Forgotten Legacy

by Perini, Robin

  “I’m going down,” Thayne said. If anyone was going to pull out a member of his family, it would be him. “You’ll spot me?”

  His deputy didn’t look happy about the idea, but he nodded.

  Thayne raced to his SUV to grab his climbing rope, harness, and a figure eight. While Ironcloud anchored the rope, Thayne slipped into the harness and clipped a carabiner to it. He looped his rope over and through the figure eight’s metal rings before locking it in place.

  After a quick double-check, Thayne slowly eased over the short cliff’s edge, braking with his right hand. He kept his feet perpendicular to the cliff for stability and walked his way down slowly, carefully.

  The smell of burning rubber wafted up to him as he rappelled down the side of the mountain, and it didn’t take long to reach the vehicle.

  He wiped a spray of dirt from the window and saw the crumpled body and sightless gaze of Philip Andrews.

  “It’s Andrews. He’s dead.”

  Bracing himself, Thayne maneuvered so he could get a good look in the back seat.

  Empty. Thank God.

  “Gram and Chloe aren’t here,” he called up.

  On the floor was an envelope. Thayne wrenched the door open and reached in to grab it. At this point any information might help them.

  He tied a Klemheist hitch and created a sling to work his way back up. Not exactly elegant, but he made it to the top. He heaved himself over the edge, and Ironcloud steadied him.

  Riley stood to the side, and he shook his head.

  “Philip had no chance. But I found this.” He handed Riley the envelope. “Maybe it’ll help.”

  “Any idea of the cause?” Ironcloud asked.

  “Nothing obvious except a possible DUI. I’m not sure we’ll know until we get the car up here. Normally, I’d say it looks like an accident. Going too fast maybe?”

  “No skid marks, but you said he’d been drinking.”

  Thayne unhooked the rope and stepped out of the harness. “He never copped to it, but his behavior said otherwise.”

  “Another accident?” Riley asked quietly and pursed her lips.

  He recognized the skepticism in her voice—and on her face.

  He met her gaze. “Sometimes accidents just happen. Not every out-of-the-ordinary incident is a serial murderer on the loose.” Thayne grabbed his gear and stuffed it into a duffel. “Right now, we’ve got a higher priority than dealing with a dead body. To find Chloe and Gram. If they’re not with Andrews, they have to be somewhere.”

  Thayne called the station and walked away from Riley. He activated his radio. “Alicia, take the BOLO off the rental car. We found it, but we didn’t find Gram or Chloe. Tell Pendergrass to work with search and rescue on identifying the cause of the crash. Have some of the volunteers search the area between the hospital and the location where we found the car, just in case Gram and Chloe were in the car at some point. Got it?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He ended the transmission and went to the back of the SUV. Ironcloud joined him. “Do you think he has them hidden somewhere?” his deputy asked.

  Thayne tossed his bag in the back of the vehicle. “Until we find them, I’m covering all the possibilities.”

  He didn’t want to think about the implications of Gram and Chloe still being missing. Until he had proof they were in that car, he wouldn’t even think about what that serial killer could have done to them.

  “When the guys from Pinewood get here, ask them to search for any evidence that Gram and Chloe were in that vehicle. I didn’t see a thing, but we can’t be certain.”

  Ironcloud nodded and put his hand on Thayne’s shoulder. “Everyone’s looking. We’ll find them.”

  “I know.” Thayne closed the back end and got behind the wheel.

  Riley slipped in beside him. “I was wrong,” she said softly.

  Thayne shifted in his seat. “About what?”

  “Listen to this. It’s dated two years ago.” Riley removed a sheet of paper from the envelope.

  Dear Kristin—

  You may never read this. I haven’t been able to find you, but I’ve tried. I’m going to stop searching now. I’ve realized that you lived in fear every day of our married life. I’ve been sober for a few months now. I live one day at a time.

  I created a new life out of the ashes of ours. I hope you’ve done the same.

  I want to apologize to both of you. I was a mean drunk and I took it out on you. I hurt you. Badly. I’m so very sorry.

  I don’t expect you to forgive me—How could you?—but I wanted to thank you, Kristin. Thank you for protecting our daughter from her own father. I’m sick when I realize what I did to our little girl. I hope, wherever you are, that you have found a good life. Maybe, somehow, someway, I’ll be able to tell you I’m sorry in person.

  Sincerely,

  Philip

  “He wasn’t obsessed with them?”

  Riley shook her head. “I think he told you the truth. He saw that photo and he wanted to apologize to his daughter. Especially when he learned Kristin was dead.”

  Thayne stilled. “You do realize what you’re saying?”

  Riley returned the letter to the envelope and slipped it into her satchel. Her expression sent a long chill that settled behind his neck.

  “Philip Andrews had nothing to do with what happened to the Jordans.” Riley pulled the autopsy photos of the Jordans out. “We’re back to square one, but my theory about a serial killer is still viable. Look at all the accidents that have been happening. The Jordans’ fire. Me. Now Philip Andrews. We’re all connected in some way. I just have to figure out how.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The mountains to Riley’s left loomed above them, their jagged peaks dangerous and foreboding as the darkening sky closed in on the night. She clutched her satchel. She’d been wrong. Again.

  “What if Chloe and your grandmother left on their own like Cheyenne first believed?” She glanced over at Thayne. “Maybe Chloe’s father had nothing to do with it.”

  “A coincidence?” Thayne clutched the steering wheel with a white-knuckle grip. “I don’t believe in them. Neither do you.”

  “Perhaps not, but assuming his arrival here isn’t a coincidence, that means someone else is involved and we need another theory.” Riley head throbbed. Her mind struggled with the inconsistencies. “Whoever killed the Jordans wanted it to look like an accident.”

  “The other wedding ring murders didn’t,” Thayne challenged. And he was right.

  “The ones I found in the ViCAP database didn’t, but like I said, they could’ve been early in the killer’s development. It doesn’t mean there aren’t others out there, but they’ll be much harder to track down. If the police believe they were accidents, or even a murder-suicide . . . or if they identified another perpetrator, they won’t be in any database. They’ll simply be closed cases.”

  “Come on, Riley. You’re reaching. Trying to find something that isn’t there.”

  “I may be reaching, but it fits. Whoever set the fire was very good at what he did.” She stared out the window, searching the shifting patterns of shadows against the mountains. The darkness danced, coalesced, then parted once more. Patterns had to fit. “You know, if I wanted to make someone look guilty, I’d create information for the investigators that would provide means, motive, and opportunity.”

  Thayne drummed his fingers on the dash. “How do we prove that?”

  “What if the travel records were tampered with?”

  Thayne let out a low whistle. “That takes some heavy-duty computer skills.”

  “But it can be done. No system is foolproof.” Riley raised her eyebrow. “Look at what Willow, a retired schoolteacher and self-taught computer hacker, did.”

  Thayne turned right and headed toward his family’s ranch. “Keep an eye out for Gram. I’ll call Willow. Maybe she can tell us if last week’s rental car records from Philip Andrews could have been altered in some way.”


  Riley squinted through the dimming light. “The temperature drops below freezing at night.”

  “I know.” Thayne hit a number on his phone. “We have to find Gram soon.” He hit the speakerphone button and the rings echoed through the car.

  “Thayne.” Worry laced Willow’s voice. “Did you find her?”

  “No, ma’am. We’re still looking. I’m here with Riley.”

  “Hello, Agent Lambert.” Willow let out a long sigh. “Helen’s never gotten lost before, but I suppose it was only a matter of time.”

  Riley couldn’t argue. Getting lost in a familiar setting was a common symptom of the illness. That being said, not every Alzheimer’s patient lost their way home. It all depended on what part of the brain was affected the most.

  “I was informed that Brett Riverton volunteered his plane to search,” Thayne said. “They were up for hours, but it’s too dark to fly now. We’re searching the road leading out to the ranch. Hopefully we’ll catch a glimpse of Pops’s truck.”

  “The ladies and I think you should try the old swimming hole,” Willow said. “That’s her favorite place on the entire property.”

  Thayne nodded. “I should’ve thought of that. Thanks.”

  “Fannie, Norma, and I are going back out to search. I came home to take my medication before we hit the road.”

  Riley couldn’t help but be blown away by the generosity of the Singing River community. She’d never lived in a place where friends and family dropped everything to help.

  “We appreciate any assistance you can give,” Thayne said, “but that’s not why I called.”

  “What do you need?”

  “The rental car records for Philip Andrews. Could the information have been planted?”

  The speakerphone went silent. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “He’s not, ma’am,” Riley chimed in. “Andrews’s trip here doesn’t make sense with what we’ve learned about him.”

  Willow grumbled, and the sound of papers rustling crackled through the phone. The chime of a computer being booted up followed. “Give me a bit of time, and I’ll call you back.” Her voice trailed off, and the call ended without so much as a goodbye.

  “I guess we’ll find out.” Thayne slowed the SUV to a crawl. A dirt road veered off to the right. “I wonder . . .”

  “What?”

  “This road used to lead to the old corral. Hudson built barracks there for the summer hands, but they’re empty now. Hudson didn’t mention searching there.”

  “It’s worth a try.” Riley hesitated to bring up another wrinkle, but she had to. “Everyone’s searching for your grandparents’ car, but your grandmother and Chloe may not be together.”

  “You’re a hotbed of sunshine and hope, aren’t you?” Thayne scowled. One more piece of bad news just might break him.

  The comment caused Riley to wince.

  He took her hand in his. “Sorry. I know you’re right, but there’s nothing we can do but keep searching.”

  “It’s getting dark soon. I pray both of them are smart enough to find shelter where they’ll stay warm tonight.”

  “From your lips to God’s ears, as Gram would say.”

  The vehicle wound its way along the dirt road. The once-green grass bent in response to the September wind. Thayne couldn’t stop his heart from pounding. Nights were cold. Gram had become frailer over the last six months, her disease taking its toll on her body as well as her mind. He didn’t know if she could survive the night. As more land became visible with no sign of the truck, his hope dimmed. Finally, the SUV rose over a small hill, and a hundred feet below, a long building sat deserted. Riley couldn’t see the main house, but a glimpse of something behind the building reflected the remaining bit of sun.

  “What’s over there?” Riley pointed.

  Thayne jerked the steering wheel. He’d recognize that faded black anywhere. “Pops’s truck.” He couldn’t believe they’d found it, and they pulled to the back of the building.

  More hopeful than he’d been all day, he jumped to the ground. Riley followed. He peered into the vehicle, but no one was there.

  “Let’s try the building.” Thayne jiggled the doorknob. “Gram. It’s me.”

  No sound came from inside. Riley walked in behind Thayne. He tried the light switch, but it didn’t work. Night was falling fast, and the interior was dim with many dark recesses.

  She couldn’t see anything. She grabbed her phone and turned on the flashlight mode. The thin beam bounced around, highlighting boxes, an old desk, and a rickety chair. There were bunks in the far corner and odd bits and pieces of someone’s life, stuffed in the long shed for safekeeping and then eventually forgotten. An old rocking horse. A box filled with pots and pans. Riley and Thayne maneuvered between more boxes and old furniture, and she spotted dozens of places to hide.

  Riley tugged on Thayne’s hand, and he bent close so she could whisper. “Act like your granddad. She might respond to that.”

  Thayne straightened and let his voice drop to his grandfather’s level. “Helen. It’s Lincoln. It’s time to go home.”

  The light landed on one of the bunk beds in the far corner. A plastic grocery bag rested on the mattress. She let the light fall, and from beneath the bed, a tuft of blonde hair peeked out.

  “Chloe? Is that you?”

  The last sliver of sunlight gave way to night. Normally, he loved the night. The cover provided invisibility from a multitude of sins. This time, however, his less-than-perfect execution simply made the darkness a merciless audience of laughter.

  The girl had vanished, so his plan to kill her and her father was no longer viable.

  Agent Lambert had survived, and he’d been unable to retrieve the vials before the investigator had discovered them. They knew he existed. She was even looking into areas of his past that she shouldn’t know about.

  He’d studied, he’d researched. He’d learned. He was supposed to be the best. He may not always have been, but he’d found his truth. Proving lies, proving deceit. Punishing the deceivers.

  At least until he’d come to this cursed town.

  Where had it all gone wrong? His sharp thumbnail dug into the fourth finger of his left hand, rubbing over and over and over again until the old scar bled.

  It was all Agent Lambert’s fault. She’d ruined everything.

  She doesn’t know everything. She’d fallen for his ploy. For a while, anyway. The voice inside his head echoed the truth. Get rid of her, and life will be perfect again.

  “Get rid of her. We have to.”

  He yanked his car into gear but didn’t turn on his headlights. He knew exactly where to go to find out where she was. And when he did . . . everything would fall into place. Life would be perfect. He’d find peace. One more time.

  The final wash of light ducked below the horizon. The dim bunkhouse fell into complete darkness. Thayne’s light illuminated the area in a sea of fluorescent white. With each slow step, the sound of his boot heel scraped against the wooden floor. He strode to the end of the hallway and squatted down next to the bed where the little girl hid. “Chloe. You remember me? It’s Sheriff Blackwood. I bought some of your mama’s blackberry jam at the fair last year.”

  He could see her head shake.

  “Chloe, come on out. You don’t have anything to be afraid of.”

  “You want to send me back.” Her voice trembled, and the scratchy tone reminded Thayne of a lifelong smoker, or his football coach after the state championship game. “Mama said we could never go back. Mrs. B promised I wouldn’t have to.”

  “Are you talking about Helen Blackwood?” Riley asked.

  The girl’s face peeked out from beneath the bed. “She told us to call her Mrs. B when I was little. No names.”

  Thayne lowered to the floor and sat cross-legged. He motioned to Riley to search the room. Just in case.

  “How about you come out from under the bed and we can talk? Otherwise I’ll have to scoot under there, and I’m a
fraid I’ll dent my hat.”

  Chloe glared at him. “You promise not to take me back to the hospital?”

  “I promise.”

  Hesitant as a wild animal, Chloe Jordan unfolded her coltish frame and scooted out from under the bed. “I’m trusting you even though Mama said never to trust the law.” Chloe studied her fingers. “Mama and Daddy are dead.”

  “I know, honey. I’m sorry.” Thayne leaned in closer. “Where’s Mrs. B?”

  She shrugged and made a motion of locking her lips as if she’d promised not to speak.

  She knew something. “Look, Chloe.” Thayne tried to keep calm. “Mrs. B isn’t well. She’s sick. She can’t remember things that well anymore. I’m worried about her. She’s my grandmother.”

  Chloe averted her gaze. “I know something’s wrong with her. Mama knew it, too.”

  Thayne shifted back on his heels. “Are you telling me my grandmother has been visiting you?”

  “She brings me a birthday present every year. She and Mama have long talks after I go to bed.”

  Riley sat beside them. “You sometimes listen, though, don’t you, Chloe? I know I did when I was about your age.”

  Chloe wrinkled her forehead. “Who are you?”

  “My name’s Riley Lambert.”

  The girl’s eyes widened. “You were supposed to help us. Mama was scared. Mrs. B told her to call you. That you’d help and wouldn’t tell.” Chloe glared at Riley. “She said you’d left Singing River and wouldn’t answer the phone.”

  Riley’s face fell. “I’m so sorry, Chloe. I was . . . out of town on business. I was too late to help your mother. But I can help you, if you can tell us why your mother called me.”

  Chloe folded her arms across her chest. “I’ll only talk to Mrs. B. I can’t trust anyone else.”

  Thayne placed his hand on the girl’s foot. “That’s what I was trying to explain. My gram is missing. We can’t find her.”

  The fear on Chloe’s face was real. “She said she was going home.”

  Thayne shot a glance at Riley. “She didn’t make it.”