by Lisa Harris
The memories were all too close today. James feared that if he turned around too fast he might catch a glimpse of one.
“It’s the same guy,” Vince said. “Least we think it is.”
“You mean girl?”
After a long silence, Vince said, “I know you always thought it was an accident.”
“Cassidy wouldn’t have hurt my sister.”
“You’re the most loyal person I know. One of your best qualities. But in this case… If you hear from her, if she shows up—”
“Cassidy’s long gone. She’s not coming back.”
The press conference broke up, and James left Vince and made his way toward his friend, waiting until most of the others who’d come to offer their prayers and support had walked away before approaching. “Anything I can do?”
“Just keep praying.”
He tamped down the guilt. James had done enough of that. Prayer always made his hopes climb like a helium balloon. The higher it soared, the farther the pieces fell when it burst.
Reid’s eyes were red-rimmed when he turned them on James. “Why would she do this to us?”
She. Even Reid believed it, though he’d been friends with Cassidy in school.
“If I ever get my hands on her…” His voice cracked.
He seemed to be waiting for a response. James didn’t know what to say, but more guilt pressed in. As if Cassidy’s actions were somehow his responsibility. As if he should have known.
As if he should agree.
He didn’t, though. He couldn’t.
Detective Cote, Reid’s uncle, approached, and James stepped away to let them talk, thankful for the reprieve. Because he wanted to be there for his friend, but he wasn’t about to jump on the Cassidy-is-guilty-of-everything train. The girl he’d known, the girl he’d loved, was no kidnapper, no murderer.
No matter what everybody believed.
Chapter Four
If only Cassidy had the courage to stay overnight on the mountain.
But she didn’t, and when she realized the time, she hurried down, back to the trail. The sun was falling behind the trees, the woods dark and deep. She’d encountered lots of folks on the way up, but the trail was deserted now. The campers at the foot of the mountain were done with hiking for the day. Smart. Staying up here after dark…
Fear crawled up her spine like ants on a watermelon rind.
Most folks would argue that this mountain was safe, that no crime could touch this place. She knew better. This mountain offered more than pretty views of Lake Ayasha and Mt. Coventry and, in the distance, the snow-capped peak of Mount Washington. There were places to lurk and hide. Dark places filled with evil.
She had to stop those thoughts. Focus.
But the fear didn’t lift.
Something was… following her.
It wasn’t so much a sound as a feeling, a whisper that sneaked through her being and gripped her heart. She’d had that sense once before, and she hadn’t heeded it, a mistake that had proved fatal.
Now, the feeling pushed her off the trail and into the woods.
Should she hide? She looked around for a place to take cover. A downed tree, a large rock? All she saw were thin trees and overgrown shrubs.
She was too vulnerable.
Picking her way through the underbrush, she tried to gauge where she was. She’d traveled most of the way down, hadn’t she? She should be near the base. The campground. Safety.
She crept forward, away from the trail, as quietly as she could.
The feeling that she was being followed only intensified. And… the sound of heavy footsteps on the path. Someone was there. At least she wasn’t crazy. Small comfort.
The man—she was sure it was a man—was closing in.
Was she being crazy? Had she spent too much time on this mountain haunted with ghosts and memories? Had she lost her mind?
But a branch snapped, too close.
Adrenaline coursed through her veins, set her hands trembling and reaching for her Glock. But she didn’t pull it out. Better to get away. She felt as if she were in a nightmare, frozen by sleep, trying to scream, trying to wake herself up. Her lungs and vocal cords wouldn’t obey.
But her legs weren’t paralyzed. She pushed herself faster, ignoring the branches that slapped at her face and thighs.
Past bushes, around trees, she kept on, trying to keep barriers between her and the path above.
Through the thick underbrush, she saw a flash of white. Was it James’s house, the place that had been a sanctuary to her so many times? Without thinking, she broke into a run. But thorns and twigs and branches slowed her progress.
She glanced behind her and saw a flash of red not thirty yards back.
She was making too much noise. He’d find her for sure.
The memories pressed down on her, tried to immobilize her. It had been winter the last time, and the child in her care had been giggling, running ahead. Too far ahead.
This was different. She had only herself to protect now, not a sweet innocent child who’d trusted her.
The going was rough as she forced her way through the underbrush, yanking her clothes from the grip of thorns and the sticky fingers of low bushes, ignoring scrapes and gouges on her legs and arms.
The house had to be close. The trail wrapped around the mountain behind it. Surely, surely she’d reach it soon.
Hurry, hurry.
She pushed past a bush, ducking beneath a dead and leafless limb. On the other side, her foot landed in a depression and she stumbled, almost fell. Twisted her ankle, but not badly.
Glanced behind.
Still, a flash of red.
Ahead, there was a brightening, perhaps a break in the forest, or…
The white siding of James’s house. Then she saw the roof, the wood deck off the back, the windows reflecting the orange-and-pink sky.
Finally, she left the woods and landed on soft grass. She rushed across the backyard, only realizing then that it probably wasn’t James’s property anymore at all. His parents had lived here, and he was an adult now. Surely he’d moved on. And anyway, after Hallie’s death, they’d likely sold this old place. Who’d want to live with those memories?
She rounded the structure on the far side, away from the man following her. If someone had been following her. It was entirely possible she’d gone crazy, that her treks through the woods were messing with her mind.
At least she’d be relatively anonymous to whoever lived in this house now. They’d probably never heard of her, probably had no idea of her history in Coventry. But when she glimpsed the front yard, she froze.
The old red canvas-topped Jeep Wrangler, the one James had driven back in high school, was parked in the driveway, dirt caked along the side as if it had recently been off-roading. A jack held a rear tire off the ground.
She should turn around, except… She felt eyes on her. Whoever’d followed her was watching. He knew she was here. He knew who she was.
No. That couldn’t be true. She had to think clearly.
The blinds on the house were open, and she slipped off her sunglasses and glanced inside the dining room window. She’d spent many happy meals there. The same weathered oak table, the same ladder-back chairs, the same sideboard with the same portrait hanging over it. A portrait of the family she’d loved as her own. Mr. Sullivan, Mrs. Sullivan, James, and Hallie.
They’d loved her, too. Once.
The memories hit so strong and hard that she squeezed her eyes to shut them out. The fear that had gripped her moments before vanished, replaced by grief so potent it felt like tentacles pulling her down.
Cassidy was a fool. She should’ve stayed on the trail and faced the pursuer. That would’ve been easier than facing this. She swiveled and started toward the road. She’d avoid the trail now, take the long way back to her car. Her pursuer—if she hadn’t dreamed him—was on the far side of the house. He wouldn’t be able to see where she went.
The door opened, and
the screen squeaked on its hinges. She didn’t turn back and didn’t slow, but a voice called out. “Can I help you?” It was a voice she knew. A voice her dreams still produced.
No, no, no. That was the last thing she needed.
Without turning, she called, “Sorry. Just took a wrong turn.”
Nearly jogging, she waited for the door to open again and slam, proof the person had gone back inside. Instead, the thud of feet on the patio stairs followed.
He couldn’t be chasing her.
Maybe he wouldn’t recognize her. Maybe, if she stopped him before he got too close, he wouldn’t see her beyond her cap, her new haircut, her new hair color, face, and name… Everything about her was new. She turned suddenly, hoping he’d stop where he was. “Didn’t mean to interrupt you. I’ll just—”
“Cassidy?”
She wanted to laugh it off, give her fake name, pretend. But the words were caught.
Her sunglasses hung uselessly from her hand. She should have slipped them back on. Stupid mistake. Fatal mistake.
He was there, just ten, maybe fifteen feet from her. He looked so different. The clean-cut high school jock now had long hair, a mustache, and a beard. He’d broadened, matured. But the eyes… Those milk chocolate eyes hadn’t changed, even if they were filled with malice right now.
“What are—?” He closed the distance between them. When he was inches from her, he froze. “What are you doing here?
She swallowed all the emotions trying to climb out of her throat. Fear, affection, grief.
Love.
How could she still feel that after all the years, after the way he’d betrayed her? Of course, he thought she’d betrayed him… More than betrayed him.
He thought she was a murderer.
She didn’t know what to say. There were no words.
“You just gonna stand there looking at me?” he asked. “I think I deserve to know why you’re on my property, especially now.”
The accusation in his tone brought her voice back. “What does that mean? Especially now? Especially now that another kid is missing? Especially now that everyone suspects I did it?” She hurled the words, praying he’d soften, tell her she was wrong, that he believed in her.
“Yeah, Cassidy, and your being here right now—”
“Proves it? Right? Is that what you’re going to say?”
He crossed his arms, shrugged. He didn’t speak the words, but the accusation was clear in the hard stare.
“I didn’t kill your sister. I would never…” Old tears, tears she’d thought long dried, rose to her throat. She’d always hoped, deep down, that James didn’t really believe what everyone said. But her hope had been futile. Of course it had. Hadn’t all her hopes proved…
Stop that. No pity-parties, not even today.
“If you didn’t do it,” he asked, “then why did you run?”
“You know why. I would never have gotten a fair shake here. I ran because I didn’t want to end up in prison.”
“Maybe you and your mother could’ve shared a cell.”
He might as well have struck her. That James, her James, could speak to her so cruelly, could have so thoroughly lost his faith in her… “Like mother, like daughter. Is that it?”
“You said it, not me.”
“Whatever.” She swiveled and started back toward the trail.
He grabbed her upper arm and whipped her around to face him. Though his grip was firm, he didn’t squeeze, didn’t hurt her. “I’m calling the cops.”
That would ruin everything. If he called the police, she wouldn’t get to Ella in time. “Please, James. If you ever cared for me, if you ever believed in me, even the tiniest bit, please don’t turn me in. I promise you, I didn’t hurt your sister, and Denise and Reid’s daughter… I would never…” Her emotions were bouncing around like a pinball. “I’m here to see if I can find her. I’m the only one who can.”
His flattened lips turned white. He didn’t believe her. Of course he didn’t. Why would he? Why would anybody put faith in Cassidy Leblanc?
She was innocent, and she’d give anything to prove it, anything to take that accusation out of his expression. But that wasn’t why she was here. “You could help me, you know. You could help me find them.”
“Who is them?”
“Ella and the kidnapper. I know where they are.”
“If you know where she is, it’s because you put her there.”
“I didn’t!” How could he even think such a thing? “I wouldn’t… I was at work. When Ella went missing, and the other little girl, I was thousands of miles away from here. I can prove it. I didn’t take them. I wouldn’t have—”
“Then tell the police. Prove it.”
“I can’t. If I did, they’d know I didn’t take Ella or Addison, but there’s still the warrant because of Hallie. I’m doing all I can without ending up in prison. I’m trying to help.”
His dark eyebrows rose. “Do you expect me to believe that, after all these years, you decided to come back and help? After another child’s already been murdered?” His voice rose, became nearly a shout. “Now? Now, you’ve decided to tell what you know? Decided you need to play the hero? Why not just tell the police every—”
“I tried!” She took a breath, then another. “I told them everything. I called. I called the day I ran away. I told them exactly where the kidnapper took us. I thought they’d find his hideout, maybe DNA evidence or something. I figured, when they caught the real kidnapper, I’d come back. But they didn’t care what I had to say. They thought I was guilty. They told me to turn myself in, and then they’d hear me out. As if I’d believe them.”
When he finally spoke, his voice was soft. “You called them? Back then?”
He hadn’t known? Why had she thought he would?
“Of course. I called again last month, after that other girl was taken. I tried to convince them that I knew where she was. I told the cop everything I know, which, honestly, isn’t much. I don’t know if they followed my tip. By the time I decided to come here myself, the child’s body had been found. When I called back to find out if they’d located the cave, the cop on the phone… He recognized my voice, and he lost it. Screamed at me, told me that he would find me and see me punished for what I did. You asked me why I haven’t turned myself in? Because if I go on in, they’ll declare the case closed. And Denise and Reid’s daughter will die.”
The last few words hung in the cooling air.
James dropped her arm. “You’re saying…?” He rubbed the back of his neck before meeting her gaze again. “You’re saying that you think you can rescue Ella?”
“I have to try. I have to.”
He said nothing, just watched her.
If only he’d believe her. A new thought occurred to her, an idea that could change everything. “You know this mountain better than I do. I need to find the cave. No matter what they say, I know it exists. I was there. I almost died there.”
He stepped back, swallowed hard. “My sister…”
“She did die there.” Cassidy couldn’t keep the tears from her voice now. The memory was so close—Hallie in her arms, eyes open, lifeless.
“You’re saying you’re going to the place where you…”
Where you killed her.
That’s what he’d almost said. That’s what floated between them now.
She let it go. He believed what he believed, and there was nothing she could do about that.
He started again. “You’re going to the place where my sister died?”
“I believe it’s where he’s holding—”
“Who is he? Who did this? Why don’t you—?”
“I have no idea!” She hadn’t meant to shout and tried to calm down. “If I knew who he was, I’d have told the police ten years ago. I can tell you it was a man. I can tell you that he was almost as scared as I was. I can tell you that… I don’t think any of it was planned. He wanted to take her. I was extraneous.” Hadn’t she always been th
at? “He didn’t expect me to be there. I just—”
“I don’t want to hear this.” His voice was cold. “I can’t listen to your story.” He seemed as emotionally overwrought as she was. She remembered the way his chest would expand when he was upset. The way his jaw would go from rounded to hard. Even past the cropped beard, she could see the softness had disappeared with age, or grief. James was all hard angles and anger now. Maybe the anger was her fault.
He started again, his tone measured. “I don’t want to hear your story. I’m not ready to…” He lifted his hand as if he were going to rub the back of his neck again but dropped it before it got there.
She wanted to press him, to beg him for his help. James would keep her safe at night, and he would know how to cover more ground, cover new ground. He wouldn’t go in circles like she had. But she couldn’t convince him. He had to decide where to go from here. Go with her, ignore her, or turn her in. There weren’t a lot of options, and one of them would be the end of her, the end of little Ella Cote.
“Where are you going?" he finally asked.
“It’s up on the mountain somewhere. There’s a rock formation that forms caves. I never knew it was there before, and I don’t think anyone else does either. It’s way off the beaten track. In all the aerial photos I’ve seen, there’s no indication of it. I’ve studied and studied and studied this mountain—as much as I could on the internet, anyway—and there’s no record of the cave I’m talking about.”
“Maybe that means it’s not there.”
“It is. It haunts my dreams. It haunts…” Her voice was too full of emotion. She had to stop that, had to be stoic. James wouldn’t believe her tears if she shed them.
“How far away is it?”
“I don’t know exactly. I was so afraid… It took hours to climb up. I came down a different way. It was dark, I was terrified. I just… I just don’t know. But I know it’s up there. And I know that’s where Ella is. In my heart”—she pressed her hand to her chest—“she’s still there. And she’s still alive. For now. If you care at all about Reid, if you care at all about his little girl… If you ever cared about me… I need your help. I can’t do this by myself.”
