by Edwin Dasso
30
A crashing noise from up above jarred Eden awake. She raised her aching head from the damp, unforgiving earth, trembling. Straining to focus. A wave of dizziness washed over her. Her head swam. A blinding pain shot through her skull. She wanted to let go, to sink back into the dark nothingness that threatened to consume her. Escape. The pain. The cold. The fear. Everything.
But no.
A burgeoning sense of alarm thrummed inside her, too powerful to ignore.
She had to move. She had to… go. Go!
But go where? Where was she? Where was… he? Noah.
Was he back?
Twin spears of hope and fear pierced the veil of confusion inside Eden’s mind, jolting her from the floor to her knees, awakening a dull throb inside her chest. Eden pressed her palms over her pounding heart and waited for the spinning to subside.
It took a few moments to realize that she was free. Though her hands were still bound together, she was no longer tethered to the pipe. In the root cellar of the abandoned house where Noah had left her to die.
Go. She had to go. She would die if she stayed here.
The sense of panic building within her drove Eden from the floor. Gathering what little strength she still possessed, she lurched to her feet and stopped. Her legs shook. Her mind dimmed. The world dipped and swayed, but Eden fought to remain upright.
Once the wave of dizziness passed, she took a step forward. Then another. Her hands stretched into the darkness, reaching, grasping for something to guide her way. A wall. A door.
Stairs.
The slow crawl up the stairs was agonizing. Every step or two she stopped. Caught her breath.
Mom. The thought of her mother spurred Eden onward. The hope of getting out. Getting help. Going home.
At last, Eden reached the main floor of the house. She leaned against the wall, panting as she struggled to get her bearings. Rain blew through the broken windows and struck the floor. She closed her eyes and tried to recall the layout of the house. Her brain felt sluggish, slow to respond. She remembered Noah. Silent. Seething. How he’d dragged her inside.
And she’d been crying. Panicked. They’d gone through a kitchen then down the stairs but… She turned her head from side to side and tried to remember, but the answer didn’t come.
The wind heaved, buffeting the side of the building. A door rattled in its jamb. Eden shuffled forward. She followed the noise until she found the door and emerged outside, into the blustery night.
Eden descended the stairs to the cold wet ground.
The road? Which way?
She listened for the sound of cars in the distance, but all she heard was the wind shivering through the trees. And then something. Another noise. Closer. Lower. It sounded like gravel rumbling.
A growl. Low. Deep. Her nostrils filled with the musty scent of wet fur. A current of panic sent adrenaline blazing through Eden, galvanizing her into motion. She stumbled toward the inky black line of trees, driven on by her fear. Branches whipped past, clawing at her face. She raised her forearms, wrists still bound, trying in vain to protect herself as she plunged deeper into the woods, certain the wolf was behind her, giving chase.
The forest floor sailed beneath Eden’s clumsy feet as she dared to glance back, searching the darkness for a blur of movement, a flash of yellow eyes. She didn’t see it. Didn’t feel it.
And yet, she didn’t dare slow. She crashed through the trees blindly, suddenly daring to hope that the wolf was gone. Eden spared a fleeting glance over her shoulder. A second. Too long. She was still running when the ground disappeared from beneath her feet. Her hands shot out, desperately grasping for the nearest thing. A branch whipped past. She grabbed hold. Sharp needles bit into her scuffed palms. The tender branch of the fir tree bent beneath her weight.
Then the branch snapped. She cried out.
Eden hung in the air, suspended in a split second of terrifying weightlessness where gravity failed to exist, like the moment when a rollercoaster reached the top of the apex before its final precipitous plunge.
There wasn’t time for a scream, a breath, when gravity finally took hold and Eden fell.
31
Exhausted and disheartened, Lacey left the station no closer to finding Eden than when she’d driven to work in the pre-dawn gloom. She pitched the unopened padded envelope, containing what she assumed to be her anniversary gift, onto the passenger’s seat. It landed with a soft thump.
Are you lost?
The question drifted through Lacey’s mind. She shoved the unwelcome thought aside. She was lost, but she was too tired to think about that now.
Caleb had tried calling her cell a couple of times, but Lacey hadn’t picked up. The next conversation they had could well signal the beginning of the end of their marriage and Lacey wasn’t ready. She needed time to settle her emotions, to think about what was right for her and the kids. She owed it to them all to slow down and be certain of what she wanted before the situation careened out of control, as it so easily could over the phone. And Caleb was two thousand miles away.
Whatever happened between them next, she needed to look him in the eyes.
Functioning on autopilot, Lacey drove to Amber’s place and parked beside the curb. She peered through the large front window where her kids played with their cousins. A rousing pillow fight was underway. Sofa cushions flew. Henley, the big gray beast of a dog, lumbered good naturedly into the fray.
The sweetness of the scene nearly broke Lacey’s heart. Her beautiful children were playing, having the time of their lives, oblivious to how fragile and shaky the foundation upon which their family was built had become.
Lacey felt a thousand years old as she exited the car and trudged up the pathway carrying the padded envelope. The door swung open before she could knock.
“Mommy!”
Flynn threw himself at her knees, his skinny arms clasped tightly around her hips. Harper followed in his wake. And this is what she needed. Lacey placed a hand on each of their backs, wanting to gather them into her arms and cover them with kisses, the way she had when they were little. These two amazing souls were the best thing in her life.
“We had cookies,” Flynn crowed.
“And ice cream. Mint chocolate chip.”
“I’m jealous,” Lacey said. “I had part of a muffin.”
Amber appeared in the hallway behind the kids. “Okay you two, back to the living room and give your mom some space.”
Her children released their holds and scampered back inside. Lacey followed them through the door. Amber enveloped her in a bone-crushing hug.
“Holy shit, Lacey. Spencer.”
“I know.”
With a sad shake of her head, Amber released her hold and stepped back. The familiarity of her cousin’s house wrapped around Lacey, comforting her like warm socks and a cozy blanket on a bone chilling night. Lacey sank into a kitchen chair and released a long breath. The house smelled like clean laundry and freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. She set the padded envelope from Caleb down on the kitchen table.
“Girl, you look like you’ve been through a war. When was the last time you ate?”
Lacey shrugged. The coffee shop muffin barely counted. The silent admission earned her a frown.
“I’ve got leftover chicken stew and dumplings. Let me zap it for you.”
“You don’t have to. I’m fine.”
Amber fixed Lacey with a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me look. “Fine? Right. Someone’s got to take care of you.”
Amber heated up the food. She poured a second glass of wine and set it in front of Lacey. Lacey didn’t argue. The cool wine tasted like white peach, pear and vanilla. The smell of the stew made her mouth water. Until Amber set the steaming plate in front of her, she’d had no idea how hungry she actually was.
“Oh my god, this is good. How come you got all the cooking talent in the family?”
Amber answered with a laugh and sipped her wine, eyeing Lacey over the r
im.
“How are you holding up?”
“It’s been crazy, to say the least.”
“What the hell happened?”
Lacey shared what she could. Amber listened without interrupting and finished her glass of wine.
“You look like you haven’t slept in days. Caleb called.”
Carefully masking her surprise, Lacey took another bite of stew. “It’s been busy. I haven’t had time to call him back.”
“Uh-huh,” Amber said, sounding unconvinced. “Isn’t it your anniversary today?”
Lacey flinched. Of course Amber remembered. Not only had Amber been the maid of honor at her wedding; she was also the one person in the family who remembered everyone’s birthday, who intuitively knew when you needed flowers, or a drink, or a night out. In addition to their grandmother’s cooking skills, Amber had inherited her genius for people.
“Can we talk about something else?”
“How about that?” Amber inclined her head toward the unopened shipping envelope. “From Caleb?”
She loved Amber like a sister, wouldn’t know what to do without her, but at times like this, it sucked having someone who could read you like a book.
“Yep.”
“You gonna open it, or do I have to do it for you?”
Lacey put down her fork, picked up her glass of wine, and nudged the envelope toward Amber.
“You’re serious?”
“Why not?”
Like a kid assessing a Christmas present, Amber felt the contents through the envelope.
“Small box.” Her eyebrows shot up. “Jewelry?”
“Doubtful. It’s too small to be a RoboVac. Thank god,” Lacey mused.
“What did he get you last year? A waffle iron?”
“Crock pot.”
“Like there’s a difference.” Amber laughed. “Well, you did marry a military guy. They’re not exactly known for their romantic gift giving. But who am I to talk?”
Lacey snorted in amusement and sipped her wine.
“Here goes nothing,” Amber said and ripped the envelope open.
A hard, rectangular box fell into her open palm. Her face brightened with a hopeful look.
“A watch? Ooh, I hope it’s one of those Apple watches. I’ve been wanting one of those,” Amber said as if the gift was hers.
Lacey didn’t comment as Amber eased open the lid. Her cousin’s face fell. “Huh. What the hell is this?”
She freed the watch from its packaging and handed it to Lacey with a frown. The black band was made of a pliable material that reminded Lacey of a thin rubber. The rugged face was orange with a beveled dial.
“It’s water resistant, has a GPS, and tracks your elevation,” Amber recited from the tiny instructional book wedged beneath the display band.
“Great for all those hiking trips I’m not taking.”
“Let’s see it.”
Amber gestured for Lacey to put it on, and Lacey did. She ratcheted the buckle to the smallest setting and fastened it in place. The large orange face spanned the width of Lacey’s wrist. So this is what ten years of marriage had bought her—a husband she didn’t live with and a watch she’d never wear.
“Lordy, that’s ugly,” Amber said. “It’s the kind of watch only a guy would love.”
“Yeah, like if he was seven-years-old.”
Laughter bubbled up the back of Lacey’s throat. Soon, they were both doubled over until the tears flowed down their cheeks.
“God, I needed that,” Lacey said, wiping her eyes.
“One thing about Caleb, he always did know how to crack me up.” Amber’s laughter finally subsided, and she sighed. “Did he get the job?”
Lacey shrugged. “We haven’t talked about it yet.”
Amber filled their wine glasses with another round and sat back in her chair.
“Maybe what happened with Spencer was a sign.”
“Don’t start,” Lacey warned. “Nothing like that has ever happened in the history of Sweet Home before. There’s no reason to think it will again.”
“It could have been you.”
Justification as to why this would never be the case, sprang easily to Lacey’s mind, how she was a better cop, more careful, better trained, but none of that protected her from the unvarnished truth that she risked her life every day. She could pull some guy over for speeding and that could be it. A flag draped coffin. A twenty-one-gun salute. And just like that, she would never see her kids graduate school, go to college, get married.
The mood of the room changed as quickly as the weather in Oregon, which was sunny one minute and raining the next.
“What are you going to do about Caleb?”
Lacey shook her head. “I haven’t decided yet.”
Their gazes met and held. Amber’s eyes were filled with warring emotions—compassion and doubt.
“It’s not my place to get in the middle of this, and you haven’t asked for my advice…”
“But?”
“But ever since you moved back from Fort Hood, this thing’s been brewing. You’ve both done your best, but the thing is, long-distance relationships are a bitch. My guy’s on the road a lot, but he’s home every weekend. When was the last time Caleb was home, or you flew there?”
Lacey winced. “I know.”
“I know you know.” Amber reached across the table and laid a hand on Lacey’s arm. “Your marriage or your job. You two have been dancing around the same question for years now. You’re both smart. Driven. It’s what brought you together, but now it’s time for one of you to make a decision.”
Amber gave her arm a squeeze and released her grip. The feeling of dread that had plagued Lacey for two days was back. The fact that she didn’t want to make a decision was irrelevant. Not making a decision was a decision. You could let something die slowly from neglect, or you could save it. The choice was hers.
“Mommy. Mommy,” Flynn burst into the room brandishing a DVD. He grabbed Lacey’s wrist and ran his grimy fingers across the watch’s face. “Whoa, cool.”
Amber smirked. “See? I told you. It’s the kind of thing only a boy would love.”
The irony wasn’t lost on Lacey.
Harper screeched into the kitchen hot on his heels and slid to a halt behind him.
“Jayda got Big Hero Six. Can we stay and watch it with them? Can we?”
Lacey rested her hand on the top of Flynn’s head. “It’s kind of late, honey. Maybe you can watch it another night.”
“Please. Please?”
Now all four kids were crammed into the kitchen voicing a chorus of high-pitched pleas.
“Let them stay,” Amber said.
A pang of indecision tugged at Lacey. It would be the second night in a row she spent away from her kids, but what was one more night? They’d be in bed soon anyway.
“Okay.”
Another crescendo of voices rose. “Yay!”
Like a victorious army, a flurry of little feet stampeded out of the kitchen toward the living room. Lacey watched them go.
“You should go home, take a long bath, and call your husband,” Amber said, and Lacey knew she was right.
Once she figured out what to say, she had to find a way to get the words out. The conversation she needed to have would be easier without the fear of little ears overhearing them.
After a round of hugs and goodnight kisses, Lacey left the kiddos curled up on the couch watching their movie and ventured out into the blustery night. Halfway to the car, her phone buzzed. With a deep sigh, she pulled it out of her pocket, dreading the inevitable text from Caleb.
But the notification flashing across her phone wasn’t from her husband. It was from Gavin Miller. A response to the question she’d sent earlier, asking what kind of weapon had been used to kill Kevin Hall.
The two-word text sent a current of shock rippling through her. She felt it all the way to her toes.
A hammer.
A series of fragmented thoughts rushed through he
r mind. The burglary at the hardware store. Crazy Sadie’s words.
“He just stood there, staring at the hammers like a zombie in a trance.”
32
The rain had started again, pounding down on the sodden earth with the relentless force of a vengeful god. Lacey punched the address she found on the police report into her GPS and followed the directions down a lonely stretch of highway. What once had been a gravel driveway was overgrown with thick tangles of long grass and brush.
Parked at the mouth of the drive, Lacey steeled herself against the cold and exited the car. Tall evergreens shivered in the wind, their inky branches reaching up into the stormy sky. Burrowing her chin into the folds of her jacket, Lacey waded into the brush. The silver beam of her flashlight swept the darkness. It skimmed along the tops of the swaying grass and weeds that had overgrown the stones. Twin lines cut a path through the unkept lawn toward the house. Tire tracks.
Someone had been here within the past few days. A bright flash of light lit the darkness as she cranked off a couple of photos with her phone. Stowing it back inside her pocket, she continued down the drive.
Ten feet away from the house, Lacey stopped. It was large and brown with broken windows. The front door was closed. A dense knot of blackberry bushes had grown up around the porch. Thick, ropy tendrils wound their way through the gaps in the railing and looked as if they were dragging the sloping porch into the soft earth.
Lacey stood staring at the house. The chill that drilled deep into her bones had nothing to do with the rain. There was something wrong with this place. Her grandmother believed there were places in the world where evil lurked. Lacey hadn’t truly understood what she’d meant, until now.
Every fiber of Lacey’s being revolted at the prospect of going closer, let alone venturing inside. But if this was where Hall had brought Eden... She had to know. She didn’t come all the way out here just to lose her nerve.
She could call for backup, but what was the point? Hall was no longer a threat. He was already dead. Either Eden was here, or she wasn’t. It was that simple. If she found something worth reporting, she’d call the chief.
