by Hope White
“Go ahead, ask,” she said.
He glanced up. “Ask what?”
“About my anxiety, my—” she made quote marks with her fingers “—episodes.”
“It’s none of my business.”
“You mean Aiden hasn’t told you?”
“No.”
“I’m shocked. Well, you should probably know since everyone else seems to. I had a childhood autoimmune disease,” she started, wandering back to the sofa. “Juvenile idiopathic arthritis. It’s hard to diagnose in kids since there’s no blood test for it. I’d be stiff in the morning, tired throughout the day, and not the most coordinated person on the planet. Aiden used to call me lazy bird. Since the symptoms would flare up and go away, it took a while to diagnose. Mom blames herself for not figuring it out sooner.”
“Wasn’t that the doctor’s responsibility?”
“Sure, but she was the one who took care of me, saw me wince when I’d get up in the morning. I’ve outgrown it, but Mom can’t see me as anything but that sick little girl.”
“She loves you. It’s her job to worry.”
“But not her job to shame me in front of people.”
“Shame you?”
“Telling you how my anxiety could trigger an episode? It’s like I have no control over my health, but I do. I follow an anti-inflammatory diet and get my share of exercise.”
“She might have some post-trauma issues related to your illness, Cassie. Try to see it from her point of view.”
“Here we go,” her mom said, breezing into the living room with cream for Nate’s coffee. “Sorry it took so long, but I was looking for an appropriate accompaniment to the coffee. I know you said you weren’t hungry, Chief, but I thought I’d tempt you anyway.” She placed a tray of pastries on the coffee table and sat on the sofa beside Cassie. “So, what are we talking about?”
Nate’s phone buzzed and he eyed the screen. “They need me.” He glanced at Cassie as if waiting for her permission to leave.
Cassie stood and motioned toward the door. “Thanks for bringing me home.”
“Wait,” her mom said. “Let me put some sweets in a container to take with you.”
Before he could respond, she’d dashed into the kitchen. Good old Mom, always feeding people to make them feel better.
“You’ll be okay?” he asked Cassie.
“Yeah, don’t worry about me. I’m tough.”
* * *
The container of sweets on the seat beside him, Nate pulled away from the farmhouse. Glancing in the rearview, he couldn’t ignore the pit in his stomach.
Don’t worry about me.
Which was asking the impossible. Sure, the house had a new security system installed after the break-in last year, but the property was off the beaten path, and if Cassie and her mom needed emergency services it would take a good ten minutes to get to them.
A lot could happen in ten minutes.
Yet Nate couldn’t be in two places at once. They might not have a large staff at the Echo Mountain PD, but SAR had its share of former military. Nate decided to see if Harvey, retired security manager for Echo Mountain Resort, could watch the farmhouse.
Harvey answered on the second ring. “Hey, Chief, heard you’ve had a busy night.”
“Word gets around.”
“How’s Cassie McBride?”
“That’s why I’m calling. She’s staying at her mom’s temporarily and I was wondering—”
“I’d love to.”
“I haven’t asked the question yet.”
“You want me to keep an eye on Margaret and Cassie.”
“If you’ve got time.”
“Got plenty of that. Fishing trip was canceled so the timing is perfect. Besides, Margaret makes a dynamite cup of coffee.”
“That she does. I’ll let them know you’re coming.”
“Roger that.”
Nate ended the call and pressed the speed dial for Cassie’s cell phone. It rang a few times and went to voice mail. He fought the urge to turn the truck around and speed back to the farmhouse. He was overreacting. Cassie must be away from her phone, or maybe she’d gone to bed. She’d looked exhausted.
“Hi, this is Cassie. I can’t take your call right now, but leave a message and I’ll call you back. Have a blessed day.” Beep.
“Cassie, it’s Chief Walsh. I’ve asked Harvey to stop by and check on you and your mom. I didn’t want you to be alarmed when he arrived.” He hesitated, as if he wanted to say something else, something like everything was going to be fine, or how much he admired her for surviving a brutal childhood disease. “Okay, well, have a nice evening.” He ended the call.
Maintaining his professionalism was key with Cassie McBride. Wasn’t that why she called him Chief instead of Nate? It was a reminder to both of them that they didn’t have a personal relationship. No matter how often she pestered him with questions for her blog, or seemed to show up whenever he was hurt on the job, Nate would never cross that line, a line his partner had crossed, which had cost him.
It could put her life in danger if Nate lost focus because of his attraction to Cassie.
His attraction to Cassie? Whoa, where had that come from? Well, who wouldn’t be attracted to her? She was kind and engaging, independent and optimistic. Which made him wonder why she wasn’t in a serious relationship.
When Nate asked Aiden about Cassie’s social life, her brother said she blamed her family for scaring away suitors because they were so overprotective. Aiden countered that she was too picky—either that or she didn’t want to get involved because of her travel plans. No one in Cassie’s family approved of her taking off on her own to see the world. On one hand, Nate could understand why, yet he couldn’t fault her for wanting to explore life outside of Echo Mountain.
Fifteen minutes later, Nate arrived at Whispering Pines cabin to check in with Detective Sara Vaughn. Before he went inside, he glanced at a text message from Cassie: Thanks for sending Harvey. Mom is excited for more company. J
Nate texted back: Glad to help. He hit Send and considered sending another text, something like Have a good night or I’ll see you in the morning.
“I’m losin’ it,” he muttered and went into the cabin. He found Detective Vaughn conferring with a forensic specialist.
“Hey, Chief,” she greeted.
The forensic officer retreated into the bathroom where they’d found the body.
“Initial cause of death looks like blunt force trauma, but there were no defensive wounds, no sign of a struggle, no evidence he restrained her. Nothin’.” Her eyebrows furrowed. “So, what? She let him whack her head against the side of the tub? It makes no sense. We’ll know more once they get her on the table.”
“How about identification?”
“License reads Marilyn Brandenburg of Moscow, Idaho. We found an emergency number in her cell phone for a sister. I’ve called, but it keeps going to voice mail.”
“Did you find Cassie McBride’s purse on the premises?”
“There’s a purple bag on the kitchen counter, why?”
“The killer came after her at the hospital. I’m trying to figure out how he knew who she was since she claims he didn’t see her face.”
“Wait, so she saw him, called for help and took off with a dog in her arms?”
“That is correct. I’m wondering if the perp took her wallet, which was how he identified her.”
“I saw a wallet on the counter.”
Nate went to the kitchen where Cassie’s wallet, made from colorful duct tape, lay next to a bright purple bag. Cassie probably made the wallet herself, he mused. A few inches away he spotted a key chain with small charms: silver cross, flower, Union Jack flag, Eiffel Tower and kangaroo.
Fingering the keys made him won
der about the killer.
“Vaughn?” he called.
She popped her head out of the bedroom. “Sir?”
“Are we thinking the suspect escaped on foot? There were no cars in the area other than Cassie’s.”
“Someone spotted a black sedan at the Snoquamish trailhead. We’re looking into it,” Vaughn said.
“Good.” He redirected his attention to Cassie’s wallet.
He started to analyze the contents. Her round face smiled back at him from her driver’s license. The killer would only have to glance at the license to determine Cassie’s name and address.
Nate’s fingers dug into the plastic wallet.
The address on her license was the farmhouse.
FIVE
Cassie tossed and turned in bed. Couldn’t sleep. She hadn’t spent the night at the farmhouse in months. Being back here, staying in her old room, brought back memories of a darker time, a time when she felt weak and helpless.
As she glanced out the window at a familiar tree, memories rushed back, bringing with them the irrational and paralyzing fear of being stuck in bed for the rest of her life.
She hopped out of bed, put her fleece on over her pajamas and grabbed her phone. A sip of water would stop this line of thinking. It always had in the past.
Heading toward the stairs, the sound of voices drifted from the first floor. Her mom and Harvey were talking in the living room.
Cassie hesitated at the top of the stairs.
“You should try and go back to sleep,” Harvey said.
“I can’t. I keep thinking about my daughter finding a dead body. She must be traumatized,” her mom said.
“She’s a tough cookie, Margaret.”
“But she’s not talking about it, at least not to me. I don’t know what I ever did to put such distance between us. We were so close when she was a child.”
Cassie gripped the cherrywood railing. If only she could articulate how her mom’s overprotectiveness made Cassie feel like she couldn’t breathe. But she struggled to find the right words. She’d never want to come off as disrespectful, and she’d certainly never want to hurt Mom’s feelings.
“Kids go through awkward stages, then they grow out of it,” Harvey offered.
“Yeah, when they’re sixteen, not twenty-six,” her mom answered. “I wish she would open up. I could help.”
“Maybe she doesn’t want to worry you.”
“Too late for that.”
A moment of silence, then, “How about some more coffee?” her mom offered.
“That would be great.”
“And cookies?”
“If you got ’em.”
“I always have cookies.”
Cassie could just imagine the wry smile playing across her mother’s lips. She was known as the “sweet queen,” the woman who baked every day, always trying out a new recipe.
Too bad Cassie didn’t inherit the baking gene. Her sister Bree seemed to get all the talent in that department.
Hearing her mom walk into the kitchen, Cassie decided to join Harvey in the living room. The sixtysomething former security manager, with a crewcut and kind blue eyes, had a grounding presence she appreciated. She went downstairs, and he looked up as she paused in the doorway.
“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked.
She shook her head, entering the living room and flopping down in a chair.
“You’ve had quite the night,” he offered.
“No kidding.”
“You hanging in there?”
“Always do.” She offered a smile.
Suddenly the lights went out, plunging them into darkness.
“Harvey?” Mom’s concerned voice called.
He clicked on a small flashlight and pointed it toward the kitchen. “Probably the wind, Margaret. We’re coming to you.”
Just then his phone beeped with a text. The blue light illuminated his frown of concern as he read the message.
“What is it?” Cassie asked.
“Chief’s on his way. The suspect might know this address.” Harvey pulled a firearm out of his boot.
Panic stung the back of her throat. It wasn’t only her life being threatened, it was her mom’s life, as well—the nurturing, compassionate matriarch of the McBride clan.
“Should we call 911?” Cassie asked Harvey.
“Chief took care of it. Let’s get to your mom.”
The nearly full moon lit the house through the sheer curtains covering the windows.
As Cassie and Harvey went into the kitchen, her heartbeat quickened. This was where they’d found Aiden, bloodied and semiconscious after the break-in last year. When Cassie glanced up and noticed the pale look on her mom’s face, she shoved back the traumatic memory. She had to be strong.
“It’s okay,” Harvey said to her mom. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you ladies.”
The image of the dead woman in the Whispering Pines cabin flashed across Cassie’s mind. Shovel Man had no problem killing or trying to kidnap a witness from a public place.
A red light blinked on the panel beside the back door.
Someone had triggered the alarm.
It was a good thing the system was on a separate electrical circuit.
“He’s...someone’s trying to get in,” her mom said in a terrified voice.
Cassie put a comforting arm around her. “It’s okay. Police have been alerted and Harvey’s here. We need to stay calm.”
“Do you have a fire extinguisher?” Harvey said.
“Under the sink,” Mom said.
“We can use it to stun him.”
Cassie went to retrieve it. “Mom, get in the pantry.”
“What about you?”
Cassie had no intention of hiding while Harvey fought off the intruder by himself.
“We both won’t fit in there,” she said. “I’ll find another place.” Gripping the extinguisher, she led Mom to the pantry.
“There’s room for both of us,” her mom whispered.
“Try to keep quiet,” Cassie whispered.
“But—”
“Mom, please, I know what I’m doing.” Cassie gently shoved her mom into the pantry, then shut and locked the door. She had to; she wouldn’t risk Mom popping out during a dangerous encounter. Her parents had put the lock on the outside of the door, out of reach of the kids so they couldn’t raid the cookie jar.
Cassie dreaded the lecture she’d get when this was over, but Mom was safe. That’s what mattered.
Harvey nodded at an antique oak credenza beside the door leading to the living room. “Help me push this into the doorway.”
It was a good plan, Cassie thought. By blocking the door between the kitchen and living room, the intruder could get to them only through the back of the house.
And they’d be ready.
The credenza firmly in place, Harvey motioned for Cassie to get on the opposite side of the back door, out of view. She crouched beside the kitchen cabinets, clutching the extinguisher to her chest.
“What if this is just a blown fuse?” she said.
“That’d be okay with me,” Harvey answered. “But I don’t believe in coincidences. You sure you won’t go into the pantry with your mom?”
“I’m sure.”
“Trying to prove how tough you are, huh?”
“Not proving anything. But I can take care of myself.”
“I don’t doubt that.”
“Then you’re the only one,” Cassie said, noticing how their voices had grown softer in pitch as they spoke.
A few seconds of silence stretched between them. She thought she heard the echo of a police siren, but it was probably wishful thinking.
She g
lanced down at the vinyl flooring. Even in the darkness, the moonlight illuminated a mark on the floor Aiden’s football cleats had made years ago.
A mark she had fixated on when he’d been attacked and wounded last year.
“Hear that?” Harvey whispered.
Cassie took a deep, calming breath and focused.
Wooden boards creaked on the porch just outside the kitchen. Someone approached the back door.
Please, God, give me courage.
Creak, creak...
The door handle rattled.
Cassie took another deep breath and removed the pin on the extinguisher. A crash made her shoulders jerk. Mom really needed to replace the multipaned door.
Scratching echoed across the kitchen. The intruder was trying to unlock the door, but that wasn’t happening since it was the kind you locked with a key from the inside.
Another crash echoed through the kitchen. The guy had broken the window above the sink, probably in search of another way inside.
“I know you’re in there,” he said. “Tell me what you did with it and I’ll leave you alone.”
What she did with what?
Cursing under his breath, the intruder smashed all the kitchen windows. Was he going to climb into the house?
Right above Cassie’s hiding spot?
Harvey grabbed her, protectively shoving her behind him.
Shovel Man popped his head through the window.
Harvey aimed his weapon. “I wouldn’t.”
The shrill sound of sirens echoed in the distance.
The guy retreated. Footsteps pounded across the porch. She waited a good few minutes before speaking. “Think he’s gone?”
“Probably. But we’ll stay here until help arrives.”
The sirens grew louder, easing the tension in her shoulders.
And then the terrible sound of screeching brakes and crashing metal made her straighten. Cars must have collided on the farm road outside.
Chief’s on his way, Harvey had said.
She jumped up and went to the window. “I can’t see anything.”
“Calm down,” Harvey said.
She rushed to the pantry and opened the door.
