Deadly Deception

by Marissa Garner

  “Which means what?”

  “I don’t know for sure, but it raised some serious red flags in Sean’s cop mind.” She rubbed her forehead, another headache hammering into existence. And yet more longing for Sean’s stabilizing presence. “What do you think Mom’s letters were telling us—other than the obvious?”

  “Seriously? You don’t get it?”

  “Of course, I have an idea, but I want to hear yours.”

  “Okay.” He huffed. “Mom thought if something ‘suspicious’ happened to her, it could be related to her catching Hal taking those pictures. Of course, she feared it might happen two decades ago. But obviously, he didn’t hurt her. At least I never saw any signs of abuse over the years. Did you?”

  “No. And she must never have caught him taking horrible pictures again. So why am I jumping to the conclusion that Callie’s in danger?”

  Their gazes connected and an unspeakable possibility passed between them.

  A sob escaped before she felt it coming. “Oh God, Nate. He couldn’t. He just couldn’t.”

  His eyes grew hard. “The man’s capable of far more than you realize. You suspect it, but you don’t want to believe it. You can’t even say it, can you?”

  “You’re right. I don’t want to believe it.” Her voice rose, sounding panicky to her own ears. “Who would want to believe a man she loved had taken horrible pictures of her and her daughter and…and made her mother…disappear? That man, her father, hurting three generations.”

  “Stepfather,” Nate said, the word a hateful slur. “You’re thinking exactly what I’m thinking. Mom caught him taking nasty pictures of Callie, and he killed her this time. Damn good reason to think Callie’s in danger.”

  “My brain just doesn’t want to accept that a man I’ve known and loved practically my whole life could be a pervert and a…a killer. How can you—”

  “Because I know a different Hal than you do.”

  Her eyes narrowed. There it was again: the feeling her brother was also hiding something. “What aren’t you telling me, Nate?”

  His jaw worked as though chewing on his next words. What could he be holding back that was so awful he couldn’t bring himself to tell her?

  A horn blared just as he spoke. “I knew.”

  Her mind clutched at the two words, but they skittered away because the horn sounded again, louder, closer. And this time, Uncle Chad’s truck flew past them on the two-lane road. He swung back into their lane and raced down the highway.

  “Catch him, Nate. Who knows what he might do if he gets to Dad first.”

  Nate floored the accelerator, and her Camry shot forward. Jessie’s head bounced off the headrest before she braced herself with her hand against the dashboard. Her heart pounded in her ears as familiar scenery rushed past.

  Uncle Chad kept a rifle in his pickup, and Hal also stored one in his truck, plus a handgun in the house. No way did she want Callie caught between the two men.

  When the Camry careened into the driveway, Hal’s truck was parked in front of the garage. Her uncle, gun in hand, was disappearing through the back door of the house.

  Jessie and Nate bolted from the car. By the time they reached the living room, Chad burst from the hallway, the rifle clutched at his side.

  “They’re not here. He must have Callie in the bomb shelter,” Chad said.

  Jessie struggled to breathe. Her world had gone crazy. “We don’t have a fucking bomb shelter,” she shouted at him.

  He didn’t even slow down, just pushed past her and Nate, back to the kitchen.

  “Yeah, we do. It was probably built in the sixties like a lot of others,” Nate said, taking off after Chad.

  She willed her rubbery legs to move. Stumbling out the back door, she yelled, “Wait. Where’re you going?”

  Nate headed back to intercept her. He grabbed her shoulders and gave her a sharp shake. “Stay here!”

  “Like hell—”

  “Listen to me. You don’t want to—”

  “I won’t be able to live with myself if I don’t help Callie. Let go of me,” she gasped between sobs.

  He stilled and studied her with haunted eyes. “You’re right. Doing nothing is worse.” He released her shoulders but clasped her arm to steady her as he led her across the yard.

  Her gaze darted around the property, searching for signs of a bomb shelter she never knew existed. “Where…?”

  “In the darkroom.”

  Her eyes widened as she watched Chad slamming his body into the door beneath the unused red light. Finally, the door gave way, and he dashed inside. Her brother dragged her through the doorway a few seconds later.

  Stale air and a whirring noise filled the darkroom. Dust tickled her nose.

  Blinking in the dim light, she gaped at the three-foot-square steel door protruding from the concrete floor and at the hole beside it.

  The top of Chad’s head was barely visible as he descended into the ground. “You fucking son of a bitch,” he roared. “I’m gonna kill you!”

  A muffled yell responded.

  Nate released her and scrambled down the steps. “Fucking bastard.”

  Her whole body shook as if she’d stepped into a freezer instead of an old, dusty darkroom. Only the adrenaline pumping through her veins and her white-knuckled grip on the railing saved her from tumbling down the steep metal stairs.

  As soon as her head cleared the concrete floor, she scanned the surreal scene, searching for Callie. So intent on finding her, Jessie almost tripped over Chad’s rifle on the bottom step.

  The three men were a blur of motion, locked in a struggle. They yelled and threw punches. Arms and legs swung wildly. Bodies bounced off walls and furnishings. Flesh connected with flesh. Hard.

  But no sign of Callie.

  “Where is she?” Jessie screamed above the din.

  The men froze.

  Nate and Chad exchanged a silent message and then together shoved Hal several feet to the right, pinning him against the wall. Behind where they’d been fighting stood a camera on a tripod. Beyond that was a table.

  * * *

  Sean pounded the steering wheel for the hundredth time. He glared at the ribbons of brake lights ahead of him on southbound I-15. Not a single vehicle was moving.

  He’d been stuck in this exact spot for forty-five minutes. Multiple sirens had blared and stopped at least thirty minutes ago. People were turning off their engines and milling around between the vehicles.

  This stretch of freeway had few exits and entrances. Surface roads were almost nonexistent, meaning there were no alternate routes. If the accident had blocked all lanes, it could be hours before the highway patrol got traffic moving again. Swearing under his breath, he called Jess’s cell again. And again, it went directly to voice mail. With everything that had besieged her in the last three days, maybe she’d forgotten to charge her phone. He swore before leaving another message.

  “Hal’s dangerous. Stay away from him. I’ll explain later. I’m stuck on I-15. Call me. I…I…” He shook his head. Now was not the right time. “See you ASAP.” He slammed the phone onto the passenger seat. Again.

  * * *

  Jessie’s keening cry filled the concrete room as she rushed to her daughter. Sweeping Callie into her arms, she said a silent prayer for the little girl to stay asleep.

  Then she turned on her stepdad. Her body shaking, she glared at the man who’d deceived and hurt them all.

  “Where’s Mom?”

  He glowered at her, his lips curled in a disgusting sneer. “I don’t know.”

  “Liar,” she shouted. “What did you do to her?”

  He responded with an evil chuckle. “I’m guessin’ someone got tired of the bitch meddling in their business, but you got nothin’ on me.” He smirked with confidence.

  Jessie stepped closer. “You’re gonna rot in hell, Hallelujah Ima Freeman.”

  His eyes widened.

  “Yeah, we know.” She paused. “This is for you, Mom.” She
rammed her knee into his groin.

  Hal bellowed with pain. His legs buckled, and he sank to the floor.

  Chad grabbed his rifle and pinned it against Hal’s head. “What did you do to my sister, asshole?”

  Hal snickered. “I took good care of her.”

  “Did you kill her?” Nate yelled in his face.

  “Damn right. The bitch should’ve stayed out of my business.”

  “Your business of child pornography,” Jessie growled.

  Hal’s face paled.

  “Mom outsmarted you,” Nate spat.

  Their stepdad snorted. “Well, I outsmarted all of you. You’ll never find your precious Molly.”

  Jessie sobbed. “You’ll pay for this. For all of it.” Her world was spinning out of control. She swayed.

  Nate caught her arm. Blood dripped from his busted lip. “You take care of Callie. Chad and I will call the cops when we get Hal tied up in the house.” His eyes dropped to his little niece. When they reconnected with Jessie’s, they were filled with anguish.

  Her brain seemed unable to process his words. Dazed, she just nodded before heading to the stairs with Callie in her arms. Protect my baby, protect my baby, repeated like a mantra in her head. Primal maternal instinct replaced rational thought.

  Overwhelming urgency clawed Jessie’s mind as she climbed the stairs. She wanted to run, to flee from the depths of the hell surrounding her. Her left hand clamped over Callie resting on her shoulder, while her right hand gripped the railing like a life preserver. Miraculously, she reached the top of the stairs despite her rubbery legs. Without pausing to catch her breath, she ran out of the darkroom, across the driveway, and into the house, only stopping when she arrived safely in Callie’s bedroom.

  Jessie collapsed onto the bed, sobbing and hugging Callie to her.

  “You’re safe, baby. You’re safe,” she whispered over and over.

  Cradling Callie in her arms, she swept the sheet over them and snuggled down into the pillows. Her daughter showed no signs of waking despite all the movement and noise.

  Jessie brushed the hair out of her daughter’s face and stared down at her baby. Tears dripped from her chin onto Callie’s rosy cheeks. Carefully, she pressed her fingers to the pulse in the little girl’s neck. Strong and regular. Jessie breathed a sigh of relief.

  Mom’s sleeping pills. That would account for Callie’s current deep sleep and her lethargic state after her nap last Friday. Hal had drugged her to avoid the possibility of her waking up while he took his god-awful pictures. Her mother’s letter had mentioned Jessie was asleep. Had Hal used sleeping pills on her also?

  She closed her eyes and let the events of three days ago march through her mind. Everything took on a new significance.

  Just like today, Hal had thought he would be alone with Callie for several hours. There’d been no hike to the creek to feed the ducks. He’d drugged his granddaughter and taken her down into the bomb shelter where they couldn’t be accidentally discovered. But Mom had come home early and found them. Had her mother felt the déjà vu? Jessie could only imagine the horror and anguish she’d experienced, realizing that her decision twenty-five years ago had been terribly wrong and had precipitated this current atrocity.

  “Oh, Mom,” she breathed.

  Reality hit her like a sucker punch. Her mother wouldn’t be coming back.

  A new wave of sadness swamped her. How could she, her mother, and her daughter have loved a man capable of such evil? How would she ever be able to explain all of this to Callie in a way that wouldn’t leave lifelong emotional scars? Hal’s heinous actions threatened to destroy three generations of her family. Not if I can help it.

  “I won’t let you win,” she said through clenched teeth.

  The roar of engines roused Jessie from her thoughts. How long had she been lying with Callie? Why hadn’t she heard Uncle Chad and Nate bring her stepdad into the house?

  Throwing off the sheet, she jumped out of bed. She tore down the hallway, through the living room, and into the kitchen. Racing past the window, she noticed Hal’s truck was gone.

  “Noooo,” she screamed.

  Tires squealed.

  She barreled out the back door and stopped in the driveway. With her shoulders slumping, her arms hung limp at her sides.

  Hal was already a hundred yards down the road with Uncle Chad’s truck in close pursuit.

  She fell to her knees, buried her face in her hands, and sobbed.

  Chapter 17

  Please, God, don’t let him get away,” Jessie prayed, picking herself up off the ground.

  She peered down the road in the direction the two trucks had disappeared. Defeat and helplessness weighed heavily. Her world hadn’t just gone crazy; it was crumbling into a million pieces.

  Wiping tears away with the back of her hand, she trudged into the house. Her head pounded, and her chest ached. Her body was now encased in the concrete of hopelessness instead of buzzing with the adrenaline of panic. This nightmare continued to worsen, not improve. Was it ever going to end?

  When she picked up the kitchen phone to call the cops, she paused. Nate had said that he and Uncle Chad would call after they got Hal tied up in the house. Why hadn’t he wanted her to call immediately? Why? Why? Why? Rubbing her forehead, she scrunched her eyes shut and forced herself to push aside the day’s traumatic events and to concentrate.

  Moments later, Nate’s reason hit her. Hard. Oh my God. Still gripping the phone, she dropped onto a kitchen chair.

  Thank God for Nate’s foresight. He knew that once they called the sheriff’s station, the deputies would arrive at the house with a million questions. She, Nate, and Uncle Chad needed to decide beforehand what they were willing to disclose. Obviously, they’d report Hal’s confession to killing Molly, but what about where they’d found him, what he’d been doing, or how they’d known to look in the bomb shelter? She groaned at the thought of revealing the horrible truth.

  She glanced toward the back door. Now things had changed because her stepdad had gotten away. But surely Nate and Chad could catch Hal in his old truck. And if they needed help, didn’t it make more sense for them to call the cops?

  As Jessie hung up the phone, she made her decision. She’d wait an hour. Only one hour. If she didn’t hear from her brother and uncle by then, she would call the cops. Heaven help me.

  Then she hurried into the bedroom to check on Callie. Her little angel still slept soundly. In an ironic way, her drugged sleep was a blessing because she didn’t rouse when Jessie carefully dressed her in a nightgown. What would Callie have thought if she’d woken up naked?

  Convinced her daughter would be all right alone for a few minutes, Jessie rushed out to the Camry. She hoped against hope that her purse was inside, but honestly, she couldn’t recall leaving the attorney’s office with it. Her life was beginning to blur.

  She sighed with relief when she spotted her bag on the passenger side floorboard. She retrieved it and pulled her keys from the ignition where Nate had left them. After locking the car, she stared down the road again, listening, hoping for the sound of a vehicle. But only the early symphony of crickets reached her ears.

  Back inside, she dug out her cell. The battery was totally drained. After setting the phone up on the kitchen counter to charge, she noticed she had several messages and missed calls, but she was too exhausted to care. They could wait; Callie couldn’t. Jessie needed to be with her daughter. Not that Callie needed her; it was the other way around.

  Battling exhaustion and despair, she climbed into bed beside her little girl to hold her close until Nate, Uncle Chad, and Hal returned. Or until a fateful hour had passed.

  * * *

  Finally, traffic was moving. Sean had been stuck on I-15 and then on the long detour for three hours. Now he was flying toward Ramona on Highway 67.

  Why wasn’t Jess answering her phone? Was it dead? Had she turned it off? Had something happened?

  The last question raised the hair on his n
ape.

  Knowing about Hallelujah’s perverted photos made him damn scared for Jess and Callie. And while he’d sat paralyzed on the freeway, he’d had plenty of time to speculate on possible scenarios connecting Hal’s child pornography activities with Molly’s disappearance. None of them good. The shit just kept getting deeper and deeper.

  His cell rang, and he grabbed it from the passenger seat. “What ya got, Stone? Who’s RAU?”

  “Ronald Arthur Usborne.”

  “Your FBI contact caved?”

  “Nope. Figured it out myself. I worked my way through the list of escapee reports we made. Found a few with the right initials. One RAU was from Texas. Remember, you thought Hal’s accent might be Texan. So that fits. And the asshole was incarcerated for the production and interstate sales of child pornography. Bingo.”

  “No murder charges or convictions?”

  “No. But self-preservation kicks in when you’re cornered.”

  “Damn right.”

  “How do you want to play this, Burke?”

  “I need to talk to Jess first. But I don’t want to give Hal…er…Ronald up to the feds before we know for sure whether he’s responsible for Molly’s…disappearance.”

  “Agreed. I’ll keep ignoring my FBI guy’s calls.”

  Sean sighed and slid the phone into his pocket. Poor Jess. She’s going to end up losing both parents.

  * * *

  The pounding and buzzing in her dream was damn annoying. Jessie yawned and rolled over. Then her eyes popped open, and all the horrible details of the day came flooding back. She groaned. At least Callie was here, safe, next to her.

  The noise started again, proving it wasn’t just a dream.

  What the…? Was it Nate and Uncle Chad with Hal?

  Why didn’t one of them open the door with his key? Did they have Hal? Maybe they couldn’t risk using their keys if they were restraining him.

  Jessie jumped out of bed. Oh God, I didn’t mean to fall asleep. But she obviously had because she could see through the bedroom window that night was already falling. How long had she slept? Had poor Nate and Uncle Chad been chasing Hal all this time?