by Lisa Jackson
“No.”
“Then have one of your boys take me home. I done my duty, didn’t I? No need to treat me like some kind of damned prisoner.” He spat a long stream of tobacco juice through the window to land on the snowy dirt and gravel. Fortunately for Charley, this area wasn’t considered part of the crime scene.
“I just want to ask you some questions.”
“I been answerin’ ’em all mornin’!”
Carter smiled. “Just a few more, then I’ll have Deputy Montinello take you home.”
“Great,” Charley muttered, folding his arms over a thin chest. He cooperated, if reluctantly, and was right; he didn’t have any more information. He told Carter that he’d been out hunting, lost his dog, and found her down in the gully near the hollow log. He’d lifted the log and a skull had rolled out, nearly scaring him to death. “…and that’s all I know,” he added petulantly. “I half-ran home and called your office. And don’t you give me no grief ’bout huntin’ with Tanzy. I needed a trackin’ dog to get me back home,” he said, as if he realized he could be in trouble for hunting with a dog. Hurriedly he added, “Two of your men hauled me back up here a few hours back and I’m still freezin’ my butt off.”
“We all are, Charley,” Carter said, and slapped the door of the department’s truck. “Take him back home,” he said to Lanny Montinello before looking at Charley’s grizzled face again. “If you think of anything else, you’ll call, right?”
“’Course,” Charley said, though he didn’t meet Carter’s eyes and the sheriff suspected that the loner was stretching the truth. They’d never gotten along, not since Carter had debunked Charley’s Bigfoot story and had once threatened to call the game warden about Charley poaching deer. No, Charley Perry wasn’t likely to call again, not if he had to speak to the sheriff. Carter glanced at Montinello and said, “Take him home.” The interview was over.
“Will do.” Montinello slid the pickup into gear, and Carter slapped the door a couple of times as Charley rolled up the window. Within seconds the truck disappeared around a stand of old growth that was as dense as it was tall. The firs loomed high, seeming to scrape the steel-colored bellies of the clouds just as the first drops of icy rain began to fall.
Carter shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his parka and looked down the hillside to the crime scene crawling with investigators. The unknown woman’s partial skeleton was stretched out on the plastic sheet. Amanda Pratt was standing a few yards off, smoking a cigarette and hashing it out with Luke Messenger. In the midst of it all was the corpse, with her filed teeth and bits of pink gunk in her hair.
Who was she and what the hell was she doing up in this isolated part of no-damned-where?
CHAPTER 2
Click!
The French doors opened.
A gust of wind, cold as all of winter, swept inside the darkened house. Near-dead embers in the fireplace glowed a brighter red. The old dog lying on the rug near Jenna’s chair lifted his head and let out a low, warning growl.
“Shh!” the intruder hissed.
Jenna’s eyes narrowed as she squinted at the silhouette easing into the large great room. As dark as it was, she recognized her oldest daughter slinking toward the stairs. Just as she’d expected. Great. One more teenager sneaking home in the middle of the night.
“Hush, Critter!” Cassie whispered angrily, her voice sharp as she tiptoed to the stairs.
Jenna snapped on a nearby lamp.
Instantly the log house was illuminated. Cassie froze at the first step. “Damn,” she muttered, her shoulders sagging as she slowly turned and faced her mother.
“You are so grounded,” Jenna said from her favorite leather chair.
Instantly, Cassie was on the offensive. “What’re you doing up?”
“Waiting for you.” Jenna unfolded herself from the chair and met her daughter’s sullen expression. Cassie, who so many people said was a carbon-copy of Jenna as a younger woman. Cassie was taller by an inch, but her high cheekbones, dark lashes and brows, and pointed chin were nearly identical to Jenna’s. “Where were you?”
“Out.” She tossed her streaked hair over her shoulder.
“I know that. You were supposed to be in bed. As a matter of fact, I remember you saying something like ‘Night, Mom’ around eleven.”
Jenna was rewarded with an exaggerated roll of Cassie’s green eyes. “So who were you with? No, forget that—I figure you were with Josh.”
Cassie didn’t offer any information, but in Jenna’s estimation, Josh Sykes was a foregone conclusion. Ever since Cassie had started dating the nineteen-year-old, she’d become secretive, sullen, and mutinous.
“So where did you go? Precisely.”
Cassie folded her arms over her chest and leaned a shoulder against the yellowed log wall. Her makeup was smeared, her hair mussed, her clothes rumpled. Jenna didn’t have to guess what her daughter had been doing, and it scared her to death. “We were just out driving around,” Cassie said.
“At three in the morning?”
“Yeah.” Cassie lifted a shoulder and yawned.
“It’s freezing outside.”
“So?”
“Look, Cassie, don’t start with the attitude. I’m not in the mood.”
“I don’t see why you care.”
“Don’t you?” Jenna was standing now, advancing on her rebellious daughter, getting her first whiff of cigarette smoke and maybe something else. “Let’s just start with I love you and I don’t want to see you mess up your life.”
“Like you did?” Cassie arched one brow cattily. “When you got pregnant with me?”
The barb hit its intended mark, but Jenna ignored it. “That was a little different. I was almost twenty-two. An adult. On my own. And we’re not talking about me. You’re the one who’s been lying and sneaking out.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“You’re sixteen, for crying out loud.” And a woman. Cassie’s figure was already enviable by Hollywood standards.
“I was just out with friends.”
“‘Driving around.’”
“Yeah.”
“Right.” Jenna wasn’t buying it for a minute. “Haven’t you heard the old axiom that ‘nothing good happens after midnight?’”
Cassie just glared at her.
“Look, this isn’t getting us anywhere now, so go on up to bed and we’ll talk in the morning.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Sure there is. We’ll start with sneaking out and cruise right into the pitfalls of teen pregnancy and STDs. And that’s just for starters.”
“I can’t wait,” Cassie said, reminding Jenna of herself at the same age. “You just don’t like Josh.”
“I don’t like that he seems to have some kind of control over you, that you’d do anything to be with him. That he talks you into lying to me.”
“I don’t—”
“Ah-ah. If I were you, Cassie, I’d quit while you’re ahead, or at least while you’re not too far behind.”
But Cassie’s temper had sparked and she was suddenly defiant. “You don’t like any of my friends,” she accused, “not since we moved up here, so it’s your fault. I never wanted to come.”
That much was true. Both of her daughters had had fits about her decision to leave L.A. behind and seek out some kind of peace and normalcy in this quiet little town perched on the rocky shores of the Columbia River in Oregon. Jenna had heard the complaints for a year and a half. “That’s old news. We’re here, Cassie, and we’re all going to make the best of it.”
“I’m trying.”
“With Josh.”
“Yeah. With Josh.” Rebellion flashed in Cassie’s eyes.
“To punish me.”
“No,” Cassie said slowly, her jaw setting. “Believe it or not, this isn’t about you, for once. Okay? If I wanted to ‘punish’ you, I’d go back to California and live with Dad.”
“Is that what you want?” Jenna felt as
if she’d been sucker-punched, but she didn’t show any emotion, didn’t want to let Cassie know that she’d hit a very strong and painful nerve.
“I just want someone to trust me, okay?”
“Trust is earned, Cassie,” she said, and inwardly cringed as she realized she was echoing words she’d heard from her own mother years before.
Jenna bit her tongue rather than start in on that one. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow.” She snapped off the lamp and heard Cassie’s footsteps trudge up the stairs. I’m turning into my mother, she thought, and refused to let her mind wander too far in that frightening direction. “Come on, Critter,” she said to the dog as she relocked the door and started up the flight of stairs to the second story. Her bedroom was halfway up the stairs, just off the landing, the girls’ another half a flight higher. “Let’s go to bed.” The old dog padded behind, his gait slowed by arthritis. Jenna waited for him at the landing and heard Cassie’s door shut with a quiet thud. “We’re finally all safe and sound.” And you have to get up in two and a half hours. Inwardly groaning at the thought, she turned the final set of stairs, but from the corner of her eye, through the landing’s stained-glass window, she caught a glimpse of something.
Movement?
Her own pale reflection?
Critter growled softly, and Jenna’s muscles went rigid. “Shh,” she said, but squinted through the colored glass, searching the distorted image of the yard and outbuildings of her ranch—“the compound,” as Cassie referred to it. Security lamps glowed an eerie blue, casting pools of light on the barn, stable, and sheds. The old windmill creaked, its blades turning slowly as it stood, a wooden skeleton, near the lane. The main gate gaped open, the result of the lock freezing and snow piling up around the gateposts. The lane leading to the gate was empty—no rumble of a car or truck engine cutting through the night.
Still, the forested hills and craggy banks of the river were dark and shrouded, the cloudy night a perfect cover…
For whom?
Don’t be silly.
Surely no one was lurking in the wintry shadows.
Of course not.
The worst-case scenario would be that Josh Sykes was still hanging around, hiding behind the corner of the barn, maybe hoping to follow Cassie inside.
Right?
Nothing more sinister than a horny boyfriend hiding near the barn.
The old dog growled again.
“Hush,” Jenna said as she turned into the double doors that opened to her master suite, a cozy set of rooms that she shared with no one.
She’d moved to this isolated spot on the Columbia River for peace of mind, so she’d ignore the knot of dread in her stomach. She was just edgy and out of sorts because her teenager was giving her fits. That’s all.
And yet as she stepped into her darkened bedroom, she couldn’t shake the sensation that something was about to happen.
Something she wouldn’t like.
Something intimately evil.
CHAPTER 3
“Cassie!” Jenna yelled up the stairwell. “Allie! Breakfast. Get a move on! We have to be out of here in half an hour!” Listening for sounds of life coming from upstairs, she walked into the kitchen and glanced at the clock mounted over the stove. They were going to be late. There was just no two ways about it. They really should be at Allie’s school in forty-five minutes and it would take at least twenty to get to the junior high. She flipped on the television, slammed two English muffins into the toaster, and yelled, “Come on, girls!”
She heard the thud and shuffle of footsteps overhead. Thank God.
She swallowed her second cup of coffee, nearly tripping over Critter, who was hovering near the counter, dropped her empty cup in the sink, and yanked open the refrigerator door. Still no sound of water running. Cassie was usually in the shower by this time. Yanking open the refrigerator door, she found a carton of orange juice and poured two glasses as the muffins popped up. From the television, the local weatherman was predicting the worst snow of the season so far, as temperatures had dropped far below freezing.
Slathering the first set of muffins with butter, she heard footsteps on the stairs. A few seconds later, Cassie appeared.
“There’s no water,” she said glumly.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean there’s no friggin’ water. I turned on the faucet and nothing!” To prove her point, she walked to the sink and twisted on the faucet. Nothing happened.
“No hot water?” Jenna said, hating the thoughts running through her mind. Better a problem with the water heater than the pipes.
“No cold, either.” Cassie looked over at the coffeepot. “How did you…?”
“Got it ready last night. It’s on a timer.” She was at the sink, trying to get the water to flow and failing miserably. “Damn. I guess you’ll just have to get dressed without a shower.”
“Are you out of your mind? I can’t go to school without washing my hair.”
“You’ll survive. So will the school.”
“But, Mom—”
“Just eat your breakfast and then change into something clean.”
“No way. I’m not going to school.” Cassie slumped into a chair in the nook. Dark smudges surrounded her eyes, and she couldn’t keep from yawning from her tryst the night before.
“You’re going. Remember the old saying, ‘If you fly with the eagles, you have to rise with the sparrows?’”
“I don’t get it.”
“Sure you do.”
“Well, it’s dumb.”
“Maybe so, but it’s our credo for the morning.”
Cassie rolled her eyes and took a swallow of her juice, but let the muffin sit untouched on her plate. Critter planted himself under the table, his head resting on Cassie’s knee. She didn’t seem to notice or care.
“You and I still need to talk. Last night isn’t going to happen again. I don’t want you sneaking out. Ever. It’s just not safe.”
“You just don’t like Josh.”
“We went over this last night. Josh is fine.” Even if his IQ was smaller than his shoe size. “But I don’t like him manipulating you.”
“He doesn’t.”
“And, if you two are having sex—”
“Oh God. Save me.”
“—I need to know about it.”
“It’s none of your business.”
“Of course it is. You’re a minor.”
“Can we talk about this later? Or never?” She glared at her mom as if Jenna was soooo out of it, which, Jenna supposed, she was. But she had to tread softly or she’d do exactly the opposite of what she wanted and send Cassie reeling into Josh Sykes’s ready and randy arms. Jenna glimpsed the kitchen clock counting off the seconds of her life. “Okay, later. After school, when we have more time.”
“Great. Just what we need. More time,” Cassie mumbled as Jenna, telling herself that timing is everything in life, stepped out of the kitchen and away from the confrontation they’d have this evening. She walked down a short hallway to the bottom of the stairs. “Allie? Are you up?”
She heard the shuffle of feet and Allie, still wearing her pajamas, inched her way into the kitchen. Her red-blond hair was a disaster, her pixie-like face pulled into a pained expression worthy of an Oscar. “I don’t feel good.”
“What’s wrong?” Jenna said, though she suspected it was nothing. This was one of her twelve-year-old’s favorite tricks these days. Allie had never liked school, still didn’t. She was smart, but one of those kids who was a dreamer, the proverbial square peg that could no more fit into the round hole of student life than fly to the moon. But she had to try.
“Sore throat,” Allie complained, doing her best to look miserable.
“Let me see.”
Obediently, Allie opened her mouth and Jenna peered down what appeared to be a perfectly healthy throat. “Looks okay to me.”
“But it hurts,” Allie whined pathetically.
“It’ll get better. Eat some brea
kfast.”
“I can’t.” She slumped into a chair and folded her arms over the table, burying her head in the crook of one elbow. “Dad wouldn’t make me go to school if I was sick.”
Neither would I, Jenna thought, but didn’t take the bait and give a quick retort about Robert Kramer and his less-than-stellar performance as a father. Allie scowled at her mother and determinedly ignored her breakfast.
Perfect. Jenna glanced at the clock. The morning was disintegrating from bad to worse and it wasn’t even eight yet. She hated to think what the rest of the day would bring.
Leaving the girls at the table, she tried the faucets in the rest of the house and realized that Cassie was right. Water was nonexistent. By the time she reached the kitchen, Allie had come to life, and, ignoring the English muffin Jenna had toasted, had found a box of frozen waffles and dropped two into the toaster. Apparently her sore throat hadn’t gotten the better of her appetite.
Cassie, finishing her juice, was staring at the television. On the screen a woman reporter was standing in the darkened woods somewhere, in front of a crime scene if the yellow tape could be believed.
“What’s this?” Jenna asked.
“They found some woman up at Catwalk Point,” Cassie said, her gaze transfixed on the television. “I heard it on the radio.”
“Who is it?”
“They’re not saying.”
As if to answer Jenna’s question, the perky, red-haired reporter, wearing a coat and scarf, was saying, “…no word yet from the sheriff’s department as to the identity of the woman who was found yesterday morning by Charley Perry, a man who lives not far from the crime scene.” The screen flashed to an elderly man whom Jenna thought she’d seen in the local café, though she’d never met him. He was talking about discovering the body while hunting.
“Catwalk Point isn’t very far from here,” Allie said as her waffle popped up and she slid it onto the plate with her muffin. “That’s kinda creepy.”
“Real creepy,” Jenna said, then changed her tune quickly. “The police are handling it. No need to worry.”
