‘She hates Savannah?’
‘I don’t know Rhonda well enough to guess her exact feelings about Savannah, but I know she can be very aggressive. She was hostile toward Mark after he’d talked to her aunt, Miranda Gaines. Her son, Frankie Gaines, was a victim of the Genessa Point Killer.’
Garrett looked at Brynn solemnly. ‘Mark didn’t talk to Miranda Gaines. I called her. Mrs Gaines said Mark didn’t come to her house and he didn’t call her. She said there must have been a misunderstanding.’ He paused, then decided to be completely honest. ‘Rhonda also told me you’d been to Cassie’s store and said awful things to her – frightened her.’
Brynn started to say something but Garrett held up his hand. ‘You don’t have to defend yourself. I know you saw her at the store and you wouldn’t have said anything awful to her. You certainly didn’t frighten her. No one frightens that woman. And she’s a liar.’
‘I think she’s even worse than that, Garrett. Savannah is afraid of her. She won’t come out and say it, but the calls at night, Rhonda’s possessiveness of you, her attitude toward Savannah – yes, Savannah knows Rhonda really dislikes her – have her worried. She’s only thirteen, Garrett, and Rhonda is—’
‘Unbalanced,’ Garrett said flatly. ‘I don’t know what she’s like normally, but she’s either drinking or doing drugs. She’s gotten strange, unpredictable – scary.’
‘You have to do something about her, Garrett. For Savannah.’
Garrett could feel his jaw tightening. ‘Oh, I will,’ he managed. ‘You bet I will.’
‘But here I am, blaming Rhonda, when I’ve frightened Savannah even more.’
‘You? How?’
‘How? As long as I’m in town, she can’t forget that Mark’s been kidnapped.’
Brynn began nervously rubbing the pendant on a necklace he’d seen her wear before. Savannah had told him the pendant was a dragonfly. Brynn had loved dragonflies since she was a little girl, Savannah said. Wasn’t that cool?
‘And what about Sam?’ Brynn asked. ‘Savannah would never have seen him dead, stabbed through the heart in my old bedroom if it hadn’t been for me. I’ve done more to traumatize that girl than any fear of her mother or Rhonda could!’
Garrett leaned forward and said intensely, ‘Brynn, you can’t hold yourself responsible for what happened to Sam or for Savannah seeing him. You were trying as hard as I was to keep her from going into that house. And even if you hadn’t stayed in town, I’d still be searching for Mark and she’d know about it.’
‘You wouldn’t be listening to “Can’t Find My Way Home.”’
‘What does that have to do with anything?’
‘She knows the song has something to do with Mark – Mark, who’s missing, maybe dead. And then she heard it again, playing over and over on a boombox beside Sam’s body.’ She looked at Garrett, her hazel eyes brimming with tears. ‘What in God’s name does that song have to do with Sam?’
‘I think there must be some connection between Sam’s murder and Mark’s kidnapping.’ Garrett waited a beat, then said, ‘Don’t bite off my head, but did Mark have any special grudge against Sam?’
‘No. He resented the way Sam dropped out of our lives after Dad’s death, but if he had a special grudge, it was against Edmund Ellis. He’s the one who claimed he didn’t know Dad had lost the knife used to kill those children. He said he’d seen Dad use the knife about two weeks before Tessa killed Dad with it.’
‘Actually, he said he was fairly certain your father used that knife.’
‘In your father’s eyes, fairly certain was as good as absolutely certain.’
Brynn was right, Garrett thought. He remembered with aversion his father blasting details about the case over dinner in the evenings, banging his fist on the table. His fragile mother would get so nervous, she could barely eat. Even then, Garrett hadn’t thought everything was black and white concerning this case. He’d had questions, but he hadn’t dared ask them. As if it was yesterday, Garrett could hear his father announce that Stone Jonah Wilder was definitely the Genessa Point Killer and his son Mark was his accomplice. There was no doubt about it … Well, Jonah had gotten what was coming to him. Mark hadn’t. But he’d get him, William had declared viciously. One day, he would make Mark Wilder suffer, just like his father!
Brynn’s cell phone rang. ‘Oh, it’s probably Cassie, even though I left her a note.’ Without glancing at the caller ID, she said, ‘Hi. I’m still at Garrett’s.’ Then her face went pale and she motioned for Garrett, who nearly turned over his chair in his rush to get to her as she held out the phone. His hand covered hers, steadying it as they both listened to ‘Can’t Find My Way Home.’ The song ended and after a few moments of silence, a weak, gritty voice said just above a whisper, ‘Help me. Please. But if you can’t—’ The voice scraped before dissolving into a dry, raking cough. ‘If you can’t, know that I love you, Dragonfly.’
The connection ended.
Garrett looked at a white, trembling Brynn. ‘Was that Mark?’
She said nothing, still holding out the phone, her gaze fixed on the wall. Garrett took his hand off hers, moved it across her back and clasped her shoulder, drawing her close to him, hugging her gently. ‘Brynn, could you tell if that was Mark?’
Finally, she whispered, ‘It was Mark.’ She raised her head from Garrett’s shoulder and looked at him, pain clouding her eyes. ‘He always called me Dragonfly.’
TWELVE
Garrett stopped shaving and looked in the mirror at himself. Brynn Wilder had cried in his arms last night. Mark’s confident, beautiful little sister who’d always intrigued him. Even before she’d reached her teens, she’d seemed to look inside him, to discern the damaged spirit he tried so hard to hide from everyone. Sometimes he’d felt anger and embarrassment because he couldn’t hide from Brynn what he was able to hide from everyone else. Not that she said anything revealing to him, but often when he glanced at her, he saw the knowledge in her expressive eyes. But she’s a kid, he’d told himself back then. A smart kid, but just a kid who thinks she’s a whole lot more perceptive than she is.
But he’d known he was only making up excuses. Being unnerved by a pre-pubescent girl had seemed almost perverted to him. But the truth was that she had shaken him. She’d also fascinated him. And now …
And now, what did he feel about Brynn Wilder? Last night he’d kissed her teary eyelids, held her close and finally pressed his lips against hers. At first he’d been almost unaware of what he was doing. He’d meant it to be a gentle, comforting kiss, like one would give a hurt child. But within a minute, his lips pressed harder and hers had responded. He’d held her tighter and she’d wrapped her arms around him, rubbing his back, touching the tender skin at his neck as he embraced her gently, then clutched her willing body against him, the urgency of their needs, their desires, overcoming all thoughts of what might be considered appropriate. Garrett had only known that this woman stirred feelings in the depths of him he’d never known existed, feelings that surpassed just the physical, feelings he couldn’t ignore, feelings that churned whenever he thought about her—
‘Dad, did Rhonda call again last night?’
Garrett jumped, nicking his cheek, and cursed.
‘I’m sorry,’ Savannah said, fear edging her voice. ‘You never shave with the door open and I just thought I’d ask … Are you hurt?’
‘Not at all. I was thinking of something else,’ Garrett laughed, sticking a piece of tissue on the nick and turning to his daughter. ‘I’m worried my hair doesn’t look right today.’
Savannah smiled shakily. ‘Your hair always looks wonderful, Dad. I’m glad I’ve got blonde hair like yours, not black like Patty’s.’ She always calls her mother Patty, not Mom, Garrett thought. She doesn’t think of the woman as her mother at all. ‘I’m sorry I asked about Rhonda. It’s just that she calls all the time and last night I was coming downstairs to get something to drink and I heard a phone ring.’
Fear resonated
in her voice and he put down the razor and kneeled in front of her. ‘Rhonda won’t call us anymore unless she gets our new phone number. And the call last night came on Brynn’s phone.’
‘Who called her?’
‘I don’t know,’ Garrett said truthfully. Brynn had sworn that the voice that had asked for help was Mark’s. Garrett might still have had doubts – it was easy to make a voice sound weak, dry and rough – almost unidentifiable. But even Garrett hadn’t known Mark’s nickname for his sister was Dragonfly. Brynn had told him it was a secret between her and Mark.
‘She didn’t tell you?’
Garrett’s thoughts jerked back to his daughter, who was gazing at him quizzically. ‘Uh, no. It was probably her friend Cassie. Brynn only talked for a minute.’
Savannah looked relieved. ‘Oh, that’s OK then.’
‘That’s OK? Why?’
‘Well, I thought maybe Rhonda called her.’ Savannah looked down. ‘Sometimes she watches the house at night. She would have known Brynn was here.’
‘Rhonda watches the house at night?’ Garrett asked incredulously.
‘Yes,’ Savannah said just above a whisper.
‘How do you know?’
‘Well, sometimes I can’t sleep since Grams died. She used to tell me that when I can’t sleep, I should look out my window and try to count all the stars.’ She paused. ‘She said it was better than counting imaginary sheep. Anyway, I’ve been doing that a lot lately, or trying to, but I can’t concentrate on the stars because I see Rhonda, just standing and staring at our house. She parks her car down the street. I guess she’s afraid you’ll recognize it.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Because I knew you’d get upset or worried.’
Garrett felt a sinking sensation inside, almost a pain. His thirteen-year-old daughter shouldn’t have a care in the world. Instead, she’d been protecting his feelings, looking after him. ‘Was Rhonda outside last night?’
‘I didn’t look in case I saw her. I just thought that maybe she was outside and saw Brynn.’
Garrett tried to keep his voice even, but he was furious. ‘How long has Rhonda been doing this?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. Maybe a month or a little longer.’ Her gaze dropped to his hand. ‘Dad, you’re pressing your thumb on your razor! You’re bleeding!’
‘Damn it!’ Garrett muttered, grabbing a tissue. ‘I didn’t feel a thing.’
Savannah handed him another tissue. ‘It’s going to bleed on your pants and your T-shirt. How can you stand wearing a T-shirt under your regular shirt? Anyway, do you think you need stitches?’
Garrett lifted the tissues he’d wrapped around his thumb. ‘Doesn’t look life-threatening.’ He tried to make his voice light, unconcerned. ‘I think some antiseptic spray and a Band-Aid will do.’
Savannah immediately gathered antiseptic spray and the box of Band-Aids while he kept wrapping tissues around his thumb until it had nearly stopped bleeding. Garrett pretended great pain when she sprayed on antiseptic, which made her laugh, and finally she applied the Band-Aid.
He smiled at his daughter. ‘You’re good at first aid. Maybe you’ll be a nurse or a doctor.’
‘No. I want to be an actress or a writer,’ Savannah said firmly. ‘You didn’t forget that the carnival is tonight, did you?’
‘Of course not,’ he said heartily, although he’d completely forgotten. ‘Are you still my date for the evening?’
‘Sure. But I wondered … well, I’d like to ask Brynn to go with us. Would that be OK?’
Brynn. Garrett couldn’t wait to see her again, but he managed to say casually, ‘That would be fine, but you should ask Cassie Hutton, too. You don’t know her, but it’s the polite thing to do. Besides, she’s fun.’
‘Then I’ll ask her.’ Knowledge suddenly flashed in Savannah’s eyes. ‘You don’t want me to ask Cassie Hutton just to be polite. If only Brynn goes with us, people will think she’s your date, and I know you aren’t supposed to date a client.’
‘A client?’
‘Well, someone who’s part of a case you’re working on. Or something like that.’
‘Yeah, something like that.’
‘So you can call Brynn and ask if she and her friend want to come with us.’
‘Why don’t you call Brynn and invite her and Cassie? Call her “Miss Hutton.”’
‘OK, Dad,’ Savannah grinned. ‘I’ll do the asking. Only don’t hurt yourself anymore. If you’ve got Band-Aids stuck all over yourself, Brynn will think you’re a total geek.’
‘Brynn! Brynn, wake up!’
‘Go ’way,’ Brynn mumbled, rolling over and pulling a pillow over her head. ‘Sleepy.’
‘I don’t care!’ The pillow seemed to fly off Brynn’s head and light hit her swollen eyes. She scrunched them tighter. ‘Brynn, this is important. You have to wake up!’
‘Oh, damn,’ Brynn moaned. ‘I just got in bed.’
‘You did not. You got in bed at eleven o’clock. I tucked you in myself.’ Cassie shook her. ‘I’m sorry you’re still tired but—’
‘I hafta wake up. I know.’ Brynn moaned again and squinted at Cassie. ‘What’s wrong?’
Cassie pulled the sheet and light summer blanket off her and began tugging her toward the side of the bed. ‘You have to get up and come see something.’
‘Oh, Cass, can’t you just tell me—’
‘The police are here. They want you downstairs.’ Cassie gave her a vigorous yank. ‘Now.’
Brynn tumbled out of the bed like a child, staggered, then got her balance and stood up, taking in Cassie’s sleek beige linen dress, high heels, subtly sophisticated makeup and shining, smooth hair while aware that one of her own drawstring pant-legs had caught at her knee and her T-shirt was rolled up to her breasts. Half of her thick, tangled hair hung over her face. Brynn swept it back and repeated fearfully, ‘The police are here? Is it about Mark?’
‘No, it’s not about Mark.’ Cassie was already stuffing her into a white waffle knit wrap robe. Brynn couldn’t untangle her thoughts enough to ask more questions as Cassie grabbed her hand and hurried her down the stairs. At the bottom, Brynn heard men’s voices. Cassie led her into the kitchen, where she immediately saw Deputy Carder and another unfamiliar young man in uniform.
‘Go outside and get a couple of pictures of this – no, three. One from each angle,’ Carder told the young one, then looked at Brynn. ‘Good morning, Miss Wilder. Sorry to get you off to such a bad start today.’
‘It’s all right,’ Brynn said shakily. ‘What’s happened?’
‘Nothing’s really happened. Miss Hutton spotted this when she was getting ready to leave for work. Come look.’
Cassie led her to the kitchen window above the sink. Brynn looked out at the sunlight-drenched large backyard with lush fescue grass surrounded by a six-foot-high fence covered by a dense growth of English ivy.
‘What is it you want me to see?’ Brynn asked, mystified. Then she caught a small, bright flash a few feet in front of the kitchen window. She leaned forward and saw something sparkling as it dangled from a chain hung on the inside edge of the porch roof.
‘What is that?’ Brynn asked, although something already niggled in her memory. She padded barefoot out the back door and across the porch where a necklace hung. She reached up to touch it before Carder snapped, ‘Stop!’ Then: ‘Sorry. Fingerprints.’
‘Of course,’ Brynn said vaguely, looking at the small imitation turquoise dragonfly decorated with two tiny glass beads cut to sparkle in the light. ‘It’s my necklace. Or was. I bought it when I was … nine, I think.’ She looked at the worn twenty-inch chain that had once been silver tone and now looked dull gray and black in spots. ‘I loved it. I wore it almost every day under my tops. That’s why the chain is so long for a child’s necklace. It was supposed to be a secret good luck charm.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I haven’t seen it since I was twelve.’
Another missing item from her past in Genessa P
oint.
Cassie said she’d spotted it when she was rinsing out the coffee pot. Light had shimmered off the two beads of glass. She told Deputy Carder she’d gone outside and almost reached for it until she saw it was hanging from a clean, adhesive-backed plastic wall hook she hadn’t attached to the porch rim. As she stared at it, she’d vaguely remembered something about Brynn losing the necklace not long before Jonah’s death. ‘Being cautious and suspicious has already become a habit, I guess,’ Cassie had said, ‘and I immediately ran outside to tell the surveillance guy.’ He’d gone around the house and looked at it, then told her to get Brynn while he called headquarters.
Now the excitement was over and everyone had gone, except for the cop watching the house. Brynn’s necklace had been taken away by a policeman wearing latex gloves who’d placed it conscientiously in a plastic bag.
Brynn smiled at the thought. Who would have thought that cheap little necklace would someday be treated with such care? She remembered saving the money her parents gave her: Mom for helping weed the flower beds and household chores; Dad for stuffing dead leaves into trash bags. Finally, one autumn she’d caught sight of the necklace in a little ‘this and that’ shop, as her mother called it. She’d thought silver plate and turquoise-colored Lucite was real silver and turquoise, bought the piece of jewelry and started wearing it every day. Then it disappeared. She thought the cheap chain had broken and the necklace had fallen off without her realizing just a couple of months before Jonah was killed. If so, someone had found it, kept it, and decided to ‘return’ it at a suspiciously significant time.
Determined to brighten her mood with anything – to begin with, clothes – Brynn was zipping herself into a bright coral and pink dress when her cell phone rang. She picked it up from the dresser top. After she said hello, a man said in a regretful, embarrassed voice, ‘Miss Wilder? This is Jack Porter, the manager of the Bay Motel. I hate to bother you with this, but would it be possible for you to clear out your brother’s room today? The sheriff has kept it closed since … well, for the last few days, but he said the police have gotten everything they need and now with Sam dead and us having to turn away people who’d like to rent a room … I talked to him this morning and he said it was OK for you to get … well, everything personal out of there.’
Can't Find My Way Home Page 18
