by Karen Fenech
“When did you see her again?”
“Who says I did?” Dannon’s Adam’s apple bobbed like a ship in a storm-tossed sea.
Clare knew she had him and didn’t respond to his question.
“Okay. Okay. Before I left, we made plans to get together again. Not at The Starlight. For dinner. Sara wanted a real date.” Dannon leveled his shoulders, sitting straight in the chair. “I showed her that I’m not like those piss-ant college boys she’s used to seeing. I took her to a restaurant.” He jutted out his chin. “A nice place.”
“Go on.”
He shrugged. “She had a few drinks. Took a hit of Ex and was in party mode again. We almost didn’t make it to a room. She was something. I have to tell you.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, the next day, she came to Farley. I never told her where I lived. I never do. But we’d been fooling around and she got hold of my wallet and my driver’s license and it was all laid out for her.
“When she showed up in town,” Dannon said, “I was shocked. I was not expecting her. She was walking on Bridge Road when I drove by heading for Charley’s. She was on her way to my wife, Connie’s Inn, to rent a room. Shit, I couldn’t have that. I offered to drive her back to the city. She asked me if there wasn’t some place where we could go to be alone together and then I could drive her back in the morning.” Dannon licked his lips. “My daddy, who passed on, had a fishing cabin in the backwoods. I use it sometimes to—ah—fish.”
Clare didn’t think fishing was the sport Dannon indulged in at the cabin, but kept the thought to herself.
“I wanted her out of sight so I drove her there,” Dannon went on. “No one else uses it; it’s mine and I keep it stocked. I planned to talk with her and then drive her back to the city, but we had a couple drinks. Sara popped a couple pills and we didn’t end up talking. After, I left, telling her I had to get home but I’d be back early the next morning to drive her back to Columbia. I was thinking before anyone could see her with me. But when I showed up at the cabin about six the next morning, she wasn’t there. She’d cleared out.
“I tell you I felt relieved,” Dannon said. “Sara had the makings of getting clingy. I couldn’t afford the hassle. I didn’t want Connie to find out, and I had the feeling that Sara wasn’t going to go away quietly with a small token of my affection.” He swiped the sleeve of his jacket across his glistening brow. “But she was gone. And with no hassle. I was in the clear.”
“You didn’t wonder where she’d gone from your remote cabin? In the middle of nowhere?” Clare asked.
“Maybe she called one of her girlfriends to come get her. Frankly, I didn’t care. All I cared about was that she was gone. I’d dodged a bullet with that one.” He pushed damp blonde hair back from his face. His hand trembled. “Sara said she’d be going back home end of the next week. I stayed away from The Starlight. I stayed out of Columbia altogether. I didn’t want to take a chance of maybe running into her again somewhere.”
“And when you heard that she’d turned up missing?” Clare said. “You didn’t come forward?”
Dannon huffed out a breath and flung out his arm. “Hey, she wasn’t reported missing for I don’t know how long after I’d last seen her. Didn’t have anything to do with me.”
“We’ll have to see about that, Mr. Dannon,” Clare said. “What about Beth? Did you think it might be exciting to get it on with your wife’s sister-in-law? Did you also take Beth to your cabin?”
“Whoa!” He held up a hand. “I don’t know anything about Beth! I told you that!”
Clare sneered. “Yeah, and you’ve proven that your word is golden.”
She left the interview room, muscles tight. Dannon was the last person known to have seen Sara McCowan. He feared that she would expose their affair to his wife. He had motive and opportunity for wanting Sara to disappear.
Clare was waiting in the hall when Jake emerged from the interview room. Stan, who’d been observing through the two-way glass, joined them.
Jake addressed Stan. “Get the warrants going to search the cabin and Dannon’s property.”
Stan nodded. “Which judge do you want me to call? Ivanson’s in the hospital with a heart thing, I heard.”
Clare left them to their decision and made her way to the kitchen. Jonathan had made a fresh pot of coffee and set out a plate of sticky buns. The scent of cinnamon blended with the aroma of the coffee, but her stomach was too tight for food. Leaning on her crutch, she bent to the water cooler and filled a paper cup.
She was sipping slowly when Jake went to her.
“How are you holding up?” he asked.
“I’m fine. This could all be over very soon. We may find what we need to lead us to Sara and Beth in Dannon’s cabin.”
Before Jake could reply, Jonathan wheeled in. “Pardon me,” he said. “Jake, you have a phone call on line one. A reporter from L. A., asking about the Sara McCowan case.”
Jake faced Jonathan. “Tell him the investigation is ongoing. We have no comment at this time.”
Jonathan nodded. “And a David McCowan is holding on line two. He said he’s Sara McCowan’s father. What do you want me to say to him?”
“I’ll talk with him,” Jake said quietly.
Jake followed Jonathan out of the kitchen.
Clare made her way to the garbage can by the door to dispose of the paper cup that was now falling apart in her tight grasp. A door was slammed. Then another. Clare was about to find out what the commotion was, when Connie Dannon charged into the kitchen.
Connie advanced on Clare until only inches separated them. “First you go gunning for my brother,” Connie shouted. “Now, you’re after my husband.” She pointed to Clare, her finger jabbing the space between them. “I’m warning you. I won’t let you destroy my family.”
“I recommend that you exercise caution before issuing threats, Connie,” Clare said.
Connie’s lips curled in a sneer. “You don’t scare me with your Yankee accent and your fancy talk. You don’t scare me and you don’t fool me. You got yourself some Northern schooling, and some uppity job, but I know all about you now.” Her eyes glittered with malice. “You’re nothin’ but white trash. Putting your nose up around me and mine when all the while you’re the daughter of a killer the state of Texas had to put to sleep like a rabid dog.”
Clare kept her anger banked. “You want to leave now, Connie, before you’re charged with causing a disturbance.”
“You’re the one doing the disturbing. It’s all over town how you and the FBI man took Rich out of Charley’s Bar when he was conducting business. My husband don’t know nothin’ about that girl. You’re just looking to pin something on him, on account of your slut of a sister, always shaking her bony ass at my Rich, wanting to get his attention. Having my brother wasn’t enough for her. One man wasn’t enough for her.”
“So, I was right. Rich did make a move on Beth.” Being right gave Clare no satisfaction. Given what they now suspected about Rich’s involvement in Sara’s disappearance, his interest in her sister chilled her.
“He made no moves on Beth! She was all over him, every chance she got. If not for Dean keeping her in line with the back of his hand, that girl would have stepped out on him with every man who gave her the nod.”
Hearing that Connie knew of Ryder’s abuse of Beth, and that she condoned it, hit Clare hard. “You knew what your brother was doing to her and you let it go on?” Heat surged to Clare’s face.
“She got nothin’ more than she deserved.”
In that moment, it took all of Clare’s self-control to keep herself from striking Connie.
“Get out,” Clare said. “You make me sick.”
Jonathan wheeled into the kitchen and addressed Connie. His face was flushed. “I’ll escort you out.”
“I know the way.” Connie looked to Clare. “I’m telling you this ain’t over. We ain’t gonna roll over and play dead.”
Connie turned and stalked out of the room.
&nbs
p; “I’m sorry, Clare,” Jonathan said. “I was in the supply room. I didn’t know she was here ’till I heard her yelling.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Clare said. “I’m going to see how Jake’s making out with the warrant.”
Chapter Nineteen
Within two hours, a warrant had been granted for the search of Rich Dannon’s cabin. Four years had passed. Any trace evidence of Sara McCowan’s presence in the cabin would have long been destroyed, but perhaps Rich had kept or overlooked something.
To find Sara alive? Clare held out no hope of that. To find the young woman’s remains, if they were lucky. And more, to find something that would tie Rich to Beth’s disappearance.
Though what would a link to Rich mean to Beth? Clare pressed her lips together. Nothing good, she feared.
The lab in Columbia called with the results from Ryder’s vehicle. Clare was at the Bureau office and took the call. Hair found in the vehicle matched samples taken from a brush Beth had left behind at the Ryder house and from Ryder himself. Fibers also were consistent with fabrics found inside the Ryder home. There was nothing to suggest that Beth had been forced from her vehicle.
Dean Ryder. Rich Dannon. Clare massaged her throbbing temples. She was no closer to finding out what had happened to her sister.
Clare was seated in the outer office with Jonathan. She’d barely hung up with the lab when another call came in. She and Jonathan had spent the last few hours on the phones, responding to calls about sightings of Beth.
Unfortunately, none of the callers had any real leads to share. This latest call was no different. A couple of minutes later, Clare ended the conversation with a woman from Arkansas who claimed to have seen Beth dancing in her cornfields the night before, under the light of the full moon. For reasons of her own, the caller had chosen to call Beth’s hometown, rather than contact her local police department about the sighting. Clare passed the information to the Arkansas PD who would dispatch an officer to speak to the woman, but Clare held out no hope that Beth had really been seen.
Clare’s cell phone rang. It was Jake. He was at Dannon’s cabin, overseeing the search. She had wanted to be present, and hated being excluded. Reluctantly, though, she’d conceded that her injured leg would hamper her usefulness.
She flipped open her phone. “Jake?” Her voice was tight.
“Yeah, Clare.” Jake didn’t make her wait for it. “We found a CD, printed photographs of the pictures on the CD, and videotape—all of Sara McCowan.” Jake paused, then must have decided there was no point in holding back since she’d see the photos and film for herself. “The pictures and footage show Sara being tortured. Raped.” Jake’s tone was low with anger and disgust. “Some of the photos were taken of Sara’s body in a grave. Videotape, as well, panned the body in the grave. The background in the shots is trees and forest area. Looks like he buried her somewhere in these woods.”
Clare swallowed a lump in her throat that threatened to choke her. “The photos and footage were all of Sara?”
“Yes.” He stated it with more force. “Yes.”
Relief weakened her and Clare grasped the desk for support. Guilt stabbed her that she felt relieved it was Sara in the photos and not Beth.
“We got him.” Clare said. “We need to find out if Dannon had anything to do with Beth’s disappearance. Time is running out, Jake.”
“We’re wrapping up here. I’ll meet you at the office and we’ll have another talk with Dannon.”
* * * * *
When Jake and Clare entered the interview room, Dannon was on his feet, pacing the tile floor. He’d retained an attorney from Columbia. Harold Gentry, a thin man in a suit that fit too loosely, had taken a place at the table.
Dannon swung around to face Clare and Jake. “You can’t hold me here. I haven’t done anything. I want out.”
Jake took up a position behind Clare, one shoulder propped against the wall, as he had during the first interview. Again, they’d agreed that Clare would take the lead with Dannon.
“Have a seat, Mr. Dannon.” Clare pointed to a chair then lowered herself onto one. She placed her crutch on the floor by the chair leg.
“I don’t want to have a seat,” Dannon said. “I want to go home. I already told you people that I don’t know what happened to Sara. I didn’t see her after I left the cabin.”
“Any questions you have for my client, you can address to me, Agent Marshall,” Gentry said. “Take a seat, Rich. We’ll have this cleared up in no time.”
“I’m afraid not,” Clare said. “We finished the search of your cabin, Mr. Dannon. You have quite an interest in photography and filmmaking.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Dannon plopped onto the chair. He was a mess. Unshaven. Suit wrinkled. His once-crisp white shirt showed damp circles at the breast bone where his tie hung loose.
“We found your footage and stills of Sara McCowan’s body,” Clare said.
“You’re bluffing.”
Clare shook her head slowly.
“This interview is over,” Gentry said.
Clare kept her gaze and a small smile on Dannon. His jaw dropped as if he’d received a solid blow to it. He sagged in the chair as if he were deflated; defeated, Clare thought. She leaned forward to press her advantage.
“You have an opportunity to help yourself, Mr. Dannon,” Clare said. “Tell us where Beth Ryder is and we’ll inform the district attorney of your cooperation. Help us, and we’ll help you.”
“I want to confer with my client,” Gentry said. “I said this interview is over, Agent Marshall, Agent Sutton.”
The attorney slammed the lid of his briefcase closed with a loud snap as the locks engaged.
“You did this!” Dannon shouted. “You bitch!”
He sprang from the chair and lunged at Clare, knocking her and the chair to the floor. He straddled her and his hands closed around her throat.
Clare gasped, choked. Dannon’s grip was tight as a vice. She struck him, jabbing the heel of her hand against his nose. His blood spewed, spraying her, but he did not release her. Red dots popped in her vision.
She heard the roar of an ocean. The sound grew louder, drowning out Dannon’s panting breaths and Jake shouting her name.
Dimly, she saw Jake grab Dannon, raise his arm and strike her attacker on the back of the neck. Dannon’s hands fell away from her and his eyes rolled back as he lost consciousness. Jake flung Dannon away before he could land on top of her.
Clare coughed and choked. She tried to roll onto an elbow, then Jake was on his knees beside her. His arm wound around her, lifting her, pulling her tight against his chest.
“Clare,” Jake said.
“I’m fine.” She coughed again. “I’m okay.”
She pushed against Jake’s hold to stand, but fell back against him. Jake’s hold on her tightened.
“Stay put. Don’t move yet,” he said.
The door to the interview room sprang open. Stan Doyle charged in. He exchanged a look with Jake then bent over Dannon. Jake had subdued Dannon. Clare’s attacker lay unconscious where he’d landed against the wall.
Dannon’s attorney approached Clare and glanced down on her. The man had lost the color in his face and appeared pasty.
