by Lisa Harris
Which one? Had they been numbered? Lettered? “I forget. It’s not far. Near the lake.”
“Don’t think so. I’d ’a seen ya there. Your camp must be on the other side of the bathrooms. But then you woulda seen the bathrooms and not come all the way up here.”
“Like I said, I was exploring. If you’ll just let me by.”
“My name’s Eugene. What’s yours?”
“Mary Beth.” The name of one of the girls in the program where she worked.
“Those’re pretty names.” He stepped closer and touched her hair.
She held her breath.
A phone rang.
She lifted her foot, felt behind her for the golf cart’s floorboard. She needed to put distance between them. Would anybody hear her if she screamed? Surely, surely somebody would come running. If her voice carried that far. If the people who heard it realized it was a true call for help and not a child’s game.
Eugene slipped a phone from his pocket and swiped it on but didn’t speak.
Through his speaker, she heard a man’s voice. “Where are you? I told you to hurry.”
He backed up a step.
“See you later!” She slipped past him, feeling the brush of his hand on the back of her shirt. Trying to touch her? To grab her? To strike her?
She didn’t know, only knew that Eugene didn’t possess the gentle soul she’d assumed of him back in high school. She jogged down the road, praying she could reach the tents before the golf cart—and Eugene—caught up with her.
Chapter Ten
The little town of Coventry, in the valley between the mountains, was as picturesque as any in New England. When James was a kid, he’d thought it was the prettiest place in the world. Of course, he hadn’t shared that opinion with his friends, who all complained about living so far from “the real world.” Back then, the kids he’d hung out with had been enamored with TV shows that took place in New York City and Chicago and L.A. Reid had vowed at the mature age of nine that someday he was going to live in a high-rise and work in Manhattan. He was going to be a big shot.
James had never had such aspirations. His family had lived in Coventry for generations, and the town had felt as comfortable to him as his favorite pair of pajamas.
It hadn’t changed much since he was a kid. Old restaurants had been replaced with newer ones—except The Patriot, a Coventry staple. There was an ice cream shop within walking distance of the park and beach on the edge of town. A Dunkin’ Donuts had been built on an empty lot about a block off the main drag. Thanks to its proximity to the HCI offices, its drive-through was backed up around the corner every workday morning. A Greek restaurant had gone in when James was in high school. Their pizza was so good, he hardly complained about the business they stole from his restaurant.
James steered his car toward his house, contemplating this town, these people. They were all so convinced Cassidy was guilty and, after the conversation with Detective Cote, James understood why. They didn’t know her like he did. Any doubts he’d harbored slipped away again. If Cassidy were guilty, what was she doing asking James for help? Why had she come to him?
Except, she hadn’t come to him. It was possible she’d only asked for his help to throw him off after he’d discovered her, to keep him from calling the police.
No. That didn’t make sense. And anyway, if that were the case, he’d know soon enough. Surely, if she were guilty, after having been discovered she’d have taken off.
Would she kill Ella first? Or take the little girl with her?
No, no. He couldn’t think that way. Couldn’t let himself consider the fact that running into him could have stepped up her timeline.
Crazy thoughts, crazy talk. Cassidy wasn’t a killer.
If she was, he was the biggest fool in history.
On a whim, he turned into the campground driveway just a few hundred yards from his own and parked in front of the building that held the offices in front, the Cages’ home in the back.
Like all the structures on the property, the log building so blended into the environment, it looked as if it had always been there. From James’s viewpoint, it had.
He pushed open the door, and the bell above jingled.
Inside, the walls were the same rough timbers as outside. An old plaid couch was pushed against the wall, a banged-up coffee table in front of it littered with magazines and newspapers. A spinner stand by the door held brochures from local attractions. He scanned the few facing him—The Polar Caves, Castle in the Clouds, the Mount Washington cruise ship.
A long counter separated the guests’ space from Wilson, who sat at a rolling office chair in front of a computer. He looked up when James approached, and a kind smile split his face.
“How are you, Mr. Cage?”
“Think you’re old enough to call me Wilson.” He came around the counter and pumped James’s hand. “Considering you’re our closest neighbor, we hardly ever see you.” His gaze softened to the compassionate look so many gave James, the one that grated on his nerves. “How you holding up? This’s gotta be hard for you, what with the girl bein’ your best friend’s kid.”
“Harder for Reid,” James said. “But yeah, it brings back memories.”
Wilson wore the same army green shorts and light green T-shirt he always wore during the camping season. His red cap emblazoned with the name of the campground was perched on the counter. He motioned to the couch. “You wanna sit?”
“I’m okay. Just wanted to ask you a couple of questions.” Though, now that he was face-to-face with Wilson, he wondered what he was doing there. Of course this guy hadn’t hurt Hallie. Except James was sure Cassidy hadn’t, either. “I was talking to Detective Cote about what happened back when my sister was kidnapped. He said you saw her and Cassidy on the trail that night.”
Wilson took the tiniest step back. “Yeah. I was up at the shack and heard some noises, so I climbed up to the trail. There’s a little path there. Saw your sister. She was giggling and running. Cassidy was behind her, calling to her to slow down. They both looked like they were having fun.”
“See anything else?”
“Wish I had. When I was sure there was nothing to worry about, I came back here and got ready for my date that night.”
Not that it was any of his business, but he asked, “With who?”
“Lady I met in Plymouth on one of those dating apps.” He leaned against the counter. “That was back when I thought I might meet somebody, not be alone the rest of my life. But no woman wants to move to a dinky town and take care of an overgrown kid, which is all Eugene’ll ever be. Don’t get me wrong—I love that boy fiercely. But nobody knows him like I do. He’s always been big and strong, and I think he frightens some folks. Not a lot of people have ever tried to get to know him, to be honest.”
James felt a twinge of guilt. He’d never tried. He’d always had plenty of friends and never had any use for the slow kid next door. And Wilson was right. Eugene came off as a little scary. Long arms and legs, strong, powerful, but without the intellect to know how to control himself.
“Where was Eugene that night?”
“Here, playing video games. And I know what you’re thinking, but he’s as gentle as they come. Besides, police checked out both our alibis. Gal I was with vouched for me, and the people Eugene played online with vouched for him.”
“I’m not accusing you. Just trying to put the pieces together. My parents kept a lot of the facts of the case from me.”
Wilson clasped his upper arm. “It was hard on everyone, I’m sure. And now that it’s all happening again…” He didn’t finish the sentence, just squeezed James’s arm and dropped his hand.
“I wondered… You and Eugene have been on this mountain a long time. You ever seen a cave or any rock formations that might create a cave?”
Wilson ran a hand over his head. “Nope. Never seen anything like that. Why?”
“Just something I heard.”
“About Ella’s disappea
rance?”
“It’s not important.” James glanced at the door, ready to leave.
The older man leaned back against his desk. “You let me know if I can do anything for you. I don’t blame you for trying to fill in all the blanks.”
James started to turn, then stopped. “Do you think… You saw Cassidy that night. Did anything about her stand out to you? Did she seem afraid or nervous or… anything?”
Wilson’s lips turned down at the corners. “I didn’t know her at all. She seemed like a normal kid to me.”
“Do you think she did it?”
“I never could figure out how. I mean, she’s on the mountain, playing with your sister. And then… what? She snatches her on a whim? How’d she get away? Why’d she wait, play with Hallie, and then run? Lotsa holes in the story. I figure something happened, made her snap.”
Wilson made good points, points James wished he’d made to Cote earlier. He’d need to ask Cote how he explained her lack of transportation.
He thanked Wilson and stepped out of the office, surveying the campground. Looked like business was excellent. Wilson and Eugene would be busy with all these campers. Neither of them would have time to pull off two kidnappings. Probably.
But James wasn’t willing to concede that they were innocent. Not if it meant conceding that Cassidy was guilty.
He caught sight of a woman running toward the common area down the middle of one of the narrow roads leading to the campsites. She wore a baseball cap and sunglasses and kept glancing behind her as if someone were chasing her. It was the way she carried herself, the shape of her, that made him think of Cassidy. But she wouldn’t be here. Coming here would be insane.
Yet, the closer she got, the more she looked like the most wanted woman in New Hampshire.
The woman shifted his direction.
He jogged toward her, realizing as she closed the distance that it was, indeed, Cassidy.
When she was about fifteen feet away, she veered off toward the path that led to the parking area where she’d left her car the day before. A single word left her lips.
“Eugene.”
And then she jogged away, disappearing around the side of the building.
A moment later, one of the camp carts motored down the narrow road, Eugene at the wheel, scanning the campground.
Looking for Cassidy?
James watched as Eugene parked the cart near the playground. He stepped out, still looking around. After a moment, he seemed to concede that he’d lost her—assuming he’d been following her—and entered the rear door of the restroom building.
James waited another minute to ensure Cassidy had time to get to her car, then climbed into his own. As soon as he slid inside, he dialed the number Cassidy had given him the night before.
She answered on the second ring, out of breath. “I’m safe.”
“Eugene stopped at the bathrooms. What happened?”
Through the phone, he heard a car door slam, then a long exhale. “It was probably… I don’t know.”
“Meet me at my house.”
“I don’t want to get you in trouble.” In the background, her car dinged, and the engine rumbled to life.
“Too late for that,” he said. “See you in five.” He ended the call before she could argue and headed home.
At his house, he lifted the garage door but parked behind his Jeep. He’d replaced the tires and started it that morning, thinking that, if he did go with Cassidy, he’d rather take the old off-roading vehicle than his new car.
When she pulled in a few seconds later, he directed her to drive in, then lowered the door behind her and moved his car into the empty space so nobody would think a car was parked inside.
Paranoia in action.
He opened his front door, walked through the house, and then opened the door that led to the garage.
She stepped inside. “I’m just going to have to pull it back out when I leave.”
He swiveled and walked to the kitchen, where he leaned back against the counter and tried to calm his racing heart.
She followed and sat at the kitchen table.
“What were you thinking, going over there?” His voice came out too loud, but he didn’t lower it. “You trying to get arrested?”
“I’m trying to figure out who took Ella. Last night, you suggested it might have been one of the Cages, so I thought I’d go over there, see if either of them looked familiar. Or sounded—”
“What happened?”
As she explained, his anger only got worse. “You followed him? Are you insane?”
“I just thought, if I could overhear him talking, maybe I’d recognize his voice. I heard him on the phone.”
“And?”
“It didn’t ring any bells. And Eugene was too unsure. The guy who took us was afraid, but he knew what he was doing. Even though he probably hadn’t planned anything, once he had us, he was confident in his course. I can’t imagine Eugene being confident in anything.”
“But he cornered you.”
She settled back against the chair, her shoulders relaxing. “I think he didn’t understand that he was scaring me. He’s just socially awkward, and maybe I panicked. I ran, and then I went into the woods and walked through people’s campsites, which got me a lot of looks.”
“Think anybody recognized you?”
“I don’t think so. But I think Eugene was looking for me. He’d drive a few seconds, then stop and look around. Then drive again. So I stayed out of sight. He’d been stopped a while when I gave up trying to hide, got back to the road, and ran.”
“All those people at the campsites, you could’ve just yelled for help.”
“And gotten all those eyes on me, maybe had the police called?”
Made sense.
He didn’t know what to think. She didn’t think Eugene could be the kidnapper, and he was pretty sure Wilson couldn’t be, either. The man was kind and gentle. But maybe beneath that mask, he was a killer.
Or maybe Cassidy was the one wearing the mask.
All he knew was that the best way to find Ella would be to join Cassidy in her search. He’d study her words, her actions, to figure out if she was telling the truth. It was possible, wasn’t it? And maybe she could lead him to where she and Hallie had been held back then. Maybe Ella was being held there now.
If Cassidy was playing him, trying to pretend to be the hero, then she could definitely lead him to where Ella was being held.
Either way, the police could sort it out after Ella was safe again.
Between now and then, James would keep Cassidy close, and he wouldn’t fall for anything. He had to let this play out. Whatever it took to save Ella.
Chapter Eleven
Ella startled and sat up straight. The world was empty and black. Even the crickets were silent. Usually when the man left, he turned on a lantern he kept deeper in the cave. “To chase away the shadows,” he said, but they really just made different shadows on the moist walls. She never liked those shadows, but they were better than the dark.
She lifted her hand in front of her face but only saw its outline against the faint light coming from outside. It was dark out there, but not as dark as inside. Like… like the crayons in her box at home. When she pressed hard, she could make the reds redder and the yellows yellower. Someone was pressing down really hard on the cave, ’cause it was blackest of all. There probably wasn’t a crayon in the whole word this dark.
Where was the man? Usually, the crickets stopped singing to warn her he was coming. But maybe something else had scared them.
The wind whistled through the trees, but that wasn’t what woke her. The wind didn’t sound like coyotes to her anymore. More like Nana’s singing when she used to tuck Ella in for a nap when Ella was a baby. She could almost hear Nana’s soft voice in the wind asking God to watch over her while she slept.
Was Nana praying for her now? Was Daddy?
A low sound reached her, like her daddy’s snoring, which sometime
s carried through the walls of their house. Except it came faster. Whomph whomph whomph.
What was that?
A dog? A dog could find her and go for help. He could bark at a policeman until the policeman realized something was wrong and then follow the dog to the cave and save her from the bad man and take her home to Daddy.
The sound was getting louder, though, too loud for a normal dog. It must have been a huge dog, like Clifford in the books Daddy read to her.
God, please send Clifford to save me. Let him find me.
Except Clifford wasn’t real.
The whomphing was getting louder. Closer.
Something moved in front of the cave entrance. Something…humongous. It whomphed at the opening, then lumbered inside.
A scream bubbled up in Ella’s tummy, crawled up her throat and got stuck where her tonsils used to be. What was that? An animal. It was on four legs but too big to be a dog. Tall and wide and fat with big feet…
It turned, and she gasped.
A bear!
She scrambled as far away as the chain would let her and pressed against the wall and hid behind her hands and held her breath. Maybe it wouldn’t see her. Maybe it would go away.
Maybe it was like Clara and would leave her alone if she ignored it. Even though that didn’t work with the man, who always came back. But what if he didn’t this time? What if the bear ate him?
What if the bear ate her?
The whomphing got closer. She could hear its heavy steps on the stone floor, hear it sniffing around.
She peeked out from between her fingers and saw its huge back outline. She couldn’t see what it was doing, but she guessed it was eating her breakfast. The granola bars and Pop-Tarts and bread the man had left.
Minutes passed while she listened in silence, too scared to even breathe, while the bear gobbled it all up.
And then the box tumbled to the side. The bear scrunched the cardboard, sniffing again. It hit something metal. The bucket she used as a toilet. The smell of it released into the room, and she thought maybe the bear had knocked it over.
Maybe the stink would send the animal away.
