by Rita Herron
Honey turned toward him, her slender face pale. But that spunky determination he’d seen in her eyes before, glimmered again, stronger than ever.
“Would you like some coffee?”
He did, but considering the tension between them, he didn’t want to linger or be too friendly. “I’ll pass.”
She pushed a mug toward him. “Don’t be silly, Harrison. I woke you up. The least I can do is give you coffee.”
He accepted the mug with a muttered thanks, but didn’t make eye contact. The more he looked at her, the more he wanted this mess to go away so he could kiss her again.
But she didn’t want that.
So he took the mug outside with him and walked the property, searching for a clue to lead him to the person who’d terrified Honey tonight.
* * *
HONEY HAD TO distract herself from Harrison so she quickly changed into jeans and a T-shirt, then vigorously swept and cleaned up the glass. Her bed was more difficult so she stripped the bedding, rolled it up and took it outside to shake out the glass before putting it in the wash.
His deputy arrived a few minutes later, and Harrison introduced them. Mitchell Bronson was tall, dark and handsome.
But he didn’t stir feelings inside her like Harrison did.
He shook her hand, his friendly smile putting her at ease. “Sorry about your trouble, ma’am. The sheriff and I will do everything we can to find out who did this.”
“Thank you.”
“We’re going to search the property now,” Harrison said.
Honey’s heart thumped.
Harrison descended the step from the porch, followed by the deputy. She watched them comb the area in front of the house, then they moved to the left side.
Honey shoveled up more glass from the back hallway, praying he didn’t find Chrissy.
For the past few years, she’d tried to forget everything about this town and this house and her father, but now she struggled to recall details about Chrissy.
How many times had she stopped by? One. Two. Maybe three?
The night she disappeared, Chrissy had sneaked out with her brother Brayden and followed Harrison to the bluff. Someone there said Chrissy left and came to Honey’s.
But Honey didn’t see Chrissy that night at her house because she’d also sneaked out to the bluff and hidden like a voyeur at the edge of the woods, watching the party. Watching Harrison.
Although she’d never told anyone that.
She’d felt lonely and too scared to join in because she’d known she didn’t belong.
Just as she didn’t belong now.
What if Chrissy had come to her house while she was gone and her father had been so drunk he’d taken his anger out on Chrissy?
If she’d stayed home that night, she could have protected Chrissy.
* * *
HARRISON AND HIS deputy searched every corner of the woods, looked near tree stumps, checked uneven patches of ground in case Granger had buried her, and examined the yard and crawl space.
“She’s not here,” Deputy Bronson said.
Harrison heaved a sigh of relief. As much as he wanted to find Chrissy, he’d harbored hope that somehow she’d survived. Although that thought was terrifying in itself. Kidnap victims who were found after years of captivity often suffered from trauma, amnesia or Stockholm syndrome.
“Sheriff, you okay?”
His deputy’s voice jarred him from his thoughts. “Yeah.”
His phone buzzed, and he checked the number. The lab. “Let me get this, then we’ll tell Honey that we’re leaving.”
“Honey?”
“Miss Granger,” he said, realizing the way he’d said her name sounded personal. Harrison punched Connect and Bronson headed to his car while he walked toward the house. “Sheriff Hawk.”
“It’s Regan Willis from the lab. I have results on that ribbon you dropped off.”
“Yeah?”
“The hair caught in the ribbon definitely matched your sister’s, Harrison.”
He sucked in a breath, grateful that the former sheriff had kept Chrissy’s hairbrush so they could compare it for a match.
“There’s more. I found traces of a chemical that is only found in the caves at the bluff.”
“I know she was there,” he said.
Which meant Granger had either been at the caves that night and possibly killed Chrissy there, or she’d come to the Grangers’ house and he’d killed her, then took her to another spot to bury her.
Or she could have come to the Grangers’ house, lost the ribbon outside, then a stranger had picked her up and Granger later found the ribbon.
Dammit, he was grasping.
“What about the button?” Harrison asked.
“Some DNA but it doesn’t match anyone in the system.” She paused. “But I can tell you that it belonged to a female.”
Hell, it could have been another teenage girl up at the bluff. Or...his mother...
No, his mother wouldn’t have gone to the bluff. Unless she went looking for Chrissy after she’d learned Chrissy was missing.
He explained about the attack on Honey’s house. “I’ll drop the rocks off for you to analyze. But I’m heading to the bluff first to check those caves.”
“Good luck, Sheriff. Let me know if I can do anything else.”
He thanked her and hung up. By the time he reached Honey’s house, she was coming outside.
“Did you find anything?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I’m going to the bluff to search the caves.” He gestured toward the windows. “I’ll come back later and board up the windows for you.”
“I can take care of that myself,” Honey said. “I need to go into town to meet the director of the crematorium anyway, so I’ll pick up supplies.”
He remembered the look of fear in her eyes when he’d first arrived. “I don’t think whoever did this will come back during the day. But let me know if you need me.”
Honey’s withering look indicated that was the last thing she intended to do.
Resigned, he strode to his SUV and drove to the bluff. The sooner he found answers, the sooner Honey could leave and return to Austin.
Did she have someone special waiting for her there?
He grunted and parked at the bluff, then climbed out to meet his deputy. It didn’t matter if she did.
Nothing could happen between them.
“Where do we start?” Deputy Bronson asked.
Harrison noted a few kids hanging out at the swimming hole. Although it was only midday, the heat had already climbed, the sun blazing. Technically this area was a crime scene. He should shut it down to the students and others who liked to hike the trails into the mountain.
But they’d need serious manpower to keep people away.
If Chrissy was killed here, they’d also have to weed through eighteen years of locals and strangers on the grounds and in the caves. A near-impossible task.
In spite of the sunlight, the caves were dark inside, so he grabbed his flashlight. Bronson did the same and they started at the mouth of the cave.
“What are we looking for?” Bronson asked.
Harrison explained about the ribbon, and that he’d found the rock/murder weapon used on Granger. “We never found my sister’s backpack or jacket or anything of hers,” he said. “So keep an eye out for any clothing or items that may have belonged to a child.”
“You know the teens like to camp out here,” Bronson said. “And there are a couple of homeless men who use it for shelter in the winter.”
“I know,” Harrison said. “I found the rock used to kill Granger. Not sure if the other stuff belonged to the killer or if the killer just hid the murder weapon here.” Harrison gestured to the section of burned
wood, a water canteen, discarded blanket and cigarette stubs. “Bag all that stuff and send it to the lab.”
Together they sorted through the stuff and bagged it, then Bronson took it to his car and locked it inside.
Back inside the tunnel, they parted, veering in different directions. The caves had once been mined and consisted of a maze of underground tunnels that spanned about three miles.
The air felt hot and stale, the scent of urine and a dead animal permeating the space. He shone his light along the walls, searching the corners and dirt. Cigarette stubs, discarded water bottles and a few liquor bottles and beer cans had been left throughout. He filled a trash bag with the items, then veered into the last area, a room at the end of the tunnel, which had once been mined.
He raked his flashlight across the wooden stakes marking areas where the workers had dug. Something shimmered beneath the beam of his flashlight. A streak of yellow.
His breath froze in his lungs.
Yellow. Another ribbon.
Fear seized him, and he stalked forward, knelt and zeroed in on the tip of the yellow.
It was a ribbon. Just like Chrissy’s.
Only part of it was buried in the dirt.
Emotions flooded him and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move.
Had someone killed Chrissy and buried her here in this cave?
Chapter Ten
Harrison raked dirt away from where the strip of yellow poked through.
His lungs squeezed for air. After all this time, was he going to find Chrissy’s body beneath the dirt and rocks?
It looked as if there had been a rockslide inside the cave in this area, so he moved several stones aside and tugged the ribbon free.
It definitely matched the one he’d found at Honey’s.
Sweat beaded his neck, and he studied the rock pile. He had to dig deeper.
Nerves raw, he strode back through the cave, this time shining his light to see if there were any more sections on the ground that looked uneven, as if they might be burial spots, but he didn’t find anything.
When he reached the mouth of the cave, he breathed in the fresh air, then rushed to his SUV and retrieved a shovel from the back. Gripping it with clammy hands, he hurried back inside the cave to the far end where he’d found the ribbon. He checked the area to make sure the walls wouldn’t collapse when he dug, and decided it was safe. Wall supports had been built when the miners had worked the cave.
Then he began to dig.
Rocks, pebbles and dirt formed a small mound. Jaw set, he lifted one shovel full of debris, then another until he reached the ground beneath. He ran his hand over it and felt a small bump. God help him, he wanted answers.
But he didn’t want to find his sister’s body.
Resigned, he jammed the shovel into the ground and dug, moving dirt to create a hole. He continued digging two feet, then three, but the space was empty.
Relief flooded him. Chrissy wasn’t here.
He stood, wiping dirt and sweat from his face with the back of his sleeve, then headed back outside.
His deputy was waiting at the mouth of the cave.
“Did you find anything?” Harrison asked.
“Afraid not,” Bronson said. “You?”
Harrison removed the ribbon from his pocket. “This belonged to my sister.”
“So she was here?”
Harrison rarely talked about that night, but he assumed Bronson had heard some version of it.
“We knew she came to the bluff,” Harrison said. “Brayden and she sneaked out. They were exploring the caves when Brayden tripped and hurt his ankle. Chrissy was supposed to go get help, but was never seen again.”
“I’m sorry, man,” Bronson said. “That must have been rough.”
Harrison gave a clipped nod, but his cell phone buzzed with a text, saving him from having to respond.
It was from Lucas.
Geoffrey Williams meeting us at your office. Half an hour.
Harrison sent a return text saying he’d be there. “Bronson, ride by the Grangers’ place and make sure there’s no more trouble there.”
Bronson agreed, and Harrison hurried to his SUV. If Lucas had suspicions about Geoffrey Williams, Harrison had to interrogate the man.
Although he wasn’t looking forward to it. Geoffrey Williams was well liked and served on the town council.
He wouldn’t like any questions that remotely suggested he’d done something illegal.
* * *
HONEY HAD EXPERIENCE yielding a hammer. She found some plywood in the garage and boarded up the windows.
Stepping back to look at it, she realized that covering the windows meant the house was pitched in darkness inside.
A shiver rippled up her spine.
Boarding the window meant no one could look inside, but it also prevented her from looking out and made her feel claustrophobic.
The only way to solve the problem was to completely replace the windows, but to do that, she needed to repair rotting wood and casings, which meant committing to more improvements.
Even if she renovated her father’s house, it would be a hard sell. One look at the surrounding yards and dilapidated houses in the neighborhood would scare away potential buyers.
She finished with the windows, then went to stow the hammer in the garage when she noticed a box of old junk. Yard tools and plant pots had been tossed into the box along with old work gloves and a broken picture frame.
Harrison had searched the garage, but when she moved the box to haul it toward the door to carry it to the junkyard, she spotted a small wooden box wedged in the back. She slid it from the shelf and set it on the workbench, then opened it.
An assortment of loose change filled the box.
Relief flooded her when she realized there was nothing of Chrissy’s inside. But she scrounged through the coins and found an old photograph in the bottom of the box.
Her chest squeezed.
She’d forgotten what her mother looked like, but now she realized she looked a lot like her. Her mother had the same honey-blond hair and brown eyes, although she looked sickly thin and dark circles shadowed her eyes.
Pain rippled through her—her mother had left when she was seven.
Had her father turned his anger on her because she reminded him of his wife?
She traced a finger over her mother’s face, aching for what she’d wanted and never had.
Why hadn’t her mother taken her with her when she’d left?
Was she that unlovable?
* * *
HARRISON MET LUCAS at the sheriff’s office. Geoffrey Williams was waiting with him, his impeccable suit and designer shoes a sign he had money and wanted others to know it.
So opposite of Harrison and his brothers, who were focused on family and justice.
Williams buttoned his jacket as he stood, then extended his hand. “What can I do for you, Sheriff?”
Harrison shook his hand. “Lucas didn’t tell you what this was about?”
Lucas kept a straight face. “I just explained that he might be able to help us with something.”
Williams arched a brow. “I am your town councilman. Always happy to be of service.”
The damn man was acting as if he hadn’t attended school with Harrison and Lucas, as if his blue blood made him a class above the Hawks.
“Good, then have a seat,” Harrison said. “We want to talk to you about the night my sister went missing.”
Shock flashed in Williams’s eyes. “What? Why? That was years ago.”
“Yes, but her case has never been solved,” Harrison said.
“I’m sorry about that,” Williams said, “but I’m not sure how I can help.” Williams’s eyes narr
owed. He was a thin man, his face long, his chin strong, his hands manicured.
“In fact, didn’t I hear that Mr. Granger died?” Williams continued. “I thought your family believed he had something to do with your sister’s disappearance.”
“That was one theory,” Harrison said.
Lucas folded his arms, adopting his federal agent demeanor. “Harrison and I have been reviewing everything that happened, Geoffrey. You were at the bluff that night.”
A wary look snapped in Williams’s gray eyes. “Yes, along with a dozen other teenagers. Are you talking to all of them?”
“Yes,” Harrison said bluntly.
Williams squared his shoulders in a defensive gesture. “You know Sheriff Dunar questioned all of us. Why don’t you read his report?”
“I have,” Harrison said.
“So have I,” Lucas added in a solemn voice. “But one thing is bothering me.”
Williams’s eyes darted back and forth between them as if he suspected they were trying to trap him. “What’s that?”
Lucas cleared his throat. “You told the sheriff that you saw Chrissy but that you didn’t speak to her.”
Williams crossed his leg, chin lifted. “Yes. I was meeting Tina Fuller, not paying attention to your kid sister.”
Harrison’s jaw tightened. “What was she doing when you saw her?”
“Lurking around behind some rocks,” Williams said. “Spying on us like she was a tattletale going to get us in trouble.” He quickly realized how his comment sounded and added, “Not that we were doing anything wrong. Having a few beers, but it was the first day of summer break.”
Memories of that long, hot summer bombarded Harrison. Days on end of searching the woods and posting fliers and...arguments between his parents.
“You’re lying.” Lucas’s stone-cold expression was a sign of the tough interrogator and agent Harrison had suspected his brother was, although he’d yet to see him in action.
Anger replaced the coolness in Williams’s eyes. “How dare you suggest that, Lucas. We were friends.”
That was the problem. Harrison and Lucas both knew Williams. And didn’t trust him.
“I’ve done everything I can to help this community,” Williams continued, “and I’ve tried to bring revenue back to this fledgling hole in the wall—”
