Shadow Falls

by Wendy Dranfield

  Fifty-Six

  Anna leads the investigators to her room. She’s staying on the floor above them and only arrived in Shadow Falls late last night. She had no idea they were staying here, but now she thinks about it, it is the only guest house or hotel she could find, so it should’ve been obvious.

  She sits on her bed while Madison chooses the chair at the vanity and Nate Monroe stands. They’re not going to like what she has to say.

  “Now that Esme is no longer with us, Grant and I would like to settle your bill. We won’t be needing your services anymore.”

  Nate doesn’t look surprised. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. Grant has gone home to Santa Barbara to make arrangements for Esme’s funeral. If he were here, he would tell you we both appreciate your efforts, but I expect Esme told you we weren’t keen on the idea of a private investigator to begin with.”

  Nate nods. “I can understand why that might be uncomfortable for you, after having spent the last couple of weeks dealing with cops.”

  “It wasn’t just that. I actually found Ted—Detective Morgan—to be friendly and professional, and we really believe he’s doing whatever he can to find Jennifer. We didn’t want to upset him and risk the relationship turning sour. I didn’t see—in fact I still don’t—how a private investigator can do any more than an entire police force. You’ll have to excuse my ignorance; I’m not used to being in this situation.”

  Nate smiles sadly, not even attempting to justify his role, which she appreciates. She doesn’t need a lecture about how investigators are better than the police. Madison is just staring at her.

  “If you’ve learned anything you think will be helpful in our search for Jennifer, please let me know, but otherwise you’re free to return home.”

  Nate appears to think about it. “There’s something I learned today that we were discussing before you showed up.”

  Anna’s stomach flutters. She doesn’t know if she can handle any revelations after the last twenty-four hours. “What’s that?”

  “Am I right in thinking Jenny was adopted?”

  She can’t hide her despair; she stands up. How did they find out about that? They’re going to assume she didn’t love Jennifer because she’s not her real mother.

  “I’m sorry,” Nate says, stepping forward. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  She takes a deep breath and smiles weakly. “No, it’s okay. It’s just… well, we don’t tell many people, because other mothers can be…” She pauses. “Other women can look down on you when they find out you’re not someone’s biological mother.”

  Madison shakes her head. “In my eyes you’re better than a biological mother. It needs a lot of strength to take on someone else’s child. I don’t think people realize how much harder it can be to care for someone who has been taken away from their biological parents.”

  Anna looks at her but can’t find any words. She’s never had anyone say that to her before.

  “It’s actually a possible motive for Jenny’s disappearance,” says Nate.

  She looks at him, shocked at what he’s insinuating. “What?” she whispers.

  “Well, if Jenny’s biological parents decided they wanted their daughter back, they could’ve come to get her. If they managed to track her down and were waiting for the perfect time to grab her, summer camp would be that time.”

  She thinks about it. “I guess you’re right.”

  “Do you know anything about her biological parents? Or about why she was taken into care in the first place?” asks Madison.

  Anna thinks of the horrendous reports she’d had to read as part of the adoption process. Jennifer’s file contained all the reasons she was taken away from her birth mother. It made her cry for weeks thinking what that poor baby had gone through.

  She shakes her head. “I only know her parents didn’t want her. I think they were too young or something. It doesn’t matter to us, it never did. She’s our child. No one else’s.”

  “Of course,” says Nate. “So what will you do now you’re here?”

  She thinks about what she and Grant agreed. “I’m going to check in with Detective Morgan for an update and then head home. Grant and I can’t do anything useful up here.” She pauses and then adds quietly, “Plus, we need to bury Esme. Grant has a family plot in Santa Barbara.”

  No one says anything for a while until she moves forward and holds out her hand. “Well, thank you for your time.”

  Nate shakes it first. “Can I get your contact details so I know where to send my invoice?”

  She turns to the complimentary notepad by the bed and writes down her email address.

  He takes it from her and glances at it. “Can I have your cell number too? In case any of the leads I’m chasing come up with something after we leave town.”

  She hesitates. She really doesn’t want to have to speak to him again. She takes the piece of paper back and adds her number. She can hardly say no.

  “Thanks,” he says. Then, “I’m sorry for your predicament. Esme was clearly besotted with Jenny and I just wish we could’ve found her before she passed. I wish you luck for the future and I hope she’s found soon.”

  Madison nods in agreement, but Anna notices she doesn’t have the look of pity in her eyes that everyone else has.

  She waits until they’re gone before locking her door. Then she lies on the large bed and breaks down.

  Fifty-Seven

  Nate and Madison go back to his room to talk about what just happened. Nate closes the door behind them. “Sad news about Esme,” he says, walking to the nightstand. He plugs his phone in to charge.

  “Stress is a killer,” says Madison.

  He’s surprised and a little annoyed at her lack of compassion.

  “So what now?” she says, hands on hips. “Colorado?”

  He shakes his head. “No, Madison. We’re not leaving.”

  “What? Why not? She’s not going to keep paying us.”

  He sits on the bed and drinks some bottled water, trying to figure out if she’s really as callous as she’s coming across. “Don’t you feel bad about Esme?”

  She perches on the armchair by the window. “Of course I do. It’s terrible what happened, and it couldn’t have happened at a worse time. But we have no leads on the missing girl, Nate, and neither do the police. I don’t see what else we can do if the family don’t want us here. Unless your guy has told you something?”

  He shakes his head again. “No. Rex looked into the family for me, but they seem clean. No bad debt or prior convictions.”

  “You know, if this were my investigation, I’d be interviewing them both separately at the police station. There’s just something off about them.”

  He looks at her. “Like what?” Nate knows the police always suspect the immediate family before anyone else.

  “I’m not sure yet. We’ve not spent enough time with them. But have you noticed how Anna only refers to her daughter as Jennifer, not Jenny or Jen?”

  He hadn’t. “Why’s that important?”

  “It’s just so formal. Almost like she’s distancing herself from the girl. I noticed it when we first met them and dismissed it as her being stressed. But she was calling her Jennifer just now too. It lacks any affection. When you have kids, you tend to shorten their names or use nicknames.” She frowns. “I just think that if you’re serious about finishing what we’ve started, we need to secure the trust of either Anna or Grant. We need to know what Jenny was really like, because I feel like we’re getting mixed messages. The problem is, neither of them would be open to that. They seem to want to get rid of us as fast as possible now Esme’s gone.”

  He nods. He doubts either of them had anything to do with their daughter’s disappearance, but they could be covering for someone, perhaps another family member. “I didn’t suspect they were involved, but now I’m starting to wonder if they know more than they’re letting on.”

  “Because of what I’ve said?” she asks.


  “Not just that. But for some reason they haven’t told us they’re expecting another child.”

  Madison’s mouth opens in shock. “What? She’s pregnant?”

  He nods. “I’m surprised you didn’t notice yourself.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Why? Because I’m a woman? Believe it or not, we don’t all start lactating when we’re around pregnant women, Nate.”

  He laughs, which relieves some tension. “Okay, fair enough. When we first visited them in Santa Barbara, she was wearing a thick cashmere wrap even though it was a hot day.”

  “I noticed that, but I thought it was just for comfort. Cashmere can feel like having arms around you. If she wasn’t getting enough comfort from her husband, she might’ve been seeking it elsewhere.”

  “Maybe. But I saw a packet of pregnancy vitamins on her nightstand just now, so I naturally looked at her stomach, and although she’s wearing a baggy shirt, I could see she had a bump underneath when she walked in front of the window. I’d say she’s about five months gone.”

  Madison raises her eyebrows. “How did I not notice those vitamins?”

  “Two reasons: first, they were behind something until she used the nightstand to write down her contact details; and second, you’re too distracted by your own case. You’re clearly ready to get out of here and it’s stopping you from fully immersing yourself in this investigation.”

  She looks annoyed. “Don’t be stupid.”

  “I’m being serious. I can tell you don’t want to be here and I understand you want to find out who framed you as soon as possible, but to Esme, this job was just as serious.”

  “It’s my ex.” She sighs. “She’s having problems with people looking for me. I’m worried they’re going to hurt her.”

  He’s glad she’s finally opening up to him. “Would the local police help, or are they all untrustworthy?”

  “There’s probably one good guy she could rely on. I told her to call him if they come back and intimidate her, but I don’t know if she will.”

  “Then you should give him the heads-up. And she needs to move house asap.”

  Madison nods and takes a deep breath. “I know, I know. She won’t move, she’s stubborn. And I’ve been putting off calling him because of everything that happened.”

  He stands up and walks over to her. “Madison? Come on. Aren’t alarm bells ringing in your head right now? Your ex-girlfriend is at serious risk and you’re not alerting anyone. You might not be a cop anymore, but you need to protect her. You know better than her in this instance. Get on the phone. Now.”

  She thinks about it, then nods and leaves the room.

  Fifty-Eight

  The seriousness of her situation hits Madison when Nate spells out what she already knows. She’s the experienced cop; she should be doing more to protect Stephanie. She walks into her room, cell phone already making the call.

  Infuriatingly, it rings out and the cell provider’s recorded message kicks in.

  “Steph, it’s me. I just want to check you’re okay. You need to move out of town for a while whether you like it or not. I wouldn’t say this if I wasn’t seriously worried for your safety. You know me, I don’t scare easy. Call me when you get this.”

  She follows it up with a text.

  Call me asap.

  As she sits on her bed, she can hear Nate’s shower come on. He’s giving her space to do what she needs to do. She checks the time—it’s nine a.m. in her home town. Mike should be at work. She enters his cell number from memory. Some things are ingrained forever. He was her sergeant before she was promoted to detective, but she hasn’t spoken to him for seven years. Will he even still use this number? Before she can think about his reaction too much, she hits the call button. He won’t recognize her new number, so she’ll be taking him by surprise.

  After just two rings, he answers. “Detective Bowers.”

  Detective? She bristles. So while she was incarcerated, he was promoted. How nice for him. “Mike? It’s me.” She pauses. “Madison.”

  Silence. Just as she’s about to hang up, he speaks. “Well fuck me sideways, Madison. I never thought I’d hear from you again. How are you?”

  She lets out her breath, relieved that he’s talking to her. “I’m not as bad as you probably think. I’m doing okay. How about you?”

  She can hear him close a door. He’s probably moved to an empty interview room to take the call in private. At least she hopes he has. The other alternative is that he’s put her on loudspeaker for the whole department to listen. She just doesn’t know how well she can trust him, so she’s going to have to move slowly.

  “I’m good,” he says. “What are you doing now? Where are you?”

  She’s not going to tell him the answer to those questions. Not yet, anyway. “I’m not in Colorado, which is why I’m calling. I’m worried about Stephanie.”

  Mike knows Steph. Lost Creek is small, so everyone knows each other.

  “Why? What’s happened?”

  The concern in his voice makes her feel better about calling him. “She’s getting visitors at the house. Heavies. They’re looking for me and they think she knows where I am, but she doesn’t. Mike, I’m worried they’re going to hurt her.”

  She hears him click a pen. “Who are they? Do we have names?”

  “No. She described them as two tall white men, one verging on obesity, a typical heavy. They’ve visited her three times now, and each time they’re a little harder to get rid of.”

  “Has she reported them to anyone?”

  Madison almost laughs. “Are you kidding? After everything that happened to me? She doesn’t trust the police, Mike. I’m sure you can understand that.”

  He doesn’t reply.

  “Would you do me a favor and stop by the house to check on her? I think it would reassure her to see you, and then she’ll be more likely to call you if she needs help. I’ve told her to leave town for a while, but you know what she’s like.”

  He grunts. “Sure do; she’s stubborn like you. That’s why you made a terrible couple.”

  Madison smiles to herself. They did make a terrible couple.

  “Okay,” he says. “I can do that.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate it.” She feels the tension in her shoulders ease. “I know you don’t owe me any favors, but it’s nice to know not everyone’s against me.”

  He sighs down the line. “I’ve never told you this, Madison, what with everything happening so fast after your arrest, but I’m sorry about what happened. Not everyone believed you were guilty.”

  She tries to hide her surprise. “I wish someone had spoken up and said that at the time. Especially to the press. I might have had a different outcome.”

  He doesn’t reply, and she knows she has to hold back the old anger that’s threatening to rise. She needs him while she can’t be in Colorado herself.

  “Do me one more favor and drop me a text to let me know when you’ve seen her, would you? Just to put my mind at rest. She might not tell me herself.”

  “Sure.”

  “Thanks.” She almost hangs up, but finds herself saying, “Mike? Do you know where Owen is?”

  He doesn’t respond.

  “Mike? I want to find my son. Have you heard anything about what happened to him after my incarceration?”

  “What did CPS tell you?” He sounds wary, like he’s choosing his words carefully.

  “They said he was adopted by someone but they’re not allowed to tell me who. Have you seen him since then?”

  “No. I haven’t. He’s not here; I would’ve seen him. Just be thankful he was adopted and not put into a children’s home. He got a better chance at life than those kids.”

  She wants to scream at him that Owen’s best chance at life was with his mother, but Mike won’t understand. He probably doesn’t even care.

  “Stay in touch,” he says. “It’s good to hear your voice.”

  “Maybe.” She ends the call. Her hands are shaking. Sh
e just dived back into her old life and it was hard. If she’s finding it difficult to do that over the phone, she can only imagine how much tougher it will be to go there in person.

  fifty-nine

  The office of Dr. Pamela Jarvis

  It’s mid afternoon and Pamela has been told by her boss to hurry up. She keeps reading the journal, but she’s mentally exhausted from thinking about all the possible repercussions of this inevitably being made public. She tries to focus on the words in front of her.

  No one can see me standing on the beach, screaming into the waves. The waves that tempt me every night with their steady rise and fall. Several times I’ve walked in up to my chest and waited for the tide to pull me away, to take me to my babies. But it never did.

  I’ve discovered something today and it’s made my decision inevitable. I know what I’m going to do. For the first time since the accident, I feel a sense of peace. Something I never dared to hope would ever happen. The lightness that comes from knowing my pain will soon be over is elevating. I’m making plans; I’m actually looking forward to something. Then I remember it’s not over yet and things could still go wrong.

  My choice should be easy, but it’s not. If it were just up to me it would be, but it’s going to affect other people and they won’t understand. As soon as I felt the familiar butterflies in my stomach, I knew there wasn’t really a choice to make. I can’t risk losing another child; I just couldn’t bear it. I can’t carry another child for nine months, love it for years until my abuser decides it’s time for this baby to die too, because that would almost certainly happen. I just know it. The worst part would be not knowing when. Not knowing how many years I’d get with my child.

  I worry about the new baby. Will he or she consume the turmoil I’ve been living in and be born evil, as some kind of punishment for what I’m about to do? I’ve decided it’s a risk I have to take, as otherwise there will be no one left at the end of all this.