“I’m finished at the Carter place,” Max said. “They don’t know if it’s Carrie Sue. Said maybe, but none of them were sure. You?”
Listening to the sadness in Max’s voice, my heart felt heavy. Then I thought: perhaps I should have been grateful for Jessica’s decisiveness. At least I had one clear answer: “It’s not Christina. Jessica is sure of it.”
“Shoot,” Max murmured. “Damn sad that we had to put the family through all that, thinking maybe we’d found Christina, and then it turns out not to be her. The Carters went through hell while I was there, and it might all be for nothing. Life’s far from fair at times.”
“Yes. True.” I sighed, thinking of Max, and how when no one else did, he understood. “I’ll be at your office in fifteen. Let’s go see our final girl’s parents.”
Twenty
By the time I arrived, Max was waiting on the steps outside the courthouse, rather than in the sheriff’s office at the back of the building. The lot was close to empty, the business day ended. He looked as glum as I felt. I had a second folder on the backseat, this one with the computer drawing and a photo of fifteen-year-old Eden Young. “Did you check a map while you were waiting so we know where we’re going?” I asked.
“Yup. Have I ever disappointed you?”
“Well,” I said, giving him a noncommittal glance. “Maybe once or twice.”
Max chuckled as we pulled out of the lot, and I grinned over at him. The mood in the car lifted. Even at gruesome crime scenes, you’ll hear cops quip and tell stupid jokes. It’s a necessary distraction. A coping mechanism. If we didn’t shake off the sadness, working on a case like this one could consume us.
Max glanced down at the navigation program on his phone. “Take the highway east, about twenty minutes.”
I looked at my dashboard clock. Behind the mountains, the sun was low in the sky. “Is Brooke staying with Alice tonight?”
“Yes, thank goodness. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”
I thought about Brooke and felt guilty for taking her dad away from her for the evening. “Max, maybe I should take you back to the office. You can go get Brooke and have dinner together. She’ll miss seeing you. I don’t know that I need you to—”
“I’m coming.” Max gave me a stern look, one that said this wasn’t optional. “I want to find out whose bones Doc has at the morgue just like you do. Plus, I’m sure I don’t have to remind you, but I will, that Eden’s disappearance and the bones on the mountainside are both Smith County Sheriff’s cases, neither one in Alber PD’s jurisdiction.”
“Of course,” I said. Partly, I knew, Max was just enjoying giving me a hard time, but he was right. I was only involved because he’d called me in.
“Now that we’ve got that settled, you’ll turn left after the bridge over Screaming Hollow Creek, in about six miles.”
As we drove, he filled me in on more of what had transpired at the Carter place. “They seem like a good family. Devastated by their daughter’s disappearance.”
“I wish we had answers for them. You got a DNA sample from the dad?”
“It’s on its way to the lab in the morning.”
In the approaching twilight, I saw the farmhouse ahead, a quaint-looking place. When we drove up the husband and his two wives were sitting in old metal rockers on the porch, probably enjoying an evening talk. A pack of children ran around in a side yard, and behind the house the fields looked ready for spring planting.
Eden’s father, Sam Young, walked toward the Suburban before either one of us climbed out, and his two wives followed a few steps behind. He had a stern look on his face, and I wondered what he was thinking to see a police car in his driveway, Max and I walking toward him in our uniforms. I considered how Jessica had both hoped and feared that the bones were Christina’s. What had Eden’s disappearance done to her family?
“Mr. Young. Ladies. We won’t take a lot of your time,” I said as I approached them. “We’re here to ask you some questions about your daughter, Eden.”
“Eden? Why are you here about her?” If his daughter were missing, Sam Young’s irritated expression seemed odd, as if he saw us as a nuisance. The women watched us, appearing wary. We weren’t wanted here. They didn’t trust us. I thought not for the first time about the frustrations of investigating cases in polygamous towns, where folks so often refused to cooperate with law enforcement. I wondered if men like Sam Young realized that isolating their families as they did made them more vulnerable to those who would harm them.
“We’re here because we found a missing person page started by your sister, Mr. Young, claiming that Eden has disappeared,” I said, keeping my voice even, fighting not to show my irritation. “We need to know what you can tell us about your daughter, and if she’s truly vanished.”
“Eden ran away,” the man said, biting off each word and rather defiantly folding his arms across his chest. The two women stood behind him, the younger one clutching the older one, whose face had contorted in what appeared to be an effort to keep silent. I assumed that she had to be Eden’s mother. “My hare-brained sister put up that page, that’s true, but not with our consent. Eden took off after she and I had an argument. She’s gone.”
“What was the argument about?” I asked.
“None of your business,” he said.
This wasn’t going well. I stepped back a bit and gave Max a nod. Sometimes men took things better coming from other men. It was simply a reality of our patriarchal culture, and since Max was with me, there wasn’t any reason not to let him take the lead.
Understanding what I wanted, Max backed things up a bit and formally introduced both of us. “Chief Jefferies here is the police chief in Alber, and I’m Chief Deputy Max Anderson from the county sheriff’s office. We have a case we’re working. A body found on the mountainside.”
At that, the older of the two women brought her hand up to her throat and let out a gasp. Her husband’s head swiveled toward her, and I saw a warning there to stay silent. In response, she gulped and turned her head toward her sister-wife, who wrapped her arms around her.
The tension palpable, Max paused and took a deep breath. Meanwhile, Sam Young scowled at both of us.
“Mr. Young, when did Eden disappear? If not an exact date, give us an approximate timeline.” Max stared at the man, a cold, hard glare.
Both the women did as ordered and remained silent, as their husband slowly shook his head and muttered, “No. It is no business of—”
“Missing teenagers are our business, Mr. Young,” Max insisted. His anger was growing, just like mine. All we needed were simple answers to simple questions. Why wouldn’t the man cooperate? “We’re investigating a case and we need to know. Tell us.”
“You have no right to come onto my land and make any demands of me,” the man said. “This is my family.” His face was growing flush, a red stain spreading from beneath his white shirt collar. He pointed toward the driveway, the road. “Now leave.”
“Mr. Young, answer our questions,” Max demanded.
I’d had enough. “Why not help us? If it isn’t Eden, we’ll be on our way. Why not tell Chief Deputy Anderson—”
“Because this is family business,” Sam Young bellowed. “Because it has nothing to do with the two of you. No one called you. We have no need for the police.”
Fighting to maintain at least an appearance of calm, I attempted to swallow my building anger. I’d heard variations of this my entire life. The wall of secrecy was rising, and I knew only too well the result—he intended to stonewall us.
I was about to lay into him when the older of the women, the one I’d pegged as Eden’s mother, cautiously shuffled toward her husband and put her hand on his shoulder. He turned to her, and she whispered in his ear. Again, he shook his head and I heard him whisper, “No.”
If she couldn’t convince him, I wondered what I could say that might make a difference. Rather than argue, I decided to simply forge ahead. I had the folder with me
, and I took out the sketch and held it up. “This is the girl whose remains we found. Does it look like your daughter?”
The older woman clutched her chest. She let loose a long sigh, and I wondered what that meant. Was it relief I saw on her face, or fear? I couldn’t tell. Meanwhile, their husband’s mouth formed a straight line. I had no sense of what he might be thinking. I’d failed. I’d hoped someone would give a sign, shout something out or react in a way I could interpret. That hadn’t happened. I’d played my best card and gotten nothing in return. Through a clenched jaw, Sam Young ordered the younger wife, “Take her back to the house.”
My ploy hadn’t worked. We’d learned nothing. I’d come up empty, so Max switched to another tack. His voice became pleading. “No. Please. Don’t do that. We need to talk to your wives. Mr. Young, help us. Tell us about Eden.”
The women hesitated, looked at us, then back at their husband. He said nothing more, just watched them through stern eyes. Seeing no reprieve, they turned and began to shuffle off.
We were losing them. I took over, talking loudly so the women could hear: “As Chief Deputy Anderson said, we’re not asking a lot here. We just need to fill in the blanks in Eden’s missing person report.” He stared at me, and I could see that I wasn’t getting anywhere. It was time to lay it all out. “Was Eden pregnant at the time she disappeared?”
I’d hoped to force a reaction from them, and I succeeded. An agonized cry escaped the lips of the older woman. She turned back, but her sister-wife pulled her forward. In contrast, their husband became even more stoic, and his face twisted into a dismissive frown so all-encompassing that I could feel the hatred. “Leave. Leave now.”
“But Mr. Young,” Max again pleaded, “why not answer our questions? Why not help us?”
The sun had taken its last dip behind the mountains, sending a halo of gold shimmering over the peaks. A beautiful spring evening, but on the Young ranch, none of us were watching it set.
Even in the diminishing light, I could see Sam Young’s rage. He addressed the women, who’d paused perhaps a dozen feet away, and repeated his order: “Go to the house!” This time, perhaps, they understood that they had no more leeway. They shrugged off. Once they were a distance away, their husband returned his attention to us, seething. “How dare you come here and say such things about our daughter? You’ve upset her mothers, and me. To cast such aspersions on Eden reflects on our entire family.”
Watching him, I understood: he didn’t want any attention given to Eden’s disappearance. As I thought it through, Max again took over, his eyes slits, staring the man down and asking: “You haven’t answered the chief’s question. Again, Mr. Young, was Eden pregnant at the time that she disappeared?”
He glared at us, hatred in his eyes. “No. Our daughter is a good girl. She listens and obeys.”
“But you said that she ran away. Are you sure she—” I began, but he cut me off.
“You question me yet again? Here on my own property, where I am in charge? You cast slanders upon our family? Cause my wives to weep?”
Max looked at me, and we both knew that this was a waste of time. “We didn’t mean to upset anyone We’re here to get information. The police chief and I are worried that if Eden is missing, she may be in danger. Can you at least tell us when she left? Just that one piece of information.”
I thought that might cause Sam Young to reconsider, to become more cooperative. My hopes were dashed when he again shot an accusation at us. “You have insulted us by suggesting our girl would do anything like that, get pregnant when she wasn’t sealed by the prophet and married in the eyes of the Lord. Eden is a runaway, and that is all.”
At that, he surveyed us as if we were long and bitter enemies. Without uttering another word, he marched toward his house, an incensed father defending the honor of a daughter.
The inside of the Suburban was deathly quiet on the drive back toward Pine City. The skies over the mountains had turned a navy blue. Max asked, “So what do we think about Eden Young?”
“Her mother? Such a strong reaction, but I don’t know.” I paused for a moment, considered. “All I’m sure of is that Sam Young is hiding something. There must be some reason he won’t answer a single question.”
“I agree,” Max said. “And you’re right, the way the women reacted, gave me the impression—”
I finished Max’s point: “That they thought it might be Eden.”
We drove on, and I hoped again that the case would fall into place when we identified the bones. “When do you think DNA will come in? We can track down that aunt, the one who put up the website, and get a sample of hers to see if those are Eden’s bones.”
“Ash asked them to move it up the chain, so—”
It had been a long day, and I didn’t react well to the mention of the ex-marshal’s name. “Ash Crawford again.”
This time, Max didn’t respond. He knew that I was wound up, upset. I kept thinking about Carrie Sue Carter and Eden Young. I wondered if both were somewhere alone and in trouble, needing help. I thought of the teenager’s bones, the baby’s remains laid out on the stainless-steel autopsy table at the morgue, and my heart sank in my chest. But there was nothing I could do for them until we had some kind of a lead. Night had come, and I had nothing to work with.
Max must have read my thoughts. “Clara, you can’t fight every battle alone. You have to be willing to let others help.”
“I know, Max. But what if…” I ended there, unsure what to say, not wanting to repeat the same concerns about Crawford I’d already voiced. I felt lost and tired. I wondered what Eden’s mother had said to her husband after we drove away, if he’d let her say anything or ordered her to be silent. I had no doubt that Sam Young ran that house with an iron hand.
Ahead lay the cutoff to the river road. Max put his hand on mine. Still upset, frustrated, I didn’t want to go back to my empty room at the shelter. Maybe Max sensed that, because he whispered, “Clara, Brooke is with Alice. It’s been a tough couple of days for both of us. Tomorrow will come soon enough, and maybe it will bring an identification from someone who saw the sketch on television or in the newspaper. Something will turn up. Some evidence. Some lead. But maybe, tonight, we can just be together? Why don’t you pull off here?”
The sky dark above us, gauzy streaks of white clouds overhead, scattered stars, we walked the path to the river. Max carried an old blanket out of the back of the SUV, and he had one arm around my waist. I had my stash out of the trunk, emergency vittles I kept in case I was ever stuck somewhere, energy bars and bottled water. It wasn’t much of a dinner, but we had so little time truly alone together.
The river was a special place for us. As teenagers we’d shared our first kiss on its banks. Max spread the blanket out on the damp ground. The current ran fast, powered by the runoff from the snow melting on top of the mountains. The air smelled rich with oxygen, and I caught the sweet scent of wildflowers blooming along the shoreline. Spring. The world reawakening.
We munched on my meager offerings, while we gazed up at the stars in silence. Before long, Max laid down and I cuddled against him. Worried I might miss something, I sat up and unclipped my phone from my belt and made sure the signal was strong. It was. I checked for emails, texts, missed phone calls. No one appeared to be looking for me. I thought of Mother at the hospital. I considered that she was alone there. I felt the guilt of a daughter who should be at her side. Yet I knew she wouldn’t want me there.
“Come back here,” Max said.
The expression on his face tore into my heart. I felt it in every nerve. It made my skin tingle with desire at the same time my mind again warned me that I shouldn’t open myself up to a man, to the hurt that can follow. Yet this was Max, a man I trusted, someone I desired as much as he desired me. Despite all my fears, I laid down next to him, tucked my body beside his and gazed up at the heavens.
“Max, you remember yesterday, that route we took to the ski lift?”
He was
busy, undoing his equipment belt. The buckle opened and he pulled it off, put his holster off to the side next to my own. He reached out for me, put his hand on my waist. I felt the heat of his lips against my neck, while he removed the two pins that held the bun at the nape of my neck. My dark hair fell from its nest, and he ran his fingers through it. Hungry.
“Sure, I remember,” he said, his voice hoarse with desire. “Why?”
I took a ragged breath, thinking this wasn’t the time. Yet I wanted him to know. I needed him to understand. “It took us past the Second Coming Ranch.”
Max pulled away. From high above us, the moonlight filtered through the trees and illuminated his profile. “Oh.”
I paused, thought about what I wanted to say. “I saw him, driving onto the ranch with his oldest son.”
I couldn’t see Max’s eyes but I felt them, questioning. “Did you let them know it was you? Did you talk to them?”
“No, I just kept driving. I-I thought about pulling into the driveway behind them, but just for a moment. Maybe to confront them about all they’d done, all I’d suffered on that ranch. But I drove on.”
“Do you think they knew it was you?”
“They must have recognized me. I mean, I was in the SUV with the seal on the side. He must know that I’m back, that I’m the police chief. Nothing that happened in Alber ever escaped his notice.”
Max appeared unsure what to do, because he pulled his legs up and sat crossways on the blanket. He gazed at the stars, silent, then turned toward me. He said nothing for what seemed like a thousand heartbeats. Then he whispered, “Clara, I’m sorry.”
“I know you are, but you shouldn’t be. You have nothing to regret. You’re not him.”
With that, Max again moved toward me. He wrapped me in his arms and held me, and I leaned into him so close that not even the memory of the man who’d once been my husband could wedge between us. I put my hands around Max’s neck and pulled him to me, brought my lips to his. Moments passed, and the warmth of his kiss wiped the knot in my stomach away, if not forever, for as long as we lay under the stars together. My hands trembling, I began unbuttoning his uniform shirt, and he whispered, “Clara, you’re upset. I understand if you’re tired and being with me tonight isn’t…”
The Blessed Bones Page 14
