by Deirdre Dore
“Tyler, it’s Raquel. Brent’s calling Tavey.”
Tyler glanced at Tavey. She seemed restless, pacing as she listened to the filmmaker.
“What’s wrong?”
“We went to talk to my mother, Belle. I’ll explain why later, but suffice it to say, we have a problem.”
“What kind of problem?”
Tavey had stopped pacing in front of him and stood frozen.
“The kind where someone shot up my mother’s house and kidnapped her.”
“Kidnapped her?”
“Yeah. I’m still here at the scene. A girl was shot,” she threw out impatiently. “Listen, we found out an . . . interesting piece of news.”
“What’s that?”
There was silence on the other end of the line for a beat, as if Raquel was trying to figure out how to put into words what she was about to say.
“Tavey’s father, Charlie, didn’t die in that car accident. I don’t know if he’s dead at all.”
Tyler stared at Tavey, trying to determine from her closed expression if she’d just gotten the same news.
“Okay,” Tyler said, not wanting to blurt it out if Brent hadn’t gotten to that part yet.
“They were involved with a biker gang called the Warlocks. They dealt meth primarily, and likely met Charlie through your uncle. Apparently, your uncle knew one of the leaders of the gang. They served together in Vietnam.”
Tyler thought about what he’d learned today, about the identity of the girl they’d found in the millpond, about the reasons why Brent might be involved in the search at all.
“One set of remains from the millpond was identified today,” Tyler told her succinctly.
Tavey had hung up on Burns and was listening to him talk to Raquel, her expression focused and intense.
Raquel paused in her quick summary. “Who?” she whispered after a moment, as if she was afraid he would say Summer, but the FBI had ruled that out.
“Jessica Burns.”
There was silence on the other end of the line. Silence that whispered. “Okay,” Raquel said after a moment, “I’ll tell him. We have to finish up here and then I think we should talk to my grandmother and your uncle about exactly where we should start looking for Belle.”
“Why your grandmother?” Tyler was confused.
“She knows Charlie was alive. She knows a helluva lot more than she’s ever told. She left here over two hours ago. She should be back at the house by now.”
“All right. Get here when you can,” Tyler told her, and hung up.
Tavey was standing with her hands at her sides. “You heard about my father.”
Tyler nodded. “We need to talk to Bessie and my uncle.”
Tavey turned so quickly that her dark hair swung in an arc. “We certainly do,” she muttered, and began marching ahead, leaving Tyler hurrying to catch up.
36
THE PATH FROM the rose garden to the house was only a few yards. Tavey ran anyway. She heard Tyler behind her, hurrying to catch up. The last rays of sunlight made the air seem blue and strange.
All she could think was that her father could be alive. He hadn’t died in the river. But why hadn’t he told someone? Why hadn’t he come to take care of her? She’d known he wasn’t perfect—she’d heard rumors—but why wouldn’t he have come to see her, told his family he was okay?
Dogs were barking and howling when they reached the house. Clearly Penny and Grumbles had met her beagles.
Tavey led the way past the French doors that opened to her bedroom and to the back door, Tyler on her heels, and the two of them stepped into the crowded breakfast area, which was full of chattering teenagers and dogs.
Tavey shouted over the din, “Where’s Bessie?”
Everyone stopped, but it was Sylvia who answered, a furrow between her brows. “She isn’t back yet.”
There had rarely been a night when Bessie Weaver wasn’t home for dinner. Tavey felt her stomach turn over and roll.
“She hasn’t called?”
Sylvia shook her head, her face pale. “She hasn’t.”
Tavey yanked out her phone and dialed Bessie’s number. It rang. And rang. And went to voice mail.
Tavey looked up at Tyler with haunted eyes. “They took Gloria Belle. Maybe they took Bessie for some reason as well.”
Tyler pulled out his own phone and made a call to the sheriff’s department.
The four teenagers were sitting around the breakfast table, their eyes wide.
Tavey met Ro’s gaze. “Is this the trouble you meant?”
Ro cast a wary glance to Christie, who was watching everyone, especially her stepfather, clearly confused.
“It’s some of it,” Ro muttered. “The rest is at Abraham’s house.”
Tavey blinked. Abraham. He’d known Charlie was alive as well. Abraham had been the connection to a motorcycle gang.
Tavey grabbed Tyler’s sleeve. “We need to get to your uncle’s. Sylvia. Thomas. Can you watch the girls for us?”
Sylvia nodded, moving to stand next to the children. “I’ll call Chris as well and her boyfriend. They can help.”
Tavey nodded. “Yes, call Ryan and Chris. Tell them Bessie is missing . . . and Gloria Belle has been kidnapped.”
Sylvia nodded, pulling out her own phone with shaking hands.
“We’ll be back,” Tyler told the girls. “Christie, call your mom and tell her you’re going to stay a little later.”
Christie swallowed, but nodded her head quickly.
“Come on. We’ll take your truck.”
The two of them hurried out to the truck and Tavey hopped into the passenger seat, her heart racing.
Tyler tore down the drive as quickly as he dared, making the quick left turn on the road, then left again and up the drive to Abraham’s house.
When they came within sight of the house, Tyler knew immediately that something was wrong. All the lights were out. Usually at this time of the night, his uncle would be on the porch.
He pulled up quickly, leaving the car running and the lights on so they could see where they were going as they headed into the house. He jumped down from the truck and lifted his shirt and pulled his weapon from the concealed pocket in the undershirt he wore, checking the chamber and the safety.
Tavey came around the side of the truck, her chest heaving, her eyes wide.
“Stay behind me,” he ordered, knowing she wouldn’t stay in the truck, and she gave him a short, sharp nod of agreement.
They approached quickly.
Tyler looked for some sign of a break-in as they approached, but there was nothing. The door was even locked. He located the spare key under the squirrel and opened it quickly.
He sniffed, tilting his head. There was a smell; he knew it, but his mind wasn’t ready for it.
“Abraham,” he called.
Silence.
The room, dark and still, seemed to mock him. All seemed quiet. All seemed peaceful, but there was something wrong.
He made his way from room to room, turning on lights as he went, aware of Tavey silently following him. Part of him wanted to ask her to leave. She’d always hated his uncle, hated him.
Tyler stepped into his uncle’s bedroom and stopped. The smell was stronger here, strong enough that Tyler coughed involuntarily.
Death. Decay.
Tyler flipped the switch to turn on the light and heard Tavey gasp.
His uncle lay on his back, his arms splayed out to his sides, mouth open. His eyes were open, but a white film covered them.
Tyler turned to look at Tavey, his eyes hot with disbelief and grief.
“Did you come talk to him?”
Tavey had covered her mouth and nose with her hands. Her brown eyes, sheened with tears, blinked at him, confused. “Talk to him?”
> “On Monday. Did you decide you couldn’t wait, that you needed to pry?” He moved closer, so that his blue eyes were blazing down at her. “Did you upset him, Tavey?”
It took a moment for Tavey to realize that Tyler was accusing her of something, but as soon as she did, she dropped her arms, the horrified empathy she’d felt at his loss burning away in rage and terrible pain.
“What?” she gasped.
He took her upper arms in a firm grip and asked her again. “Did you come and talk to him?”
The moment was so much like those they’d shared before. She felt like their kiss in the rose garden had been a dream.
“No,” she protested. “I promise. Tyler—”
He turned away from her. “Go get in the truck. I need to call the sheriff.”
Tavey swallowed, so angry and hurt she could barely breathe.
Abraham had known about her father. All these years, he’d known. Bessie as well. And Atohi. They’d all known. Did they also know about Summer? Why hadn’t they said anything to her, knowing how tortured she’d been for all these years?
Tavey stalked outside, her arms around her waist as if to hold herself together.
Tyler came out onto the porch, his phone to his ear.
Tavey ignored him, walking to the truck and yanking open the door. Pulling open his glove box, she located a small flashlight and a .38 revolver. She’d been hoping for a flashlight; the gun was an unexpected bonus. She checked it quickly, using the latch to release the cylinder and checking the chambers to make sure it was loaded.
She didn’t remember ever feeling this coldly angry, even at Abraham, even at the disappearance of her friend. Almost everyone she loved had lied to her, and now Tyler. She stopped the thought in its tracks.
He’d never been her soul mate—she’d been a fool. A colossal one. She was finished. Done. Abraham was dead. As far as she was concerned, they no longer had anything to discuss.
Tavey waited until Tyler’s back was turned, his voice harsh as he explained the situation, and then she walked down the old path in the dark, the path her eight-year-old self had trod a thousand times, and headed into the woods.
37
TYLER DIDN’T REALIZE right away that Tavey was gone. He’d called his captain, explaining the situation and asking him to send investigators and the coroner out to his uncle’s house, and was walking to the truck when he realized that Tavey wasn’t there.
“Tavey!” he shouted. “Tavey!”
He ran a hand through his hair and cursed, remembering what he’d said. If he’d thought for two seconds, he wouldn’t have accused her. She’d been recovering from her head wound yesterday. Not that a headache would have stopped her if she’d been determined.
She hadn’t been, though. He’d asked her to trust him and she had. She’d trusted him to look into Summer’s disappearance and he’d paid her back by cursing her.
“Where the fuck did you go?” He walked to the side of his car and looked down the drive as far as he could. He didn’t see her and she hadn’t been gone long enough to reach the first bend. A small flicker of light, blinking and then gone, caught his attention. It was on the edge of the woods to the west, toward Tavey’s property.
Fresh horror filled him. She wouldn’t.
He pulled open the passenger door of his truck, cursing. His glove box was open, his flashlight and backup weapon were gone.
She would. He knew her. The most stubborn human being on the planet.
“Shit,” he cursed, and slammed the passenger door, running around the front to get behind the wheel. He pressed redial on his phone as he turned around.
When his captain answered, he explained what had happened and that he was heading back to the Collins residence.
“Downs, in the past hour, you’ve called to say we have a dead body, a kidnap victim, a missing person, and now a crazy rich woman just walked into the woods with your gun?”
Put it that way and it sounded pretty bad.
“Yes, sir,” he said simply.
“Find Tavey Collins,” his boss ordered. “We have men looking for Bessie Weaver. We found her car in the Fate business district, near Tavey Collins’s dog store, as a matter of fact. This is my formal request for her security footage. We’ll take care of your uncle. You just find Tavey. Clear?”
“Yes, sir,” Tyler said, and hung up. It was what he intended to do anyway, but it was always helpful not to have to go against orders.
He drove quickly back to Tavey’s house, hoping she’d just come back there and not gone off searching, but he was guessing there were two places she would go. She would either head to her grandfather’s cabin, hoping to find something there, or she’d find a way to get to the Cherokee Paper Mill.
He didn’t see how she was going to make it without a car, not walking through the woods.
When he pulled up to Tavey’s house, Christie and the Triplets were outside with their dogs.
“Tyler.” Christie threw herself at him and he hugged her, looking over her head at the three sisters.
“Did Tavey call here?”
They nodded. “She called for Atohi. He’s still talking to her.” Ro pointed to the kennels.
Tyler ran down the flagstone path; he could hear dogs barking ahead. He could see Atohi gearing up one of the dogs, only it didn’t look like one of Tavey’s tracking dogs. This was a massive German shepherd.
“Atohi,” he called, yanking open the gate and walking quickly toward the man. “Where is she?”
Atohi stood. “She is going to the paper mill, where the girls were taken last year, where they found the bodies. I am going to her grandfather’s cabin. Bessie is likely being kept at one of the two.”
“How is she getting there?” Tyler asked incredulously. “Through the woods? It has to be miles.”
Atohi nodded. “She would be foolish to do such a thing.”
Tyler cursed. “She’s crazy. I . . .” He paused. “What did you tell her?”
“I told her a truth I should have told her long ago, a truth about her father.”
“He was alive for all those years. Is he still alive?”
“No.” Atohi shook his head. “He’s not, but his legacy is still causing hurt.”
“Where is he?”
“Where he belongs,” Atohi muttered darkly. “I would worry about getting to the paper mill. It’s a dangerous place.”
“How can I—” Tyler stopped again, a thought suddenly occurring to him. She isn’t going to walk through the woods. Tyler blinked. His uncle had a 1974 Dodge Charger that he kept in mint condition even though he never drove it. The keys were on a hook in the kitchen, visible to anyone who walked in the house.
“I’ll be damned,” he said suddenly, and ran back down the path to his truck.
38
TAVEY PRESSED THE gas pedal, darkly pleased at the roar of the engine as she headed away from her property and onto the highway that led west, and then curved around northeast, past the service road that led to the paper mill.
She wished she had Dixie with her, for no other reason than the comfort the dog would provide.
Her phone rang as she drove. She glanced at it—Tyler. She rejected the call, pressing the gas a little faster.
It rang again and she ignored it, ignored him, ignored the tears that made her eyes burn. She blinked them away, watching for the turn down the old service road. It was difficult to find, even in daylight. She didn’t see it until she’d already passed it, so she made a quick U-turn, ignoring the blare of the horn from a car behind her. It shot past as soon as she was out of the way, two motorcycles following behind.
Tavey didn’t pay them any attention, but she couldn’t ignore Tyler’s truck, which was turning onto the service road as she came back.
“Shit,” she cursed, and turned down the overgrown rut behind him,
knowing he could see her in his rearview mirror.
He drove along the road until it was blocked by a fallen tree and stopped, turning off his truck. Tavey did the same.
He was already approaching when she set one leg outside the car. She ignored him, picking up the flashlight and the gun from the seat next to her.
She turned on the flashlight and stood, keeping her face deliberately away as he walked closer and then closer still. He reached her just as she slammed the door closed. Tavey was expecting him to shake her, as he’d done in the past. Yell at her. Instead he hugged her like he’d hugged her after she’d hurt her ankle, holding her arms pinned to her sides as he pressed his cheek against her head.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, pulling away enough so that he could tilt her chin up. “I’m sorry, Tavey,” he said again.
Tavey wanted to punch him.
“Whatever.” She urged him away with a shove of her shoulder. “Let’s see if we can find Bessie.”
“You shouldn’t be here,” Tyler said, following her as she walked past his truck toward the mill, holding the flashlight low so she could check for obstacles.
“I own this place,” she said viciously. Her money had never given her more pleasure. “I was going to search it.” She didn’t care about pissing him off now. He could kiss her ass. “You’re the one trespassing.”
Tyler didn’t know whether to believe her or not, but he was inclined to. He didn’t see any reason why she’d bother to lie about it.
“Tavey, this is dangerous. We don’t know who’s out there.”
Tavey whirled on him, shining the light in his eyes. “Don’t talk to me about dangerous. I will not lose one more person I love, do you hear me? I won’t have it.”
“Then don’t give up on me,” he said simply.
Tavey stared, horrified. He would throw that at her. Use that against her?
“Don’t . . . just don’t talk to me,” she said hoarsely, gesturing with the flashlight. “Let’s find Bessie.”
Tyler had already pulled out his weapon, realizing that nothing short of tackling her to the ground and handcuffing her was going to change her course of action.
