Forgotten Secrets

by Robin Perini

  “What about your laptop?”

  She glanced away from him and gripped the door handle.

  He grasped her arm to stop her from leaving. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  She was silent for a moment, gnawing on her lip. Better the truth now than when they were in the middle of a room of detectives. She twisted in her seat and lifted her chin. “I’m not sanctioned to be here. I’m on my own time.”

  “Vacation, you mean?”

  “Not exactly.” How was she supposed to tell him? She breathed in. “My boss suspended me. I can’t get into the federal databases. They’ve locked me out.” The words escaped fast and ran together.

  With a stunned look, he fell back into his seat. “What happened? You’re their ace. I saw the news scrolling across the television this morning when I went home to shower. The reporter may have given credit to the FBI for taking down the East Coast Serial Killer, but I know it was you.”

  “How can you be so certain?”

  He lifted his hand as if to touch her, then dropped it. “Because you don’t stop until you catch the bad guys. We talk every Friday. You run theories past me. And all of them were right.”

  She shook her head.

  “Don’t, Riley. I know you didn’t locate the serial killer in time to save the first-grade teacher. It wasn’t your fault.”

  She stilled. Why couldn’t he shut up? She stared out the window, praying he would drop the conversation.

  “Her death wasn’t your fault. You know I’m right.”

  “But I’m the one who didn’t see the connections fast enough.” Her vision blurred, and the pain of being too late nearly doubled her over. “I couldn’t save her, and God, I wanted to.”

  Her voice broke. Thayne let out a curse and tugged her across the seat into his arms. She pushed at him, but he pinned her against his chest and stroked her hair.

  “You’re the best there is, sweetheart. Sometimes we can’t win. I don’t like the truth, either. We’re so alike, but we both have to accept reality.”

  “Now you sound like my boss.”

  Thayne leaned back and tilted her chin so he could see her eyes. “Why did he suspend you?”

  She didn’t like the speculation in his expression, like he was looking right through her. She gritted her teeth. “Why doesn’t matter, except that it gave me time to help.”

  “You can tell me anything. I’ll understand. We’re friends.”

  True, but she’d come to realize she couldn’t allow herself to love him. If she failed to find Cheyenne, she’d lose him anyway. Love came with conditions. She’d learned that truth the hard way in her own home.

  So she said nothing and squirmed back into her seat.

  Finally, he yanked open the car door. “After we find Cheyenne, you and I are going to have a long talk about what it means to be friends.”

  “Is our friendship real? Or just complicated?” Before he could respond to the barb, she grabbed her satchel and hurried into the sheriff’s office.

  For a Sunday, the place teemed with a blur of activity. The dispatcher fielded calls. A fax machine hummed; a printer churned. A uniform strode to a door labeled CONFERENCE ROOM with a map. He opened it. Three men sat, silently sifting through files. Behind them, a crime board took up an entire wall, the content similar to hers but with its own timeline and a different set of photos.

  “Dad’s office is over there,” Thayne said with a resigned sigh.

  A loud clank sounded at the back of the room. Just beyond an open door, a man stood in a jail cell running a metal camping cup back and forth along iron bars like a scene from an old western.

  “Blackwood, get me the hell out of here, you SOB.” A gray-haired man with a shadowed beard and bleary eyes shook the bars. “I ain’t staying here one more day and night.”

  “Judge isn’t in until Monday, Ed. That’s tomorrow in case you lost a day.” Thayne crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s not my fault you decided to pull an idiot stunt on a Friday night.”

  “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “You held Carol hostage with a knife. You threatened a deputy sheriff—me. Judge Gibson won’t go easy on you. You’ll do time for this one, Ed. No passes.”

  So, he was Carol Wallace’s live-in.

  Ed ran the cup across the bars again. “It ain’t fair. You were a bigger screwup than me as a kid, Thayne Blackwood, and your daddy let you off.”

  “I may have done more than a few things I’m not proud of, Ed, but I never threatened a woman.” Thayne stalked to the cell. “Give it a rest. Your blood’s still about fifty-proof and at least you’ve got a bed here. Or are you gonna sleep on the streets? Carol kicked you out, remember.”

  “She’ll take me back,” Ed said, his voice confident. “No one else’ll have her. Besides, I know what happened to her daughter, Gina. She’s got no choice.”

  A crick in Cheyenne’s neck yanked her from sleep. She groaned at the ache in her belly, but at least she was a bit better. A soft snore rose from across the dark room. Bethany. Cheyenne’s eyes snapped open.

  Reality slapped her in the face. Not a hospital. Not by a long shot. Her prison.

  Her body stiff from the nausea and vomiting, she sat up with a moan. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and felt along the wall for the light switch.

  With a flick, fluorescence illuminated the room. She had no idea if it was night or day. Not for sure. It could be eight at night or eight in the morning.

  Cheyenne stumbled over to her patient.

  Bethany had shoved the covers to the end of the bed. At least her face and cheeks were no longer splotchy red with the reaction to penicillin. But she was still flushed.

  Cheyenne pressed the back of her hand to her patient’s forehead. Damp. As were her gown and the sheets.

  Bethany was burning up with fever. A result of the needless surgery.

  Cheyenne had filtered through every possible cause of the illness. She dismissed the drug they’d used to knock her out. Its effects had dissipated. That meant the toxin had to be in this room, but since she’d disinfected the entire room, that left ingestion.

  Cheyenne had only swallowed food and water.

  Which might be why Bethany was regaining consciousness even though her fever had spiked. She hadn’t eaten anything since Cheyenne had been locked with her in this room.

  Light footsteps raced past the door, just outside the prison. Heavier footsteps followed, then a loud scream sliced at Cheyenne.

  “Let me go! I want my mommy and daddy. Please!” a young boy cried out.

  Cheyenne rose from the bed and stood against the metal door, her fists clenched, nails digging into her palms.

  “They don’t want you anymore, Micah.” The woman’s voice—Adelaide perhaps?—was calm and unemotional.

  “I told you a thousand times, my name’s not Micah.”

  “It is now.”

  “Leave him alone,” she yelled, pounding against the cold steel.

  A door slammed.

  “No. Please, no,” shouted Micah. “I don’t want to go in there. I won’t cry anymore. I promise.”

  Another door crashed with a clang, metal on metal. The boy’s voice went completely silent.

  “Oh God.” She could feel the blood drain from her face.

  She had no idea what they were doing to that boy, but her mind could only imagine the worst. She had to get out of here and bring help.

  An iron key creaked. “Move away from the door,” a familiar voice said.

  Ian.

  Cheyenne stepped back. The metal creaked open. Just beyond, she could see hands holding a gun.

  Someone beyond that door was poisoning Bethany. And her. Who could she trust?

  She’d counted down the numbers. Ian, Adelaide, Micah, Hannah, and the one they called Father. She had no idea if there could be others.

  Ian entered the room, his face pale. “You shouldn’t have yelled.”

  “That boy sounded so young. What�
�s happening to him?”

  “You don’t understand. This is our home. The place we belong. Micah will learn.”

  The words were rote and unemotional.

  Cheyenne touched Ian’s arm. “Are you OK?”

  His bloodshot eyes met her gaze, and he gave her a quick nod. “How’s Bethany?”

  “She has a high fever. I need antibiotics. Soon. Or she won’t make it.”

  He walked slowly across to the bed, his movements stilted. He rested a hand on Bethany’s cheek. “We can’t survive without her,” he said softly. “We need her.”

  Cheyenne placed her hand on his shoulder. He sucked in a sharp breath and shrugged away.

  Oh no.

  With a sick stomach, Cheyenne braced herself and tugged the neck of Ian’s shirt to the side ever so gently. He didn’t stop her.

  A series of circular scars dotted his shoulder, most several years old. Red, angry skin peeked from just above his shoulder blade. The round burn mark had erupted in blisters. Very recent. Just below the newest injury, a series of long, thin scars crisscrossed his upper back. These marks were much older.

  “Ian.” Her eyes burning, Cheyenne couldn’t bear to accept what this teenager had gone through—still was going through.

  “It was worth it. For Bethany.” He pulled away from Cheyenne’s grip and faced her. “You’ll have the antibiotics soon.”

  Steel glinted out of Ian’s eyes. How could a sixteen-year-old kid show so much strength? Easily answered, of course. Ian had lost his childhood long ago.

  “Can you get to Singing River? Go to my brother, Thayne. He’s a deputy sheriff. He’s a Navy SEAL. He can help.”

  Ian shook his head. “You don’t understand. This is our home. The place we belong.”

  “I understand, Ian.” Though in truth, she didn’t. She had to get through to him. Bethany’s chances were infinitesimal if she didn’t receive antibiotics, and even then, Cheyenne could only give her a fifty-fifty shot. “You must know what’s happening here is wrong. Hurting you is wrong. So is keeping Bethany locked up with me when she needs a hospital.”

  “We’re a family. We have to stick together. If we don’t—”

  “Listen to me. Please. Please send my brother a message. Maybe we can save her. Together.”

  Ian stepped away from her and knocked on the door. “I can’t do any more,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “I’m sorry.”

  Cheyenne’s hopes fell. Ian might love Bethany, but was he afraid enough to poison their food or water? Cheyenne couldn’t be sure. Until she knew who was responsible, she’d simply have to avoiding eating and drinking.

  The door opened. Father stood just outside the door. Ian straightened his back. “We’re a family. We stick together.”

  The sheriff’s office went silent, except for the humming of a printer. Thayne would’ve liked nothing more than to shut Ed up permanently. The drunk gripped the bars, a cocky grin Thayne would have gladly slapped off.

  By his side, Riley stilled. She slowly faced Ed. Thayne could see the wheels turning in her mind, but something else glinted in her eyes. He only prayed it wasn’t hope.

  Ed rested his head between the steel bars of the jail. “I recognize you. FBI. The one searching for Carol’s daughter. Well, I know what happened to her. I’ll tell you if you get me out of here.”

  Thayne gripped Ed’s shirt through the bars. “Quit flapping your gums. You have no idea.” He paused. “Unless you had something to do with Gina going missing? Maybe you showed a little too much interest in Carol’s daughter? Maybe things got out of hand?”

  “That’s sick,” Ed spat. “I ain’t no pervert, but I got information. ’Cause Carol talks in her sleep.”

  Riley clutched Thayne’s arm, her nails digging hard into his flesh. He glanced over his shoulder at her face. Calm. Almost devoid of emotion, counter to her tight grip. She cloaked herself in that FBI profiler mask of hers—but her emotions ran deep.

  “I’m always interested in information, Mr.—”

  “Zalinksy. But you can call me Ed.”

  Thayne grunted at the pathetic attempt to charm her even as Riley smiled at the bastard. He released Ed. “Have it your way. But he’s a perpetual liar.”

  Riley tilted her head as if studying Ed. “It may be because I’m an outsider.” She shot Thayne a pointed look. “But I get the feeling you’re in the know about pretty much everything that goes down in this town, Mr. Zalinksy.”

  “Oh yeah. Lived here all my life. I know all the secrets, including quite a few about the good deputy here. Some secrets hide in plain sight. Some are forgotten. But I got them all right up here.” He tapped his head. “Lots of folks talk too much in the bar. And I can hold my liquor. I remember.”

  “I’m sure you do.” She smiled at him.

  Damn, Riley was playing Ed like a Stradivarius. She really was something.

  Thayne leaned against the wall to observe the show. To Ed, Thayne would appear relaxed, but he could intervene in seconds if the guy tried to hurt Riley.

  “What do you think happened to Carol’s daughter?” Riley asked, taking out a thick red notebook from her satchel.

  “It was that drifter who got her pregnant.” Ed smirked at Thayne. “And that’s all you’re getting from me unless you let me out of this cage.” He sauntered to the back of the cell, slumped onto his cot, and turned his back to them.

  “You’re looking at aggravated assault, Ed. You aren’t going anywhere.”

  Ed glanced over his shoulder. “Carol needs me. She won’t testify.”

  “I will,” Thayne said.

  “No one got hurt.” He shrugged. “I was a little drunk. And I got an in with the mayor. I’ll get probation if anything. Might as well let me out now.”

  “We’ve got a hell of a lot more important things to do today than dance to your tune, Ed. Forget it.”

  Thayne clasped Riley’s uninjured arm and led her into the main office. He closed the door leading to the jail cells behind him. “He just wants out.”

  She nodded but didn’t take her gaze off the door.

  “Maybe,” she said, her voice pensive. “Did your father talk to Ed when Carol’s daughter went missing?”

  “Of course. He was a suspect for a while, but Dad cleared him. Had a solid alibi from Deputy Pendergrass. The guy was in jail when she was taken, and he denied knowing anything.”

  “So part of his story could be true,” Riley said.

  “I wouldn’t hold my breath.”

  Riley gripped Thayne’s arm. “It’s the first potential lead on my sister’s disappearance I’ve had in more than a year, Thayne.”

  He couldn’t look away from her tortured eyes. She’d visited Singing River for the first time because she had a crazy theory that her sister and Carol’s daughter were linked. Thayne’s father had been skeptical, but he’d agreed to meet because Gina’s disappearance still gnawed at his gut. Otherwise he wouldn’t have kept running the print they’d found at the scene through the Feds’ Integrated AFIS database.

  The conference room door opened, and Pendergrass motioned to them.

  “Let him stew for another day,” Thayne said. “He might talk. If he really knows anything.”

  “I agree. He’s too cocky to trust right now,” Riley said under her breath, walking with Thayne to the conference room. “What do you think he’s got on the mayor, though?”

  Thayne raised a brow, and his lip quirked. “I was wondering the same thing.”

  Deputy Pendergrass motioned them to have a seat.

  “You have something?” Thayne pulled out a chair for Riley.

  She shot him a surprised look, and he shrugged. Gram’s etiquette lessons couldn’t be unlearned, even by ten years in the Navy.

  “An update on the blood evidence.” Underhill took the lead from Pendergrass, shoving a couple of papers across the table to them. “Like we suspected, the blood type on the floor matches Cheyenne’s, A-positive. Your grandmother’s blood was found on and n
ear the wall. She’s O-positive. Another match. We expect DNA to confirm—”

  “Not news,” Thayne interrupted.

  “Well, the last sample gave us quite a surprise, since the place had been wiped so clean we didn’t expect to catch a break. We almost missed a small smear on the edge of the waiting room desk. It isn’t your grandmother’s or sister’s, Deputy Blackwood.”

  “Could it belong to a patient?” Thayne asked.

  “We checked the books. The blood was AB-negative. Very rare. No one with that type has come into the clinic for days.”

  Thayne leaned forward. “Do you have a big enough sample to test for DNA?”

  Underhill nodded. “We’re running it now. We’ll let you know if the CODIS software gets a hit against the military database or the National DNA Index System.”

  The conference room door slammed open.

  “Thayne!” The dispatcher raced inside. “Just got a call from the search party. They found something.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  If Riley ever wanted to disappear, this isolated spot in the Wind River mountain range would be a good starting point.

  She and Thayne hadn’t received much detail prior to leaving the sheriff’s office. Only that the search-and-rescue team had discovered evidence of Cheyenne near the National Forest. Since then they’d been out of communication. Cell reception in these mountains was spotty at best.

  They’d not only left the paved road for a dirt one, they’d abandoned their vehicle at the base of this mountain. Of course Thayne trudged through the terrain like he was half mountain goat; Riley slapped away a pine branch, her legs and lungs burning in the high altitude.

  The dirt trail narrowed, the pines creating a tunnel of evergreen, blocking out the morning sun. The air was nippy, even in August. Riley ducked beneath a tree, and by the time voices filtered through the trees, the so-called path beneath her feet had disappeared below the ground cover.

  “I can hardly see the sun to get my bearings,” she muttered.

  Thayne glanced over his shoulder but didn’t stop moving. “Which makes these woods especially dangerous. My brothers and I got lost over the next ridge when I was about thirteen,” Thayne said. “Took Pops and Dad a day to find us, and we wanted to be found.”