Missing in Conard County

by Rachel Lee

  “You keep saying that. Or versions of that. Just what do you think is wrong with you?”

  “If I can’t trust myself, why should anyone else trust me?”

  He shook his head and stood. “I don’t want to leave you here alone tonight.”

  “I have Bugle,” she reminded him.

  He nodded slowly. “You’re on duty in the morning?”

  “Yeah. I hear there’s a storm coming so I’ll probably be doing welfare checks most of the day.” Looking in on older residents who lived out of town, who might need a better place to stay for the duration or who might need some help stocking the larder, in which case she’d give one of the volunteer groups a call.

  “Okay, then. I’ll see you around.”

  A moment later he’d disappeared out the door. See you around? Had she offended him? All she’d done was ask what he thought was wrong with himself.

  Well, if he was going to react that way...

  Shaking her head, she climbed into bed wearing her thermal underwear, with Bugle’s warmth snuggled up against her beneath the quilt.

  A dog was more reliable than a man any day, she thought. She should have figured it out years ago.

  But as she drifted into sleep, she had dreams of a rabbit wearing a noose, of a girl in a torn pink jacket, of Bugle with his teeth bared.

  Bugle stirred nervously beside her but didn’t wake her. His eyes never closed, though.

  * * *

  IT TOOK A hell of a lot of effort. Chantal was past worrying whether she cussed in the silence of her own mind or if she did it out loud so Jane could hear. It didn’t seem to bother Jane, anyway.

  They were chained so that their hands could reach their mouths, but not much beyond. Her wrists were sore, so sore that she was sure they must be scabbed over. Every movement hurt, but she steeled herself to ignore it. Their ankles were tethered to some kind of ring in the floor, giving them a few feet to move around in, but no more.

  Her body felt as if it were crawling in filth. It had been so long since last she’d been able to get clean. Living worse than an animal.

  The man hadn’t been back in a couple of days, but she was sure he’d return. He wanted something from them and she was certain it was nothing good. They had to find a way to get out of here, except there was no way out except by the stairs that led to the metal door. A storm cellar, she thought. An ancient storm cellar, except over her head was the remains of a window. That seemed odd, so maybe it had been mostly a root cellar.

  Whatever it was, it was boarded over with just the slightest cracks that sometimes let in some pale, watery light. Not enough to illuminate the room, but enough to sometimes tell her whether it was night or day.

  The nights and days had all run together, though, and she no longer had any idea how long they’d been here.

  She just knew she couldn’t take it any longer. She was past caring if she died.

  She stirred a bit and felt her elbows touch her ribs. For the first time in her life, she could feel her ribs sticking out. To think she’d once wanted to be that thin.

  If she ever got out of here alive, she swore she was going to eat herself sick on every kind of junk food she could get her hands on. Her mind played tricks on her now, and sometimes she was sure she could smell a hamburger. Or a French fry. Or even broccoli.

  Broccoli? Man, that was desperation. Worse yet, sometimes she craved Brussels sprouts, what her little brother called cannonballs. She’d never liked them, but now she’d have traded a whole lot for a big bowl of something green.

  It was dark again, and she could faintly hear a wind whistling. It seemed to be coming from the remains of the window above her head.

  “Jane?”

  “Yeah.” Jane sounded flat, as if she’d totally given up. Chantal was on the edge of it herself, but not quite ready. She had to make at least one attempt, and out of the fog of hunger and darkness an idea had come.

  “Can you reach that window above us?”

  “You’re kidding, right? That’s no window, that’s jail bars.”

  “I know, but there are these small cracks in places. You saw them when we talked about them a few days ago.” Or whenever it had been. Time had ceased to have meaning.

  “So?”

  “What if I rip off a piece of my sleeve with my teeth? Do you think you could shove it out a crack?”

  “What good will that do?”

  “It’s bright. If the wind blows it like a flag...”

  Jane was silent for a long time. “If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll try it, but it’s a waste of time, Chantal. If it blows away, it says nothing. Anyway, who’s going to care about a scrap of cloth? I don’t think anyone’s been looking for us for ages. They probably think we’re in Mexico or getting whisked away by a gorgeous European prince.”

  Chantal fell quiet for a while, then said, “Being in a palace sounds better than this.”

  For the first time in forever, she heard Jane laugh. The noise was cracked, almost broken, but it sounded so good to Chantal.

  “I like that,” Jane whispered. “A big, rich, handsome prince who’ll fall head over heels for both of us and treat us like priceless jewels.”

  “I think your mom was right when she said you read too many of those books.”

  Jane snorted. “Better than your cowboy stories. Didn’t you ever want to get farther away from here? You don’t really want some cowboy to lasso you, do you?”

  “Depends. Not the cowboy who has us now.”

  Once again their mood darkened.

  She felt Jane stir beside her. “I can just about reach the bottom crack,” she said. “Give me that piece of cloth.”

  Of course, it wasn’t that easy. The way Chantal’s teeth felt right now, she wasn’t sure they wouldn’t all fall out of her head if she tried to tear at something.

  “I want a hot shower,” she murmured. “I want to be clean again, all over. I want to eat a double cheeseburger.”

  Jane was silent for what seemed the longest time. “Give me a piece of that cloth,” she whispered finally. “If nothing else, it’ll be a good grave marker.”

  Chantal caught her breath. “You think he’s leaving us here to die?”

  “How should I know? All I know is Mary Lou’s been gone forever. If that guy ever wanted anything from us, it was probably before we looked like filthy scarecrows.”

  Chantal squeezed her eyes shut, holding back tears that couldn’t fall anymore. It was as if she had gone dry.

  “Come on,” Jane said, sounding broken. “The cloth. At least it’ll tell them who the skeletons are.”

  * * *

  NOW REVE DIDN’T dare do anything about the girls. Not since Spence had opened his yap. He’d have to wait a few days, see if that damn woman cop homed in on Spence in any way.

  Talk about skating near the edge. And Spence didn’t even know what was going on. It was as if some evil demon had put words in his mouth, causing him to draw attention to the very thing that Reve wanted to keep buried.

  Crap.

  And that stupid man had actually entered the deputy’s house to leave part of an animal skin, he said. To give her a scare, he said.

  They’d been lucky her dog hadn’t been able to break out of the other room. Reve had spent the whole time sitting in his truck wondering if he should just find a way to shoot Spence when he was out running his trapline.

  Another stupid thing. Spence lived in town but thought he was some kind of mountain man. Setting traps for foxes and selling their pelts. Damn fool was lucky he didn’t catch himself a bear. Didn’t matter. Fox trapping was legal. Wasn’t nobody who liked the vermin.

  But still. An animal skin?. For the cop when it was the animal control guy he was mad at? So what if the two had started dating. Only a fool went after a man’s woman.

  Spence wa
s a fool.

  Sitting at his kitchen table again, Reve pondered what he was going to do about those girls. He didn’t dare go near the place right now, not after the cop had been warned something was going on. What if she drove out here and saw him approaching that tumbledown shack. She might wonder. She might even think he had something to do with that damned toy.

  Oh, he’d planned it all so carefully, but he hadn’t counted on his friend being an idiot. Hadn’t counted that foolish remarks might draw the wrong kind of attention.

  Well, he’d better come up with a plan now. The girls had enough food and water for another five or six days. Then there was that storm moving in. If it was as bad as they were predicting, he might not even be able to reach them for a while.

  They could die out there.

  And right then that didn’t sound like such a bad thing to Reve. He’d be shed of the problem and there’d always be another day down the road where he could try this again.

  One thing for damn sure: he couldn’t do anything from a prison.

  Damn Spence all to hell.

  * * *

  THE MORNING BEGAN with an eerie light, a flat grayness that was still quite bright. No shadows fell anywhere, but the breeze, strangely gentled, still whispered of dangers to come.

  Al stood outside, making a mental plan for the coming storm. They still had a couple of days, so it was too early to be worrying about wandering animals that might freeze, but he still had his regular tasks. At least they gave him an excuse to roam the county, hoping for a glimpse of something that might tell him what had happened to those girls.

  Because he seriously doubted that if they were in this county that they were still alive. Hiding them from neighbors, even out on isolated ranches, would be hard to do for long. People visited, saw each other at church. Only someone who’d been a recluse forever would be overlooked for long.

  Kelly had said she was going to be starting her welfare checks. Most of the deputies would be dropping by homes to find out if anyone needed heating oil or supplies, or to come to shelter in town.

  So another blanket of searchers was going to be out all day, setting up things to help folks out, but still getting a good look at the entire county. Two days wasn’t a long time to set up deliveries of heating oil if very many people were getting low. Impossible to know now, too, how long people might be shut in after the storm. Sometimes the wind blew the snow away like so much dry powder. Other times it built it into huge banks that covered houses until they were nearly invisible.

  Only time would tell on that one.

  And three girls, if they were out there and weren’t being properly cared for, were probably already dead.

  The thought darkened his mood considerably as he climbed into his utility vehicle, the one that had been modified to hold four cages comfortably in back. More than four and he’d have to bring them back to shelter.

  Today he determined to head outside town, because any lost or abandoned animals were likely to be facing the most trouble out there.

  As he bumped along the roads, however, he drifted into thoughts about last night. Spencer had been an ass, for certain, but the man always had been. At least he’d finally seen the light about his dog, Cujo.

  But then there was that stuffed rabbit. What in the hell did that mean? That it was a threat was obvious, to him at least. Dismiss it as a toy, but it remained someone had entered Kelly’s house without her permission in order to leave it. Not a friendly gesture at all. He made a note to check with her later to ensure she was locking doors and windows. She shouldn’t need a reminder but there’d been no evidence of a break-in at her house last night. Someone had opened the door and just walked in.

  If he were Kelly, he wouldn’t be feeling terribly safe after that. But she hadn’t wanted him to stay. Of course, she had Bugle. He was probably more useful than ten armed guards, but still, Al hadn’t liked being dismissed in favor of a dog.

  But she had Bugle. And he’d had to come home and worry about her.

  Then there was that stupid moment when he’d blurted how beautiful she was. Holy cow, what had possessed him? It was like something had taken over his mouth and issued the words before he could stop them.

  Then that stuff about how he wasn’t good for a relationship. It was true, of course. He hadn’t lied about that, but he could see the questions dancing in her dark eyes, and if a guy was going to say things like that, he ought to be willing to answer the questions.

  He guessed he spent too much time with dogs and cats. The idea amused him, but it was true. A flick of a tail, a long look, a twitch of ears, those animals could communicate entire encyclopedias to each other.

  Him, not so much. He needed to use the whole dictionary of words to make his points. He was out of practice, though. He’d come home from the US Marines, mustered out with a disability, and discovered he had more problems than some shrapnel-torn back muscles. Nope, he had a brain problem, a brain full of rage that could be triggered unexpectedly. He’d gotten better with time, but that monster still lay in wait, and he treated it with wary respect.

  What woman needed that? Hell, nobody needed that.

  Then, like a great big wheel, his thoughts returned to that damned stuffed rabbit. No mistaking it was a message, but what kind? Why would anyone want to scare Kelly? Yeah, she’d found the car by the roadside, but that had proved to be useless. No information there to explain how three young women could vanish from the planet.

  He smiled into the brightening day, with its strange light that assured him the sun was rising somewhere, as he recalled a conversation he’d overheard the other day at Maude’s diner. Two men were absolutely convinced the girls had been abducted by aliens.

  Vehemently convinced, even to the point of arguing when another fellow had discounted it after overhearing them.

  “Where else could they be?” one of the men demanded. “Not in this county, that’s for sure. You ever tried to keep anything secret around here?”

  Interesting question. If those teens had been taken by someone who lived here, even if he’d transported them out of the state, he’d managed to keep it secret. And the guy at the diner was right. Keeping a secret around here was nigh on impossible.

  “Ah, hell,” he said to his empty truck. “Just keep your eyes peeled. He had to have left a track somewhere.”

  Sure. Like he’d left traces they couldn’t find in the car. The abduction had been well planned, no question. But to what end? He hoped like mad those girls were still nearby and could be found somehow. That at the very least one of them escaped to seek help.

  But with each passing day that hope seemed dimmer.

  So did the sky all of a sudden. Though he seldom cared to listen to the radio while he cruised around looking for animals that were out of place, he turned it on now.

  Wicked storm on the way. It would hit full force by the day after tomorrow. No searching in the middle of that.

  His radio squawked and he picked it up. “Animal control, Carstairs.”

  “Al,” said a familiar voice belonging to an elderly lady outside town, “my Ruffles hasn’t come home since yesterday. Not even to eat.”

  “I’m coming, Mrs. Jackson. Did she seem all right yesterday?”

  “She was fine when I let her out yesterday afternoon. Just fine. And she knows how to hide from them coyotes. Heck, I think they’re terrified of her.”

  “Maybe so,” he agreed as he used one hand to execute a three-point turn. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

  She thanked him, her voice wavering as it only could when a person was really upset.

  He hoped to God he found Ruffles, an independent, stubborn, single-minded Maine coon that had plenty to say about how life should work.

  Yeah, he wouldn’t be surprised if that cat scared the coyotes. She was almost as big as some of them, big even for her breed. An
d while Maine coons were sweet tempered, this one had a temper.

  She was also bred to withstand the kind of weather that was coming. Which was about the only good thing Al could say about it.

  * * *

  WHEN HE REACHED Mrs. Jackson’s ramshackle ranch about ten miles beyond town, she was standing on the porch bundled up head to foot and calling Ruffles.

  This was not good, he thought as he pulled his own jacket on and bundled himself. Ruffles had never run away this long before. A few hours, maybe, but overnight?

  As soon as he reached the porch, he urged Mrs. Jackson back inside. She was in her eighties and like many older people she had grown thin and a bit stooped. No meat on her bones to keep her warm, winter-weather wear notwithstanding.

  “It’s too cold for you to stand out here. You wait inside. You know I always find Ruffles.”

  “Ruffles has never been gone this long before,” she quavered.

  He hated to imagine how long she had worried before she finally decided to call him. Several hours at least. “I’ll find her,” he promised. He just hoped he’d find Ruffles alive and well. “Say, are you set for the storm? Heating oil? Food?”

  Mrs. Jackson lived alone, something he couldn’t afford to forget.

  “I got my heating oil last week,” she answered. “I’ve got food.”

  “Well, I’ll take a look at things in the house once I find the cat,” he said. It wouldn’t hurt to make sure her heater was operating correctly, and that her idea of food didn’t amount to a single can of beans or soup.

  She nodded, looking forlorn, and disappeared inside. She continued to peer out the front window, however, pulling the sheers back so she could see.

  Okay, Al thought. Where the devil would you be hiding, Ruffles?

  Something must have scared her good, Al reasoned. More than usual if she’d taken to hiding and didn’t want to come out.