A rustle of cloth against vinyl answered her, and Dee twisted so that she could look up. There, above her head and resting gracefully on the back of the seat, a small delicate hand wiggled fingers at her. In the front, Jenna still hummed along with the ’70s band.
Dee cleared her throat. “Excellent. My name is Dee. Sit tight, baby. There has to be a way out of this. Keep an eye on the highway signs, okay? We’ll need to know where we are.”
The fingers wiggled again, then the small hand dropped out of sight.
Dee took another deep breath. Have to think. What can we do? What have we got? She took inventory. Her cell phone was missing, probably still in Jenna’s kitchen. There might be something she could use as a weapon in the luggage. Hair spray, maybe. Can’t get to that with my hands tied. Need to break or untie—
No. It hit her abruptly. Not untie. Cut. Her pocket knife was in her left pocket. But how…
The SUV hit a bump, and the pain in Dee’s left arm sharpened. She bit her lip to try to control the pain, then shifted, trying to ease the bend in her arm. The movement only resulted in her banging her head against the cooler, and she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to stop the throbbing.
The cooler.
Her eyes snapped open, and she stared at the large white box, now understanding the substantial number of drinks in Jenna’s fridge. Dee smiled slowly, a germ of a plan forming in her head. Had to work out the logistics…and she wondered how long it would before Jenna had to stop for gas.
Tyler peered through the window of the garage as Fletcher knocked one more time on Jenna’s front door. Although her car still sat in the driveway, the garage space in front of it overflowed with the accumulation of normal household goods and yard tools gathered over twenty years in the same house. The other side of the garage, however, had clearly been used to house a vehicle. The open space, free of any clutter, also featured oil spots on the concrete floor.
He straightened and called to Fletcher on the porch. “Think we have probable cause to go in?”
“No. We have no clue where that call came from and we have no proof that Dee is still with Jenna. She could have tried to walk home and fallen along the way.” Fletcher stepped off the porch and back out into the yard, looking over every feature of the house.
“You’re thinking like a defense lawyer.” He slammed his fist into the garage door. “I should never have let her go talk to Jenna alone.”
Fletcher’s mouth twisted. “Look, I know you’re falling in love with Dee, but you can’t keep her wrapped in cotton the rest of her life. As she’s recovered, Maggie and I have discovered a distinctive willfulness in the girl.”
Heat blossomed in Tyler’s face and he peered again into the garage window. “I thought I was being discreet. Is it really that obvious?”
Fletcher snorted. “You look at her the way I look at Maggie. What do you think?”
Tyler looked at his friend a moment, his mood growing more somber and fearful by the minute. Where was she! “I just wish she saw it the way you do.”
“What makes you think she doesn’t?”
Tyler looked around the yard, then off into the distance, trying to ignore the hard tug in his heart. “Over the past few months, seeing her almost every day….” His voice trailed off.
“I think the feeling is mutual. She can’t take her eyes off you. She may not be ready for a relationship yet, but your foot is definitely in that door.”
The thought of Dee watching him made Tyler redden again, and he cleared his throat and motioned toward the house again. “I want into this house. Think it would do any good to check the backyard again?”
Fletcher shook his head. “No. I don’t. If Jenna is involved, I doubt she’d leave any other clues for us. The dress did its job. If she’s not, there’s nothing to find anyway. And I’m not completely convinced she is involved.”
“Why not?”
Fletcher glanced toward the house again. “There’s no clear motive or connection to the Bradfords. And she’s a mom. She told me she thought all little girls deserved a chance to grow up like her Elaine.”
An icy wave of dread washed over Tyler and he froze, staring at Fletcher. “She said what? When?”
“When we were in the house that day, I heard some tapping in the basement, and she said the pipes had air in them. The dishwasher was running, which she said made the pipes pop. She said she had to find a good plumber because Elaine had come home. She took me upstairs, showed me Elaine’s room, some of her drawings, how proud she was that she’d returned from being with her father out west.”
“Oh, dear God,” Tyler muttered, his fear forcing the prayer out of him. “Lord, what has she done?”
His mind flashed back through all the stories his mother had ever told about the one great unsolved mystery of Mercer. In the late 1970s, Jenna Czock’s daughter Elaine had been killed while camping with her father. The town had rallied around Jenna and her husband Todd. In the long run, Jenna had seemed to handle it better than Todd, who never quite recovered. They divorced within a few years, and Todd moved to the Pacific Northwest. Portland. Jenna opened the flower shop and went on with life. If Jenna thought Elaine had returned….
“What’s wrong?” Fletcher’s mood turned instantly alert and guarded.
Tyler moved toward the front door at a run. “Now we have probable cause.”
Fletcher followed. “What are you talking about?”
Tyler tested the front door, then took two steps back. “We no longer need a search warrant. You just gave me probable cause.”
“Tyler—”
“You’re still new around here or you would have known.” His voice, low and gravelly, dropped almost an octave. “Elaine Czock died when she was eight. If she thinks Elaine just returned from out west, there’s a good chance she’s either hallucinating or—”
Drastic alarm crossed Fletcher face. “—or she has an eight-year-old in the house.”
“Back me up.”
Fletcher reacted immediately to stand behind Tyler, gun drawn, ready to cover as Mercer’s determined police chief thudded open the front door with one sharp kick.
SIXTEEN
For the next half hour, the only sound in the SUV came from Jenna, whose out-of-tune humming grated on Dee’s nerves even as it reassured her that Jenna suspected nothing. The world had grown dark as they drove, and Dee knew from the patterns of the street-lights that they had left any city behind. From the frequent stops and turns, followed by only short periods of straight driving, Dee guessed that Jenna’s route didn’t involve interstates or toll roads, and the occasional groupings of lights reminded her of Mercer. Back roads and small towns. She’s playing it safe.
Finally came the turn Dee had been waiting for. Bright lights settled steadily over the SUV and Jenna braked. As she shut off the engine, Jenna spoke firmly to Carly. “I have to get gas. Look over the seat. Is she still unconscious?”
Carly’s head popped up over the seat, and Dee smiled at her, then winked.
Carly dropped back down. “She’s not moving.”
“Don’t try anything. Stay in your seat. If you try to run or signal anyone, I’ll kill her. I mean it. Understand?”
“Yes.”
Fear turned to rage in Dee’s gut. Why would she do that to a child?
“I’ll be right back.” The car door opened, then slammed.
Dee cleared her throat. “Carly, can you hear me?”
The young voice sounded defeated. “Yes.”
“Where is she?”
“She went in to pay.”
Cash, not a card at the pump, Dee thought. No record, but it gives us a little time. Dee took a deep breath and gathered her courage. “Then listen to me carefully. First, she’s not going to kill me or she would have already. Don’t let her threaten you like that. Okay?
“Okay.”
“Now, listen. Stay in your seat. If she sees you get up, she’ll realize I’m awake. Where are we?”
“The last
sign said Willimantic.”
“What state is that?”
“Connecticut.”
“Okay. When we get back on the road, ask her if you can get a drink out of the cooler. Don’t do it while we’re stopped so she won’t get it for you. When you reach over the seat, open the cooler, but then reach into my jeans pocket. There’s a knife there. Pull it out and put it in my hands, then get your drink. Do you think you can do that? You’ll have to move quickly.”
A brief silence followed, then Carly spoke, her voice much stronger. “If Nancy Drew and Robin Kane can do it, so can I.”
Dee almost laughed with fearful relief. “That’s my girl.”
“I prayed for you, you know.”
Dee grew still. She couldn’t have heard right. “What did you say?”
The voice on the other side of the seat was even stronger. “I asked God to send me a rescuer. One of His warriors. You may not be one of His warrior angels, but you’re still a warrior. He sent you to answer my prayer. I just know it.”
Dee remained silent. How do you tell a child that God doesn’t always answer prayers? God doesn’t answer…
If You do answer prayers, send Tyler. Please. Tears flooded Dee’s eyes and soaked the mat beneath her head.
“This house looks like something from the 1970s.” Tyler stared at the furniture and the heavy drapes. “A 1970s cave.”
“In New York, it’s called retro and is quite trendy in some areas.”
Tyler glanced at Fletcher, but his friend’s face showed no amusement. Both men had burst into the living room in a crouch, guns drawn, listening for a response to their thunderous entrance. When none came, they had slowly prowled the house, looking for signs of Dee, Carly, or Jenna. The hallway and bedrooms were clear, although both had stared in disgust at the bedroom decorated as if Elaine still lived there. Now they headed back to the kitchen. Tyler reached it first and stopped dead in the doorway, a chill radiating throughout his body. “We’ll need Wayne.”
“What do you see?”
He stepped aside and pointed to the floor and the door of the fridge, where a spray of red droplets revealed the violence that had taken place here. Dee’s cell phone lay in the middle of the floor, smashed.
Fletcher muttered something under his breath, then put his hand on Tyler’s shoulder. “There’s not enough blood for a serious injury. Don’t jump to any conclusions yet. Where would she have kept Carly?”
Tyler stared at the phone. “She tried to call for help. She tried to call me.”
Fletcher squeezed his shoulder. “Carly.”
Tyler forced himself to look away from the blood, dread turning his mind numb. “Probably the basement. All these old houses have one.”
The second door they tried opened onto a set of narrow stairs leading down, and Fletcher flipped the light switch on the wall with his elbow. A pale yellow light cast harsh shadows down the steps. At the bottom, however, another switch turned on a series of bright fluorescents, revealing the basement as a pristine work and storage area. The room smelled earthy but not damp, and a dehumidifier hummed pleasantly in a far corner. Shelves lined the walls, most filled with neatly labeled plastic storage containers. The uniformity of the shelves was broken only by an upright freezer, and a set of stone steps leading up to a slanted set of wooden double doors that Tyler knew opened onto the backyard. In the middle of the floor a worktable held bins containing pots, silk flowers and the tools for arranging them. Tyler walked to the table and peered into the bins. They were as tidy as the rest of the basement. “Lovely. Crazy and a neat freak.”
“Which means she left in a hurry or she would have cleaned the kitchen.” Fletcher spoke but did not look at Tyler. Instead, he stared at a section of shelves near the staircase, his head tilted to the left.
Tyler joined him. “What do you see?”
Fletcher holstered his gun, then pointed. “See how that set of shelves is out of sync? Each shelf is about three inches higher than the ones to either side. That would drive a true neat freak crazy.”
Looking down, Tyler saw the reason. “They’re on casters. Now I wonder why she needs this set to roll.” He holstered his own weapon, grabbed one side of the section and pulled.
The padlock on the old, wooden door behind the shelves dangled open from a latch, more evidence of a hasty departure. Tyler opened the door slowly and flipped on the light. The two men stared at the little girl’s room, from the bookcase to the dresser, and the crumpled bed. An open trunk stood in one corner, toys and clothes spilling out of it.
“I’m going to call Rick.” Tyler heard the fierceness in his own voice. “I think that Amber alert should go out now.”
The SUV pulled back into traffic, and Jenna resumed her humming. Just before they left, she’d pulled Carly from the backseat and escorted her to the bathroom. When they returned, Carly tossed a piece of toilet paper over the back of the seat. As it settled, Dee shifted to see four words scribbled in crayon: “I left a note.”
Dee felt her heart leap. Everyone she’d talked to about Carly had sounded as if the child had spent life as a spoiled, fragile princess. Apparently they had been overlooking both her resourcefulness and creativity.
Dee braced her feet against the side panel of the SUV and pushed, trying to make her pocket and hands more accessible. After the rough bumps of a railroad and two more turns, the road smoothed out, and the sound of the tires settled into a steady drone. Jenna stopped humming, but turned the music up a bit.
“Can I get a drink out of the cooler?”
The sudden request startled Jenna, who let out a “What?” that sounded almost like a yelp.
Carly repeated the question, adding a “Please, ma’am” on the end.
Jenna hesitated. “Can’t you wait? We’re almost there.”
“I’m really thirsty.”
Another hesitation. “Okay, but be quick about it.”
Carly bounced up, leaning precariously over the backseat. Just as Dee has instructed, she opened the cooler and pretended to look inside as her hand reached down. Dee felt the small fingers slip into her pocket and close around the knife. Another swift movement, and Carly pressed the knife into her palm. She pulled a soda out of the cooler, dropped the lid shut and settled back into her seat.
“Fasten your seat belt,” Jenna called, and Dee heard Carly click the belt shut. “Is she still unconscious?”
“She didn’t move.” Carly sounded confident and comfortable.
Don’t get cocky, Dee thought. Stay scared.
The knife, still warm from being in her pocket, felt like an old friend. Being careful not to drop it, she turned it slowly in her hands until one finger found the tiny slot in the main blade, just right for her fingernail. Grasping it firmly in one hand, she tugged on the blade, but it wouldn’t budge. Frustrated, she changed her grip slightly and tried again. She’d used the knife hundreds of times, but never while her hands were tied behind her back.
This time, the blade opened smoothly, but nicked the side of one finger. Dee bit her lip, and kept turning the knife until she felt it press against the bonds. Sawing steadily, she felt the plastic cord give, then snap away.
Elation shot through her as she brought her hands around in front, rubbing them furiously as the blood rushed into her fingers, causing them to sting and burn. Then she held herself still for a moment. The sudden sense of freedom made her want to crawl over the seats and wrap her hands around Jenna’s neck, but she knew that would only put them all at risk.
Instead, Dee cut the cords binding her feet, then reached for the nearest piece of luggage and unzipped it slowly, quietly, beginning a methodical search through the contents.
Willimantic? How in the world did she get that far south already? Tyler’s mind had been filled with a numbing buzz since the Amber alert had turned up a sighting in Connecticut. His eyes focused solely on the white lines in the road, his thoughts on nothing but getting there. Finding her. Finding them.
But something i
n the back of his mind tickled a memory. Something about Willimantic. He frowned. Why is that familiar?
Fletcher snapped his cell phone shut. “Rick again. Said the Amber alert went out all over New England, but there’s no other sightings. Wayne confirmed that Jenna owns a black SUV and called Rick with the VIN and license. The Connecticut troopers are swarming the area.”
Tyler turned onto the interstate, switching on his headlights to push back the descending dusk and the blue lights on the cruiser to part the traffic in front of them. His foot pressed harder on the accelerator, and the cruiser, which they’d taken from Wayne once he’d arrived at Jenna’s, responded smoothly, like a big cat ready for the chase.
As if reading Tyler’s thoughts, Fletcher continued. “They must have left sooner than we thought. The customer who found the note at the gas station gets Amber alerts on her cell, and had already seen it. When she saw the note from Carly, she called 911 as well. The Connecticut troopers are on the lookout for the SUV and New York has been notified.”
“Anything else?”
Fletcher referred to the notebook in his lap, where he’d been taking notes. “Not yet.”
Tyler’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, trying to keep his focus on the road in front of him. In his mind, however, the image that hovered was Dee, injured, terrified. He increased his speed, even as he prayed. Lord, keep them safe. Don’t let my mistakes become their fate.
Jenna hadn’t been kidding about how close they were to their destination. Dee had given up on the search of the luggage, finding nothing but clothes and a few books. She’d returned the knife to her pocket.
Yet only about ten minutes had passed before the SUV slowed again and turned onto a rocky road that caused it to buck and jolt. Jenna proceeded slowly for five minutes or so, then stopped again and shifted into park. “I’m going to open the garage door. Stay here.”
She got out and closed the door.
Dee fought the temptation to look. “Where are we?”
The Taking of Carly Bradford Page 15
