by Lisa Harris
Cassidy thought back. “It’s all so fuzzy now.”
“It could be either one of them.” James’s tone, though—devoid of the anger she would expect—told her he didn’t think his neighbors were the culprits.
“Or it’s somebody else entirely.” Though the thought that they could still be so far from knowing the real killer made her sick to her stomach. “It could be somebody not on our radar. I wonder if Eugene told anybody besides the police he’d seen us.”
“Eugene keeps to himself,” James said, “but he told Wilson. I guess Wilson could’ve told someone.”
“Or the killer saw us. He obviously knows the mountain as well as anybody. Maybe he saw us in time to get Ella out of there, and the fact that Eugene saw us on the mountain is unrelated.”
“Possible.” James faced forward, took a long breath and blew it out. “Truth is, I have an idea, but I’m not sure. I have zero proof, zero evidence. Really, zero reason to believe it’s true except a gut feeling.”
“What is it?”
“We need to check the cave again.”
“Why would he go back there?” Cassidy shifted to get a better look at James’s face. “He knows we’ve found it. The cops searched it.”
“Exactly for that reason. What place would be safer now than the mountain?”
“A hotel. A house.”
“Too easy to be spotted in places like that. Especially with a little girl.”
Cassidy hated to suggest it, but… “Safest thing right now would be to kill Ella and dump her body.”
“But he hasn’t done that. For whatever reason…” Those words hung in the air. She considered what he might be thinking.
“The kidnapper wasn’t cruel.” Not to Hallie anyway.
At her words, James turned her way, a grim expression on his face.
“I never got the impression…” She tried to think how to express this. “He never hurt your sister. He treated her like… like a little sister, I guess. He wanted her to be happy. He was kind to her.”
James turned back to the window.
“And Addison wasn’t molested.”
“I know.”
“I think it’s logical to assume Ella isn’t being mistreated, at least not in that sense. I know it’s not everything—”
“It’s something, though.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Did he hurt you?”
Now it was Cassidy’s turn to look away. “I wasn’t molested, either.”
He must’ve seen the truth in her expression, because he said, “Tell me what happened.”
She shrugged, tried to swallow the memories. The kidnapper had hurt her. When Hallie had slept that first night, he’d crawled on top of her, pinned her down.
She could almost feel the heat of his breath against her cheek, the pain of his grip on her arm, the weight of his body on top of hers. His hand… He’d touched her, pinched her. When it hurt so badly she wanted to cry out, he covered her mouth with his hand. All he’d said was, You wake her, you die. You don’t want pretty Hallie to watch you die, do you?
The message had been clear. He could do whatever he wanted to Cassidy. If she wanted to survive, if she wanted to protect Hallie, she had to take it.
Both the night on the mountain and the night in the cave, when Hallie slept, he’d climbed on top of her. Never going farther than the threat, but the threat was enough to keep her quiet.
He’d hit her once when they were climbing. He’d grabbed her and squeezed hard multiple times to get her to do what he said. But it wasn’t the pain that had plagued her through the years. It was the fear.
She tried to explain it to James without causing him further distress. She must’ve succeeded because, when she finished, he said, “I’m glad he didn’t hurt you too badly.” As if physical pain were the worst thing that could happen to a person. Her bruises had healed. The memories visited her almost every night. Someday, when this was over, if he forgave her, if they were still together, she’d try to explain the rest.
“We need to return to the cave,” James said. “I think this guy’s arrogant enough to go back there.”
“But, now that we have the hair tie, we could call the police, get them up there looking for her. The hair tie is evidence, and… and we could use the help. This guy’s a killer.”
“You’re kidding, right?” His eyebrows hiked up. “Yesterday, you were terrified to call the cops.”
“You could call them, and I could”—she shrugged—“you know, make myself scarce. You could tell them you were searching alone. It just seems safer than us going up there by ourselves.”
James stared past her. A long moment passed before he shook his head. “I don’t think that’s the best plan right now.”
“Why not?”
He squeezed her hand. “They won’t believe me. There’s not enough time for me to have hiked up there again today, found it, and returned to report it. They know I was with you yesterday. If I suddenly turn up with evidence, they’ll believe I got it from you. It’ll be about finding you, not about finding Ella. I just… I don’t know that it’ll work. And right now, the most important thing is finding Ella. I think… I think I should return to the cave and see what I can find out.”
“Okay, to the cave. Where do we park?”
“I know the perfect spot.”
Chapter Thirty
They parked on the edge of a narrow side road halfway up the mountain. “Is this wise?” she asked. “The car sort of sticks out here.”
“There are some hunting cabins nearby mostly used by tourists. Nobody’ll worry about the car except Bart Bradley, who lives up the road.”
“My gosh, is he still alive?”
James’s chuckle had her grinning. “He’s in his mid-seventies.”
“You’re kidding. He seemed older than that ten years ago.”
“I think he likes his crusty-old-man persona.” James yanked his bag from the backseat, dug inside, and pulled out a slip of paper and a pen. He scribbled something down.
“Whatcha doing?”
“Leaving a note saying the car broke down. Hopefully, that’ll keep it from getting towed or drawing too much attention.”
They each donned their backpacks. Grumbling about the loss of his backpacking equipment—the canteens, particularly—James pulled out two water bottles and a box of granola bars. “Will you carry these? This little backpack is crammed full.”
She shoved them, along with her phone, into her backpack, ensured her gun was loaded and ready, and locked the car.
They’d been hiking for fifteen minutes or so when she broached the subject on her mind. “Tell me about this gut feeling you have.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Seriously?”
He said nothing, just continued the trek.
“Why not?”
“If I’m right, we’ll know soon enough.”
“You’re a stubborn man, James Sullivan.”
Without turning, he said, “If I weren’t, you’d be in jail.”
A fair point.
He turned to help her up a particularly steep rock. As she took his hand, she caught his smile. At least he wasn’t annoyed with her for pressing him.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you…” James’s voice faded, and he glanced around to see her.
“What?”
“You ever talk to your mother?”
Cassidy’s stomach swooped like it did every time anybody asked about Mom. “Nope. I can’t figure out how to contact her without telling the authorities my name. I tried to call once, but I used a fake name, and she refused the call. Maybe she knew it was me and didn’t want me to get in trouble, or she knew it was me and didn’t want to talk to me. Or she had no idea it was me.”
Guilt pressed in, but Cassidy pushed it away. She could only do what she could do. If she got everything worked out, she’d be able to contact Mom, see her again. Tell her about the hope she’d found in Christ.
“What’s your life like back in
…?” James’s words trailed.
“Seattle,” she supplied.
He shot a grin over his shoulder. She loved that she’d made him smile. Amazing what trusting a person could do. “Why Seattle?”
She shrugged, though he was in front of her and didn’t see. “It was far. I don’t like hot weather. I spent a few days in Chicago, but it was too big. Too crowded. Overwhelming. I was targeted by this guy… Probably a pimp.”
This time, when James shot a look her direction, his eyebrows were lowered and angled together.
“I got away from him. I was old enough and scared enough not to trust anybody. At that point, I decided Chicago wasn’t for me and kept pressing west. When I hit Seattle, it felt like the end of the world. I’d met this woman—sweet, motherly type. She let me use her phone for a little while. I found a home for runaways and went straight there when I got off the bus. After my experience in Chicago, I knew I’d need help.”
“So you weren’t homeless or anything?”
“Nope. I should’ve been, though. If they’d known the truth, they’d have reported me to the police, not given me a home. I lied about my name, my age, my background. I made up this whole story about abuse and…”
Regret pressed in, as it so often did. If she could go back in time, go to the authorities after Hallie’s death instead of running away, what would her life be like today? Would anybody have believed her? Would they have found the killer back then? Would Addison still be alive? Would Ella be safe at home with her father?
Probably. Probably she could have prevented all of this. If only she’d had the courage.
She didn’t realize she’d stopped until James turned and gripped her arm. “Hey. You okay?”
“I’ve asked forgiveness for lying to everyone, but does it count if I haven’t told my friends and coworkers the truth?”
“You were trying to survive.”
“I should’ve done the right thing. I did what felt like the easier thing at the time, but running proved to be very hard. Facing it would’ve been hard, too. I know that. But it would have been the right hard thing, not the wrong hard thing.” Cassidy focused on the treetops overhead, where the leaves danced in the slight breeze. Where everything seemed so simple, so natural, so… ordered. Her life felt just the opposite. “When this is all over, I’m going to tell them everything. I’ll probably lose my job, but I can’t live like this anymore, pretending to be someone I’m not. Telling kids to overcome while my life is shrouded in lies.”
When she returned her gaze to James’s face, his scowl had her stepping back. “What?”
“You’re going back?”
“I live there. It’s my home.”
“But if…” He swallowed, stepped nearer. “We’re going to get this all straightened out. Everybody’s going to know you did nothing wrong.” He settled his hands on her hips. “You don’t have to leave again.” He leaned closer, and his voice softened. “I don’t want you to leave again.”
He wanted her to stay? To stay as in… forever? She couldn’t imagine. “My job is there. My friends are there. My life is there.”
“You told me nobody would grieve you if you died. That you had no family. You told me—”
“I have friends. It’s not the same as family, but…” It was all she had. They were all she had. “There’s nothing for me here.”
His hands slid off her hips. He stepped back.
She reached out, but he backed out of her reach.
“I don’t mean it that way. You’re here, and someday…” She wanted nothing more than to be with James, but she didn’t know if that would be an option once he knew the truth. Staying here would be risky.
“Someday what?”
“You could come visit me. Seattle is beautiful. You’d love it there.”
“This is my home. This is where my parents are buried. This is where my sister is buried.”
“They’re gone, James. Would you really choose your deceased family over…” But she didn’t finish the sentence. Because he probably would. Why would he choose her over his home? His friends?
Though she’d dreamed of reuniting with James for years, she’d never considered returning to Coventry for good. In all those dreams, James had found her, had come to her, had given up everything to be with her. They’d only been fantasies, though. Childish fantasies.
She knew that now, knew James was as much a part of Coventry as this mountain, as Lake Ayasha. James wouldn’t give all this up for her. It was foolish that she’d ever thought otherwise. She was just Cassidy, the toss-away kid.
With a breath for courage, she said, “You have a life here, and the people in your life aren’t going to accept me. Nobody in this town will accept me.”
“Once they know the truth—”
“I’ll always be the foster kid, the girl whose mother killed her sister, the girl who took off rather than face what happened. They’ll never believe anything better of me.”
“You’re so certain you know how everybody in Coventry will feel. The arrogance of that—”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about. You have no idea how it feels to be the outsider.”
“There you go, playing the victim card. You were always so good at that. Here I thought you’d matured. You wiped off all the stupid makeup, you wear colors other than black”—he waved toward her pale pink tank top—“but you’re still the same scared, walled off girl you were a decade ago.”
“I’m not. I just know what I know. I know how small-town people are.”
“Small town, small minds? Is that what you think? Of me? Of my family?”
“No. Not you. But everybody else—”
“You’ve been gone ten years, Cassidy. We’re not in high school anymore. The people of this town are good and decent and kind. They assumed you were guilty because there was a lot of evidence pointing toward you. And because you took off. If you’d stayed—”
“I know, okay. I know I should’ve stayed. I know I shouldn’t have run, but I did. And now it’s too late to undo it. I can never fix what I did.” No matter what happened with Ella, no matter if they caught the killer, no matter what, she couldn’t fix her mistakes. No amount of apologies would ever bring Addison back. Nothing would ever restore Ella’s innocent faith in her safety, even if they rescued her. Nothing would ever return Hallie safely to her family. A sob rose with the horrible truth, and she dropped her gaze to the ground, tried to pull it back before the tears started. If they started, she wasn’t sure they’d ever end.
Maybe she and James could save Ella and prove Cassidy’s innocence, but she would never be free to come home.
And James would never leave this place.
She could go back to Seattle, tell everybody there the horrible truth, fess up to the lies she’d lived for a decade, and then, hopefully, resume her life.
It had been good enough before. But, now that she’d seen James again, now that she’d felt his arms around her, felt his lips on hers, that old life would never be enough.
“Hey.” He pulled her against his chest. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
Though she should push him away, begin the process of separating herself now, she let him comfort her, savoring the feeling of being in his arms.
He leaned back, tipped her chin up. “I don’t want you to go back to Seattle.”
“I can’t stay here.”
“You might be right about the people of Coventry. The last couple of days have shown me that old prejudices die hard, and people who buck against them do so to their peril. But I believe that, when faced with new facts, the people of this town will accept them. I believe the people of Coventry will realize they were wrong to accuse you. Maybe, if you give them the chance, they’ll accept you and care for you, just like I do.” His lips tipped up at the corners. “Well, maybe not just like.” He closed the space between them and kissed her. Too soon, he ended it. “Either way, you and I aren’t done. I’m not ready to say good-bye to you again,
Cassidy. I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for that.”
She allowed him to pull her close again, tried to believe his words. Wanted so badly for them to be true.
He pulled back. “We need to—”
“I know. Sorry. I didn’t mean…”
He took her hand and squeezed. “You don’t need to apologize to me, Cassidy. You’re here, risking everything to save a little girl whose father thinks you’re a killer. Whatever happens here, you’re a hero, and if we survive this, I’m going to make sure everybody knows it.
A hero. Not even close.
Two more hours they trekked up the mountain. This route was different from the one they’d ascended the other day and the one they’d descended the day before. Hills, boulders, rocks, and trees, trees, and more trees.
As they climbed, their conversation dwindled. The air seemed to thicken with tension, and not from the conversation they’d just had. If James was right, they were closing in on the killer.
James paused, checked his GPS, then found a rock and tugged her down beside him, facing the hillside they’d just climbed. “We need a break.”
She smiled, unwilling to speak and show how winded she was. Winded and sore, and her head was pounding. She dug some Tylenol out of her pack and took them with a swig of water.
“We’re a couple hundred yards out,” he said. “I lost cell service about an hour ago. Down should be faster than up, though. If something happens, run until you get service and call 911.”
“What? No. I’m not leaving you.”
“You’re staying in this spot”—he pointed to the ground at their feet—“right here. Hidden from above, not too far to find service. Not too close to the killer.”
She turned to face him. “Forget it. I’m not letting you do this by yourself.”
“I’m not putting you in danger.”
“I didn’t come up here—”
“You were shot yesterday. You have a huge lump on your head and bruises all over your body.” Gently, he traced the one on her shoulder, visible thanks to her tank top, the last of her clean clothes. “I love that you want to save Ella. I do too. But not if it means putting you in danger. I need somebody down here to listen, to be ready to contact the police.”
