Devil's Lake (Bittersweet Hollow Book 1)

by Aaron Paul Lazar

  Chapter 21

  Portia woke the next morning after a restless night of playing tug-o-war with Grace and the comforter. She’d insisted on spending the night with her, and Portia hadn’t argued. It felt good to have her sister close.

  Grace stood on the other side of the room, looking out the window. Portia watched the sun play over her sister’s freshly washed hair. The soft morning breeze rippled her thin bathrobe. It flapped in the freshening draft, and Portia was surprised to see Grace wore nothing beneath it.

  Grace had worn sweats to bed the night before, and Portia realized that since her sister’s hair was still wet, and she’d tossed a damp towel over the chair in the corner, she must’ve just wrapped herself in this flimsy housecoat after getting out of the shower.

  Grace stared down at the yard, so intent on the object of her interest, she didn’t hear Portia stir.

  The girl dropped her robe and stood naked in the sunlight. Portia’s immediate thought was how supple and healthy Grace looked, how she’d filled out in all the right places, and how different she looked from the drug-addicted girl two years ago.

  Although surprised at her sister’s casual behavior, she couldn’t help but compare her own emaciated body with Grace’s. Where her hips softly swelled beneath her waist, Portia’s bones stuck out. Grace’s golden hair hung softly on creamy-looking shoulders, where Portia’s shoulders were…different.

  Quietly, she got up and padded to her sister’s side, following her gaze down to the barnyard.

  Boone stood in the paddock, tossing hay to the mares crowding around him. It was barely seven in the morning, but it seemed he’d been at work for a while. His blue tee shirt was soaked along the back and under the arms. Both girls stood and watched him work, his muscles rippling beneath the shirt, his shaggy hair blowing in the breeze.

  When he glanced up at the window, at first Grace didn’t move away.

  Portia inhaled sharply, grabbing her sister’s arm. “Move back! He’ll see you.”

  Grace’s lips slid into a smile. “I know.” She slowly moved back. “He’s a real hunk, isn’t he?”

  Portia grimaced. She tightened Grace’s robe around her, tying the belt into a bow. “For goodness sakes, Grace. Get a grip. You’re a married woman.”

  Grace trilled a laugh. “I know. I’m not sleeping with Boone. I just like thinking about it.”

  “What?” Portia stifled a laugh. “That’s horrible!”

  “Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you never fantasized in your old life. About some guy you saw, who was maybe already taken?”

  “I—” Portia couldn’t remember how she felt before it all happened. Before he took her, before he tied her to the bed, day after day, night after night. Before he took her soul.

  “Don’t tell me you never thought about it?”

  Portia collapsed onto the side of the bed, running her fingers through her dark copper hair. “I honestly can’t remember. My life before…it seems like it belonged to someone else. I can hardly remember college. Or high school. Or any of it.”

  “Do you remember me?”

  “Of course I do. I remember how hard life was for you back then.”

  Grace slid onto the bed beside Portia, laying her wet head on the pillow and sighing. “You had no idea.”

  Portia tried to rise above her own self-pity and took Grace’s hand. “What do you mean?”

  “I did some horrible things back then. Stuff you guys never knew about.” A panicked look came over her face. “I’m lucky I wasn’t murdered or put in jail.”

  “You’re exaggerating, right?”

  “No.” Grace slumped further against the pillow, her voice muffled. “I sold myself for money once. And another time, I stole drugs and money from a dealer.”

  Portia sat still, digesting her words.

  “Do you hate me?” Grace asked, tugging on her sister’s hand.

  “Of course not. You just took me off guard, hon. I can’t picture you doing that. I never knew it was that bad.”

  “Oh, it was. I was a real lost cause. I used to try to seduce Boone to get money.”

  “Really?” One of Portia’s eyebrows lifted.

  “Really. But he never gave me a penny. All he did was give me a ride to the rehab center, after he squealed to Dad about me.”

  Portia smiled. “He’s a good man.”

  “Yeah. I guess. Gorgeous, too.”

  “I suppose.”

  “You may not see it now,” Grace said. “But he’s in love with you.”

  “What in God’s name are you talking about?”

  “It’s the way he looks at you. And doesn’t look at you. I have a sense about these things. He’s got it bad.”

  Portia stood, shaking off her sister’s hand. “You’re delusional. I’m damaged goods. No man will ever look at me. And I’ll never be able to stand being alone with a man ever again.” She closed her eyes, feeling the walls closing in on her. “Maybe I’ll just become a nun or something.”

  “A nun?”

  “I don’t know. Either that or an old spinster. The kind who rocks on her porch and scares little kids, she’s so mean and ugly.”

  “Mean and ugly?” Grace laughed. “That’s too hard for me to picture. Besides. You’re not damaged goods to Boone. And I think he’d wait forever for you.” She sat up, stretched, and walked over to her sister’s side, taking both her hands in hers. “You know what else I think?”

  Portia started to pull away, closing off the topic. “What?”

  “Look at me, Portia.”

  She locked eyes with Grace. “What?”

  “I think you and I are both going to be okay. We’ll help each other. We’ll get through this.”

  “You think it’s possible?”

  Grace smiled, pulling her sister into a close hug. “I do. I love you, sis. And I know you love me.”

  “I always thought you hated me.”

  “I did. For a while. Then I came to my senses and grew up. Sort of.”

  “You did. You’re amazing now.”

  Grace’s lips curled into a sad smile. “Wanna know what made me miss you the most?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’d been missing you, searching for you, helping Mom through the whole thing, year after year.” She took a deep breath. “But the worst was my wedding. I couldn’t help but feel this horrible, big hole in my heart when you weren’t my maid of honor.”

  Tears trickled down Portia’s cheeks and her face crumpled. Grace gently wiped the tears away. “No, hon. Don’t cry. We’re together now. I’ll show you my wedding dress and all the pictures. I’ll tell you about every magical, bittersweet moment. Okay?”

  Portia smiled through tears that wouldn’t stop. “I’d like that very much,” she said, and pulled her sister closer. “I love you, Gracie.”

  “Back atcha, Sweet Pea.”

  “You haven’t called me that since we were little kids.”

  Grace grinned. “I know. Remember you used to call me Baby Cakes?”

  Portia laughed through her tears. “Oh, gosh. I’d forgotten. Baby Cakes. Can I still call you that?”

  “Long as I can call you Sweet Pea.”

  Grace laid her forehead against Portia’s. “You’ve got a deal.”

  Chapter 22

  Portia came out of the shower half an hour later, pulling her hair into a loose ponytail with a stray band she found in the medicine cabinet. He’d never let her wear her hair any way other than loose and long on her shoulders.

  She found her parents waiting in the bedroom. Their tight-lipped expressions made her stop mid-stride.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  Her father stepped forward, looking nervously through the window and driveway below. “The Sheriff’s here, honey. He wants to ask you some questions.”

  She froze, hot acid rising in her throat. “What the hell do I tell them, Dad?” She turned to her mother. “Mom?”

  Her mother hurried toward her. She wrapped her arms
around Portia’s shoulders and searched her eyes. “You tell them the truth, but leave out the location and the truck. That way, if you did…er…kill Murphy, they won’t be able to find him or charge you. And they won’t be able to get you for the truck theft, either. Just tell them you escaped from a cabin in the woods.”

  Her father stepped forward. “You don’t know where he kept you. Just that it was the woods somewhere in Wisconsin. You ran and ran, you hitched rides, and you got here by the skin of your teeth. We’ve all got the story down, princess. Just keep it simple.”

  She let out a long breath. “Okay. I escaped. I hitched home from somewhere in Wisconsin.”

  Her father nodded. “Yes. Keep it simple. I don’t want you going to jail for murder. Not with this crazy legal system we’ve got now. Every time you turn around, the innocent are getting punished for shooting some intruder in their own homes, and the criminals are protected.” He swiped a hand over his face. “Well. Not in my family. You’re gonna be safe, princess.”

  Portia squared her shoulders. “Okay. I think I’ve got it.”

  Her mother linked arms with her. “Everyone’s been briefed, including Boone. Just stick to the facts. No elaboration. You’ll be okay.”

  ***

  Boone watched Portia and her parents descend the stairs. He’d already been questioned and kept his responses simple and short, just like the Lamonts suggested. No, he didn’t know what had happened. Portia hadn’t said much. She’d just shown up on the kitchen porch.

  His heart squeezed when the frail girl entered the living room where Anderson sat with the Sheriff and his deputy. He’d been talking politics with them, and had shown an uncanny ability to get them off the topic of Portia. Anderson had played down her return with great skill.

  “That President of ours is destroying this country!” Deputy Mills circled the living room with his hands waving in the air. “Do you know how much me and Miranda are paying for health care today? Almost a thousand dollars a month! And that’s not counting all the copays we gotta fork over for prescriptions and hospital visits. If you’d told me ten years ago I’d be paying more than half my salary for health care, I woulda laughed in your face.”

  Boone watched the young man with the shock of red hair gesticulating and ranting. Anderson had really gotten him going.

  Anderson stood with his arms around Grace, who’d just set a tray with coffee and cookies on the chest in front of the couch. He nodded to Portia and her parents. “Well, I agree, Deputy Mills. But looks like our dear Portia is ready to chat with you.”

  The Sheriff, who’d been sitting in the armchair staring at his notes, glanced up. “Ah. Miss Lamont. It’s a real pleasure to see you back home. We’ve been looking for you for a long time.”

  Portia paled, wobbled against her father, and sank onto the couch between both parents, who draped their arms protectively across her shoulders. “Thank you, Sheriff. I’m just glad to be home.”

  Boone wondered about her ragged tone of voice. Could she pull off the story? Would they suspect her of anything? With all his might, he willed her to be strong. To stay safe. To keep out of jail.

  Sheriff Dunne stood and came forward, tipping his hat and then offering a hand to her. “Welcome back.”

  She touched her limp fingers to his, releasing a long sigh. “Thank you. But I have to warn you, it’s still really hard to talk about what happened. It’s all too fresh.”

  He backed up and sat down again, pulling a pencil from his breast pocket. “Understandable. But if you want us to catch the guy who hurt you, you’ll have to tell us everything you can.”

  Portia leaned back against the couch. “I’ll try.”

  Daisy sat up, and Boone felt a tug of love for her, too. She was so brave. Such a great mother.

  “Sheriff, my daughter’s been through hell and back. She’s a wreck. If we could keep this short and simple, it’d be best for her today. As more and more details come back to her, we can call you. We’ll keep you up to date.”

  Sheriff Dunne wiped a handkerchief across his brow. “We’ll try to make this as painless as possible. Let’s start with the night of the abduction.” He looked over the tops of his bifocals, his eyes riveted on Portia. “You were abducted, right? That’s what Boone and your sister said.”

  Dirk interrupted with an angry outburst. “For crying out loud, Sheriff. We’ve told you—hell, I told you for two years in a row—that she was taken from us! Why do you still have to act so damned suspicious?”

  “Sorry, Dirk. Didn’t mean to doubt you.” The Sheriff nodded to him, then around the room to the family. “I know it’s been hard. And I realize we’ve had to ask questions that upset you. We’ve just been trying to do our job.”

  Grace stood beside Anderson, leaning against him with one arm around his waist. She suddenly straightened and huffed. “Your job? Your fucking job was to find her! And you didn’t! You stopped looking for her, Sheriff. You told us you thought she ran away. That she didn’t want to be found. And that really pissed us off.”

  Daisy’s eyes flew toward her youngest daughter. “Grace, please!”

  Boone smiled. “Grace’s right, Sheriff. You kinda lost interest after a while.”

  Deputy Mills ran a hand through his short red hair. “Hey, let’s calm down here. Maybe you folks have a point. Well, of course you do. But let’s move forward. We’ll ask our questions and be outta your hair soon. Right, Sheriff?”

  Sheriff Dunne’s shoulders dropped a quarter inch. “Of course. Let’s get on with business.” He turned to Portia. “Sorry, Miss Lamont. Can you describe the guy?”

  She answered readily. Boone noticed her description wasn’t as detailed as before. Good. If he’s dead, it’ll be harder to link her to his murder. If he’s not…well, later we can tell them more.

  “Why don’t you just tell us what happened on the day you disappeared?” Sheriff Dunne said.

  Portia handled this part well. She’d already told it to the whole family earlier, and the second time through, the words seemed to come more readily. She went through the events that led up to her abduction, then stopped for a breather, leaning against her father’s shoulder.

  The Sheriff scribbled for a while, then turned to her. “Good job. Now, did the man pay for his plants with cash or credit?”

  She answered readily. “Cash.”

  The Sheriff noted it down. “Damn. No credit card to trace, I guess.”

  Portia nodded. “No.”

  “Where did he keep you?”

  Portia paled, now it was getting tricky. “A cabin in the woods. Windows all boarded up. Doors always bolted. I think it was somewhere in northern Wisconsin.”

  “Town name? Street names?”

  Portia faced him straight on, and it was at this point Boone knew she’d be able to hold her own. “I escaped in the middle of the night, Sheriff. I ran for my life through the woods, afraid he would follow me. I ended up on a lonely road. Hitched a ride with a fisherman, then went from truck stop to truck stop on the highway to make it home. It’s all a blur. I just remember a few signs. One for Chicago. One for Milwaukee. I think.”

  “Maybe we can study a map later on, see if any of the towns jog your memory.” The Sheriff added notes to his book. “At any time, did he mention his name? Did you see any mail? Hear him talking on the phone?”

  “No.” She lowered her eyes, and Boone saw her fingers tighten on her father’s hand.

  Daisy spoke up. “But we’re worried, Sheriff. He’s a real possessive sort. Portia’s afraid he might try to come get her again. Exact some sort of revenge for her leaving him. You know?”

  The Sheriff stood and paced, glancing out the window. “That so? Did he ever threaten you with that?”

  Portia shrank into the couch. “Yes. He did.” She closed her eyes as if reciting from memory. “He said if I ever left him, he’d find me, and kill me slowly.” She shuddered. “Those were his exact words.”

  Deputy Mills leaned forward. “He doesn’t
know where you live, does he?”

  Portia’s eyes filled with tears, and all Boone wanted to do was gather her in his arms and take her away, far away from it all.

  “Yes. He followed the stories in the papers. Clipped the articles about it. He loved reading their accounts about how I disappeared.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “And he’d laugh. Talk about how much smarter he was than the police.”

  Sheriff Dunne bristled. “Well, he may be smart, but we’ve got God on our side. We’ll find this bastard, Miss Lamont. We’ll find him, arrest him, and make him pay for what he’s done to you and your family.”

  In spite of the fact that Boone was worried for Portia—seriously afraid she might have committed murder in self-defense—he realized he liked this guy. “Sheriff,” he said. “Anything we can do to help, you just let us know. We want him behind bars more than you’ll ever know.”

  Deputy Mills narrowed his eyes, doubting Boone’s right to be there. “You part of the family, son?”

  Boone stood his ground. “Hey. I’ve known Portia since she was a little kid. We used to ride the hills together. And my family’s been friends with the Lamonts forever. They went through hell when she was taken. And if you need a hand, you can deputize me on the spot. I’m one helluva shot.”

  The Sheriff sent a nod in his direction. “Thank you, Boone. We’ll keep that in mind. Now, Miss Lamont. How do you think this guy targeted you? Did he you watch you? Plan it for a long time? Or do you think it was on impulse?”

  Portia looked him straight in the eye. “He told me he’d been trolling for the right woman, Sheriff. He kept the chloroform in his truck, and he’d been searching for the past few weeks, driving from state to state. He said—” Her voice broke and she stopped for a minute. “He said when he saw me, he knew I was ‘the one.’”

  Sheriff Dunne grimaced. “Crap. Sounds like a lunatic.”

  Portia’s face tightened. “You’ve got that right.”

  Mills flipped a page in his notebook and interrupted. “What the hell did he do to you, anyway, Miss? Why couldn’t you get away?”

  Before Portia could answer—Doc Hardy entered the room, black bag in hand and a worried expression on his kindly face. “Mills, you’re an idiot. Look at the scars on her wrists and ankles. The monster tied her up.”