by Lisa Harris
“Cassy, sweetheart.”
Her gaze held somewhere around his chest, so he tipped her chin up with his finger. “Sweetheart, you tried to save her life. What happened was tragic, but it wasn’t your fault. It was Vince’s fault. All of it.”
She looked up at him with those mesmerizing eyes, red-rimmed, tear-filled. But hope shone there. Hope in him. Hope in love. Her voice was small when she said, “You forgive me?”
“There’s nothing to forgive.”
James had always known Cassidy was no killer. He stood and pulled her into his arms, needing to be closer to her. Needing her to feel his comfort, his love. “God numbers our days, Cassy.” He paused, let the emotion roll away, tried to keep his voice strong and steady. “For whatever reason, God took Hallie home that day. I can’t tell you the comfort it brings to know she wasn’t beaten to death. That her death was sudden. That, at the end, she was with you, someone she loved dearly. And she had hope.”
Cassidy collapsed against him and wept.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Cassidy settled onto the couch beside James late that night. It had been a long day, the longest day since the worst day of her life. The one when she’d awakened in the cave, escaped a killer, seen Hallie’s lifeless body, and then run, chased by guilt and grief and fear.
Today, those feelings were gone. She’d told the truth. She’d faced the demons, and she was forgiven. Exonerated of the crimes leveled against her for a decade.
If Detective Cote was right, there would be no charges related to her having used a false identity. Though she’d broken laws a few times when she’d signed her fake name on legal documents, she hadn’t used that false identity to commit any crimes. She’d worked hard, paid her taxes. She’d been a law-abiding citizen. Apparently, no state authorities from Washington nor New Hampshire intended to prosecute. And the FBI didn’t seem overly interested in prosecuting the woman who’d been falsely accused of kidnapping and murder for ten years.
Cassidy would deal with her employer when she returned to Seattle, but she believed her job was secure. If it wasn’t, then she’d get another. The girls in Seattle would survive without her. It wasn’t her job to save them, to save anybody. The runaways’ lives, Ella’s life, Addison’s life, and Hallie’s life—they were all in God’s hands.
She was really and truly free of it all. Free to be herself again.
“I should probably go,” Cassidy said, though she’d abandoned the dingy rented cabin and had no desire to return.
James’s arm tightened around her shoulder. “You can stay here.”
Here, in the living room where she’d spent so many evenings with the Sullivan family, watching movies, eating popcorn, laughing. Hallie used to vie for her attention, squirming between her and James, chattering like a magpie. Cassidy could hear the echo of Mrs. Sullivan’s Give the girl some space and Mr. Sullivan’s low chuckle. Cassidy never minded Hallie’s attention, nor James’s parents’ presence. She’d felt a part of their family. She’d felt more loved in this home than she’d ever felt, anywhere—before or since.
Right now, that love lingered. Or what she felt in the room came as much from the man beside her as the memories in the past.
The TV wasn’t on, yet both James and Cassidy stared in that direction as if riveted. She couldn’t speak for James, but she felt too tired to move. Still… “You think there are any hotels with vacancies in town?”
He shifted to look at her. “You don’t want to stay?”
“I don’t want to put you out.”
A smirk, a quick shake of the head, and he settled beside her again. “There are no vacancies, especially now with all the news media.”
A good point. The reporters lined up at the end of the driveway had to have hotel rooms somewhere. Thanks to the police presence around the perimeter of James’s property, none had gotten close. It was unsettling, knowing the house was being watched. Knowing everybody out there knew James and she were inside.
“You get used to it,” he said, reading her mind. “This is nothing compared to last time. It was a circus.”
She’d caught much of the footage on TVs at bus stations and restaurants as she’d made her way west. Microphones, cameras shoved in the faces of the family she loved so dearly. Seeing their grief plastered across the TV screen—it had been more than she could handle.
“I’m sorry,” Cassidy said. “For all of it. For ever leaving your house that day with Hallie. For not getting away with her sooner. For not protecting her. I’m sorry all of it happened.”
“Stop apologizing. You did everything you could.” James kissed the top of her head. “Now that you’ve seen him, heard his voice again… Any new memories you want to share?”
There were, but… “It’s late.”
“Yeah. Still…” When she lifted her head from his chest, he faced her. “It is late, and I understand if you don’t want to talk. But I want to know, whatever you want to share, I want to know. Today, next month… whenever. Just know I want to hear everything.”
She shouldn’t get into it. Shouldn’t let the memories out. But they were bubbling up. If she let them out, the pressure might release.
“He called me girl, just girl, the whole time. The way he said that is so clear in my mind.”
She snuggled against James again. And kept talking. “Sometimes it’s that single word that yanks me from sleep. He was angry I was there. And afraid. It was like… like he’d felt compelled to take Hallie. Like there was something he needed her for, though I never understood what.”
“You said that he carried Hallie most of the way to the cave, right?”
“I carried her some, when she screamed for me. But after a while, she became accustomed to him. She was less afraid.”
“I hate to think of her coming to trust him.”
“It wasn’t trust, I don’t think. Just a belief that he wouldn’t hurt her. Better than to be in constant terror.”
“Yeah.” He shifted again, and she sat up to face him. “If he had Hallie, then his hands would have been full. Why didn’t you run? On the mountain, with trees and rocks all around, you could’ve gotten away.”
“You really think I’d have left Hallie to him? I’d have just saved myself?”
“You could’ve told someone where they were.”
“I didn’t know where he was taking us. I didn’t know where I was. I didn’t know how to get back down. There was no way I could possibly have directed anybody to him. Even if I’d found my way out, who knew what he’d have done to Hallie by the time someone found them. How could I take that chance?”
“You’d have been safe, though.”
She scooted back and folded her leg between them.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“I imagined myself at your door, imagined seeing your parents, telling them what happened to their daughter.” She closed her eyes as the old images surfaced, all she’d feared at that time. “I could see the horror in their faces. I couldn’t do it.” She opened her eyes again. “Your parents trusted me to protect her. That’s what I tried to do. I failed”—her voice cracked—“but I tried. I did everything I could.”
“I know.” He wrapped his arm around her and cuddled her close again. They were silent a few moments. Then he said, “Anything else?”
“I think that’s enough for tonight.”
He squeezed her close. “Anytime you want to talk about it, I’ll be here to listen. You and I have a lot of catching up to do.”
“But I have to go—”
“We’ll figure it out,” he said. “But not tonight. Tonight, let’s just relax. Let’s trust God with tomorrow.”
Trust God with tomorrow. She could do that. They could do that together.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Ella was afraid to open her eyes, afraid it was all a dream.
She slid her hand across soft sheets. Her fingers curled around a fuzzy thing that felt a lot like her favorite stuffed unicorn
.
Please, God. Please let it be real.
She peeked one eye open and saw her own pale green walls, the white bookshelf with all her favorite books, the toy box filled with dolls and dress-up clothes.
It was true. She really was home.
Ella sat up. Even though it was morning, the sun shining outside, the birds singing, her daddy was fast asleep on the floor by her bed, curled up under a tiny blanket, his long legs sticking out.
Her eyes got all full of tears seeing him there, even though she was so, so happy to be home.
She climbed out of bed, yanked her comforter behind her, and laid it over him. Then, she crawled underneath and tucked herself right up next to him.
His strong arm came over her and pulled her close. He kissed the top of her head, and she smiled and closed her eyes. Thank You, thank You, thank You, God, for bringing me home.
Chapter Forty
James still had trouble wrapping his mind around the idea that his friend had kidnapped three little girls, kidnapped his own sister. The more information he got, the more surreal it felt.
Though Vince didn’t repeat his confession when he was questioned by the police, Cassidy’s and James’s statements, combined with Ella’s accounts of what happened, were enough to have him arrested and held under guard at the hospital in Manchester.
A judge denied bail Monday morning. Later that day, when Vince was recovered enough to be released from the hospital, he was taken straight to the county jail to await trial.
A search warrant of Vince’s property uncovered damning evidence.
The backpacks James and Cassidy had left at the bottom of the cliff were discovered in his garage.
In the center console of Vince’s SUV, authorities found a spent bullet, which they speculated he’d dug from the stone behind Cassidy after he tried to kill her. The bullet’s caliber matched Vince’s rifle. In time, authorities believed the blood on the bullet would be matched to Cassidy’s.
They also found a flight itinerary in the vehicle—leaving from Quebec City Saturday—and a printout of a beachside cabin. There were fake passports for himself and Ella.
When Cote called James that morning with the update, he’d told him another piece of evidence had been recovered, and James and Cassidy needed to go to the police station to identify it.
Late Monday afternoon, James picked Cassidy up at Reid’s parents’ house. Reid’s mother had offered her a room until everything was settled. James had delivered her there Saturday morning. One night under the same roof with James was one thing—Cassidy had slept in Hallie’s old bedroom—but any more than that and the kisses they’d shared might easily have become more. And, though James was eager for more, he wouldn’t allow them to cross that line, not until they’d made it official.
Assuming they ever did.
They still hadn’t discussed what would happen next. Would she return to Seattle? Would she consider moving back to Coventry?
Or would James be moving west? Either way, he wasn’t going to lose Cassy again. For the first time in too long, he felt like he had a family again. Not the one he’d grown up with, but Cassy was the family of his future. He wasn’t going to lose her. Not for anything.
He drove slowly past reporters in downtown Coventry, who shouted questions and aimed cameras their way, and into the gated lot of the police station. He held Cassidy’s hand and hurried her inside.
Whatever Cote had called them in to do, it’d better be worth it for the trauma of dealing with the media. He glanced at Cassidy, expecting to see pale skin and frightened eyes, but she smiled at him. “That was interesting.”
“They’ll go away soon enough,” James said, hoping it was true. “As soon as they have the whole story.”
They sat across from Detective Cote in the interview room. Before the detective could speak, James said, “What’s the holdup? Why haven’t you issued a statement?”
“We will,” Cote said. “We just have a few loose ends to deal with.” The table between the detective on one side and James and Cassidy on the other held one thing—a cardboard box. From it, Cote pulled a clear plastic evidence bag. Inside, James saw a tiny stuffed bunny on the end of a plastic keychain.
James took the bag and closed it in his fist as memories of his little sister assailed him. Hallie had carried that silly little rabbit with her everywhere for weeks before she’d disappeared. She’d loved it, pretended to feed it, even slept with it.
Vince had kept it.
Cassy slid her hand over his biceps and looked at the toy. “I thought she’d dropped it on the trail.”
Based on the dirt smudges on the pink rabbit, it was likely she had. And Vince had picked it up.
His friend. All those years…
He squeezed the toy, then took a deep breath and set it in his lap.
Detective Cote reached in the box and came out with another plastic bag, which he handed to Cassy. She lifted it to see inside.
It was a small silver heart attached to a thin chain, a gift James had bought Cassidy for Christmas the winter before it all happened. She’d put it on the day he’d given it to her, and he’d never seen her without it again—not until she’d stumbled into his yard the week before.
Her fingers closed over the necklace, and she held it to her chest. “It got caught on the rocks when we were escaping.”
“Is that what you had me looking for the other day?” James asked.
She nodded.
“Guess Vince found it,” Cote said. “I’m sorry, but I need to keep them for now. After he’s convicted, they’ll be returned to you.”
They handed the treasures back to Cote, who put them in the box and closed the lid.
“You have enough evidence to convict?”
“More than enough,” Cote said. “We’ll see what the DA’s office does with it. Hopefully, they won’t make a deal.”
James didn’t want to think about a deal. “Any idea…?” James’s voice trailed. He tried again. “I mean, we both knew him. What would prompt him to do something like this?”
Cote leaned back, eliciting a squeak from his chair. “He ever tell you about his mother?”
“Not much.”
Cassidy leaned forward. “What about her?”
“I was on the force back when he was a kid. We always suspected abuse, but we could never confirm it. Vince never admitted to anything, and nobody witnessed her hurting him.” Cote looked away, frowning. “Even as an adult, he would never talk about it, but she was a nightmare.”
“So what? Lots of people have bad childhoods.” He took Cassy’s hand. “They don’t turn out to be murderers. What does his mother have to do with him kidnapping my sister?”
“He had a sister. She wandered off one night and drowned when she was five.”
“Did the mother—?”
“It was ruled an accident,” Cote said. “Kid just wandered off and drowned. Vince was eight when it happened. Had to be traumatic for him. Add that to having an abusive mother…”
“His taking Hallie,” Cassidy said, “it was a spur-of-the-moment decision. Aside from the ski mask, which he’d probably just rolled up and used as a skull cap before he saw her, he wasn’t prepared. He hadn’t planned it. And I think… he treated her like a sister. I think that’s what he wanted—a sister.”
Vince had spoken to James of his mother only once. They’d been at Teresa’s, and Vince had had a couple of drinks. “He told me once his mother never wanted a boy. Didn’t say anything about a sister, though.”
“Far as I know,” Cote said, “he never talked about her. It probably terrified him when you”—he nodded to Cassidy—“disappeared with Hallie, and then she died. It’s possible that he was scared enough that he vowed never to do anything like that again.”
“And then his mother died,” James said. “And, for whatever reason, that pushed him over the edge.”
“The idea tracks with what Ella told us,” Cote said. “She said he kept calling her his little
sister and promising that he was going to take her somewhere far away, and they were going to swim in the ocean and build sand castles. At his house, we discovered that he owns property in Honduras. The flight he bought would have taken them as far as Cancun. From there, we figured he’d have driven over the border.”
“And disappeared,” Cassidy said. “Would they ever have been found?”
“I don’t know.” Cote shook his head. “Vince is smart. With his law enforcement background… He knew what he was doing.”
“How could he be so smart and so… crazy?” James rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t understand how I could have missed it all these years.”
“We all did, son.”
Cassidy squeezed James’s hand and spoke to the detective. “What happened with Addison? If Vince wanted a sister, how did she end up dead?”
“We don’t know.” Cote opened the shoebox again. “We know he had her because”—he lifted out another plastic bag for them to see—“we found a barrette that belonged to her. We think she made him mad and he killed her. We’re hoping Ella will eventually give us more information about what happened when he held her. That should help us piece it together. The manner of death, though…” His glance bounced off James, landed on Cassidy. “It’s possible she escaped and tried to climb down the same cliff. More likely, though, he dropped her down that cliff so the injuries would be consistent with Hallie’s. He was trying to make it look like the same person.”
How awful. Poor, sweet little girl. What must her last moments have been like?
They let the questions settle a moment, questions they’d never have answered. Then Cote glanced at his watch and pushed back in his chair. “Mayor’s probably here. We ought to get out there.”
