by Lisa Jackson
With that, Carter left. He walked through the door, down the stairs and outside where late summer was giving way to the first vestiges of autumn. The parking lot was dry, a few dry leaves scattered over the pavement. Falls Crossing had survived the coldest winter in nearly a century and though there were some scars remaining, Randall was right, things had worked out.
It had taken some time for the police to locate the bodies of the women Seth Whitaker had abducted. They’d been wrapped in tarps and hidden on his property, their frozen bodies naked and waiting for permanent disposal. Sonja Hatchell, Roxie Olmstead, and Lynnetta Swaggert, their heads shaved, their teeth filed down, had been located. The police had found Sonja’s car hidden in an old shed and, locked in a drawer, dental appliances shaped from a mold stolen from the set of White Out. A way for Seth to give all of his mannequins Jenna’s spectacular smile. The crime scene team, FBI psychologists, and of course, the press had all had a field day with the case.
Carter had been elevated to the status of local hero, a position he wasn’t sure he deserved or wanted. He and Jenna had hardly left each other’s side. They were talking about living together, perhaps getting married, though still taking things slowly.
Her kids, after spending last Christmas with their father, had returned to Falls Crossing. Allie had outwardly bounced back and puppy-dogged after Carter whenever he was at their house. He’d taken her and her friend Dani Settler riding, fishing and hiking in the woods before school started again. Allie seemed to be flourishing, coming out of her shell, though Cassie was still working through some of the trauma of her ordeal at Whitaker’s hand.
Carter’s jaw clenched when he thought of the bastard. In Carter’s opinion, there wasn’t a hell hot enough for Seth Whitaker.
Cassie’s healing would take time. Probably years.
Her hair was growing out but she wasn’t satisfied with it and, to make a point, she’d dyed the short strands a deep shade of magenta, which, surprisingly didn’t look as bad as it sounded, until she used enough gel to make the short clumps stand out in weird spikes.
Despite her mother’s counseling, Cassie was still struggling in school and hanging out with the wrong crowd, which, unfortunately, included BJ’s daughter, Megan. However, Carter noticed progress in the girl…she was softening toward her mother, trying harder with her classes and, if somewhat warily, accepting Carter and Jenna’s relationship.
“Get your message across to Randall?” Jenna asked as Carter slid into the passenger seat.
“Not quite.”
“No?”
“Maybe I should add something for emphasis.”
“Like what?”
Carter noticed Randall emerge from the building, adjust his tie, then hurry toward the parking lot. “Oh, like this,” he said and wrapped his arms around her, dragging her hard against him. He pressed his mouth over hers and kissed her as if he didn’t want to stop. Which, of course, he didn’t. Her lips were warm and pliant, the little giggle and gasp that she had emitted when he’d grabbed her, melting away as the kiss intensified.
By the time he lifted his head, she was breathless and his crotch was definitely tight.
“Oh, my, Sheriff,” she teased.
Smiling, he glanced over her shoulder, out the window, and observed Randall’s look of surprise.
“What was that all about?” she asked.
“Just making a point.” He winked at her.
“Did you make it?”
“Pretty sure. Let’s go.”
She snapped on her seat belt. “Your wish is my command.”
“Yeah, right.”
Flush-faced, she rammed the Jeep into gear and they drove through the town, past the old church with a marquee for a new production.
The storm had abated in mid-December, though lingering cold had ensured the ski resorts a fabulous season. But there had been a persisting gloom in the small town over the holidays. On January first, Carter threw away his ice-climbing gear.
He’d removed all pictures of Carolyn from his house and erased her from his mind, even bought Wes Allen a beer at the Lucky Seven; though when Allen had drunk the pilsner, he’d told Shane to “fuck off permanently” despite the fact that Rinda, ever the mother, had tried to help the two men patch things up. Scott had taken off for Portland, chasing down a girl, and Rinda had adopted two dogs and a turtle. In Carter’s opinion, she needed a man, rather than the menagerie of pets she was collecting but figured she’d wake up to that fact soon enough.
Now, nine months later, Jenna drove to a section of town not far from the Junior High School, where a hundred-year-old Victorian home, complete with gingerbread accents, steep gables and a wide, sweeping front porch, stood behind a picket fence and small lawn where the grass was patchy and dry. Jenna checked her watch. “The lesson must be about over,” she said as the Jeep idled near the driveway where Blanche Johnson’s car was parked.
Allie was taking a piano lesson inside, though when Jenna rolled down the window, she didn’t hear the usual musical notes escaping through the old, single-paned windows. Dani Settler was supposed to be with her as the girls had back-to-back lessons and had planned a sleepover at Jenna’s place.
“My guess is she’ll be out in a sec,” Shane said.
Jenna checked her watch again just as Travis Settler drove up. He parked near the front walk and waved as he spied Jenna and Shane. His smile was still a bit tight, as if he hadn’t quite forgiven Jenna for choosing Carter over him, but he seemed to be getting over it.
Swinging a small bag, he walked up to Jenna’s rig. “Emergency call from Dani,” he explained, holding up the small duffel. “She forgot her overnight bag when she went to school this morning and told me to drop it off here.”
“We could have picked it up,” Jenna said.
“Too late. I had to come into town anyway, and I wanted to talk to Dani before she took off for your place.” He flashed a more amiable smile, then sniffed the air. “Do you smell smoke?” His gaze moved over the roof of the SUV toward Blanche’s house.
“No…”
“I do,” Shane said as he climbed out of the Jeep to stretch his legs. His gaze swept the area.
Jenna glanced at her watch again. The lesson was supposed to have been over nearly fifteen minutes ago and Allie wasn’t one to hang out a second past the stated time. “I’ll see what’s going on.” She was out of the Jeep and pushing open the gate as the acrid smell of smoke reached her nostrils. Not wood smoke. Something else.
“I’ll come with you,” Shane said as if he realized something wasn’t right.
The first shiver of fear crawled across her skin as she rang the bell and heard chimes peal through the old house.
Then she noticed the door.
Ajar.
Probably one of the girls hadn’t latched it properly as they ran inside. Right?
Jenna stepped inside and her heart began to knock. “Hi, Blanche!” she called, trying to calm herself. Nothing was wrong. Nothing could be. “It’s Jenna.” The foyer was empty. Dark. No sound inside except for the old timbers settling. “Blanche? Allie?”
She heard footsteps behind her. Travis and Shane had followed her inside. “What’s going on?” Travis asked. “Where are the girls?”
“I don’t know.” She rounded the corner to the small parlor where the old upright piano stood. The bench was kicked out. Sheet music scattered upon the floor. A knot tightened in Jenna’s gut. “Something’s wrong,” she whispered, her gaze flying around the room. Travis and Shane started searching. “Allie!” she screamed, and fear, the same mind-numbing fear she’d felt last winter, took a stranglehold of her. Not again, oh, please, not again!
“Jesus,” Travis said as he looked behind the couch. His face turned white as death. “Call an ambulance!”
“What?” Panicked, Jenna was across the carpet in an instant, Shane already on his cell phone. Behind the couch, lying faceup, a pool of blood staining the carpet, lay Blanche Johnson. “No! Oh, God, no!”
Blanche, her skin a pasty white, her hair disheveled, blood pooled beneath her. Glassy, lifeless eyes stared upward.
Jenna’s hand flew to her throat. “Not again,” she whispered, fear grinding through her.
“Find the girls!” Travis ordered as he reached down to feel for Blanche’s pulse. What seemed a lifetime later, he shook his head. “We’re too late. She’s dead.”
Carter stepped over to the body. Held Jenna close. “I’ve called 911. Units are on the way.” His eyes narrowed and he walked closer to the wall behind the piano. “What’s this?”
For the first time Jenna noticed the mar in the wallpaper print, the angry words, scratched deeply, tearing the paper, smeared with a dark substance that trailed down the cabbage roses and vine print:
Payback Time.
“What the hell does that mean?” Travis asked, fear tightening his voice.
Allie? Where was Allie?
Turning, Jenna noticed the smoke. Thick and black, it curled in the hallway from the kitchen. “Fire!” she yelled. “Allie! Dani!” Oh, God, where were they? Frantically she ran to the front hall. They had to be safe. Had to. “Allie!” she yelled again. “Oh, God, where are they?”
In the distance, sirens screamed.
Travis grabbed a cloth arm protector from a side chair, held it over his mouth and nose and jogged toward the smoke. “Dani! For God’s sake, are you here? Dani!”
Carter was already racing up the stairs. “Get out of the house, Jenna. Now!”
“No way.”
“They’re probably already outside!”
If only she dared believe it. Screaming her daughter’s name, she threw open the door to the coat closet. Empty. She rushed into the living room. The dining room and butler’s pantry. Nothing! She heard the crackle of flames and Carter’s boots ringing overhead.
Travis, backing out of the kitchen, a fire extinguisher spraying, called over his shoulder, “No one in the kitchen. Just a grease fire.”
The house was empty.
As the police and fire crews arrived, a crowd gathered, and Shane shepherded Jenna outside to the Jeep. The cell phone! She climbed into the rig, found her phone and was about to dial when she noticed that she had two new messages. Both from Allie.
Insides churning, she listened and tears of relief flowed from her eyes at the sound of her daughter’s voice. She blinked and swiped at her nose as she said to Travis, “She’s at the school waiting for us there. Dani told her she’d gotten a call from Blanche. Piano lessons had been cancelled.”
“So they’re all right,” Travis said, relief evident in the lines of his face. He pulled out his phone and dialed. Waited and frowned, then said, “Dani, this is Dad. Call me back.” He clicked the phone shut. Stared at Shane. “She’s not answering.”
Jenna was already calling Allie and her daughter picked up immediately. “Hello?”
“Hi, honey.” Relief flooded through her.
“Where are you?” Allie was angry. “I’ve been waiting forever!”
“I’m at Mrs. Johnson’s. We must’ve gotten our wires crossed. I thought you were at your lesson, but stay put, I’m on my way to pick you up right now. I’ll be there in five minutes. Is Dani with you?”
“No.”
“No?” Jenna froze. Dread crystalized through her brain. Her eyes met Travis’s. “Where is she?”
“I don’t know,” Allie grumbled. “She ditched me out.”
“Ditched you out?” Jenna repeated. “That doesn’t sound like Dani. What happened?”
“I said ‘I don’t know.’ At lunch she told me that the piano lessons had been cancelled and that she’d meet me after last period and she’s not here. No one’s here.” Jenna’s heart nose-dived. “Are you coming?”
“On my way. Wait near the office. Don’t go anywhere. Do you hear me?”
“Yes! Geez.”
A newfound worry clutching at her, Jenna looked into Travis Settler’s eyes. “Dani’s not with her,” she said as the fire trucks, sirens screaming, rolled onto the street. Two police cruisers slid to a stop, spraying gravel. “I’m going to get Allie,” she said to Shane. “We’ll be right back.”
“I’ll come with you,” Shane said.
“Don’t you think you should tell them what’s going on?” She hitched her chin toward the cops getting out of their cars. “I’ll come back. With Allie.”
Impatiently, Travis said, “Let’s go. I’m right behind you.”
Jenna sped away from the curb and noticed Travis’s truck on her bumper. Three and a half minutes later, they pulled into the school’s lot in tandem.
Allie, backpack slung over one slim shoulder, was waiting near the front doors of Harrington Junior High. Leaning on a post, arms crossed over her chest, she looked angry as all get out. Jenna didn’t care. She threw herself out of the Jeep as Allie started walking to her.
The door to Travis’s pickup burst open and slammed with a thud behind him as he crossed the parking lot.
“Where’s Dani?” he asked, his expression military-hard.
“I already told Mom I don’t have any idea,” Allie said, some of her bravado slipping. “I haven’t seen her since lunch.”
“Has anyone?”
Allie shrugged and shook her head.
“Wait here,” he ordered, then his tone softened. “Please.”
Jenna’s arms had surrounded her daughter. “We will,” she promised as Travis left them standing outside and she, though it was over eighty degrees, shivered. Dear God, what was happening? Where was Dani? And Blanche? Why would anyone murder Blanche? Payback Time? What the hell did that mean?
Her cell phone chirped and seeing Shane’s name on caller ID, she forced a smile. “Hi,” she said, glancing around the deserted parking lot.
“Hi. Look, I thought you should know, my gut tells me this doesn’t have anything to do with you or Allie. Whatever happened here is about Blanche.”
“Then why is Dani missing?”
“Don’t know yet. Maybe a coincidence, but—”
“But you don’t believe in coincidence.”
“Right. Listen, we’ll figure it out,” he assured her. “I already called the house. Cassie answered. She’s fine.”
“I was just about to do that.” Jenna felt a new wave of relief that was tempered by her thoughts of Travis and his daughter. What the devil was going on with Dani. She’s all right. She’s all right. She has to be. Calm down. This is all just a big mistake.
Except that Blanche Johnson is dead.
Jenna squeezed Allie more tightly and was thankful for Shane. For his strength. For his love.
“Are you okay?” Worry edged his voice.
“Fine,” she said, her throat thick with emotion.
“Good. Then, I’ll see you at home. I’m going to be tied up for a couple of hours, so I’ll catch a ride with someone.”
“Or call me and I’ll come get you.” She was eager to be with him again. To feel him close.
“Either way,” he said, then added, “I love you, you know.”
“Yeah, I know. Me, too.”
“The way it’s supposed to be, darlin’,” he said as Jenna heard the muffled sound of another voice vying for his attention. “Look, Jenna, I gotta go.”
“Yeah.” She blinked rapidly.
“See ya later.”
“I’m counting on it, Sheriff,” she teased, her eyes suddenly hot, tears of relief close to the surface as she clicked off, then pulled herself together. This wasn’t the time to fall apart. Her girls were safe. Her life with Shane more secure and filled with more honest love than she’d ever thought possible.
Yet she couldn’t help worrying about Dani Settler. Where the devil was she?
Travis felt as if something inside of him was about to explode. He jogged to the front doors of the school and swung them open. The halls were nearly deserted. No laughing children, no teachers, just a custodian wheeling a large garbage can down a hallway.
Insid
e the glassed-in office, a secretary was sitting behind her desk. Reading glasses were propped on the end of her nose, a phone was pressed to her ear and she was reading from a computer printout. She looked up at him as he approached. “Oh, Mr. Settler. I’m glad you’re here.” She offered him a forced smile. “Danielle didn’t show up for physical education, the last period of the day. I was just making the call to your house. She’ll need an excuse for—”
“What do you mean ‘she didn’t show up’?”
“Just that. Mr. Jamison had to mark her absent and…”
“Then where is she?” he demanded, his heart thudding in his ears.
“That’s what I was going to ask you.” Behind her reading glasses, the woman’s eyes changed from taciturn to worried.
“The last time I saw her was when I dropped her off this morning,” he said, a dark clawing fear scraping his insides. Images of Dani flashed, like ruffled cards in a deck, through his mind. Dani as a newborn, downy-haired and red-faced, Dani as a three-year-old with an impish smile and tumbling curls, Dani without her front teeth at Christmas when she was seven, Dani at her mother’s funeral…Oh, God, where the hell was she?
“I think we’d better call the principal,” the secretary said. She disconnected her phone and clicked a speed-dial button.
The principal, the police, the National Guard. Call whoever it took. In his peripheral vision Travis noticed Jenna and Allie walking toward the office. Both had strained expressions on their white faces and Travis Settler knew despair as deep and black as all hell itself.
Jenna and Allie stepped through the door, Jenna’s hand protectively on her daughter’s shoulder. “What did they say?” she asked.
The truth of it hit him like a sucker punch. “They don’t know where she is,” he said, remembering Blanche Johnson’s dead body, the weird bloodstained message scratched into the wall and the grease fire with its thick smoke. He swallowed hard and felt as if the very life had been squeezed out of him. All his darkest fears congealed. Life as he’d known it had stopped abruptly. “My daughter’s missing,” he said and knew, without a doubt, that his worst nightmare had just begun.
