Instead she got out. Thirty feet away, the boys stood frozen, staring. One had a wrench in a hand marked with black grease. Neither called hello or asked what she wanted. She couldn’t tell if they were alarmed or hostile.
She turned when the door opened. A woman stepped out. Unlike the boys’, her expression was pleasant and inquiring. “Can I help you?” she asked.
She looked like a modern-day hippie, graying hair braided nearly to her waist. She wore what appeared to be a man’s shirt over well-worn jeans and work boots. A few steps down from the porch, she stopped, her expression morphing into astonishment. “Aren’t you Maddie Dubeau?”
“You know me?” Nell asked, filled with sudden hope.
The woman became cautious. “Only from the news. Your face has been everywhere.”
Nell drew a shaky breath. “I’ve been here before. Back before I disappeared. Today, I just...drove here.” She could do nothing but be honest. “You know I lost my memory.”
“Yes.”
“Some of it has come back. Only snatches. I don’t know what this place is. I had a boyfriend back then. Is it possible... Could he have lived here?”
The woman hesitated for a very long time. “Why don’t you come in,” she suggested finally.
Nell nodded dumbly and accompanied her. The interior, she saw, was homelike, but on a huge scale, as if this were a summer camp, or a family of thirty people or more lived here. A number of shabby sofas and chairs with sagging cushions were grouped around a large-screen television. Bookcases held DVDs and books. Lots of books. The sight comforted her. By the window stood an enormous Christmas tree, decorated with a motley assortment of ornaments. On the other side of the large, open space, long tables were ranged in rows, a combination of benches and mismatched chairs providing seating. Nell could see through a doorway into a kitchen that was equipped with a commercial range and refrigerator, a contrast to the lack of money spent on the furnishings.
Something inside her relaxed. It was all familiar, but not because Nell remembered being here.
“My name is Paula Hale. We—my husband and I—take in teenagers,” the woman said awkwardly.
“This is a youth shelter,” she said with delight.
“In a manner of speaking,” Paula agreed, but with restraint. “Please. Sit down. Can I get you a cup of coffee? It’s always on here.”
“I— Yes. Thank you.”
A minute later they sat across one of the tables from each other, each conducting a cautious survey.
“You understand,” Paula said at length, “that we operate somewhat under the radar here.”
“Back home, in Seattle, I’m an active volunteer at a shelter called SafeHold.”
Her face brightened. “I’ve heard of it. It’s one of the best.”
“Thank you. I think so.”
“We’re...somewhat different here.” She hesitated. “This is a last resort for these kids. They have been returned repeatedly to abusive homes. If we didn’t take them in, they would be living on the street in constant fear of authority. I’m sure you’re aware how poor the outcome would be for them.”
“Yes. Of course. I see.” A sense of urgency pushed back her momentary pleasure at realizing what this place was. Her head hurt, and she knew how strained she must look. “You must wish I hadn’t appeared. But what I’m here to find out is important. I was attacked.... You know my story?”
“I do.” Paula sounded sympathetic.
“Some bones have been found in the park.”
“I read about that,” she said slowly.
“Along with the bones was a backpack. Things in it suggest the boy might have been a runaway. Detectives are puzzled, though, because along with family mementos and a change of clothes he was carrying schoolwork.”
“We do homeschool here.” She sounded even more reluctant now. “I and another woman have teaching certificates with secondary certification. Of course we can’t issue diplomas, but we prepare the kids to take the GED.”
“You’ve been doing this a long time.”
“Eighteen years.”
“Could the boy in the park have come from here?”
She sighed. “Of course it’s possible. Kids don’t always tell us when they’re leaving. We’re sorry when they just disappear, but if we made inquiries it would alert authorities and jeopardize what we can do for the kids who remain.”
“His name was Beck. I don’t know if that was a first or last name.”
Paula gazed past Nell, her eyes momentarily unfocused. “That’s...familiar. It’s an unusual enough name to have stuck.” She didn’t move. “You place me in a dilemma.”
“I know. I shouldn’t ask, but...I don’t know where else to go.” She hoped her sincerity showed. “I’ll do my best not to reveal what you do here.”
After a moment she nodded. “I do keep some records. If you’re willing to wait...”
“Please.” She was clutching the coffee cup as if it was a life buoy. “I think what happened to him might have been the same night. It might be linked to my disappearance.”
When Paula returned, Nell’s gaze locked compulsively on the thin manila folder in her hand. She wished fiercely that Colin were here, but she couldn’t have brought him. Given his position, he might not be able or willing to turn a blind eye to what went on here, and being responsible for destroying this refuge was something she didn’t want to have on her conscience.
“There’s no photo, I’m afraid,” Paula said apologetically. “Not all that much information, either. He was here only about six months.”
Nell sat, her knees refusing to hold her up. Paula slid the folder across the table. Nell kept staring at it.
Please don’t let me pass out.
“Unless he assumed a new identity when he left, or is dead, it ought to be possible to trace him from this information.”
Nell stared at the top sheet, a court order. She’d seen plenty of them. This one remanded custody of one Beckett Spencer to an uncle, Kurt Jarvis, giving the uncle’s address in Eugene—here in Oregon but on the other side of the mountains.
“After his mother’s death,” Paula said, “he was forced to live with his uncle, who was an abusive drunk. Unfortunately, the uncle was also a cop. Despite documented bruises and broken bones, he convinced the court that he was a caring guardian of a troubled youngster.”
Nell turned pages and saw notes. Grades. A couple of essay tests and one that she thought was calculus.
“He was very bright, a fine student.” The woman’s voice was soft, regretful. “Certainly ready for college. He was also nearly eighteen, at which point he would no longer need to stay here.”
“Did he drive?” Nell knew she sounded ragged.
“Yes. My husband teaches the kids who are old enough, but we do so on empty roads. None of them can afford the risk of applying for permits or licenses until they turn eighteen and family courts no longer hold sway over them.”
Yes. That was why Beck couldn’t teach me.
“We always have several mountain bikes here available for the kids to use. Some ride them into town. If they make friends, we discourage them from bringing those friends back here.”
“Yes. But he did.”
“It happens. We try to stay casual, as if the kids here are in conventional foster care. I don’t think we met, or I’d have remembered you when I saw your face in the news.”
“I...wish I knew.”
Paula touched her hand lightly. Nell sensed that her compassion came naturally. “You can take the file if that would help. I only hope...”
“I won’t tell Captain McAllister where this place is.”
The worry in her eyes remained, but she nodded.
“Thank you.” Nell pushed herself to her feet. “I can’t tell you ho
w much this means to me.”
Paula held her gaze. “Don’t make me sorry.”
“I won’t. I’ll try not to. It’s going to be hard,” she admitted, “with this a murder investigation.”
“I understand. If it’s true one of our kids was murdered, we have to support an investigation.”
Aware her welcome had expired, Nell thanked Paula again and went out to her car. The two boys had vanished. In fact, the place might have been deserted but for her and Paula, who stood on the porch.
After setting the file on the passenger seat by her purse, Nell started the car. The drive circled so she didn’t have to back up or maneuver. She had reached the tree line and was taking a last look in her rearview mirror, wondering how many people besides Paula were watching her go, when she heard a crack. Simultaneously, something stung her cheek.
Branch... But she saw the tiny hole in her window and dived sideways to the sharp sound of another gunshot.
CHAPTER TWELVE
COLIN ANSWERED NELL’S call on the first ring.
“Colin?” Her voice was very small. “Somebody shot at me.”
“What?” He shot to his feet, his desk chair rolling back and spinning.
“I don’t think I’m hurt,” she said, sounding as if she weren’t sure.
He left the office at a run, ignoring his assistant who called after him, bounding down stairs instead of waiting for the elevator. “Where are you?” he demanded.
A different woman’s voice came on the line and gave an address out in the boonies. “We’ve already called 911,” she said. “Maddie is inside and safe. We’re locked down. My husband has his rifle and is standing by the front window.”
Lights and siren cleared the road in front of him. In the grip of fear, Colin drove with reckless speed. Goddamn it, he should have asked more questions. Who were these people and why was Nell at their home? But he wasn’t sure he’d have taken it in if Nell or the strange woman had told him. His brain had stuttered and stopped on the unendurable realization that she could be dead.
He passed her father’s resort without slowing. The turn onto 253rd took him out of his jurisdiction and into Butte County. He’d driven out here at some point in the past, but didn’t remember why. County park on the right—yeah, he’d known that was there.
The black mailbox at the head of an overgrown driveway had the right street number hand-painted on it. Colin turned off the siren and slowed to navigate the narrow track. Within moments he emerged into a clearing and saw that he was the first responder. Nell’s car had been left at an angle next to a battered pickup truck with the hood propped open. Her driver’s side door stood open. To avoid contaminating a possible crime scene, he parked a distance away, then, hand resting on his weapon, got out and started toward the main building. His gaze swept the surroundings ceaselessly. Forest in three directions, too many buildings. He felt incredibly exposed, uneasy with the isolation and silence so complete it seemed unnatural. He saw no movement whatsoever.
His fear and fury soared when he saw two perfectly round, splintered holes in the driver’s side window of Nell’s car, two more, he saw, bending over, on the passenger side. Entry and exit. Two holes in the windshield, too. A tear and hole punched in the headrest. The rear window was intact. They’d be able to recover at least one of the bullets.
How had she escaped alive?
He guessed at sequence and trajectory, trying to calm himself before he went in to talk to Nell. He was aware that the front door of the main building had opened and that an armed man stood there. The possibility existed that he had been lured out here. The smart thing to do would have been to wait out at the road for the sheriff’s deputies, who had to be on their way.
He hadn’t even seriously considered doing so.
He kept his hand on the butt of his Glock as the man nodded and started down the steps. His head kept turning, too, as he stared uneasily toward the woods.
“Captain McAllister?” he asked when he got close enough.
Colin nodded at him. “You are?”
“Roger Hale. This is my place.”
“Nell’s inside?”
“Nell?” His eyes narrowed. “We have a woman in there, but that’s not her name.”
“Maddie,” he corrected himself. “Maddie Dubeau.”
“That’s her.”
“Damn.” On a tsunami of emotion, he squeezed the bridge of his nose. “I need to talk to her.”
“I think he’s gone,” Hale volunteered as they walked side by side. “Haven’t been any more shots. It’s been damn near fifteen minutes.” He cocked his head. “Sheriff’s department.”
Colin, too, had heard the distant siren. He couldn’t imagine the shooter was still in the woods, but by God they were going to comb every square foot until they found out where he’d stood and how he’d arrived and left.
Hale gestured for Colin to go ahead of him into the big log building. Scanning the interior he felt momentary surprise before his focus locked onto Nell, sitting on a bench in the dining area. He was only peripherally aware that another woman was with her. The bearded man kept talking.
“Place used to be a summer camp. We foster kids off and on, have family that comes and goes. Works for us.”
Nell had to be in shock. She held a wad of tissues to her cheek—the same place where the scrape had barely healed. Her face was too pale, her eyes glassy. Freckles stood out sharply.
Colin squatted in front of her and took her free hand. The part of him that still could assessed her. The other part choked his voice. “You just took ten years off my life,” he said.
She gave a funny, choked laugh. “Who needs to jump out of airplanes for an adrenaline rush?”
“How are you?” he asked, voice pitched for her ears only.
“Just shaken up. I was...” Her voice wavered. “I was lucky the Hales were here.”
All he wanted was to hold her. But, damn it, the wife was standing only a few feet away, and the husband had gone to the door as the siren was silenced outside.
“Can you tell me what happened?”
She did. She was driving around, thought this resort looked familiar and turned in for a look. She’d talked briefly to Ms. Hale, gone back to her car and started down the driveway when she heard a gunshot and realized bits of glass had struck her face.
“I threw myself sideways, thinking, I don’t know, that it was a hunter out there, although this isn’t the right season, is it?”
He shook his head.
Behind him the woman said, “We have our land posted ‘no hunting.’ Lots of signs.”
“There was another shot. And...and I hadn’t put my seat belt on. I never forget! But this time... Thank God. The belt might have gotten in the way.” She had to stop to breathe.
Colin squeezed her hand.
“I’ve never been so glad not to drive a manual. I managed to reverse and push on the accelerator. I guess I just went hurtling back. I think—” she shivered “—I think that’s when a bullet came in through the windshield.”
Two bullets. He nodded encouragement and didn’t correct her.
“I’m lucky I didn’t smash into something.” She directed an apologetic look at the woman. “I managed to brake when I could see the buildings and the hood of the pickup still raised. I thought I was sheltered behind the pickup. I threw open my door and fell out. I started to crawl. Mr. Hale came rushing out, bent over, I guess, to make a small target, and together we got back in here. And then he called 911 and I called you.”
He heard voices on the porch but didn’t so much as turn when feet stamped and cold air and a couple of deputies entered. To their credit, they hung back as he coaxed Nell into telling him where she was on the driveway when she heard the first shot. She knew it had come from her left, which he could ha
ve guessed now that he knew she was departing rather than arriving when she was ambushed.
He left her with Mrs. Hale and a cup of cocoa—apparently he wasn’t the only one who thought of it as comforting—while he stepped outside to talk to the Butte County deputies.
Their initial prickles about his presence subsided quickly when he explained who Maddie was and that this was the second attempt on her life this week. They set out to case the woods while he returned to ask her some more questions.
Could she have been followed here?
“I...I don’t think anyone was behind me.” Chagrin tinged her cheeks with color. “I wasn’t really paying attention. I mean, I was just wandering, not going home. Not even planning to stop anywhere.”
“Nell, where had you come from? Any previous stops this morning?”
Her parents’ house, where no one was home, then her father’s resort. Turned out both her parents had been there. He didn’t ask what was said, but could tell from her expression it wasn’t good.
“You parked in front at Arrow Lake, went straight into the lodge, then straight back to your car.”
“Yes.”
He mulled that over. “Not a good place to set up for a shot.”
“There were quite a few people around,” she agreed.
Her eyes were aware now, the glassy look gone. She was scared, all right, but thinking again. “You believe somebody spotted me in town, followed me to Arrow Lake, then decided to stick behind me in case an opportunity arose?”
“That’s what I think.” As empty as the roads out this way were, Colin figured sooner or later the guy would have taken his chances and roared up beside her little Ford as if he planned to pass. With electronic windows, he could have rolled his down, pumped some bullets in her and kept going, nobody the wiser. Goddamn. He wasn’t letting her out of his sight. “Seems unlikely we have a random nut wandering around in these woods.” He rolled his shoulders and stood. “Have you had any problems before, Ms. Hale?”
She shook her head. “Never.”
Bringing Maddie Home Page 19
