was hurting already.
The first few pages of her neat and flowing handwriting supported that theory. She was terrified of losing her mother. She was worried about her brother. She was taking on the weight of the world, desperate to do everything right to ease her family’s burdens. Alexa’s heart ached as she skimmed the content surrounding Lily’s death. The funeral had been the hardest, based o
n Mandy’s private thoughts. The faking smiles and reassurances and hearing everyone say how sorry they were for her loss had made everything so much worse for her.
The next page, her neat handwriting was askew, and her thoughts seemed jumbled and incoherent in places.
She was stoned, Alexa realized.
Mandy had added a drawing, surprisingly well done, of her mother with angel wings.
The next few pages spoke of her grief and how difficult it was to watch her brother get through. Then another page of scrawled and disjointed thoughts.
Dean set a cup in front of Alexa, offering cream and sugar. She added a splash of cream and stirred as she continued analyzing Mandy’s journal. The entries became fewer after she left for college, but one with an abstract drawing of a Christmas tree caught Alexa’s attention. The entry, in her stoned handwriting, talked about how she needed more drugs and how she didn’t have the money to pay for it. There was only one way D was going to give her more…
“Who is D?”
“I don’t know.”
“It sounds like they were…trading services.”
“Trading services?” The muscles in his jaw tensed as he shook his head. “You can say it. It sounds like my little sister was screwing this guy in exchange for drugs.”
“Well, it sounds like she was getting drugs in exchange for something. But she doesn’t clarify what. And she also doesn’t state that D is a man.”
“Jesus Christ,” he whispered harshly. “Don’t turn into a Pollyanna on me. Please. I can read between the lines.” Dropping onto the barstool next to her, he leaned on the counter and stared into his mug. “She was doing more than smoking pot, wasn’t she? She was…shooting up or taking pills or something.” He looked at Alexa with that same desperation in his eyes he’d shown at the HEARTS office. His world was crashing down around him, and he didn’t know what to do or where to turn.
Alexa wanted to hug him, surround him with as much support as she could offer, but that was definitely crossing the line of acting as an investigator. She was too soft sometimes. She knew that. That was her best trait and her worst curse. She definitely offered a softer side to her team, but sometimes she felt weak for it.
