Her phone blasted through the room. She looked at the I.D. “It’s my campaign manager. I’ve got to take it. We are not done here.”
I stumbled out to the patio. The ground beneath me felt like silly putty and I couldn’t get a deep breath. She wanted me to go back to hospital. I’d rather die.
Thoughts tumbled and smashed together, coming at me like bullets from a machine gun. Why was Mom lying about the Bethany’s killer? I should have been stronger. I should have paid attention to Bethany’s case.
Now Shax had Cali. But I didn’t know where. Was Shax responsible for Kaycee’s snake bite? I’d nearly gotten her killed. How had Shax broken into my house?
Questions, accusations. Hate. Death.
The pool shimmered from the afternoon sun, a breeze sending ripples along the surface. The rope beckoned from the cement block under the palm.
“Jump in,” Frank said.
“I’m Jamie Butler. I’m Amanda’s daughter. I’m a retired Buffalo cop”
It’s your fault.
You’ll never do right.
They will die.
Bethany smiled at me from the pool. Cool water. Sun glinted off. So sassy in her red polka dot bikini with the ruffled bottom. Fearless or trusting, she pulled her little hand from my grasp and ran on her tiny bare toes. No hesitation as she threw herself from the deck into the pool of splashing, happy children. My heart jumped to my throat as I scrambled one step behind. I pulled her from underwater, smiling, her blue eyes wide. My little Peanut. Never a doubt I’d be there to save her.
The terrifying voice inside me was back. Someone worse than Frank. The voice I’d prayed never to hear again. “She’s under there now, waiting for you.”
Frank hissed, “You deserve to die.”
Chanting. Shouting. Pushing.
You’re worthless.
Your fault.
Jump in.
The cloying smell of lilacs hit me. Was it real or imagined?
The sun burned the back of my neck, scorched the top of my head. I spoke with assurance. “It wasn’t my fault. Shax is to blame.”
Frank laughed.
I squeezed my eyes closed and words twisted with torture. “I’m not responsible for what he did.”
Your fault.
You could have stopped it.
Jump in.
The Chorus joined in, rising in a fury. I clamped my hands over my ears. “I know you want me to drown myself. I understand you’re trying to protect me from the pain.” My head felt like Frank sank an ax through my skull.
“Jump in. Jump in.”
The terrifying voice croaked close to my ear. “You deserve to die.” He’d been the one I couldn’t say no to last time. The one who commanded me to get the French chef knife. To place the point to my heart. He told me the sacrifice would bring Bethany back. I didn’t believe him. But there was no resisting him.
“Jump in,” he shouted. “DO IT!”
Standing on the edge of the pool, the bottom looked quiet, peaceful. The blue deep and cool. They couldn’t talk to me there. No more shouting. No crowds. No guilt. No pain. Silence.
Do it.
You killed her.
Your fault.
The nylon scratched my ankle. I tied the knot, making sure it wouldn’t loosen.
Maggie’s voice sounded far away, drowned by the crashing curses and encouragement to jump. “You aren’t done.”
“What do you mean?” I croaked the question, but it was my own voice. The rough cinderblock scraped my fingers.
She sounded a little stronger. “Only you can save her.”
Frank growled. “Shut up. She’s never saved anyone.”
The hollow voice ordered me. “End it now.”
The drain rippled under ten feet of crystal water. Refreshing. Safe.
Peanut sobbed. She knew it was too late. Would always be too late.
“Jamie? Are you okay?”
Clouds of voices swirled in my head and it seemed a breeze blew, thinning and starting to clear.
“I called your cell but you didn’t answer.”
With a pounding head and smattering of voices, I raised my eyes. Rafe stood next to me, his khaki uniform looking heavy and hot in the sunshine.
I scanned behind him, wondering how he got past Mom.
He must have noticed my questioning glance. “Her car isn’t in the driveway. I was worried, so I busted the lock and came in.”
Mom was taking a call. Where would she have gone? To finish the paperwork she needed to lock me away.
“Jamie?” He brought me back. “Can I…?” He pointed to the cinderblock in my hands.
I let him take it from me, battling the surge of outrage in my head.
After setting the block down, he managed to undo the knot at my ankle.
With unsteady movement, I brushed past Rafe to the patio where I’d left my ice water. He followed me and waited while I gulped and tasted the lemon on my tongue.
Rafe kept his calm eyes on me, somehow giving me strength.
I closed the two steps to him and reached a hand to his arm. He didn’t flinch, as if he knew I tested his substance. Real. Solid. Not like Frank, who continued his diatribe.
“Are they talking to you?” Rafe said. The words flowed from his mouth so I knew where they originated.
“Yes.” I sounded more solid than I felt. “There’s something they need to tell me.”
He let my hand stay on his arm. “What is that?”
I released him and retreated to the table. After a moment, the world quit wavering as if in a heat mirage. “They are fighting about telling me.”
Rafe didn’t understand, that much was clear from his wrinkled brow. His dark eyes never turned away. “Can you ask them?”
My glass clunked on the finished portion of my mosaic table. “I’m trying.” My head felt stuffed full of cement, with my brain struggling to find space.
The back door opened and Mom walked out. She ignored Rafe. “Honey?” Her arm snaked around my shoulders and she sounded cautious, as if I might strike. “Jamie. You need to come with me.”
She sounded safe. If I went with her, the world would fade away. That’s how it happened before. Mom took care of everything. She’d dealt with the ugliness, buried my baby, punished her killer, made sure I was safe.
Zoey’s dead.
Cali’s dead.
You’ll die.
Gentle pressure against my shoulders invited me toward the patio door. Mom leaned close to my ear. “You need to rest. It’s been a hard few weeks, hasn’t it?”
I felt like I floated toward a soft cloud where I’d never have to lift my head.
Like a needle raking a vinyl record, Rafe’s voice startled me. “Hey, where are you going?”
Mom’s tone slapped him. “It’d be best if you left now.”
Rafe hurried to my side. “We were talking.”
Mom spoke to me in that voice like a fluffy blanket. “We’ll get you something to help you calm down.”
I’d wrapped myself in her comfort before. Years lost in antiseptic smells, straps, confusion. Without making a decision, my feet followed her direction toward the door.
Rafe stepped in front of the door. “Is this what you want?”
Mom stiffened, not used to someone defying her. “You don’t know my daughter and you don’t know me. Stay out of this.”
Rafe ignored her and focused on me. “You said they had something to tell you.”
Ice crystals shot from Mom. “Don’t encourage that kind of delusion.”
“I….” With Mom’s arm around my shoulders and Rafe guarding the exit, they drew a line and there was something I needed to say.
You can’t.
You won’t.
You failed.
Rafe surprised me. “Who’s to say it’s a delusion? They talk to her.”
Mom’s laugh sounded like a punch. “We’ve had therapists like you. Telling me the voices are real. If they’re real, where are th
e people who are talking? Look around. No one.” Mom’s arm felt heavy around me. “She was making progress and you came into her life and now this. We’ll have to start all over again.”
I stopped moving toward the door. “I’m not losing my mind.”
Mom patted my shoulder. “Of course not. But you need to put some distance between you and the stress.”
Rafe drew me into his gaze. “Cali. She’s out there somewhere. Those voices in you—someone knows where she is. You have to help her.”
Mom threw her arm out and tried to shove him from in front of the door. “Stop it. She can’t handle this.”
“I’m not crazy.” The way they both jumped made me think I’d shouted it. I lowered my voice. “I’ve learned how to pay attention when they talk to me. They usually have something important to say, but it needs interpretation.”
Mom glared at Rafe and hugged me closer. “The voices aren’t real.”
With a determined stride, I pulled away from Mom’s arm. “Here’s what’s real. A man was released early. By you. And he killed Bethany.”
Mom’s jaw tightened and her eyes flashed. “Where—”
“And you found someone to blame her murder on. And conveniently, he died soon after his confession.”
“What are you accusing me of?”
I pushed back the noise in my head. “You knew Grainger King didn’t do it. Why did you pin it on him?”
She glared at Rafe. “Did you tell her about this? Is it you who is influencing her to revisit all the pain? You sick bastard.”
Rafe’s face held that emotionless expression as he addressed Mom. “Jamie doesn’t need me or you to influence her. She’s capable of thinking for herself.”
Mom drew me into her. “You didn’t see her when she broke. I was there. I picked up the pieces She’s vulnerable and you have no right to take advantage of that to further your investigation.”
I stepped away and glared at her. “Why, Mom?”
Behind her stony eyes, something stirred.
I pleaded. “I need to know.”
Like a prize fighter, she shifted and ducked. “Now’s not the time to talk about it.”
“No.” I surprised myself with the power. “I’m here and I want to know. Why did you do it?”
Mom softened her face. “For you. It’s always been for you. I know how much you loved Bethany.”
My voice cracked. “I would gladly have taken her place. I pray for it every day.”
Mom nodded. “Exactly. You fell apart after we found her. You’ve always been delicate, needing protection. I knew how you’d grieve and the guilt you’d feel if you ever recovered enough to be aware. The suspect was long gone and I decided a quick resolution would be best for everyone.”
“Not for Bethany.” I sounded like cold death.
Mom kept talking in that confident way. “It would do no good to drag it out. We’d have to find him, prosecute him, long court battles. You’d never be able to get through it. So I did what I had to do. To protect you.”
I shut Frank down, ignoring his point by point refutation of Mom’s explanation. I didn’t need him to tell me that because Bethany was a cop’s daughter and granddaughter, the detectives would have found the murderer and there would have been no long court battle.
“He’s killing again. You didn’t protect me.”
Mom appeared not to have heard me. “Grainger was happy to confess when I promised to pay his son $5,000. Trust me, anyone who would sell his integrity so cheap isn’t worth worrying about.”
“Is this what the special investigator is looking into?” Rafe asked. What always felt like a quiet river to me, sounded more like a rattler’s warning directed at Mom. He must have been doing his own digging.
She whipped her head toward him and narrowed her eyes. “The investigation is merely a campaign tactic by a dirty opponent. I haven’t done anything sheriffs before haven’t done, and I’ve been cleaner than any of them. But they were men. They get a free pass. Of course no one believes a woman could do this job without cheating.”
I pressed on. “I need to know what’s in the evidence box. See the case file.”
Maggie suddenly spoke from behind me. “You have what you need, dear.”
Bethany is dead.
Zoey is dead.
Cali is dead.
I clamped my hands over my ears. “No!”
Mom leaned close. “It’s all right, Honey. I’m here. Touch me. See? Those voices aren’t real.”
I clenched my eyes, teeth, fists, wanting to plug my ears.
One voice pushed through the crowd. Rafe. “What are they saying? Can you tell me?”
Amid the confluence of voices the quiet one repeated, “Remember. Remember.”
And suddenly I did.
I opened my eyes to look into Rafe’s. “I know where Cali is.”
45
“The Boneyard.” The answer came to me clear and with no doubt.
Mom sucked in a breath. “What did you say?”
Rafe studied me. “You’re sure?”
I didn’t want to see it but there it was.
The suffocating wet air and smell of lilacs. The chain-link gate, lined with barbed wire on top. Crumbling cinderblock garage with red paint, cracked and peeling across the front. The Boneyard. A cruel title for where Bethany’s life ended.
“Shax took Cali to the Boneyard.” I pushed passed Mom and yanked open the French door.
She’s dead.
You’re too late.
Dead. Dead.
Rafe rushed behind me. “I’ll call for backup.”
Mom shoved Rafe aside and grabbed my arm. “What boneyard? If those voices in your head are making you remember this, it’s time to take you to the hospital.”
I wrenched my arm away. “I’m fine.” That didn’t feel like a lie. Despite Frank’s denials and the chatter of the Chorus and even The Three, I knew Shax took Cali to the Boneyard. He’d done everything but skywrite it for me.
“Hurry,” Maggie urged.
“Hurry,” I said to Rafe, ignoring Mom’s protests along with all the others.
In seconds I’d jumped into the front seat of Rafe’s patrol car and he fired up the engine. Mom had given up on me and banged on the window of his side. “Unconscionable, criminal to take advantage of a mentally ill person.”
Rafe’s face turned immobile. He shoved the car in reverse and backed away.
Mom’s eyes filled with venom. Her lips moved and her body pitched forward with the force of her yells. I couldn’t hear her and turned my head away. “We can save her.”
Rafe flipped on his lights and siren. “I hope so.”
My foot pressed to the floor of the car as if forcing Rafe faster. We flew passed cars idling at the side of the lane. The Boneyard—the largest storage facility of disabled or decommissioned airplanes in the world—was about twenty miles from my house, skirting across the southern edge of Tucson.
The sun had already fallen beyond the western mountain range and dusty evening lengthened the shadows, dragging night along. By the time we arrived at the Boneyard it would be dark.
Rafe called his supervisor. He explained our suspicions, not mentioning the civilian he carried along in the patrol car. He listened.
“I have reliable information. We’ll need to have the MPs give us permission.”
The tinny response vibrated from the phone. “No proof. But we’re talking about an abducted teen. Don’t you think it’s worth the risk if it doesn’t pan out?”
He threaded his way through an intersection. “I know how big the Boneyard is. I don’t know what section. I’m working on it.”
After he listened. “Just me, then. No backup. But you’ll get permission for me to look around?”
I had my own conversation going on. “Shax wants me to find him. It’s part of his game.”
He told you.
You don’t remember.
She’s going to die.
“Maggie?”
I called for her out loud while Rafe talked and drove. “Where is Shax hiding?”
Maggie sounded sad. “I don’t know, dear.”
Rafe pocketed his phone. He would see me talking to Maggie. “But Shax would have told me somehow.”
Maggie said, “Ask Peanut. She never forgets anything.”
My knuckles turned white on the car door. Peanut knew. She knew what Shax had done to her. She knew how I’d failed. If I let her speak she’d tell me horrible things. I wouldn’t be able to forget, to forgive.
Maybe someday. But not today. I couldn’t fall apart now. If Peanut’s revelations sent me spiraling, as they had after discovering Bethany, I’d lose any chance of saving Cali.
I opened my eyes, not aware I’d closed them. The bleating of the sirens seemed soothing compared to the chaos in my head.
Rafe’s eyes darted toward me and back to the road. “The MPs will meet us at the gate. Where are we going from there?”
Wave after wave held me under, suffocating me. “Come on. Help me.”
Rafe answered. “I’m trying. Getting us in the gate wasn’t easy. But you’ve got to think.”
“I’m not talking to you.” It wasn’t hard to say to him and he didn’t look taken aback.
“Oh.” He rolled us into a sharp left, leaving Valencia after fifteen miles and heading north on Kolb. “Can you get them to tell you where Shax is? Like mental telepathy or something?”
“I wish it worked like that.” We had to be traveling sixty miles an hour but it felt like a crawl.
Failed.
Your fault.
She’s dead.
“No.” I said it firmly. “Kaycee didn’t die. Cali won’t either. This is Shax’s game and he’d want to keep the bait alive.”
Rafe seemed uncertain. “Is that for me or…them?”
I rubbed my temples. “Them. You. I don’t have the energy to sort it out. I need to figure out where he’s keeping Cali.”
Rafe gave me one nod. He kept quiet the last few miles until we slid to a stop outside tall chain-link gates. Headlights shown on the crisscross patterns, dividing the light into the night beyond the gates.
A Hummer pulled up in front of us on the other side of the gate. Their headlights splashed us in harsh glare and Rafe shut his down. Both doors opened and uniformed military personnel emerged from each side. With the caps pulled down I only made out one was a woman and one a man. The man unlocked the gate and the woman stepped through, coming to the driver’s door.
The Desert Behind Me Page 24
