She had to get out of there. But where would she go? She took her phone out of her back pocket. It was only a little after three in the afternoon, but it was Christmas Eve. She glanced over at her carriage house. The cherry red Mercedes coupe peeked out through the set of square windows.
She would go for a drive. Clear her head. She opened the garage, fished her keys out of her pocket, and fired up the engine. Gravel crunched and spewed out in an angry screech of sound as she tore down the driveway and onto Foxglove Lane.
Dark clouds rolled in as the temperature dropped. She cranked up the heater and aimlessly drove in circles around the Langley Park town center, careful not to drive past Michael’s office.
What was he thinking? Did he really believe she would be pleased with this? Was this betrayal supposed to be her Christmas gift?
She blinked back the hot tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. She didn’t have the luxury to wallow in anger. Not this time. She was pregnant. There was another life to consider. Em rested a hand on her stomach, and the tears she had kept at bay came trickling out in angry streaks.
She turned onto Mulberry Drive, and an icy drizzle blurred her windshield. She switched on the wiper blades just as her phone chimed, alerting her to a new text message. She pulled over near the coffee shop and looked at the screen. It was a text from Michael.
I found your note. It’s not what you think. EM is Eve Medina. Dr. Medina. The files I uploaded were her surgeries. Come home, Em. We need to talk. I need to see you. I found all the tests. I love you, Em. I would never go behind your back. We are always better together.
She stared at the text as tears of relief replaced the tears of anger. She wiped her face with her coat sleeve then texted her reply:
Just driving around. I’ll come right home.
She set the phone on the coupe’s console, turned the steering wheel, and hit the gas. Immediately, she slammed on the brakes. A man had stepped out to cross the street. She threw the car into park and got out.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, shielding her eyes from the wind and icy rain that had kicked up in intensity. “I didn’t see you!”
The man lowered his hood.
“Kyle?”
Kyle Benson met her gaze. “Yeah, it’s me.”
“I’m so sorry. Are you all right?”
“I’m okay.” He glanced up at the sky. “Would you mind giving me a ride home. It’s coming down pretty good now.”
She gestured to the coupe. “Of course, of course.”
They got in the car, and Kyle took out his phone.
“Do you have any plans for Christmas?” she asked, guiding the old Mercedes into traffic.
Kyle was typing something on his phone. Em glanced over. She couldn’t tell if it was a text or email. She waited for him to answer, but he didn’t respond.
“Kyle,” she tried again. “Is everything okay?”
He looked thinner, hollowed out.
“Are you sick?”
Kyle’s head whipped up. “No.”
Em turned down his street and pulled up in front of his house. “We’re here,” she said, eyeing her phone. Michael would be wondering why she hadn’t made it back yet.
“Do you have a minute to come up, Em?”
Kyle looked like a ghost. His usual healthy glow was replaced with a pallid, dishwater gray tinge. And from the looks of it, he hadn’t shaved in a few days either.
“I really don’t have much time. I better go. Michael is expecting me.”
“It’ll only take a second. I’ve got some photos I’d like to show you. I’ve been spending a lot of time near Sadie’s Hollow lately. I thought you’d like to see them.”
Her eyes widened with the mention of the hollow.
“Remember? I’ve been doing some work for the Kansas historical society.”
He smiled, but something in his voice made the hairs on the back of her neck prickle.
“I better go, Kyle. I’d love to do this some other time.”
“Five minutes, Em. I’m sure Michael can fend for himself.”
She glanced at her phone then back over to Kyle. The rain pinged off the hood of the coupe with a growing urgency.
“All right, but only for a few minutes. I really should be getting back home.”
They covered their heads and jogged down the driveway to Kyle’s carriage house. He unlocked the door and ushered her inside.
“The pictures are in my room. Give me a second.” Kyle disappeared into his room and pulled the door partway closed behind him.
She paced the length of the studio apartment a few times. The photograph she had found last time she was here was laying on the counter. But now, it was held together with tape like someone had ripped it up and then tried to piece it back together.
She fingered the edge of the photograph. There was a building in the background she hadn’t noticed the first time she had looked at it. She’d been so amazed to learn Anita Benson was married to Mindy Lancaster’s brother. She had completely missed it. She stared at the building. There was something familiar about it.
A noise pulled her attention from the photo, and she glanced out the window. A car had pulled up behind the Mercedes and sat idling on the street.
“Are you expecting someone?”
Kyle didn’t answer.
She walked over and peeked through the crack in the door. He was typing something furiously on his phone.
This felt wrong. Em reached for her phone but cursed under her breath. It was back in the car.
Kyle looked up and caught her watching him. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t even move a muscle.
“I really have to go, Kyle. Merry Christmas.”
She left the apartment and rushed down the stairs. She opened the door and stopped short, dropping her keys. The woman standing in front of her with mousy brown hair produced a saccharine smile.
“You better pick those up,” Mindy Lancaster said, revealing a small, shiny revolver tucked inside her purse. “We’re going for a drive.”
29
“Em, I know I’ve already left a shitload of messages, but I really need you to call or text me back as soon as you get this.”
Michael pressed the end call button on his phone and looked out at the steady stream of freezing rain as he navigated the ice-slicked road. After half an hour of driving around Langley Park looking for Em’s red Mercedes coupe, he was no closer to finding her than when he started. He pulled over in front of Park Tavern. Maybe Em stopped in to say hello to Sam.
But where the hell was her car?
He entered the tavern and nodded to Sam. “Have you seen Em?”
Sam met him at the corner of the bar. “No, cuz, was she supposed to come by? You know I’m closing down in thirty minutes.”
“I can’t reach her. She’s not answering any texts, and all her calls are going to voicemail.”
“Did something happen?” Sam asked.
Michael ran his hands through his hair. “We had a miscommunication, but I texted with her. Everything seemed okay.”
“She probably stopped by the Steins,” Sam said, crossing his arms. “I wouldn’t be too worried.”
“You think I didn’t already go by there?” he bit back.
Sam put his hands up. “What the fuck? What’s going on? Do you think Em’s in trouble or hurt?
Michael shook his head. He wanted to scream. He just found out the woman he loved more than life itself was pregnant with his child, and somehow, between her texting him she was on her way home, she had fucking disappeared.
He released a shaky breath. “I just need to find her.”
Sam put a hand on his shoulder. “Let me tell Benson were closing up now, and I’ll help you look.”
Michael’s gaze flicked to the man downing shots of tequila. “When did Kyle get here?”
“I don’t know. Half an hour, forty-five minutes ago. The dude has been pounding Cuervo since he got here. It’s like he’s on some kind of mission
.”
Kyle glanced over from the end of the bar then tossed back another shot. The guy looked like shit.
“Kyle,” Michael called out. “Have you seen Em?”
Kyle leaned forward. He was shaking his head and murmuring.
Michael walked to the end of the bar. “Kyle?”
“I never wanted anything to happen to either of them,” he said, rolling something small and white between his fingers.
Michael stared at the tiny object, and the breath caught in his throat. He reached into the breast pocket of his coat and took out a slim rectangular jewelry box. His Christmas present to Em. He’d had a jeweler repair her grandmother’s pearl necklace.
Sam joined them and crossed his arms. “What the fuck do you have in your hand, Kyle?”
Kyle set the tiny sphere on the table. One delicate pearl sat buttery-white against the dark Cherrywood bar.
Michael picked up the pearl and compared it to Em’s necklace in the jewelry box.
A perfect match.
He grabbed Kyle by the collar and swung him around. “How did you get this, Kyle?”
Kyle didn’t resist. He hung limply in Michael’s grip. “It was never supposed to be Em.”
“What the hell are you talking about, Benson?” Michael growled.
Kyle met his gaze with bloodshot eyes. “It was supposed to be Tiffany. Em should never have gotten that drink.”
“You spiked Tiffany’s drink that night? Why?”
A muscle ticked in Kyle’s jaw. “Because of you. Because you always got everything. The hottest girl in our class. Everybody clamoring around you, telling you what a great deejay you were. I wanted Tiffany out of commission that night. I wanted to see you fucking alone. I wanted you to get a taste of not being top dog for once.” His face fell, and he stared at the ground. “I didn’t know Em was going to be at Sadie’s Hollow that night. I never meant for her to get hurt.”
“Where is Em? I know you know, Kyle. You wouldn’t be sitting here fondling this pearl and drinking yourself into fucking oblivion otherwise.”
“She’s with my aunt.”
“Mindy Lancaster?” Michael asked. “Why the hell would she be with Mindy?”
Kyle gave a pitiful yelp as Michael tightened his grip.
“Why Mindy?” Michael asked again.
“You know how much I hate you?” Kyle asked, his wobbly eyes working to stay focused.
Michael grimaced.
“Mindy hates Em a thousand times more.”
Michael pulled Kyle in so they were nose to nose. “Where is Em?”
Kyle sniffed. “You guys were getting too close. You were spending all that time at the hollow. Then you found Tina’s memorial.”
“Is that where Mindy took Em? To the hollow?”
Kyle shook his head. “No, the cement plant.”
“What fucking cement plant?” Sam demanded.
Kyle lifted his gaze. “The abandoned plant in LaRoe.”
“The old Hale cement plant?” Sam asked.
Michael turned to Sam. “What did you say?”
“The old Hale cement plant. It went bust years ago and left a lot of people in Garrett, LaRoe and Lyleville shit out of luck. From what I remember, the Hales running the place were pretty shady and ran it into the ground.”
Michael narrowed his eyes. “Eunice Teller called your mother, the young Mrs. Hale. I thought she was confused. But she wasn’t, was she?”
Kyle didn’t answer, but the pathetic look in his eyes revealed Michael was right.
Michael released Kyle’s shirt collar and grabbed him by the arm. “I’m taking this sorry sack of shit with me to this Hale cement plant,” he said, meeting Sam’s gaze.
“Do you want me to come with you?” Sam asked.
“No, call Clay Stevens. See if he’s heard from the detective from Garrett. Let Clay know what’s going on. I’ve got to help Em. And Kyle’s going to show me the way.”
* * *
Em tightened her grip on the steering wheel. The coupe’s bald tires skidded and slipped on the icy country road as she drove past Tina Fowler’s roadside memorial. Mindy sat in the passenger seat, seemingly unaware of the treacherous conditions, humming a tune under her breath. The gun rested in her lap, and the bright pink of her cast looked cartoonish in contrast to the shiny metal.
The windshield wipers pushed sleet and icy rain from side to side, and Em squinted her eyes. “I should pull over. It’s getting pretty bad.”
“Keep driving,” Mindy directed. “We’re not far now.”
Em glanced at the gun. “Why are you doing this, Mindy?”
Mindy tapped the hard plaster of her cast against the revolver’s barrel and stared out the window. “The men in my family ruin everything. My father, my brother. I thought my nephew might be different.”
Em released a shaky breath. “I don’t understand. How does any of this have anything to do with me?”
“You! It’s always about you, Em.”
Em kept her eyes trained on the road.
Mindy’s taps on the gun increased in tempo. “You know, when I met Tom, I was his entire world. He was my fresh start away from this godforsaken place. Then he got the offer to play with the Kansas City Symphony. I didn’t want to come back here. But I did it for him.” The tapping stopped. “We were barely making enough money to make ends meet. I suggested we start teaching to try and make a little extra money on the side. Once he met you, he couldn’t stop talking about you. Langley Park’s little Wunderkind. Isn’t that what they called you?”
“I was a child. Tom was my teacher. It was never more than that.”
“He just couldn’t shut up about you. ‘Em’s playing with this prestigious orchestra. Em’s traveling the world learning from the best of the best.’ It was nauseating.”
“So you had Kyle drug me and cut my finger so I couldn’t play?”
Mindy released a dry laugh. “You think Kyle could plan something like that? Kyle didn’t even know you were going to be at the hollow that night. You weren’t supposed to get that stupid, spiked drink. He was saving it for some other girl. No, Kyle, like his father and grandfather, only knew how to screw things up. Kyle was so scared when he saw you drink the spiked punch. He didn’t know what to do. He panicked and brought you to our family’s old cement plant. But you kept getting worse, and after a couple of hours, he started to freak out. He was on his way back to the hollow to fess up when that little bitch on a bike got in his way.”
Em dug her nails into the steering wheel, and hot bile rose in her throat. “How do you know all this?” But just as the question escaped her mouth, the car heaved and bounced.
“Watch it,” Mindy yelled, bracing herself. “We’re crossing over the railroad junction.”
“Railroad junction?” Em whispered.
Her body tensed. She knew this sensation. The motion had ground itself into every cell of every muscle in her body. All this time, she’d thought she’d gone across a bumpy wooden bridge, but the rise and fall of the old sets of railroad tracks couldn’t be mistaken. This was the jostling sensation her body could never forget.
The buzzing was back. But this time, the sound was amplified and ripped through her mind like a chainsaw. She jammed her foot against the gas pedal. Instead of slowing down, the coupe’s wheels skidded over the tracks in violent disjointed jolts, and the car flew forward onto the icy road.
Mindy was saying something, screaming something, but Em’s gaze was locked on a large structure in front of them. The car’s headlights illuminated faded, white letters printed on the side of a building. Years ago, it must have said HALE CEMENT, but the lettering of the H and E had faded, making the H look more like a lowercase t and the E into an uppercase L.
tALL
The C and E in “cement” had faded along with the final T revealing only the letters M, E, N.
tALL MEN.
The two words that had haunted her for over a decade stared down at her like the forgotten cover
of an old book.
Em closed her eyes. Flashes from the night of her injury reeled through her mind. Zoe’s laughing eyes and Michael’s lips against hers morphed into a barrage of images of Kyle’s worried face, urging her not to fall asleep as headlights illuminated the side of a stark gray building, and the words tall men etched themselves deep inside her mind.
She opened her eyes as the car careened off the road and skidded into a ditch. She turned to Mindy. The gun wasn’t on her lap anymore. Mindy’s gaze bounced from her lap to the backseat. She twisted around and tried to reach the gun that had settled directly behind her. She was fighting with her seatbelt, bouncing wildly to try and get free.
The seatbelts in the coupe could be temperamental. With trembling hands, Em reached down, pressed the release button on her belt, and gave it a quick jiggle. The belt released and she scrambled out of the car. It wasn’t dark out yet, but the heavy cloud cover and freezing drizzle cast a dark shadow on the cement plant. Overgrown weeds and long-neglected bushes and trees encased the structure like a snake constricting around its prey.
Em ran toward the plant, and her boots grew heavy with caked mud and earth. She didn’t want to go inside, but it was the only place that could provide somewhere to hide. It was an enormous facility. Several tall silo structures stood side by side. She spotted a three-story rectangular structure littered with broken windows. Fighting the overgrown talons of bare branches, she found an opening and ran inside.
Even in the dim light, she could see the ground was covered with debris. Years upon years of dead leaves and branches mingled with rusted metal, broken glass, and water stained cardboard boxes. She pressed her body against the wall, trying to steer clear of the ominous pieces of jagged wood jutting up from the floor. She inhaled and stifled a cough. The gray powder that had coated her clothes the morning she was found injured on The Steps to Hell was caked to her hands and clung to her skin where her body had pressed up against the wall.
“There’s nowhere to go, Em,” Mindy called out. Her voice echoed against the concrete walls. “I followed your footprints. I know you can hear me.”
The Sound of Home Page 24
