by Lisa Jackson
“The same number on the symbol that was left here on your porch, and in the middle of the star design we found at the fire that killed Mary Beth Flannery.” Paterno reached into his pocket and took out two pages of paper, each with a drawing on it. He handed them to her. The first drawing she recognized, as it was the shape of the burned birth certificate, the second—a star missing a point, with numbers and broken lines—was new to her.
“You think the six represents me?” she asked, dumbfounded. “What does that mean?” She didn’t wait for a response. “If I’m six, what are the other numbers?” she asked, trying to follow his logic and feeling a chill as cold as death. “Members of my family?”
“Possibly.”
“But why the broken lines…? Why would I be in the middle of this thing?” she whispered, staring at the pages as if in so doing she could solve the mysteries of the universe, or at the very least, of her own life and the lives of those closest to her. God, it was creepy. “I don’t get it. Where did this come from?”
“We found this image in two places at Mary Beth Flannery’s house. One scribbled on the mirror in what we think is lipstick, the second on the inside flap of a backpack left at the scene. Travis Settler has ID’d the bag as belonging to his daughter. Your daughter.”
“What?” she whispered, her lungs suddenly tight. Oh, God, no. She couldn’t bear to have Dani even remotely connected to Mary Beth’s murder. “I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I. Yet,” he said, then, as his cell phone rang, he stood and whipped the flip phone from his pocket. “Paterno,” he said quickly after placing the phone to his ear. “Yeah…No…” A quick look at his watch. “I can be there in about fifteen. Yeah, just wrapping up here…Got it.” He snapped the phone closed and, pointing to the pages still clutched in her fingers, said, “I think that’s about it for now. You can keep those.”
As if on cue, Rossi rose.
“Is there anything else you want to tell us?” Paterno asked.
“No…Well, yeah. I don’t know if this has any bearing on anything, but my brother Oliver thought he saw Brendan Giles in the congregation last Sunday.”
Paterno frowned, his thick eyebrows slamming together to become one intense line. “Did he talk to him?”
“No.” Quickly Shannon related what Oliver had told her.
“It’s probably a mistake,” Rossi finally said.
“Maybe. It’s been years. I just thought you should know.”
“Funny your brother didn’t mention it to me when I talked to him,” Paterno said slowly. “Guess it must’ve slipped his mind.”
“As I said, he’s not sure.”
“Anything else you think maybe we should know?” he asked, one eyebrow raising.
“Yeah,” she said. “One thing, but I’m not sure how it all fits.”
“Shoot.”
“On the night of the fire here, the one that destroyed my shed, it looks like someone intentionally harmed one of my horses.” She explained Nate’s theory about Molly, then slipped on a pair of shoes and walked the two policemen into the horse barn where they saw the mare’s singed whiskers firsthand.
Paterno’s face was shuttered and grim.
“The guy’s a real sicko,” Rossi said, his face red.
Apparently wounding an animal was worse than killing a woman in Rossi’s estimation. Or maybe he’d become jaded over the years, was used to finding charred bodies in bathtubs. An animal lover herself, Shannon understood his rage, but it surprised her in the detective. Paterno, on the other hand, remained quiet, his eyes dark and contemplative.
As they walked back to the house, Paterno said, “If there’s anything else you think of you’ll call, right?”
“Count on it. I want this maniac caught as much as anyone. He’s got my daughter.”
If he was going to say anything else, perhaps mention the fact that Shannon had given up her motherly rights to her child thirteen years earlier, he thought better of it.
Smart man.
She escorted them to their car. As they were climbing into the sedan, she returned to the house where, once she’d closed the front door, she leaned against the panels, thankful the interview was over. Her thoughts turned to Dani Settler again, just as they had continually since she’d first heard the girl had been kidnapped. “Please, please, keep her safe,” she prayed, aching inside. Why couldn’t the police and the FBI find her? Where was she? Would Shannon ever see her, ever meet the only daughter she would probably ever have, or ever have the peace of mind of knowing that Dani was safe?
That was the big, chilling question.
The thought that she might never meet the girl whose picture she kept on the nightstand by her bed tore at her heart. Surely God wouldn’t be so cruel.
Her throat filled with a lump that made it impossible to swallow, and the headache she’d been fighting all day came back with a vengeance.
From the kitchen, Khan gave up a sharp, pay-me-some-attention bark. “Did you think I’d forgotten about you?” she asked as she walked through the archway. She dropped the drawings Paterno had given her on to the kitchen table.
The mottled dog was still sitting on his rug, every muscle tense. “Were you going to sit here until kingdom come?” she asked, amused. He wriggled at the sight of her and Marilyn, from her little pen, barked and tried to climb the mesh. “Come!” Shannon said to Khan. Glancing through the kitchen window, she saw twin beams from the police car’s headlights cut through the night. A second later the engine caught and the car was rolling down the drive. Shannon let out her breath and turned her attention back to her dog. “You’re such a good boy,” she told Khan.
But he wasn’t in the mood for praise or platitudes. Toenails clicking wildly, he bolted to the front door and stood at the window, nose to the glass, eyes focused on the retreating car, every muscle in his body tense. “Yeah, I’m glad that’s over, too.” She noticed the shriveled state of her already-nuked microwave meal and couldn’t stomach the thought of reheating it again. Scowling, she tossed it into the garbage. “So much for gourmet,” she said to the puppy. “Hey, you.” She patted the velvet-soft head and felt a wet nose against her palm. “Just give me a sec, okay?”
While the puppy whined, Shannon hurried up the stairs, popped two aspirin, and holding her hair away from her face in one hand, washed the small tablets down with water from the tap. She slid into a pair of flip-flops and clapped her way back downstairs.
The pup was yipping noisily as Shannon returned to the kitchen. “Patience not your long suit?” she teased, picking up the fat little animal and getting her face washed with a wet pink tongue.
Shannon actually giggled. What was it about puppies that was so irresistible? Their smell? Their innocence? Their big eyes? Their soft, wiggling body? Or just the whole damned adorable package? “Yeah, yeah, I like you, too.”
Khan, ever jealous, was suddenly at her feet, but for the moment, Shannon ignored him as she set the newcomer back into her pen. She refilled the puppy’s food dish. Marilyn couldn’t devour her dry kibbles fast enough. As soon as the last morsel was scraped up and the pup had lapped some water, Shannon snapped a training leash onto Marilyn’s collar and walked her outside. While Khan raced ahead to sniff the bushes and fence line, hoping to scare up a squirrel or chipmunk, Shannon let the pup wander and explore her new environs.
The burned shed was a grim reminder of what was happening. Shannon reminded herself to call Alexi Demitri’s security company in the morning, despite Nate’s distrust of the man. But Nate, Shea and even Alexi were right about one thing: with everything that had gone on, she’d be foolish not to have cameras and alarms installed. If Alexi’s men couldn’t come over immediately, she’d ask Aaron to help her. Just as she had in the past.
She cringed a little as she thought about the last time she and Aaron had installed tiny cameras and recorders. She’d known that Ryan would ignore the restraining order and she feared he’d come at her with his fists flying. She’d
decided she could either fight back, even shoot him if need be, to protect herself, or she could tape his actions and take the proof to the police and the district attorney.
And the whole idea had backfired.
She drew in her shoulders protectively as she recalled Ryan’s rage when he’d discovered what she’d done. Not only had he hurt her, he’d destroyed the evidence by smashing all of the equipment.
A week later he was dead.
Burned in a horrid fire.
And she’d been accused of his murder.
Now, as she wandered the grounds with the dog, she thought about the weird symbols that Detective Paterno had shown her and of course she thought of Mary Beth and Dani.
Headlights flashed along the drive.
Her heart sank.
“Oh, no,” she whispered, believing the two detectives had returned. But the rumble of the engine sounded deeper than that of the cops’ sedan and within seconds she spotted Travis Settler’s truck roll up the drive.
Relief, a refreshing wave, washed over her and she actually allowed herself a smile. However, as he climbed out of the truck and her stupid heart skipped a beat, she caught herself. She recognized trouble when she saw it. And Travis Settler in his faded jeans, leather jacket and grim, don’t-give-me-any-bullshit expression was pure trouble.
A couple of days’ worth of beard darkened his jaw and whatever was on his mind wasn’t good. “I saw Paterno leaving,” he said, nodding toward the lane. When his eyes found hers again, they were dark, filled with concern. He touched her good shoulder, the pads of his fingers warm through her sleeve. “Are you okay?”
She felt something break inside her, some tiny piece of resistance that she’d kept around her heart. “Are you?” she asked and he almost smiled.
“Don’t know if I’ll ever be.” He ran his free hand around his neck but his other still touched her in that fragile connection. “They told you about Dani’s backpack?”
“Yeah.”
He closed his eyes. The pressure on her arm increased. “If that son of a bitch has done anything to her, I swear, I’ll kill him with my bare hands.”
“Only if you beat me to him,” she said. Their eyes met in the gathering darkness, only the eerie light from the security lamp offering any illumination. She thought of her dream, of nearly making love to a man she thought was this one and though she knew it was silly, felt a little thrill rush through her.
“Who’s this?” he asked, glancing down at the puppy.
“The newest member of my family. Recently dubbed Marilyn.”
Travis almost smiled as he glanced down at the pup.
“Come in and I’ll buy you a beer,” she said.
The almost smile became a partial grin. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
Once they were inside with the kitchen lights blazing, some of the intimacy of their meeting outside faded. She handed him a beer, and, because of the aspirin she’d taken, just sipped one of her own as they sat at the table. She chided herself for being such a romantic ninny, and then forgot about her fantasies altogether as he explained about his phone call from Oregon and the discovery of the van in which, it was theorized, Dani had been abducted. In turn, she told him about her recent meeting with Paterno and Rossi and about Oliver thinking he’d seen Brendan Giles in town, and showed him the weird sketches, which he already knew about. She then told him about Molly and what Nate Santana thought.
Travis frowned at the mention of Santana, but drained his beer and asked to see the horse. Once again, this time with Khan leading the way, she headed outside, across the lot and into the horse barn. A few snorts and whinnies greeted her and several of the animals, ears cocked, swung their heads over the stall doors.
“It seems like forever since that night,” he said, his eyes drawn to the spot where she’d been attacked. Bloodstains still marked the floor.
“A lot has happened.” She unlatched the stall door. “Poor Molly, here, was a victim, too.” Carefully she reached for the buckskin’s halter and showed Travis the mare’s muzzle with its charred whiskers.
Travis’s eyes darkened. His lips compressed. “Bastard,” he whispered. “Damned son of a bitching perverted bastard!” His fists closed for a second and he looked as if he wanted to strike something or someone. She didn’t blame him. They left the stable together. “And you said Giles is back in town?”
“No. I said Oliver thought he saw Brendan. When I pressed him, he backed off. I’ve phoned Brendan’s parents and, big surprise, they haven’t returned the call. I did mention to Paterno that Oliver thought he saw him.”
“Good,” he bit out, but was obviously agitated at the thought of Dani’s biological father being anywhere nearby.
“There’s something else,” she said as they headed across the parking lot to the house. A hint of a breeze slipped through the night, stirring dry leaves and dust in its path. “I found my cell phone. In the truck.” She explained about the calls to Mary Beth and Paterno taking the phone as evidence.
“When did the cell phone get put there?”
“I don’t know. It could have happened when the pickup was parked down by Robert’s house during the fire. There were tons of people around and then, as you know, I had to leave the truck on the street.”
Travis turned to look at her vehicle sitting in its usual spot. “Where exactly did you find the phone? Show me.”
“Sure.” She crossed the lot to the truck, yanked open the door and pointed to the seat. “Under there.”
“Got a flashlight?”
“Sure…Why?”
“I just want to poke around,” he said cryptically as she reached into the glove box and retrieved the tool in question. She handed it to him and he clicked it on, then shined the beam under the seat.
“What do you think you’re going to find?”
“Probably nothing, but I hope the son of a bitch screwed up and left something that we might be able to trace to him.”
“The police didn’t look in here.”
“They didn’t believe you, did they?”
He didn’t lift his head, just rummaged around and pulled out an old road map, a few French fries, a magazine and a small plastic box. “This yours?” he asked, holding it up to the light.
Shannon squinted. “I don’t think so. What is it?”
“A tape.”
Her heart stopped. “You mean like a cassette? The kind you can record on?”
“That’s right.” His voice was grave and he stared at the cassette as if it were a demon straight from hell. “You got a player?”
“Yeah…on the stereo. It’s old.” She was already half-running toward the house, dread pounding through her. Instinctively she knew the recording was important, probably a message from the killer. “Should we call the police?”
“Not yet. It could be nothing, something someone left inadvertently, like old songs they recorded. We don’t want to call Paterno over to listen to bad copies of Bon Jovi or Madonna or the Dixie Chicks.”
“That’s not what it is,” she said, her voice low as she opened the cabinet to the old stereo. Travis knelt before the system. He’d barely touched the sides of the tape all the while he’d looked it over and now he slipped it into the machine.
A few seconds later a girl’s voice came through the speakers.
“Mommy, help me! Please, Mommy. I’m scared. Come and get me. I don’t know where I am and I think he’s going to hurt me!
“Please, Mommy. Hurry!”
Chapter 24
All the blood drained from Shannon’s head. She felt faint. She knew the truth, realized what she was hearing even before Travis stated flatly, “It’s Dani. That’s her voice.”
Shannon placed a palm against the wall, steadying herself. Travis squatted before the stereo, frozen. His face was pale as death, his eyes dark with rage. Swearing pungently, he slammed a fist on the table. Pictures rattled and fell. “Goddamn son of a bitch,” he hissed through teeth clenched tight and lips tha
t barely moved. He turned his eyes on Shannon.
“She’s alive.” Tears streamed down Shannon’s face at the sound of her daughter’s voice. Inside she was shredding, dying to meet the child she hadn’t set eyes on in thirteen years. “But there’s something else, another sound,” she said, cut to the bone as she recognized the familiar rumble.
“Fire. He’s got her near fire.”
“Oh, God. Oh, God.” She was shaking, her mind spinning, her emotions in tatters. Seeing Dani’s picture had scraped the edges of her soul, but this, hearing her child’s voice, knowing she was out there somewhere, in the clutches of a madman while pleading to her mother for help, the mother who had abandoned her all those years ago. Shannon placed a fist to her mouth and tried not to sob.
Mommy, help me! Please, Mommy. I’m scared. Come and get me. I don’t know where I am and I think he’s going to hurt me! Please, Mommy. Hurry!
The words ran over and over in her head. “Jesus,” she whispered, swiping at her nose, feeling as if everything she believed in, everything she trusted, had been stripped from her. Out in the darkness, alone, was her daughter, held hostage and trapped near flames.
She let out a cry and Travis moved closer, placed his arms around her, forced her against his chest where she broke down completely, her fingers curling in the edges of his shirt, her tears staining the soft fabric, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably.
Strong arms surrounded her, held her tight as she squeezed her eyes against the rain of tears, the pain of it all.
“Shhh,” he whispered and one hand gently stroked the back of her head.
It only made it worse. How he must be aching. How he must be breaking bit by bit.
“I…I…Oh, God, Travis, I’m so sorry,” she whispered losing her battle for control.
“It’s not your fault.”
“Of course it is. If it weren’t for me, he wouldn’t have taken her. She was calling out to me, did you hear that? To me! Her mother. But why? She doesn’t know me. No…Now I see. He’s making her say those things. Staging what he wants her to say, by the sound of a fire that he was sure we’d recognize. Then…then…leaving the recording in my truck so that I would know, I would feel her pain…Oh, my God…” Her knees gave out and he held her upright.
