by Diane Capri
Cade pulled a chair out from under the table and gestured toward it. I sat down. He did the same. He tried to take my hand in his, but I pulled back. It didn’t dissuade him.
“I, uh, appreciate you sharin’ something so personal with me. I know it’s not easy for you—I can tell.”
I felt a sudden sensation of vertigo. I closed my eyes. When I opened them again, Cade had leaned closer to me, hovering a few inches over my face.
“What are you—”
“I came fifty percent of the way,” he said. “This is the part where you come the other fifty.”
I didn’t know what to say. I knew what I should have said, but I hesitated. I didn’t know why.
He wrapped his fingers around my chin, attempting to guide me the rest of the way. “I’m going to kiss you now.”
“Cade…I…I’m in a relationship with someone.”
He released me. “Of course you are. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“Don’t be. I think you’re great.”
“No woman has ever, and I mean not ever, described me as great before,” he said. “I don’t even know what that means.”
“It means I really like working with you.”
“The feelin’ is mutual, but I suppose you already—aww, hell. Can we change the subject? I know you weren’t finished with what you were sayin’ before, so I’m just going to sit here and try to keep an open mind.”
I nodded, grateful for the reprieve.
“Many couples have a hard time adopting, and when that happens, some people turn to other methods. With the Internet so accessible these days, you can find other options.”
“Such as?” he said. “I’m guessin’ you’re not gonna tell me about somethin’ that’s legal.”
“Correct. There are illegal agencies that will help people get babies. Not adoption agencies—it’s more along the lines of human trafficking. Do you know much about it?”
He tilted his head to the side. “A bit.”
“There are a couple of ways it usually happens. Some agencies kidnap children and offer them up for sale to the highest bidder, or they kidnap the children until reward money is offered and then return them. At other agencies, a person is hired to find a certain type of child. The person who hires the agency can request anything they want—any age, a boy or a girl, it doesn’t matter. Nothing is out of their reach.”
He shook his head in disbelief.
“Do you really think the Kents paid someone to replace their children?”
“I do.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
If the girls had been kidnapped to be raised by someone else, odds were they might still be alive. Getting kidnapped for any other reason besides a marital spat between divorcees meant the girls were most likely dead, and I had to believe they were still out there somewhere, alive and waiting for someone to find them.
Although it was getting late, Cade and I hadn’t left the house yet. Both of us reasoned that if we picked the Kents house apart a little longer, maybe we’d come up with some evidence that would lead us to Mr. and Mrs. Kent. But the house was clean. I was about to suggest we leave when I noticed headlights beaming through the window in the front of the house. Since we had already trespassed, and the vehicle had come to a stop and turned its lights off, we decided to face whoever it was rather than try and make a quick getaway.
A person exited the vehicle and I heard the sound of a rifle being prepped for use. Cade tried to push me behind the wall of the hallway with one hand, but I grabbed hold of him first, pulling him with me. We both drew our weapons.
“How long you been packin’ that around?” Cade whispered.
“Don’t act like you haven’t seen it,” I said. “You pat people down for a living.”
“Haven’t frisked you yet.”
Even though he had his back to me, I knew he was smiling. I could tell by the sarcasm in his voice.
The front door opened, heavy footsteps followed, stomping their way across the floor.
“Who’s there?” a male voice said.
Neither of us spoke.
“You’re on private property,” the voice said.
He sounded young, like he’d passed puberty, but not with an A.
“Where’s the sign?” I said.
“What?” the boy said.
“I didn’t see a sign stating this is private property.”
“Well, it is,” the boy said.
“How do I know you’re the one who isn’t trespassing then?”
There was a pause, like he couldn’t come up with a logical answer.
“I’m armed,” he said.
“That makes two of us,” I said.
“Three,” Cade said.
“Wait—there are two of you?” he said.
The boy could count, and he was nervous, which was good—as long as we could get him to put the rifle down. We were finally getting somewhere, just a lot slower than I’d imagined.
“I’m going to save you some time,” I said. “We’ll tell you who we are, and then you’re going to tell us who you are.”
“How will I know you’re not lying?” he said.
“Oh, for goodness sake,” I said to Cade. “Show the kid your badge before he does something stupid.”
“I’m going to show you my badge now,” Cade yelled loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear. “Don’t shoot my hand off or anything you’ll live to regret.” Cade took out his badge, edging his hand around the corner of the wall. “My name is Cade McCoy, and my partner here is Sloane Monroe.”
Partner?
“We’re detectives,” Cade said. “Your turn.”
He hesitated and then said, “My name is Henry.”
“You have a last name Henry?” Cade said.
“Kent.”
“How are you related to the owners of this house?” Cade said.
“Brad is my uncle.”
“Bradley Kent?” Cade said.
“Yes.”
“Henry, I want you to put down the rifle and slide it across the floor,” Cade said.
“Right now?”
“Yes, now. Do you want me to count it out for you?” Cade said.
I heard the sound of a rifle being placed on the floor. Once it slid across, Cade walked around the corner and then signaled for me to do the same. The kid had his hands up and a look on his face like he wasn’t sure what to expect next.
“Relax,” I said.
“Am I in trouble?”
I shook my head.
“We’re here because of the break in,” I said.
“The what?”
I pointed at the window. The kid turned around and looked at it and then back at me, looking both convinced and relieved.
“Why are you here?” I said.
“I take care of my uncle’s horses.”
“Isn’t it a little late in the day?” I said.
Cade looked at me like I had no idea what I was talking about.
“There are lights in the barn,” the kid said. “I’m not here this late every night. I had a date.”
“Where’s your uncle?” I said.
“I don’t know.”
“You expect me to believe you tend his horses, and probably get paid for it too, but you don’t know where he is?”
“He asked me if I could take care of them while he was gone.”
“Gone where?” I said.
“Thailand.” The way he said it sounded like he didn’t believe it himself.
“Is that a question?” I said.
The kid shrugged.
“I don’t follow.”
“The way you said Thailand just now sounded like you didn’t really know where he was; either that or you’re lying.”
“Why would I lie?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “You tell me.”
He didn’t respond. Cade smiled, indicating his approval of my interrogation techniques.
“Why’s your uncle in Thailand?” I
said.
“I dunno.”
“When will he be back?”
“I dunno.”
“How long has he been there?” I said.
“I dunno.”
“What do you know?” I said.
“To tell you the truth, I don’t know anything.”
“You’re breathing pretty heavy for someone who doesn’t know anything,” I said. “Would you like a glass of water?”
He shook his head.
“I need to go bring the horses in. Can I go now?”
Cade and I both nodded.
After Henry went outside, Cade said, “Well, what do you think?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
“He’s lying,” I said.
“You got that impression too—what was your first clue?”
“The heavy breathing every time I asked him a question. You?”
“His eyes.”
“Shifty,” I said.
“Exactly. The question is, what are we going to do about it?”
“I want to show you something,” I said.
We walked upstairs and I pointed to the photograph hanging in the middle of the photo-collage on the wall. It was the one of the family standing in front of a house in the middle of a forest of trees. “Do you know where this is?”
Cade rubbed his chin and looked it over. “Kinda looks like Alpine. Why are you so interested?”
“I don’t know. Something about this picture shouts ‘private retreat.’ It’s worth looking into. Is it far?”
“Fifty miles or so. But it’s too dark to go tonight.”
“That’s fine,” I said, taking the picture off the wall. “What are you doing tomorrow?”
Cade picked me up the following morning at daylight.
“They want me to report in,” he said, “and brief the FBI on what I know about the case.”
“What did you say?”
“I said I’d be in after lunch.”
“How did that go over?”
He shrugged.
“I didn’t stick around to find out,” he said. “I called a real estate agent as well to see what I could find out about the Kents owning another place.”
“And?”
“He hasn’t got back to me yet, and I don’t want to wait.”
The next several minutes were spent in silence. I stared at the picture of the house amongst the trees hoping I’d be able to spot it when we reached our destination. Cade tapped his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of what I assumed was a twangy country concert taking place inside of his head.
“Do you know why I came back here?” he said.
“To help your dad with the case, right?”
“Well, yes. But, there’s another reason.”
I didn’t want to say it before he did, just in case I was wrong.
“My dad’s sick,” he said.
He glanced over at me, studying my face for a reaction, which I wish he hadn’t done. I’d never been good at hiding anything—especially on my face.
“You know,” he said, “don’t you?”
I nodded. “Did your dad tell you?”
“My mom did,” he said. “I think my dad’s been tryin’ to tell me, but he hasn’t been able to. My mom thought I needed to know just in case somethin’ happens before it’s supposed to.”
“Are you going to talk to your dad about it—tell him you know?”
Cade shook his head.
“I figure my dad will say somethin’ in his own time. There’s no reason it has to be right now. Not with everything else that’s goin’ on.”
“How’s your mother doing?”
“Better now that I’m here,” he said. “She’s a tough woman, but my dad means everything to her. I’m not sure how strong she’ll be once he’s gone.”
“What about your daughter—does she know?”
“Not much. She can tell he’s sick. She’s asked me about it a couple times, but we’ve never really had a discussion. Guess I need to talk to her about it.”
“I wish there was something that could be done for him.”
“Yeah,” Cade said, glancing out the window. “Me too.”
“Are you glad you moved back? I mean—do you like it here?”
He extended one of his hands and said, “What’s not to like? The air is clean, people are simple and uncomplicated. I’ve been to big cities. They’re all crowded. Too many people. Too much traffic. Out here things feel like they move at a slower pace. I have time to enjoy life.”
I laughed.
“You’re so passionate; you’ve almost convinced me to move here.”
“What about you? Do you like Park City?” he said.
“I do, but I wasn’t raised there. I grew up in a small town in California.”
He raised a brow. “So, why Park City?”
“My grandfather lived there. I wanted to be close to him while he was still alive. After I moved, I fell in love, and I’ve lived there ever since.”
Cade looked out the window. “We’re here. I can’t guarantee we’re going to find the place, but we can sure try.”
We drove up one street and down another, trying to match the house up with the surroundings in the photograph. Thirty minutes in, our quest hadn’t yielded any positive results, but we kept looking anyway. Alpine wasn’t a very big town, but there was one thing it had a plenty of: trees. The rich, vibrant shades of green blanketed most of the valley. It was breathtaking.
“How many people live here—in Alpine?” I said.
“Less than a thousand, I’d imagine.” Cade pulled over to the side of the road and pointed. “This is where the three rivers meet—the Snake River, Salt River, and Greys River. They all come together and run into Palisades Reservoir.”
We sat there for a moment, taking it all in.
“I caught a good-sized mac here over the summer,” Cade said.
“A what?”
“C’mon, you serious? A mackinaw.”
“I still don’t follow.”
“It’s a lake trout,” he said. “Haven’t you done any fishin’ before?”
“Not really.”
He smiled.
“Greys River has some of the best fishin’ around,” he said. “I’ll have to take you sometime.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t say anything. Cade pulled back onto the road, and we were on our way again.
“I don’t mean to disappoint you, but we’ve driven around just about every street there is here.”
“What about that one?” I said, pointing to a shiny piece of metal reflecting off the upper side of one of the mountains.
Cade leaned forward, squinting. “I don’t see anything.”
“It’s right there,” I said. But when I looked again, it was gone. “I saw something about halfway up that mountain. I swear. It’s hidden by all those trees.”
He tugged on the inside of his pocket, pulling out his phone. “Let me try that agent one more time.” It went to voicemail. “I wasn’t aware there were any roads up there, but let’s head that way and see if we can find one. If not, we’d better head back.”
We drove a couple miles before the road forked. The flash of light I’d seen had been to the right, so Cade turned. I kept looking, hoping to catch a glimpse of what I saw before, but I didn’t. It was like the sun had shifted, and the light was no longer hitting it just right. We drove up a steep hill. It didn’t seem propitious at first, but when we reached the top, there it was: the house. I glanced at it, and then down at the picture, verifying they were one and the same. They were.
The home was modest, no more than a couple thousand square feet, which was all on one level. No cars were parked out front, but a closed, oversized garage offered a bit of encouragement. We drove up the paved driveway, parked, and got out.
“All this because we matched a fingerprint,” I said.
No one came to the door when we knocked. Cade jiggled the handle. It was unlocked. We went in.
I cupped my hand over my mouth and shouted, “Hello?”
Nothing.
“Is anyone here?” Cade said.
Still nothing.
The entryway opened to a living room that split off into two hallways. I took one side, Cade took the other. The first room I came to was a closet of some kind. It was filled with oversized metal cans of food storage, fishing poles, and neatly stacked plastic bins. Typed labels were on the front of each bin, revealing the contents of the container. Most were labeled with the names of different holidays, the majority of them being Christmas.
The holiday bins had a second row of plastic containers behind them. I assumed they’d reveal even more of the same kind of thing, but I decided to look just in case. I pulled one from the first row off the shelf. Behind it was a bin labeled: Grace. I took it down and opened it. Inside I found stacks of folded clothes, most of them in a size five. I put the lid back on and slid the next one off the shelf. The bin behind it was labeled: Makayla. Makayla’s box contained clothes in a larger size, but there was something else.
At the bottom of the box was a broken picture frame. I instantly recognized one of the girls in the picture. But it wasn’t one of the Kents daughters; it was Savannah Tate.
Savannah appeared to be alive and well in the photograph standing next to who I assumed was Olivia Hathaway. The labels on the boxes told me their names had been changed, but that wasn’t all. Both girls had dark, brown hair before they were taken, and now they were blondes. But it didn’t matter what the Kents did to change the girls’ appearances, there was no mistaking Savannah’s angelic face. She looked just like she did in the photo her mother had been holding.
If the Kents had moved the girls to this hideaway in the woods, where were they?
I walked out of the storage room, planning to find Cade, but stopped when I noticed a closed door at the end of the hall. I was curious, so I walked to it, turning the knob when I got there. I slowly pushed the door open. The door creaked like the hinge plates needed to be oiled. I turned on the light, illuminating the master bedroom, and then gasped, throwing my hand over my nose to mask the indescribable odor. The scene before me was horrific. On the bed, Bradley and Regina Kent lay next to one another. Their eyes were closed. But they weren’t sleeping: they were dead.
