Forgotten Secrets

by Robin Perini

  She stared down at the empty grave. “I need to regroup, so yes. I’m ready.”

  He escorted Carol to his SUV and helped her into the backseat. She wiped her eyes and leaned against the glass. Within seconds, she was snoring.

  After opening the door for Riley, he slid in beside her, started the engine, and cracked open the front two windows to dissipate the sour odor.

  Riley glanced over her shoulder at the passed-out woman. “When I saw her last year, she’d been dry for a few months.”

  “She keeps trying,” Thayne said. “I’ll drop her off at her place, then take you to Fannie’s so you can check in to the B and B.”

  “I’m not staying,” Riley said. “I need printouts of all the files and photos you’ve collected, my pictures printed, and a quiet place to work.”

  “We have most of that in the conference room at the sheriff’s office.”

  “I don’t want to see what you’ve done, Thayne. Not until I’ve run the two scenarios through my head and tried to come up with some kind of lead. I need quiet and alone time to focus.”

  Thayne pulled out his phone and gave the orders.

  “Save the photos here.” Thayne rattled off a web location. “I’ll have the sheriff’s office make copies and deliver everything to Fannie’s. It could take a couple of hours, though.”

  Before Riley could respond, Thayne pulled up to Ed and Carol’s house. He opened the car door. “Carol, where’s your key?”

  “Under the pot,” she whispered. “In case my daughter comes home.”

  Thayne lifted her into his arms. Carol had to be five feet ten and weigh at least 160, but he carried her as if she were a ninety-pound weakling. Riley hurried in front of him and picked up the plant. The key lay there, to the side of a discreet key-shaped outline of dust, obviously recently used.

  Thayne carried Carol into the cluttered house. A gun case stood in the corner, too many rifles to count shoved in it haphazardly. A stack of laundry, including men’s boxers and several shirts that would have engulfed Carol, were strewn across the kitchen table beside a couple of bowls of half-eaten cereal and dirty coffee cups. Her husband maybe?

  No one had cleaned the place in a long while, but one wall remained pristine, a shrine to her daughter. Thayne sighed. “Where’s your bedroom?”

  With a halfhearted flop of one hand, she pointed to a door. Riley grabbed the clothes strewn across the bed and sat them on a chair sitting in the corner while Thayne lay the woman down. “Sleep it off, Carol. Ed’s locked up for a while.”

  He straightened, and Carol curled herself into a ball, shivering.

  “I’m trying to hang on,” she said through garbled words. “I don’t know how much longer I can. I want my daughter back.”

  Riley covered Carol with a blanket that had fallen to the floor. She didn’t know what kind of trouble Carol found herself in, but she could offer one bit of comfort. “I’m not stopping until I find out what happened to my sister,” Riley said. “And your daughter. Carol, please, don’t let the kidnapper win.”

  Carol’s bloodshot eyes went dull. “He already has.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Riley took one last look at Carol before closing the door to the sounds of soft snores and even breathing.

  “She’s asleep,” Riley said to Thayne.

  Carol’s words reverberated around and around in Riley’s mind. He’s already won.

  How many times had she felt exactly the same thing? Facing the indescribable murders of too many victims. They called out to her. For justice. For answers. For closure. And with the questions she could never answer.

  What took you so long? Why couldn’t you save us?

  Before Thayne could open the front door, she grabbed his arm. “Do you think Carol’s right? Has the kidnapper won? Look what’s left of her life.”

  “She has a right to feel hopeless. Her daughter’s been missing fifteen years. Just like your sister,” Thayne said, his voice quiet and pensive. “Except you’ve turned tragedy into helping a lot of people.”

  “Have I?” Riley shook her head, fatigue, both emotional and physical, pressing down on her, practically suffocating her.

  They walked outside, and he locked up before returning the key to its location beneath the flowerpot. For Gina.

  Riley took one step off the porch, and Thayne erupted in a curse. He grabbed Riley’s hand and dragged her behind a tree before pulling out his Glock.

  “What—?”

  He placed a finger to his lips, and her eyes widened. She followed his gaze. A slight movement drew her attention. A figure crouched near Thayne’s SUV.

  She slipped her weapon from its holster. He signaled her to round the back end of the car while he slipped silently into the shadows toward the front of the vehicle.

  If he hadn’t seen the slight movement, they could have walked into a trap. Step by step, she crept behind a row of pines on the property line between Carol’s house and her neighbor’s. If the guy ran this way, she’d have him.

  The man straightened and bent over the SUV’s hood. Thayne shot up and raced across the yard. Before he could reach the guy, two shots fired from out of nowhere.

  Thayne hit the ground at the same time as Riley. By the time she raised her head, the man had vanished. They crawled to take cover behind the SUV.

  “You OK?” Thayne shouted. “Did you see which way he went?”

  “I’m fine, and no.”

  He shot to his feet and yanked open the SUV’s door. “Shots fired.” Thayne barked out the address. He looked over his shoulder at her. “Did you recognize him?”

  Riley shook her head, giving a vague description. Thayne added an estimated height to his verbal report and tossed down the radio receiver on the seat before joining her, Glock at the ready.

  “The sniper could have taken out either one of us.” Riley didn’t mince words.

  “Unless the shooter was incompetent.”

  “You don’t believe that.”

  Thayne shook his head. “You can’t hide from a sniper. I don’t think he wants us dead.”

  “Then why shoot?” she asked.

  “Maybe this gift is the answer.” Thayne raised up and untucked an envelope from beneath the windshield wiper, holding it by one corner. He handed it to Riley. “It’s got your name on it.”

  She snapped on a glove before taking the envelope from him, turning it over and over in her hands. Reaching into her satchel, she grabbed a plastic bag, and after carefully slicing one end of the paper, slipped it into the protective pouch.

  “Can’t be too careful these days,” she said. “We still get regular anthrax alerts at Quantico.”

  She manipulated the plastic and pulled a sheet of paper from inside the envelope, unfolding it.

  Stop looking or you’ll be sorry.

  Getting shot at twice in two days made Riley wonder briefly about her choice of professions. Not that it had ever been a choice.

  Deputy Pendergrass’s taillights disappeared into the darkness, the letter and evidence going with him to be sent to the lab. Even after a thorough search of the area, they’d found no shell casings, no sign of where the shooter had hidden, and no witnesses, much less the person who’d left the threatening note. She twisted her lips in concentration.

  “I can see the wheels turning in your mind,” Thayne said.

  “Two people. One organized, one sloppy, unorganized, and spontaneous.” She slipped into the car, and Thayne joined her.

  “Sounds like your description of the abduction. Pendergrass might find prints on the letter,” he said.

  “Maybe. But the attack doesn’t make sense. A sniper could have taken us out if he’d wanted to. Why warn me off the case? We have no forensic evidence, and the search hasn’t turned up anything in the last day,” she said.

  “A warning to back off.”

  “But why?” She tapped her finger to her lip. “We must be close to something. I need to rethink my profile and study the evidence to catch
a break. Somewhere quiet, with no distractions.”

  “The sheriff’s office is out,” Thayne muttered. “The investigation team has taken over the conference room. That leaves one place in town where you can hide away without any distractions. For the most part.”

  He started the car and made a quick U-turn. It didn’t take long before Riley recognized the route to Fannie’s Bed and Breakfast. The same place she’d stayed a year ago—where she and Thayne had lost themselves in each other’s arms. A lifetime ago.

  He pulled up to the B&B, but before she could get out, he held her back. “We go into the building fast and quick, agreed?”

  She nodded. Beneath the adrenaline burst of being shot at, a burning fatigue crept behind her eyes. No time to rest, though. She needed to rerun the crime scene through her mind, relentlessly searching for any small out-of-place element that would provide a lead. She needed the evidence because there was only one chance unless forensics hit pay dirt.

  Profiling Cheyenne and the kidnapper.

  Riley reached for her computer bag, but Thayne hooked the strap over his shoulder.

  “I’ll take it,” Thayne said, his expression brokering no argument. “You look ready to collapse.”

  How could she argue?

  He pulled his Glock out before exiting the vehicle and moving around the car to open her door. “Go!” he shouted. They rushed up to the porch of the B&B and raced inside, shutting and locking the door behind them.

  Thayne checked the curtains and closed all of them.

  The welcoming scent of vanilla created that just-baked feel, the antithesis of the tension still thrumming through Riley’s veins. Her heart slowed a bit now that they were inside.

  Fresh flowers adorned the elegant sitting room. A discreet check-in desk was tucked in the corner. Southern hospitality at its finest.

  Fannie popped out from a door behind the mahogany counter, her hair expertly coiffed, dressed in a flowing chiffon gown and robe. A true southern belle, transplanted to Wyoming.

  “I figured you’d get here eventually,” she said with a frown, her gaze narrowed at them. “What’s going on? Put away those weapons.”

  “Is Kade around?” Thayne asked.

  Fannie frowned. “He’s having . . . trouble.”

  “I’ll figure something else out.”

  Fannie met Riley’s questioning gaze. “My great-nephew just came back from the war. He’s battling PTSD.”

  “I’m sorry, Fannie.”

  “Me, too. He’s lost right now. So, why were you asking about him?”

  “Someone took a shot at Riley. I’d hoped he might be able to help guard the place.”

  Fannie reached beneath the counter and pulled out a 12-gauge. “I can handle myself.”

  The sight of a woman in her seventies dressed in a negligee holding a shotgun should have been absurd. Fannie made the picture seem almost normal.

  “I’m sure you can defend yourself, ma’am,” Thayne said. “The shooter seems to have disappeared, but I think I’ll stay around tonight anyway.”

  Riley hoped he was right. “You don’t have to stay, Thayne. I can take care of myself. I’m a trained federal law enforcement officer, you know.”

  “Maybe so,” Fannie chimed in. “But you need more rest. How are you supposed to find our Cheyenne if you’re too exhausted to see straight?” She placed her hands on her hips. “You take better care of her, Thayne, you hear me?”

  Thayne shrugged. “Yes, ma’am. I plan to.”

  Arguing would obviously get them nowhere. Riley reached out her hand for the key, but Fannie handed it to Thayne.

  “Take her upstairs. Same room you stayed in before, dear. Breakfast is six to ten. Cheese grits, blueberry muffins, omelets, and southern sausage. And of course biscuits and gravy on Sunday. I’ll set the alarm. Anyone coming in will have their ears blown out.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Lonebear,” Riley said.

  “You just find our girl, Special Agent Lambert. You’ve got the room until she comes home. No charge.”

  “Thanks, Fannie,” said Thayne.

  The B&B’s owner disappeared into her private quarters before Thayne and Riley trudged up the stairs. Thayne slipped the key into the lock and opened the door. “Where do you want this?” He lifted the computer case.

  “On the table is fine.” She sat on the bed, sinking into the comfortable mattress. Her body yearned to lie down. Her mind needed to work.

  Thayne placed her suitcase on a luggage rack before closing all the curtains. He faced her, his expression solemn and concerned. He made the room seem small. He crossed over to the bed where she sat. All she had to do was reach out and touch him, let her guard down, and open herself up to the longing that had been building since she’d arrived. It would be so easy, but now wasn’t the time.

  “How can I help?” he asked, gently lifting her hand in his, the warmth of his touch so very nice. A loud ringtone intruded from her pocket. The moment was gone. Who could be calling her? Only Tom checked up on her. Had he discovered she’d flown to Wyoming? He’d know the significance. This call might very well be her termination notice.

  Her gut churning, she slipped the phone from her pocket and reluctantly checked the screen. She blinked in shock, then tapped to answer and held the phone to her ear. “Mother?”

  “Hello, Riley.”

  She braced herself. Her mother sounded tired, but then again, she’d sounded that way since the morning after Madison had disappeared.

  “I suppose you know why we called.”

  The tone in her mother’s voice conveyed clearly that Riley should know. She glanced at the date at the top of the phone.

  Her twenty-sixth birthday.

  For a moment, her breathing stopped. She’d forgotten, but her mother had actually remembered. For the first time in fifteen years. She’d even called.

  The stunning revelation twisted her tongue. Riley couldn’t believe it. She blinked several times. What could she say? Thank you for treating me like a daughter. Thank you for not reminding me I’ve failed to find Madison.

  Maybe just a thank you for calling would do?

  “The fifteenth anniversary of Madison’s disappearance is next week,” her mother said in that familiarly emotionless, clipped voice. “We’re holding a very special memorial. It’s important for you to be here. For us to show solidarity. We’ve arranged media coverage, and one of those crime shows is doing another reenactment of the case to try to generate some leads, since you haven’t been able to keep your promise to bring Madison home.”

  Riley closed her eyes and held her stomach. She’d let her guard down for only a moment, which made the attack all the more painful.

  The mattress shifted beside her. Thayne moved close enough for their legs to touch. He threaded his fingers through hers, and she met his sympathetic gaze. Had he heard her mother?

  A pressure built behind her lids, tears threatening to come. Riley shot to her feet and hurried to the window, crossing her arms in front of her, staring at a curtain, imagining the night sky of Singing River, a bevy of stars twinkling, laughing at her hurt. For a split second, she’d thought her mother actually . . .

  No, Riley. Don’t go there. Why had she expected more? She should know better. And she had no right to want more.

  Madison mattered more. Her sister was still missing.

  With a tight grip, Riley cleared her throat so the disappointment wouldn’t show in her voice. “I don’t know if I can make it. I’m on a case.”

  She could almost see her mother’s lips purse into that tight disapproving line, a perpetual expression whenever they spoke. “It’s expected, Riley. You need to be here.”

  “For Madison.” Her father’s tentative voice uttered the words that sliced at Riley’s soul.

  “I’ll try,” she said finally. “That’s all I can do. I have to go.”

  Before Thayne sees me cry.

  She ended the call. A large presence warmed her from behind. Strong arms pu
lled her back against a muscular chest. Riley couldn’t turn around; she couldn’t face him. She had to protect herself. No one else would. She had to stay strong, stay tough on the inside and on the outside.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. Thayne pressed her even closer against him, wrapping her tighter. She winced at the pressure on the bullet graze, but the physical pain hardly made a blip compared to the regrets twisting her heart. So she said nothing and simply let him hold her, still and silent.

  She couldn’t stop the tears from rolling down her cheeks.

  The room had gone quiet, with only a faint owl’s hoot and a whip-poor-will’s song filtering through the window. Thayne encased Riley in his embrace. He hadn’t been able to hear what her mother had said, but he’d seen Riley’s gut-wrenching reaction.

  She still trembled.

  Riley needed someone on her side, and Thayne meant to convince her he stood in her corner. She deserved no less.

  Special Agent Riley Lambert had impressed the hell out of him from the moment he’d entered the dance hall a year ago and seen her cleaning up at the pool table. He’d walked over to her, drawn to something he’d never felt before. She’d worn tough and don’t mess with me like a warning sign, but Thayne had seen a hint of sadness behind her eyes that he’d wanted to chase away with a joke, a laugh, and a turn around the dance floor.

  She’d refused the dance—she didn’t dance, she’d said—but she’d laughed at his jokes, and when he’d driven her back to Fannie’s place, she’d led him upstairs into a fantasy.

  That first night had changed everything. Thayne had allowed himself to get lost in Riley. Not just her passion, though with one look or the lightest touch, his body had burned with want. He flat out liked her, and in the last year nothing had changed. Today had stamped an exclamation point onto his opinion. She had nerves of steel and courage that didn’t end.

  He’d come an inch away from falling head over heels in love with her a year ago. Not the woman-in-a-port kind of lust. Nope, this was the real thing. A Blackwood kind of love.

  Today he was certain. Riley Lambert made him want the forever love.