Throbbing like a sore tooth, Cassaundra Reynolds pulled off highway ___ onto Meander Road

by Susan Shay

  Why did these emotions seem so familiar? She searched her mind, then remembered what she’d been trying to forget. In her dreams, she’d lived through this woman. She had been in a dark pit in the ground with a giant cross on the wall.

  Panic slammed through Cassie. Dizzy with spiraling emotions, she glanced back at the newest birdhouse. She had to touch Miriam’s ring. Had to find out what her friend had been going through. Had to know if she was still alive.

  Trying to keep her weakness from showing, she gritted her teeth. Cold sweat rolled down her back as she forced one foot in front of the other. Just a few more steps and she’d be there. She’d be able live Miriam’s experience.

  “Are you all right, Cassie?”

  Mack was close to her. Closer than she’d realized. He stepped in front of her, his face almost unrecognizable. How had his features changed so? How had he become another person?

  He reached for her. Too shaky to evade him, she gritted her teeth and tried to block what was coming. Taking in too much breath, she forced it into her lungs and held it so it hurt her chest, then closed her eyes and steeled herself.

  As his hand grasped her arm, light and air was sucked out of the room. Quietly and without a struggle, Cassie slipped over the precipice into the yawning abyss.

  ****

  Keegan waited a few moments for Miss Ruthy to open her door, but even that was too damned long.

  “Oh, Keegan. Come in, please. Tell me, have you found Miriam?”

  Shaking his head, he stepped inside. A small tree stood on the far side of the room, hung with old-fashioned lights and decorations. The rest of the apartment, most of it soft shades of pink, was pretty much the way she’d kept it for years, filled with doilies, lamps, and small knickknacks. No obvious sign of Miriam. “I’m searching the building for Miriam. Would you mind if I looked around in here a little?” he asked as gently as possible.

  “I guess not.” Puzzled, Ruthy shook her head. “But why would you want to? She’s not here.”

  “The police have asked us to search everywhere.” He glanced around the small room. Unless she was hiding in a closet or under the bed, Miriam couldn’t be there. But still, he had to try. “I suppose it’s a formality so they can declare her missing.”

  “Well, look around all you like.” Ruthy walked to the side of the room, as if to get out of his way.

  He checked the bedroom, small bath, and kitchen that, along with the living room, made up the entire flat. He even checked the closets and under the sink. Nothing. If Miriam had been there in the last twenty-four hours, she hadn’t left any sign.

  Back in the living room, Keegan thanked Ruthy. “I’d better go on to Miss Marcie’s and search. I want to get this finished as soon as possible.”

  “Good luck, Keegan. I hope you find her. She’s such a sweet girl.”

  Crossing the landing, he banged on Marcie’s door. When she opened it, she lifted an eyebrow and nodded. “Searching the building for Miriam, are you?”

  Keegan shrugged. “Is it all right if I come in?”

  “Yeah, come on. She’s not here, though. I think the department just told you to search the place to keep you busy and out of their hair.” She indicated the rest of the apartment. “Help yourself.”

  Although laid out much like Ruthy’s, it was larger, having two bedrooms, but a total lack of femininity. No doilies. No knickknacks. Not even frilly shades topped the lamps. Her home looked as if when she found something she liked, she bought it, no matter what the style or color. It made for very jumbled, as well as crowded, rooms.

  In the living room, he moved a recliner to be able to see behind the couch. Then to get through the door to the “back bedroom” as Marcie called the spare room she used like a warehouse, he moved one of three wingbacked chairs, all different colors. Anxious to complete his task, he restacked furniture to look under the bed and next to the dresser.

  When he eased past the furniture to get into Marcie’s bedroom, he was surprised to find a bed made up with military precision. The bedside table held a desk light and a hard-back book about the Civil War. In her closet there were only shoes, lined up like soldiers, and clothing hanging together by category. Dresses, then skirts, then blouses, and finally trousers farthest on the rod from the dresses.

  But nowhere in the apartment did he find the slightest hint that Miriam had ever been there.

  “Well? Did you find anything?” Marcie asked, her voice rough with concern.

  “No.” Keegan’s answer was soft, but the old woman didn’t take pity.

  “Told you.” As she opened the door for him, a surprising look of compassion passed over her face. “I hope you find her. And soon.”

  As he made his way down the stairs, the front door opened while Steve and Janneth entered the apartment house. “...so warm, I don’t know how you can enjoy the holiday,” Janneth said.

  Steve’s face was ravaged with worry. When he saw Keegan, he bounded up the stairs. “Have you found Miriam?”

  Keegan shook his head as the anger at Steve that had burned for so long cooled because of the man’s anxiety. “No sign. But I haven’t talked to Cassie. I think she was going to check Vern and Mack’s apartments. She should be back by now, though.”

  “Well, I certainly hope so. And I hope she’s ready to leave for Kansas City, because we’re leaving tonight.” Janneth stuck her chin out, as if daring him to contradict her.

  He took pleasure in doing so. “Really? When I met your husband a few moments ago, he said he was too exhausted to even climb the stairs. He’s in Miriam’s apartment.”

  “Howard’s here?” Janneth squeaked, her voice rising to a little girl’s level. Quickly she shoved through the door into the apartment as she sang, “Howard? Honey? Where are you?”

  “What can we do now?” Steve asked, exhaustion etching his features.

  “Let’s go in and see what Cassie found. And with any luck, Miriam will be there, too.” Keegan tried to make his words sound hopeful, but he knew by the rock weighing his gut that his sister wasn’t there. If she’d been anywhere close, she’d have come charging to him with a kiss and a hug.

  When he walked into the apartment, his apprehension escalated. Maybe it was all the people in the house, but whatever, he didn’t like it. Howard was there, but what was Vern doing, watching TV with him? And where was Cassie? He interrupted Janneth mid-chatter. “Where’s Cassie?”

  Howard sat in the recliner, his feet almost as high as his head. “Haven’t seen her since she left here.”

  “She sent me here to stay with Howard. Said she had to check out Mack’s, then she had more looking to do.” Vern frowned, then glanced at the clock. “I kinda thought she’d be back by now, though.”

  Keegan’s gut clenched. “Maybe she got caught up in a conversation with him. I’ll go find her.”

  Steve caught him as he started toward the door. “Want me to go with you?”

  Although he didn’t want the company, he couldn’t see leaving Steve there with Janneth and Howard. Even Steve didn’t deserve that kind of treatment. “Yeah, come on.”

  Steve glanced over his shoulder. “Janneth, you have my cell number. If you hear anything, call me.”

  Shoulder to shoulder, they moved into the night. Going directly to Mack’s apartment, Keegan banged on the door. When no one answered, Steve tried to look through the heavily shrouded windows. “I don’t think he’s home.”

  Fighting to keep his mind clear, Keegan pounded harder on the door. Nothing. “Damn it, where could she be?”

  Steve took a step back. “The shed? Laundry room? Community room? Or how about the parking lot?”

  Keegan gritted his teeth as something flashed through him. Something was wrong. Bad wrong. Shaking his head to dispel the cloud of foreboding, he tried to think. “All right, Steve, go ahead and check out the community room, shed, and parking lot. I’ve got a couple of other places to check out. I’ll meet you back at the apartment in five minutes.”

  W
ith a jerky nod, Steve took off. When he was out of sight, Keegan banged once more, then turned the knob and opened the unlocked door.

  At first glance, the room looked empty, except for the birdhouses, and there were enough of those to house a whole flock. “Mack, are you here?”

  No reply. He shouted louder. “Mack? Damn it, where are you?” Still nothing.

  He walked to the kitchen. Nothing unusual there, except for a handcrafted wine rack holding several bottles of homemade wine. He moved to the bedroom, then the bath. Both empty. Back in the living room, he looked more closely at the miniatures. Something about them wasn’t right. Surprised to see a replica of the apartment house, he touched the glinting frame surrounding the circular window with the tip of his index finger. A slow chill started at his nape and inched down his spine.

  Straightening quickly, he glanced around the room. Where had that come from? Was there a window open, causing a draft? Was it just the fact that he was alone in another man’s apartment, poking where he shouldn’t be?

  On the floor behind him, he spotted a rug with one end tucked under. Stepping closer, he used his foot to straighten the mat, but it wouldn’t move. Curious, he knelt and grabbed the edge, but found the small carpet caught in a door cut into the floor.

  The old cellar. He’d all but forgotten it. As a youngster, he’d been entertained by Aunt Hattie’s stories of how she would disappear from her friends by ducking into this part of the house and going into the old root cellar. Once there, she would take the tunnel some distant ancestor had built for who knows what reason, then back up a set of earthen stairs that opened into the old shed. When he and Miriam had made plans to check it out, she’d forbidden them. The tunnel had grown unstable over the years and the stairs had probably crumbled away—no place for them play.

  What if Cassie had ventured down there while looking for Miriam and it had caved in? Fear pumped energy through him as he hauled open the door.

  Surprised to find the underground room lighted, he carefully set his foot on the ladder, then noticed it was aluminum. Curiosity propelling him forward, he soon dropped into the main part of the root cellar. No wonder there had been no sign of Mack’s carpentry upstairs. He was using the basement as a workshop.

  Keegan moved past an old table piled with hand tools and a work stand. On the wall was a peg board that held several different sized chisels, the largest of which looked more like a railroad spike. Who knew what the man had done in his lifetime besides build birdhouses?

  At the back of the room was the tunnel. The lighting didn’t reach far into the hole, but it illuminated enough for him to see that it made a turn after about ten feet. He glanced at the passageway itself. It looked fairly stable, but there had been some crumbling over the years. The floor was hard-packed, though. Much too hard to show footprints, if anyone had recently passed that way.

  Then he stepped inside. The chill he’d earlier thought was a draft returned like a cold, dead hand, gripping his nape. Grimly, he set his jaw, forcing himself forward. If Cassie had ventured farther, not knowing how dangerous it could be, she might be trapped under a cave in. He couldn’t stop now, no matter what his better sense was telling him.

  After several steps, a dark indentation—a doorway—loomed on the right. The tension in his gut ratcheted higher. Impenetrable darkness filled the space. He stepped inside, but there was nothing, as if neither light, sight, nor sound could enter.

  Finding a wall, he touched it lightly and began to ease around the circumference. As he started along the second wall, he banged into a rough structure that felt like a railroad tie. But why was it there? Ceiling support? Storage? Wishing, not for the first time, for a flashlight, he reached higher until he found a crossbeam. A life-size cross? Puzzled, he moved on until he came to the doorway again.

  Now what? Try to search the room further? Continue along the buried corridor? Holding his breath, he listened for a moment, then, hearing nothing whatsoever, decided to find the end of the tunnel.

  After the darkness of the room, the tunnel seemed filled with light. He allowed his shoulders to relax a bit as he continued forward, but then the light smothered to nothing as he navigated a turn. Again, he waited to see if his eyes would adjust. Drawing a slow breath, he inhaled ancient dust and wondered why the tunnel had been built so long ago. As an escape route during Indian wars? A way to save family from horrible mutilation and death? Possibly, but more likely an exit for a moonshining ancestor, out to make his fortune.

  As he began to see a bit, he moved forward until the tunnel straightened again. Trouble was, the light didn’t extend around the second turn. Once more, he was virtually blind.

  But there wasn’t time to go find a flashlight now. Cassie needed him. He couldn’t stop looking until he found her. Touching the dusty walls, he continued forward, but almost immediately discovered the bottom of the stairs with the toe of his shoe.

  It wasn’t the dull thud of an earthen stairway, but sounded like wood. Using much care, he reached out until he found a wooden rung. Someone—Mack?—had gone to a lot of trouble down there. But why?

  A step at a time, he climbed the stairs until the top of his head rested against something solid. He pushed with both hands, then advancing another step, he put his back into it. The heavy door opened slowly, but without a sound.

  He stood at the back entrance to the old shed. An exercise in futility, he thought as he started up out of the hole. To steady himself on a loose step, he caught the edge. Something flashed, and from somewhere came a startled gasp.

  Cassie.

  The sound wasn’t audible, and it certainly wasn’t a memory. The gasp sounded as if she was standing close, but someplace he couldn’t see. Not around a corner. Almost as if in another dimension.

  He shook his head with self-contempt. Hell, he’d watched too many damn movies growing up, and now they were coming back to bite him on the ass. Another dimension. Next he’d start believing he had psychic powers. Not about to happen.

  Closing the door, he saw it fit perfectly into the surrounding sod. Obviously, the door was used often or it would have grown over during the summer. What in the hell was it being used for? And why hadn’t he remembered it existed?

  In the pale moonlight, the world stretched, an empty place echoing with loneliness. Where were Cassie and Miriam? Were they together? Were they in trouble?

  Pressure grew in his chest until he had to fight to keep from crying out. How was it the only two women he’d ever loved in his life were gone?

  Love?

  The realization was as easy and welcome as the first rays of dawn. He loved Cassie—and that was something that would never change. Even though they were absolutely wrong for each other. Even though in order to live, sooner or later he would have to move on and she loved living in Stone Hill. Even though he wanted the entire world to know his work, and her greatest wish was to be totally anonymous. Even though she believed in everything, and he believed in nothing at all. Well, make that next to nothing.

  Even though he was among the living, and it was just possible that she...

  No! Shaking his head, he firmed his jaw. He wouldn’t accept the possibility that Cassie could be dead. Miriam, either. They were too vital, too essential, to have been killed like those other women. He would find them before it was too late.

  How? A small voice whispered in the back of his mind. You have no leads, no clues to follow. How will you find them?

  He didn’t have to know how he would. By God, he just would. Turning on his heel, he stormed back to the apartment, where he jerked open the door, startling the group inside.

  “Steve, call the police,” he barked, no time for civilities. “Tell them that both Cassie and Miriam have been kidnapped. And tell them I think Mack did it.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  With the need to accomplish something pouring through him, Keegan slammed out of the apartment. Leaving the building, he started for the parking lot.

  “Keegan, wait!
” Vern shouted, his voice thready with exertion. “What the hell do you mean, Mack?”

  Keegan didn’t stop. “Go look in his apartment. There’s a basement and a tunnel leading to the shed. And lately, it’s been getting a lot of use.” Breaking into a jog, he made it to the parking lot. As he unlocked his car, he heard Vern panting behind him.

  “Which way...are you...going to go?” the old man asked, leaning heavily against his car.

  Startled by the question, Keegan paused. “What?”

  “You’re going to look for the girls, aren’t you?” Vern asked between huffs.

  “Yes.” Keegan struggled to understand what he was driving at.

  “Well, two of us can cover more ground than one.” Vern dug in his pocket for keys. “You go one way, I’ll head the other.”

  Reluctant gratitude eased the knot tangled inside Keegan. “You know it probably won’t do any good. We might be wasting our time.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Vern had his door open now. “Why don’t you take the north and east side of town? I’ll head south and west.”

  At Keegan’s nod, the old man slid into the seat and closed the door. Finally, Keegan was on his own with no one to report to and nothing to think about but Cassie and Miriam. He was free to work any possible way he could to find them.

  And how is that? How will you locate them? Do you suddenly think you’re psychic or something?

  He scrubbed his hand over his face as total hopelessness attacked him. How would he find them? Drive until he saw Mack’s car? With nothing to go on, it would be a shot in the dark.

  Then what?

  The memory of Cassie’s voice was almost a physical presence in the car. Everyone has some psychic ability. Everyone.

  He drew a sharp breath as he yearned to actually hear her voice once more. If what she’d said was true, all he had to do was plug into the power.

  Laughing derisively at himself, he started the car, then wondered what to do next.

  Drive.

  Putting the car in gear, he pulled into the street. He drove slowly, watching for Mack’s car as he went. But in the darkness, and with dozens of out-of-town cars on the streets for Christmas celebrations, it was an impossible task.