Without a Trace

by Amanda Stevens

  A former model, Lauren Cavanaugh was a tall, pale blonde with expensive tastes and a distant nature. She gave Rae’s jeans and T-shirt a dismissive once-over as she accepted a mineral water from her husband. He sprawled on the sofa beside her, weary and anxious and yet somehow still defensive. Even under such distressing circumstances, the two made a striking couple. Rae’s light brown hair and freckles came from her mother’s side of the family while Jackson had inherited their father’s height and dark good looks.

  Rae went over and kissed her dad’s cheek. As always, he smelled of fresh-cut grass with a hint of witch hazel. She drew in the scent, taking comfort in the familiar. The leather furniture, the paintings on the wall, all those well-loved books...

  How she wished she could go back in time, to a point where Sophie was safe and sound and everything else was mundane. Maybe even further back so that she could see Riley one last time.

  “I’m glad you’re here, Rae.” Her father patted her shoulder.

  She straightened, her gaze moving from her father to her brother. The tension was as thick and choking as smoke. “I came as soon as I could. What’s going on? Has there been news of Sophie?”

  “Yes, we have news.” West took her hand. “Brace yourself, honey. We’ve received a ransom demand.”

  * * *

  AFTER LEAVING RAE’S HOUSE, Tom drove straight back to the station. The morning remained hot and sunny, and yet an eerie pall had settled over the town. Sophie Cavanaugh’s disappearance had stirred a lot of bad memories in Belle Pointe. A lot of old fears and suspicions had been resurrected.

  Tom wasn’t immune. He’d been fighting a sense of déjà vu ever since Rae had reported her niece missing. He didn’t want to believe Sophie’s disappearance had anything to do with the incident fifteen years ago, but someone had picked the night of a blood moon to lure her to the Ruins. Surely not Preacher after all these years, but someone with knowledge of the past. Someone who knew the significance of the eclipse.

  He itched to be out combing the countryside with his deputies. He felt powerless behind a desk, but if Sophie Cavanaugh didn’t turn up soon, a million details would have to be coordinated. The investigation had to be done right. He couldn’t afford to get careless.

  Taking a momentary break, he leaned back in his chair and glanced outside. He could see the street from his desk. Traffic was light for a weekday morning. Little wonder. People who had heard the news would be staying close to home. Parents would want to keep an eye on their kids. Imagining themselves in a similar situation would strike cold terror in their hearts.

  Tom’s gaze lit on a solitary figure in the park across the street. Dylan Moody had been sitting on a bench in the shade of a pecan tree for the past ten minutes. He’d obviously ditched school. Maybe he just needed some time to himself, but the proximity of the park to the station led Tom to wonder if Sophie Cavanaugh’s boyfriend was trying to work up the courage to come in. Tom thought about walking over and confronting him, but then he decided it might be better to let the boy stew for a while.

  “Sheriff?”

  He glanced up to find his civilian assistant hovering in the doorway. “What is it, Angie?”

  She angled her head toward the squad room. “You’ve got a visitor. Says his name is Blaine Fenton.”

  Tom glanced through the glass partition to the front of the building, where a dark-haired man paced nervously. He looked vaguely familiar, but Tom couldn’t place him.

  “Did he say what he wanted?”

  Angie looked worried. “Says he needs to talk to you about the Cavanaugh girl.”

  “You’d better send him in, then.” Tom turned back to the window. Dylan Moody was still out there, sitting hunched over as if he had a bad stomachache. What are you hiding, kid? What had him all torn up inside?

  As if drawn by Tom’s scrutiny, Dylan glanced across the street at the station. His gaze moved over the brick facade before coming to rest—Tom could have sworn—on his office window. The boy sat transfixed for the longest moment before he finally got up and hurried away, casting a worried look over his shoulder before he disappeared into the trees.

  A shadow appeared in the doorway and Tom tore his gaze from the park.

  The man hovered on the threshold, shuffling his feet as he ran a finger around the brim of his Stetson.

  He’s nervous, Tom thought. “Blaine Fenton?”

  The man cleared his throat. “Thank you for agreeing to see me, Sheriff.”

  Tom swiveled his chair around and leaned an elbow on his desk. “How can I help you?”

  “I’m hoping I can help you.”

  Tom sized him up. “You know something about Sophie Cavanaugh’s disappearance?”

  “Not directly. But I know something.”

  “That’s plenty vague. Everybody knows something.” Tom straightened and motioned to the chair across from his desk. “Maybe you’d better sit down and tell me what’s on your mind.”

  The man took a seat and placed his hat on the floor beside his chair. He looked to be in his late thirties, tall and fit with the air of a man accustomed to hard work. He wore jeans, boots and a plaid shirt with pearl snaps up the front. Ordinary attire for Nance County.

  “You may not know this, but our dads used to be friends,” he said. “Pop always spoke highly of the sheriff. He said Porter Brannon was one of the finest men he ever knew.”

  “That’s always nice to hear,” Tom said. “What’s your dad’s name?”

  “Bill Fenton. He owns a small ranch north of here. Part of his property borders the Cavanaugh spread. We’re small potatoes by comparison, but we always got on well with the family. Jackson and I played baseball together when we were kids and I used to ride horses with Rae. Sometimes Riley would tag along. Real sweet kid. Shame what happened to her.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  The man’s thoughts seemed to drift for a moment before he reined in his focus. “After I left the military, I worked for the Cavanaughs for a time.”

  “I get it,” Tom said. “You go back a long way with the family.”

  Blaine Fenton nodded. “About two years ago, Pop got bad sick. Lung cancer. No insurance. The medical bills piled up quick. He went to West Cavanaugh and offered to sell him the water rights to a parcel of land the family had been trying to buy for years. Cavanaugh had the papers drawn up and my dad signed them. It wasn’t until they started moving heavy drilling equipment onto the land that Pop realized he’d also signed away the oil and gas rights. This happened just months before the discovery became public of the new natural gas deposits in the Haynesville-Bossier Shale.”

  Tom gave him a long scrutiny. “You think West Cavanaugh knew about the discovery before he signed those papers?”

  “Of course he knew.” Bitterness crept into Blaine Fenton’s voice. “Why else would he have slipped that clause into the contracts?”

  “Didn’t your dad have an attorney look over the paperwork before he signed?”

  Fenton’s lips thinned as his tone sharpened. “Yes. An attorney recommended by West Cavanaugh. You have to consider how sick Pop was back then. Between the chemo and radiation, he wasn’t thinking clearly, and the Cavanaughs took advantage of his frailty.”

  “Where were you during this time?”

  A look flashed across the man’s face that Tom couldn’t name. Could have been guilt. Could have been annoyance at a perceived implication. “I’d been living out west for a few years. I came home as soon as I found out about Pop’s illness.”

  Tom fiddled with a pen on his desk. “Sounds like your family has had a rough go of it and I’m sorry about that. But what does any of this have to do with Sophie Cavanaugh’s disappearance?”

  “I’m getting to that.” Outwardly, Fenton’s nerves appeared to be under control, but beneath his calm surface, he was still a man on edge. “After I found out what happened,
I hired an attorney willing to take our case on contingency. She’s believed all along that we have a good chance in court. Folks around here don’t appreciate anyone taking advantage of the elderly. Or anyone swindling a sick man out of hundreds of thousands of dollars by one of their neighbors. Having public opinion on our side means a sympathetic jury pool.”

  “Still waiting for your point,” Tom said.

  Fenton leaned in. “After more than a year of delays and mediation, the case is set to go to trial next month. Just weeks away from the court date and Sophie Cavanaugh disappears, reminding people of what happened to West Cavanaugh’s youngest daughter. All of a sudden, sympathy shifts to his side.”

  “Let me see if I follow,” Tom said slowly. “You think West Cavanaugh had his own granddaughter abducted in order to sway public opinion?”

  “Yes. That’s exactly what I think. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not suggesting he’d have the girl harmed. She’s probably stashed away in some fancy spa or maybe out on the ranch somewhere. She’ll turn up in a few days none the worse for the wear. The family will keep her out of the public eye until after the trial so that imaginations can run wild. In the meantime, they’ll use all their resources, including their kin at the Echo Lake Star, to smear my dad and challenge his mental state. People forget that the Cavanaughs have a stake in the local paper, so they don’t always see the bias.”

  “Maybe you’re not giving people around here enough credit. And maybe you’re placing too much importance on a small-town weekly,” Tom said. “No one relies on local newspapers anymore.”

  “People who serve on juries do.”

  Tom allowed that he might have a point.

  Blaine Fenton scowled across the desk. “Think about how they used to go after your dad. Sheriff Brannon could never catch a break. Nothing he did was ever good enough. That paper hammered him for years and you know damn well West Cavanaugh was behind those attacks. I always tried to give the old man a break for his bitterness. Losing a child like that...” He shook his head. “But now I think he went after your dad because Porter Brannon couldn’t be bought. And the Cavanaughs will do the same thing to you if you don’t watch your back.”

  Tom thought about all the nasty rumors and innuendos that had been launched by his political opponent and the heated rhetoric that had been sanctioned on the editorial pages of the Echo Lake Star. All through that campaign, Tom had had to remind himself that politics was a dirty business and he couldn’t allow himself to take any of it personally. But he was only human. The attack on his character had stung. He knew firsthand how brutal the Cavanaughs could be when they viewed you as the enemy. Even so, he didn’t want to attach too much credence to Blaine Fenton’s theory. The man obviously harbored a grudge and everything he said had to be filtered through that lens. Yet a seed of doubt had been planted.

  “It’s an interesting theory,” Tom said. “But that’s all it is. Not much I can do without hard evidence.”

  “You can keep an open mind,” Fenton said. “That’s all I’m asking.”

  Tom sat back in his chair. “Are you sure you aren’t trying to stir up trouble because of an old grudge?”

  “I’m not stirring up anything. I haven’t said a word to anyone else about my concerns. But it’s been on my mind ever since I heard about the girl’s disappearance. I figured I needed to come in and say my piece. Whatever happens now is out of my hands.” He picked up his hat and stood. “Thank you for your time, Sheriff.”

  Tom rose, too. “Leave your contact information with my assistant in case I need to get in touch with you.”

  Fenton hesitated. “I don’t know why you would. I’ve told you everything I know. I’d as soon my name is kept out of it. People might assume as you did that I have an ax to grind.” He paused as another frown flashed. “Just don’t make the mistake of underestimating West Cavanaugh. He’s done a lot of good in Nance County, fooled a lot of people, but my father learned the hard way that he’s as ruthless as they come. And from what I can tell, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

  Tom leaned a hip against the corner of his desk. “Are you now suggesting Jackson Cavanaugh had something to do with his daughter’s disappearance?”

  “I wasn’t talking about Jackson.”

  The insinuation blindsided Tom, though he wasn’t sure why. “You think Rae Cavanaugh is somehow involved?”

  Fenton said grimly, “Put it this way, Sheriff. Jackson doesn’t have the smarts or the stomach to pull off something like this. I grew up with those kids, and in my experience, people don’t change that much. Riley was the sweet one, Jackson was the hothead and Rae was always one step ahead of everyone else.”

  Rae was smart, no question, but Tom couldn’t imagine her having anything to do with her niece’s disappearance. She’d been genuinely distressed when she called last night and even more so this morning. Or was she that good of an actress?

  Fenton gave him a knowing look. “Don’t let that pretty smile fool you, Sheriff. Way down deep, Rae Cavanaugh’s every bit as cunning as her old man.”

  Chapter Five

  Rae stared at her father in stunned disbelief. A ransom demand had never entered her mind. She supposed she’d subconsciously melded Sophie’s disappearance with Riley’s. In her sister’s case, there had never been any communication with the abductor, much less a final resolution. The day Riley went missing had started out as any other and then she was just...gone.

  But a ransom demand implied that Sophie could still be alive.

  Tears flooded Rae’s eyes, but she blinked them away and tried to remain resolute. Kidnappings for ransom didn’t always turn out well, either. So many things could go wrong. But Sophie had been gone for less than a day. Tom Brannon said they still had time. Rae clung to that.

  “When? How? What are the demands?”

  “The call came in on the landline just before Jackson arrived,” West said. “I was here alone. The caller used one of those electronic gizmos to disguise his voice. I couldn’t tell if I was speaking to a man or a woman. Whoever called demanded a cool million in twenty-four hours for Sophie’s safe return.”

  Rae’s stomach knotted with dread. “How do we know it isn’t a hoax? Maybe someone heard about Sophie’s disappearance and is trying to cash in.”

  “We don’t know,” West said. “Not yet. We’ve only had the one call.”

  Rae took a moment to calm her thudding heart. “Twenty-four hours isn’t much time to raise that kind of cash.”

  “But you can do it, right?” Lauren had been silent since Rae arrived. Now she rose and went over to West’s desk, placing her palms on the surface as she leaned in anxiously. “You can get the money. It isn’t that much, really. Not by Cavanaugh standards.”

  “A million dollars is a great deal of money by anyone’s standards,” West snapped. “Contrary to what you seem to think, money doesn’t grow on trees around here.”

  “Dad, please,” Jackson pleaded.

  “Please what?” West demanded.

  Lauren whirled to face Rae, her eyes clouded with anguish. Rae had never seen her sister-in-law’s facade slip, but something that might have been fear clawed its way up to that cool, placid surface. “There must be something you can do. Holdings that you can liquidate. Lines of credit that you can tap into. Don’t tell me there isn’t a way!”

  “Let’s just try to stay calm.” Rae was scared, too, but she deliberately kept her tone even. “I’ll talk to the bank if that’s how we want to play it. We should also call Sheriff Brannon. He needs to know about this.”

  “No cops.” West was blunt and adamant. “The son of a bitch said he’d kill Sophie if we involve the authorities.”

  Lauren gasped. Jackson swore. A cold chill shot through Rae.

  West pressed home his point. “We’ve got to be smart about this. Porter Brannon never did a damn thing to bring Riley home. I’
m not about to put Sophie’s life in the hands of his son.”

  “I don’t think that’s fair,” Rae said. “Tom isn’t his father.”

  Three pairs of eyes stared her down. No one said anything for a long, tense moment and then her father’s gaze narrowed. “What did you say?”

  Rae wavered in the face of her father’s hostility, but she didn’t back down. “Just because Porter Brannon couldn’t find Riley doesn’t mean Tom won’t find Sophie.”

  Jackson stepped forward, fists clenched at his sides. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing. What is wrong with you? Don’t you remember anything about the night our little sister went missing? Tom was supposed to be watching those girls, but instead he left them alone while he went out partying. What happened to Riley was his fault.”

  Rae took a breath. “Then what happened to Sophie is my fault.”

  She hadn’t really expected Jackson to leap to her defense, but the white-hot fury in his eyes shook her to the core. “Damn right it’s your fault. If anything happens to my daughter, I will never forgive you.”

  “That’s enough,” West said. “It doesn’t help Sophie if we turn on each other. We need to keep our heads on straight, so we don’t make any stupid mistakes.”

  “I’m sorry,” Rae said.

  Jackson turned away with a shrug.

  Rae dropped down onto an armchair. She’d been bracing for the confrontation with her brother ever since she’d discovered Sophie missing from her room, but nothing could have truly prepared her for Jackson’s scorn. She told herself he was just scared. Even without the history of a missing sister, any parent would be terrified in his place. But Riley had to be on his mind. She was on everyone’s mind. If he needed to take his fears out on Rae, then so be it.

  But there was something about his behavior that struck a wrong note. Yes, he was scared, but he also seemed jittery, as if he’d mainlined a gallon of black coffee. He couldn’t be still. He sat down on the sofa only to pop back up a moment later to pace to the window. Lauren watched with hooded eyes, her gaze keen and calculating. For whatever reason, Rae’s mind went back over the accounting discrepancies she’d found recently. Invoices from companies she couldn’t track down. Cattle bought and sold without proper documentation. She didn’t like where her thoughts were headed, so she forced her attention back to her father. He sat back down at his desk and stared at the phone as if he could somehow will it to ring.