“Are you sure Sophie didn’t say anything about going out to the Ruins on Thursday night?”
“No. I knew it was her turn, but I didn’t know when she would go.”
“She never said anything about making a new acquaintance? You haven’t seen any strangers lurking around town or school?”
She shook her head.
“And you’re sure you have no idea who the fourth player is?”
“I told you, I thought it was Sophie.”
Craig nodded. “Okay. Thanks for coming in.” To her mother, he said, “Keep an eye on her. Make sure she doesn’t leave the house without you knowing. Everyone needs to take precautions until we get to the bottom of what happened.” He pulled out his card and handed it to her. “If either of you think of anything else, give me a call. In the meantime, stick around town in case we have more questions.”
“Detective?” Hannah stood. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Shoot.”
“Is Dylan a suspect?”
Craig gave her a direct look. “Everyone in Sophie’s life is a suspect at this point. The two of you probably know her better than her own family knows her. Dylan was with her on the night she went missing and you may be the last person who spoke with her. That makes you both material witnesses. You may not think you know anything that can help us find her, but small details and seemingly irrelevant pieces of information are often how we figure out what happened. You need to think back to that last conversation. Try to remember the nuances. It’s possible Sophie said something to you that could help us break this case.”
She gave him a solemn nod. “I’ll do my best, Detective Jarvis. Whatever it takes to find Sophie.”
After she and her mother left the interrogation room, Craig lifted a quizzical brow at the window. Tom also had doubts about some of Hannah’s responses. Like Dylan, she’d projected an accommodating demeanor, but it had taken her even less time to turn on him. Tom didn’t trust either of those kids or their innuendos about the other.
What better way to hide a conspiracy than by casting aspersions on one’s partner in crime?
Chapter Ten
Shaken by that second phone call, Rae spent the rest of the morning at the ranch with her father and brother, determined to sit tight until they received further instructions from the kidnappers. That was assuming another call would be forthcoming. Doubts plagued her. What if the ransom demand was a ruse intended to keep the family from looking for Sophie until it was too late?
On and on Rae’s mind spun until she became so agitated that the slightest sound caused her to jump. Her father’s disposition was no better. He watched the phone on his desk with an almost unblinking focus while Jackson’s mood alternated between rage and despair. Rae wasn’t unsympathetic to her brother’s anguish, but her patience could stretch only so far. He seemed determined to take his fury out on her, and the incessant carping wore on her nerves until she found herself sniping back at him.
He wasn’t wrong. Sophie should never have been able to sneak out of the house so easily. Rae should have kept a closer watch. But her brother wasn’t without fault, either. He’d literally dropped Sophie on Rae’s doorstep on his way out of town. He’d not only expected her to keep an eye on his teenage daughter, but also to take up the slack at work. Rae accepted her part of the blame, but she would allow herself to be a punching bag for only so long before she fought back.
“Rae?”
She started. Jackson had left the room for a bit and the silence had lulled her. Despite her chaotic thoughts, she’d almost drifted off to sleep. “Yes, Dad?”
“Go into town and get us something to eat.”
The request surprised her. “Dad, there’s a ton of food in the kitchen. If you don’t want leftovers, Jetta can whip up something else.”
“I gave her the day off. I couldn’t stand all that hovering.”
“She’s just trying to help.”
He scowled at Rae. “I know that. But I don’t like to be fussed over. I’m not senile or at death’s door like some folks like to make out.”
Point taken. “Then I guess you don’t want me to fix you anything, either.”
He sighed heavily. “Can you just humor me for once? I want real food. Go get me the blue-plate special at the Corner Café.”
Comfort food, Rae thought. Her father and his cronies often met for lunch at the café to savor Winona Landry’s fried chicken, mashed potatoes and buttermilk biscuits while they argued over local politics. Under normal circumstances, Rae might have tried to steer her father toward a more heart-friendly choice, but the circumstances were far from normal and she wasn’t about to intervene at a time like this. If he wanted fried chicken, so be it.
Jackson came back into the room then and Rae attempted a truce. “I’m making a run into town. Dad wants fried chicken for lunch. What about you? Can I bring you back something?”
He went straight over to the window to stare out. “I’m not hungry.”
“What about for later?”
“I said I wasn’t hungry, but do whatever you want. You always do anyway.” He gave her a surly glance.
Rae bit her tongue. “I won’t be long. I’ll take the kidnappers’ phone with me just in case we get another call.”
Jackson returned his focus to the garden. “Let’s hope you do a better job keeping up with that phone than you did with my daughter.”
Rae wanted so badly to retort, but then she caught her father’s eye. He shook his head slightly as if warning her to back off. She felt instantly ashamed. She was thirty-two years old, educated and accomplished by most standards, yet still in need of an admonishment from her father to do the right thing by her brother.
“Jackson?”
He turned with a scowl.
“I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier. We’re all on edge. But we’ll get through this. We’ll pay the ransom and get Sophie back. Everything will be fine. I really believe that.”
Rather than soothe, her words seemed to grate. His eyes darkened with contempt, but before he could attack, he apparently picked up on the same silent cue from their father. He flexed his hands at his sides and swallowed his anger. “I hope you’re right,” he finally managed.
“We can talk more when I get back if you like.” Okay, that was probably overkill, Rae decided. When had she and Jackson ever had a heart-to-heart? Their fierce competition as children had devolved into a bitter rivalry as adults, one that had driven a wedge so deeply between them that Rae had no idea how to comfort her brother. The birth of his child, the death of his first wife, his promotion to CEO of Cavanaugh Industries—all milestones that Rae had let go by with little more than cursory acknowledgment because Jackson kept pushing her away.
How had things gone so wrong in their family when they’d once been so close?
Rae pondered that painful question as she pulled onto the highway. If she had to pinpoint the beginning of the rift, she would guess it to be a moment shortly before her mother’s death. They all knew the end was near and had gathered around her hospital bed to say their goodbyes. Jackson couldn’t take it. He’d fled the room, but they could hear his sobs from the hallway. Their father had gone after him and Rae had pretended not to overhear the ensuing conversation. Yet every now and then West’s harsh words came back to her. Stop it! You hear me? Wipe your nose and stand up straight. This is no time to lose control. You’re a man now. That’s not how we act. Their mother had squeezed Rae’s hand as if to say, Take care of him, Rae. Your brother will need you when I’m gone. Riley, too. We all know you’re the strong one.
Jackson had never been the same after that day. It was almost as if he had to prove his strength to himself and to everyone around him, especially to Rae.
Tears stung her eyes at the memory and at the lost relationship with her brother. She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. This
is no time to lose control.
Just get the food and head straight home. Be there for your family whether they want you around or not.
It was almost noon on Saturday and Belle Pointe would be bustling with weekend shoppers. Rae didn’t relish running into anyone she knew, but the café would be packed this time of day. No avoiding all those sympathetic well-wishers and pitying stares, but she would get through the ordeal as she’d always done with a bit of bravado and sheer force of will.
Calling ahead, she was told there would be a half-hour wait for her take-out order. She could have easily jumped the line by giving her name and playing the sympathy card, but instead she left her phone number and murmured her thanks. Killing time, she drove all around town looking for the location where the video had been shot even though she suspected the kidnappers were holding Sophie somewhere remote. But she kept searching anyway, up one street and down another.
Rae must have watched that footage of her niece at least a dozen times trying to spot clues. The high window behind Sophie suggested that she could be locked in a room belowground. That brought to mind the chilling basement at the Ruins. The kidnappers wouldn’t keep her there, of course. The cops had been all over that place. But what if she’d been locked away in a place equally terrifying, equally dangerous?
Think of other abandoned places in the area. Other buildings with basements.
Someplace close enough to the ranch that the gunshot had startled the birds from the treetops as Rae had sat shivering on the side of the road. What if she could find that place? Rescue Sophie—
Be smart. We’re watching you.
Giving up, Rae drove back to the square and searched for a parking place. As she eased along the street, she felt curious eyes turn in her direction, but the scrutiny was mostly her imagination. Or was it? Maybe the kidnappers had followed her into town and were even now keeping a close watch on her every move.
Rae had just spotted an empty meter when she saw Dylan Moody hurrying along the street. She started to lower her window and call out to him, but he looked upset. Understandable. They were all worried sick about Sophie. However, the way he walked with such purpose—casting a glance over his shoulder before ducking into an alleyway—triggered Rae’s suspicions. She told herself there was nothing unusual or nefarious about his movements. People cut through the alley all the time.
But doubts nudged her as she pulled into the parking space and got out to feed the meter. Those kids had been hiding something the morning after Sophie’s disappearance. Rae hadn’t known then about the game, but she’d picked up on their sheepish behavior. They’d both lied to her face about going out to the Ruins, so she had to wonder what other secrets they might be harboring.
Dylan seemed more approachable and far more malleable than Hannah. Maybe if Rae asked a few questions, she could manipulate him into giving something away. After all, she was Sophie’s aunt. It was only natural she’d want to talk to the person with whom Sophie had last been seen. I’ll study his face, his eyes. I’ll know if he’s lying.
Right. Just the way she’d known Sophie had been lying to her for weeks.
By this time, Dylan had vanished down the alley. Crossing the street, Rae pretended to window-shop for a moment before heading down the cobblestone lane behind him.
Belle Pointe was an old town, founded on the banks of the Red River before the Civil War on land ceded from the Caddo Indians. The area was steeped in folklore. Rae had never bought into any of the spooky tales. Even as a child, she’d been too pragmatic to indulge in fantasies. But as she crept along in the shadow of the buildings, she suddenly remembered why the backstreet was sometimes called Ghost Alley. As the town grew, the prominent location of the old cemetery had become an inconvenience. Rather than moving the interred to a new resting place in the countryside, the powers that be had built over the graves. The alley between the courthouse and city hall led back to a handful of untouched graves from the original cemetery. People had sworn for years they’d seen strange lights moving up and down the alley after dark. Of course, many of them also swore they’d spotted black panthers stalking the woods and heard phantom screams echoing across the lake.
A latticework gate opened into the cemetery. The creak of the rusted hinges prickled the back of Rae’s neck despite her common sense. She tried to shake off the disquiet. The local historical society tended the graves these days, but when Rae was younger, the cemetery had been a popular hangout for the three or four Goth kids in her high school. It had been more convenient than trekking out to the Ruins, and they would gather at midnight in the cemetery with candles and cheap wine. Rae had never paid them much mind. Harmless fringe dwellers, though there had been whispers of rituals and sacrifices after Riley disappeared.
Rae had never paid those rumors much mind, either. She had never been one to judge on appearances. Going by the way she looked, most would consider her a conformist, but she was a fringe dweller in her own way. Her competitive nature had always driven people away. She had no close friends and told herself she was fine on her own. Who had time for a social life anyway? But Rae suspected if she delved deeply enough, she would discover that her drive to be the best was prodded by a fear of never measuring up.
Shaking off that morose thought, she took a quick peek through the gate. No one was about. Dylan had probably used the back entrance to slip through to the other side of the alley. Rae told herself to stop this nonsense and go home. Let the police do their job. Now was the time to be with her family. What if the kidnappers called on the landline with the next set of instructions while she was out playing sleuth? She would have to drive all the way back to the ranch, and time could be of the essence.
All those things went through her mind as she entered the cemetery. It was shady inside and so quiet she could hear nothing beyond the tinkle of a wind chime and the gurgle of a small fountain. The graves, once badly neglected, were well tended now and covered in seashells. A wooden bench had been installed beneath a tree so that one could pause in the shade to rest or reflect. Rae did neither. She crossed the tiny cemetery to the rear gate and peered through the slats.
Dylan stood several yards down the alley with his back against the brick wall. His head was turned away as a silhouette approached from the street.
Rae recognized the tall, slender figure at once. The regal bearing, the catlike walk. After two years of living in Belle Pointe, Lauren Cavanaugh still stood out, even in a shadowy alley. She was like the proverbial hothouse rose in a field of daisies and dandelions. The comparison would please her, which was why Rae had always kept that observation to herself. Petty of her, but she had never pretended to be a saint.
Why was her sister-in-law rendezvousing with Sophie’s boyfriend in Ghost Alley, of all places? Wasn’t she supposed to be manning the phone at her and Jackson’s house?
Rae wanted to believe it was simply a chance encounter, but why had Dylan paused to wait? Why did Lauren turn to glance over her shoulder? The meeting had obviously been arranged and they were taking precautions not to be noticed.
As Lauren drew even with Dylan, she placed her hand on his arm. The gesture seemed both clandestine and intimate. Rae strained to pick up their conversation. She thought at first Lauren might be comforting Dylan, but when she touched his cheek, he knocked her hand away.
Rae must have made an involuntary movement or sound because Lauren’s head snapped around and her eyes narrowed as she peered through the latticework. Quickly, Rae retreated into the cemetery, dropping down on the bench in the deepest part of the shade. A moment later, Lauren came through the gate. She didn’t bother glancing around but walked straight across the cemetery to the front entrance. Maybe she’d concluded the sound had been her imagination or maybe she’d heard nothing at all. Maybe a guilty conscience had made her jumpy.
Rae wasn’t sure why she didn’t call out to her. Why not confront her brother’s wife and demand answe
rs? Why are you meeting Sophie’s boyfriend in an alley two days after she disappeared? Why did he lie about going out to the Ruins? Who’s minding the phone in case the kidnappers call your house?
Instead, Rae lay low, holding her breath until the gate swung closed behind her sister-in-law. Then she rose and returned to the back gate to search for Dylan. The alley was deserted. He’d already hustled out to the street, and by the time Rae returned to her vehicle, Lauren had vanished, as well.
Rae stood at the meter glancing around. Surely her sister-in-law hadn’t had time to get into her car and drive off. She must have ducked into a nearby shop or restaurant. Rae could walk up and down the street searching for her through plate glass windows or she could circle the block and try to find Dylan, but what would either effort accomplish? What had she actually seen? Nothing untoward. Nothing overtly suspicious, and yet something Jackson had said to Lauren in anger came back to Rae. Why are you defending that little creep? If I didn’t know better...
“Rae?”
Tom’s deep voice jolted her out of her reverie. She glanced up. He stood in the dappled shade of an oak tree, gazing at her curiously. He wore his usual uniform of dark plaid shirt, dark tie and jeans, and her heart thudded despite her resolve. She needed to stay steady, needed to keep her distance. Needed to be mindful that someone could be watching.
When he had her attention, he approached slowly, as if worried he might frighten her away. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. Whatever you were thinking about just now, you seemed a million miles away.”
Rae didn’t know how to respond. She felt uncomfortably lost. She couldn’t bring up the kidnappers’ warnings or the ransom demand. Didn’t dare tell him about the burner phone or the video. But should she mention Dylan and Lauren? And tell him what, exactly? I think they’re up to something.
He cocked his head slightly. “You okay?”
Without a Trace Page 12
