Ready, Aim...I Do!: Missing

by Debra Webb

  “I can’t deny that likelihood.” Harry slumped back into the chair. “But, good God, girl, she’s William’s wife. You can’t expect him not to be hurt by those kinds of allegations.”

  Melissa’s guilt for hurting her brother or Presley gave way to frustration. “I’m sorry as I can be that either of them is hurt by this, Uncle Harry, but Polly is missing.” Melissa lifted her hands, turned her palms upward in question. “She’s been gone almost six days. We can’t afford to take the chance that there’s some aspect of the circumstances of that night that isn’t being considered. Those of us closest to Polly have to double the scrutiny on every step we made before her disappearance.”

  Harry lowered his head and gave it a shake. “You’re right, of course.” He heaved a burdened breath and met Melissa’s gaze once more. “But it’s so hard to watch him suffer like this.”

  Melissa got up and walked over to kneel down in front of her weary uncle. “I know.” She reached her arms around his neck and hugged him close. “We’ll get through this. Momma always said the Shepherds were made of strong stock. We can do what has to be done.”

  Harry hugged her close. “We will. I promise you that. We will all get through this.”

  Melissa closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, drawing in the familiar, comforting scent of the man who had been more father than uncle to her. He patted her back, murmured reassuring words.

  She stilled as she sniffed another scent on his collar. A cloying smell that overpowered his usual herb-scented aftershave. Melissa analyzed the sweet fragrance. Perfume. She vaguely recognized the expensive designer brand.

  Where had she smelled that perfume before?

  Carol Talbot.

  The air exited her lungs in a whoosh.

  All the reasons why that scent might be clinging to her uncle’s shirt filtered through her, ramming against the logic that could not be denied. He may have bumped into Carol that evening. She might have hugged him in deference to this nightmare in which the whole family was trapped. He might have...

  Don’t be stupid, Melissa.

  There had to be a reasonable explanation for the dose of Carol’s perfume that permeated her uncle’s shirt. A good, long hug under current circumstances wasn’t outside the realm of possibility. And just because Carol was the only woman Melissa knew who wore that particular perfume didn’t mean there weren’t others. Maybe.

  Melissa drew back, propped a smile in place. “You’re right. We’ll find Polly safe and sound and everything will be all right.”

  “No question.” Emotion shimmered in his eyes. “You have my word on that. The whole family will be all right. I promise.”

  She nodded, couldn’t bring herself to speak. He was so sure. He’d always taken such good care of Melissa and her brother. His confidence now heartened her, despite Scott Rayburn’s accusation echoing in her brain.

  “I know your friend is trying to help,” Harry said. “Nothing I could say or do would ever be thanks enough for what he did for William, getting those orders delayed. Maybe if he could just go a little easy on William and Presley it would be better.”

  “I’ll talk to him.” Melissa got to her feet and backed away a step. Carol Talbot’s preferred scent haunted her senses. There had to be an explanation. There just had to be.

  Harry stood. “Get some rest. I’m going back out on the search tomorrow morning.”

  Melissa nodded. “I’ll be there, too.”

  She walked her uncle to the door and said good-night, her head reeling with questions.

  Could she really have been that blind all these years? Harry Shepherd had always been a hero to her, the man she could call upon for anything at any time. The idea of him having an affair with his best friend’s wife...well, it just didn’t make sense.

  Melissa took a deep breath, pushed that worry away and went in search of Jonathan. She wasn’t ready to admit Scott Rayburn might be right—not until she had more solid proof. If Harry was having an affair with Carol, it had nothing to do with the search for Polly.

  Jonathan leaned against a porch post, staring out into the night. The big moths flying around the glow of the overhead light sent fluttering shadows over his tall frame.

  “My uncle’s gone now.”

  Jonathan turned to her. “Is there news?”

  Melissa shook her head. She folded her arms over her chest and moved up beside Jonathan. “He’s worried about William. He asked if you could go a little easier on Presley next time you speak to her.”

  Jonathan resumed staring out into the darkness. “Even if doing so stonewalls finding the child?”

  Melissa’s belly cramped with agony. “He didn’t mean that. He’s just worried about William. And Polly,” she added to ensure Jonathan got it. She thought of all the times she and William had depended on Harry and he’d never let them down. “He’s certain we’ll find her and that everything will be all right again.” That part bothered her a little for some reason. He was so sure. Maybe he just wanted to give Melissa more confidence. That would be just like him. He’d done the same thing when she’d tried out for the girls’ volleyball team in high school. He’d sworn she would make the team. And she had. To this day she wondered if he’d put a bug in the coach’s ear.

  Jonathan turned to stare at her, his doubt set in grim lines on his face. “I heard that part.”

  Melissa’s jaw dropped in surprise. “You were listening to our conversation?”

  Jonathan held her gaze, his expression unflinching. “He’s very confident considering this investigation has gone nowhere and the child has been missing for nearly a week.” He turned to face her fully. “There’s something you need to understand.”

  She braced for the words to come. Judging by the unyielding look in his eyes, whatever he had to say was going to hurt.

  “There’s no evidence. No ransom demand. Nothing.”

  Each word was like a spear sliding through her chest.

  “The chances of finding that child alive after almost a week are slim to none.”

  She opened her mouth to rail at him but he stopped her with a raised hand. “Unless,” he qualified, “the person who abducted her is someone she knows. Someone who has an ulterior motive for keeping her hidden away. And safe. If the motive for taking her is not for money or some perverted pleasure, there has to be another reason.”

  Melissa’s eyes widened with the disbelief pounding against her sternum. “You’re accusing William or Harry, aren’t you?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe Presley.”

  “That’s crazy.” Melissa wasn’t buying that. She twisted away from his hard gaze, refused to be swayed by the conviction on his face, in his tone.

  “Four people have something to gain by William’s deployment orders being changed,” Jonathan went on, the truth in his words like salt in her aching wounds. “William, Harry, Presley and you.”

  Melissa whirled toward him once more. “Now you’re accusing me?”

  “I’m merely pointing out that the four of you have motive. That is what the chief should have looked at first. Considering the lack of a ransom demand, who had the most to gain by her going missing? It’s a hard question, Melissa, but it needs to be asked. If Talbot isn’t asking, he’s making a mistake. No matter how well he knows you and your family.”

  She lifted her chin and glared at him. “I’m not discussing these ridiculous accusations with you another moment.”

  “I’m not suggesting,” he offered with a calmness that infuriated her all the more, “that your uncle or your brother or his wife did any harm to the child—”

  “Polly,” Melissa corrected. No way was he getting away with making her a case statistic or mere victim. She was Polly. Pain sheared through Melissa again. “Her name is Polly.”

  “Polly,” he acknowledged. “I don’t believe harm to Polly was intended. But what I do believe is that one or all three knows far more than they’re telling. Until we know all the facts, we’re wasting our time.”

&nbs
p; Melissa had had enough of this. “Fine. Tomorrow morning we’ll have a family meeting. You can present your suspicions and no one will leave the room until you’re convinced that we’re all innocent. I’ll lock the doors.” Fury squeezed out the pain radiating inside her. She wasn’t afraid to put any member of her family on the spot. Not one of them would do this. The idea was ludicrous.

  “Melissa.”

  That she melted a little at the way he said her name made her all the angrier. “Don’t.”

  He cupped her cheek with his hand, stroked her skin with the pad of his thumb. “I need you to trust me. This is hard. I understand that more than you know. But emotions won’t find Polly. We have to operate on the facts, on logic and motive. There’s no room for anything else.”

  Tears welled up in her eyes. She wanted to shout at him that he was wrong, but the ache in her throat held back the words.

  “If no one close to Polly is involved,” he said softly, “then we have to assume that the person who did this had other motives. Motives that will in all likelihood ensure a bad outcome.”

  A sob ripped from her throat. Melissa tried to hold it back but the agony would not be contained.

  Jonathan pulled her into his arms. She’d missed having him hold her this way.

  “The chances that this was a stranger are minimal. If not a family member, it’s definitely someone you know. Maybe well.”

  Melissa closed her eyes and burrowed her face in his shirt. His scent filled her and made her want to stay in his arms until this horror had passed. Dear God, who would do this?

  “We’ll get to the truth,” he promised. “But it won’t be easy and no one is going to like the route we have to take to get there.”

  He’d said that before and on some level she understood that he was all too right. Melissa lifted her face to his. “The chief interviewed all of us. Anyone who had any contact with Polly whatsoever.” Surely a man with as much law enforcement experience as the chief would have picked up on any discrepancies.

  “Unfortunately, he’s too close to the people in this town. Like you, he’s not going to believe anyone here is capable of this sort of evil. With Floyd Harper’s sudden death, the chief seems to be convinced Stevie Price is the culprit. Narrowing his suspect pool that way defeats his efforts before he even starts.”

  Jonathan’s assessment made sense. She knew this. “I’m so tired.” She leaned her cheek against his chest and tried to borrow his strength to chase away all the horrible thoughts and images in her mind.

  “You rest.” He caressed her hair. “I’m not going anywhere until we figure this out.”

  She’d wondered so many times during the past three years if he’d moved on to someone new. If he’d gotten married. But she didn’t see a ring. The urge to ask him was suddenly overwhelming. She understood that need for what it was, a necessary distraction. Her mind and body were beyond exhausted. She was empty, empty and desperate to be filled with something other than the agony that swelled each time she thought of Polly.

  Melissa lifted her face to his. “Will you stay here?” The look on his face told her she needed to explain. “There’s plenty of room. It’s just me rambling around in this old house.” Heat flushed her cheeks. Could she not have worded her explanation a little differently?

  “If that’s what you want.”

  What she wanted was for him to take her to bed and help her forget the misery for just one night.

  But that would be a mistake. Her heart couldn’t take losing him again.

  “Good.” That she managed the one word without her voice shaking was a miracle. “I’ll show you to William’s old room.”

  When she would have turned away, he pulled her back to face him. “There’s just one thing I need to get out of the way first,” he said, his voice thick, his gaze intent on her mouth.

  And then he kissed her.

  Not a soft peck on the cheek or lips, but a hungry, raging, mouth to mouth kiss. Her arms went around his neck and he pulled her body against his. The feel of him had desire burning through her. He kissed her harder, deeper, and she lost herself in the incredible sensations.

  When the need for air would no longer be ignored, he pulled his mouth from hers, but kept her forehead pressed to his. “I won’t cross that line again,” he vowed. “I just needed to get that out of the way.”

  “Okay.” She couldn’t catch her breath anymore than he could.

  “I’ll get my bag from the rental car.”

  And just like that he walked away, leaving her standing there, even hungrier and needier than before.

  Melissa recognized one absolute certainty. Jonathan Foley was a man of his word. If he said he wouldn’t cross that line again, he wouldn’t.

  Unless she dragged him over it.

  Chapter Nine

  10:00 p.m.

  Scott parked his car alongside the dirt road and sat in the dark for several minutes.

  He’d followed Harry Shepherd here just before dark. The narrow deserted road made tailing him damned hard considering there was no traffic in which to blend. Old Harry obviously had had other things on his mind. Otherwise he’d surely have noticed Scott in his rearview mirror.

  Scott had stayed way, way back, mind you. But even at dusk and with his headlights off, the man should have noticed a vehicle following him. All the more reason to be suspicious.

  Harry was up to no good.

  Now, well after dark, Scott had returned. He would soon know what Harry had been up to.

  Fumbling for his flashlight, Scott wrapped the fingers of one hand around his granddaddy’s shotgun and snatched up the flashlight with the other. His granddaddy had used the shotgun to keep the riffraff run off his place. When he’d died he’d left it to Scott. Scott had done a mental eye roll at the time. Like he would ever shoot a gun for any reason.

  But he’d matured since then. He now knew that there was a time when a man had to do things he didn’t like to do. Like carry a gun. He wasn’t about to go into those woods without something to defend himself. His granddaddy’s shotgun would do just fine. Luther Stubblefield at the hardware store had suggested buckshot since Scott wasn’t an accomplished marksman. All he had to do was get close enough, and the buckshot would spread out in a wide pattern when fired, making it pretty difficult to miss a target.

  The remark had offended Scott. So he’d opted for the kind of ammo that would take down an elephant. Besides, Scott had no fear of missing if anyone got in his face. In particular, he was not afraid of Harry Shepherd. Whatever he was hiding in that old dilapidated shack in the woods, Scott intended to have a look.

  If it was that child, Polly, he also intended to see that Harry Shepherd paid for his evil, conniving ways. He and that harlot Carol Talbot.

  Climbing out of his car, Scott couldn’t help seeing the irony in the moment. This pathetic shack was on the old Talbot place. The farm hadn’t been lived on or tended in decades. The woods had taken over the clearing where the chief’s great-great-grandfather had homesteaded way back when. Nobody ever came out here. Not since the chief and his wife had abandoned the place after their daughter’s death. Why should they come anyway? There was nothing here. It was places like this that affirmed Scott’s certainty that he did not belong in Alabama. A judgeship would make his life here more tolerable, but that wasn’t likely to happen for a few years yet.

  As for the missing child, Scott felt confident the chief’s men had given the place a cursory search when she first went missing. No doubt that move had been anticipated and she’d been moved here after the search.

  Assuming she was here at all.

  Scott grinned. He had a feeling. He’d spent most of his adult life watching the folks of Bay Minette. He knew everyone of them like the back of his hand. Better maybe. He had a mental file on all the sneaky ones, the cheaters, the thieves, the ones who roughed up their wives. Not a single citizen was completely innocent or without secrets.

  No. They all had their secrets.

>   And Scott was about to blow this one wide open.

  The temperature had dropped considerably since nightfall, making it a little chilly. He didn’t care. Adrenaline and anticipation kept him warm enough. He would be the hero of the town when he brought that little girl home.

  Finally, perhaps, William would look at Scott the way he looked at William.

  Was that so much to ask?

  The old shack was dark. Scott hesitated a moment. What if he were wrong? It was possible that Harry and his harlot used this place for rendezvous when the chief was less occupied with his work. Harry might have come by to retrieve something he or she had left the last time they were here.

  Didn’t matter. Scott was about to find out.

  The weeds were hip-deep as he neared the shack. There wasn’t a sound, just the nocturnal insects buzzing and humming.

  He stepped up onto the rickety porch. Boards creaked and moaned beneath his weight. He roamed the beam of his flashlight over the door and the boarded up windows. Still as quiet as a tomb in there.

  The second thoughts he’d experienced a few moments ago were back, a little stronger this time. He reached for the rusty old knob on the door when a creak rent the air.

  Scott’s heart practically stalled.

  He hadn’t moved, and the sound hadn’t come from behind him.

  The door flew open, and something rushed him, toppling him to the ground.

  Scott grappled to get a proper hold on the shotgun, despite the strong hands that manacled his arms. Male. Big. Strong. Filthy smelling. The two rolled on the ground, grunting and heaving.

  Finally a blast exploded in the air, nearly shattering his eardrums.

  The man’s weight slumped atop Scott.

  He lay perfectly still, waiting, afraid to even breathe.

  The man still didn’t move.

  Scott shoved him off. Shaking all over, he tossed the shotgun aside and scrambled to his feet. Had he fired the shotgun? He wiped his hands on his trousers.