“Daddy, daddy!” Stevie rushed to grab Randy’s legs as soon as he entered the kitchen. Rhonda hurried over from the sink.
“Hey, guy.” Randy picked up his son and jiggled him high in the air. Stevie laughed. “Whatcha doin’?”
Stevie’s cherub face hung above his dad’s. “Watching cartoons, and Mom made pancakes.”
“Like a heart?”
“Yeah.” The boy’s eyes sparkled.
“That’s great!” Randy plunked Stevie back on his feet and hugged Rhonda. “Hi, lovely.”
She clung to him, her face in his neck. “Glad you’re back.”
He stroked her hair. “Yeah.”
Rhonda pulled away and looked at him. “The press conference was on TV. I snuck back in the bedroom to watch.”
Randy nodded. He’d called her with the news when they’d returned to the Stable. As much as he tried to keep the remorse from his expression, he knew Rhonda saw it. She always did.
“Your team did what it was supposed to do,” she whispered.
“Yeah.”
“Randy, don’t beat yourself up over this.”
“Yeah.” But of course he would. His eyes slid to Stevie, who once again hugged his knees. The thought of his own son being snatched from him made his heart stop. How did any parent survive that?
Randy managed a little smile and tugged at Rhonda’s hair. “Let me sleep for a few hours?”
“You’ve earned it.”
Five minutes later Randy fell onto the bed, beat and depressed. Sleep would not come. He could only stare at the ceiling, thinking of Shaley. Wondering if she was still alive.
They should have been there in time. They should have.
Randy wasn’t a praying man, but he sent a message heavenward for this one.
God—if you hear me, let this girl come home.
33
I sat on the red couch in the trailer’s living room, listening to Joshua’s snores drifting from the bedroom. He’d fallen onto the bed only minutes ago. I envied him. How I wished I could sleep.
For the rest of my life.
The blue sneakers sat on the floor nearby. I thought it best not to put them on yet. I’d placed the rolled-up T-shirt on the couch to my left.
From my position I could strain my neck and read the clock on the kitchen stove. Just after noon.
My sandwich still sat on the counter. I should eat it. Who knew when I’d get another chance? But now that Joshua was fully asleep, I had more important things to do.
Quietly, I picked up the top magazine from the stack on the coffee table—The Outdoorsman. Every movement I made was slow. I was too aware of my clothes rustling, my own breathing. I didn’t want to wake Joshua. On the bottom right of the magazine’s cover stretched a mailing label. Ed and Jean Carroll, 1011 West Tryndle, Idaho Falls, 83401.
I ran my thumb over the names. Ed and Jean. I tried to picture them in their Idaho Falls house. How strange to have this connection. The two of them there, me here in their trailer. Did they feel the violation of their getaway place in their souls?
“Ed and Jean Carroll,” I whispered. I would never forget those names.
I set the magazine on the couch to my right. Took hold of the cover just above the mailing label. Slowly, I began to tear off the label, making only a ghost of a sound. When it came away in my hand, I tucked it in the front right pocket of my jeans.
Leaning toward the coffee table, I placed the magazine at the bottom of the stack.
For a long time I stared at the paperbacks on the bookshelf. Finally, with careful movements, I rose and padded toward the books. I took down the first paperback my fingers touched and carried it back to the couch. Then unrolled the T-shirt and picked up the eyebrow pencil. On the inside cover of the book I wrote: Shaley O’Connor was here Sunday, May 16, 2010. Kidnapped May 15. Joshua is taking me to Montana, near the Canadian border. Please find me!
Cocking my head toward the bedrooms, I heard Joshua’s snoring.
I rolled the eyebrow pencil up in the T-shirt once again. Replaced the book on the shelf. But I left it sticking out a little. Not enough that I thought Joshua would notice. But Jean would. She was that sort of housekeeper.
After some time I managed to eat my sandwich and guzzle a glass of water.
Around one thirty, exhaustion hit. I sat on the couch, staring at the front door. There it stood, mere feet away. All I had to do was yank it open, run outside…
And go where? I didn’t know how to hot-wire the car. And how long could I hide in the woods as Joshua searched for me? Carrying his gun. Even if he didn’t find me right away, what would I do when night fell? We were so far from a town, from even another house.
Defeat wrapped cold fingers around my throat. I slumped against the back cushions of the couch, then laid down on my side. Stuck one of the bright, flowered pillows beneath my head. I drew the rolled-up T-shirt close to my chest and hugged it.
Sleepiness washed over me in waves, pulling me down…down into fitful sleep. Twice I awoke to silence, only to feel my heavy eyelids close again. I dreamt of weddings—Mom and Dad’s beautiful ceremony morphing into my own nightmare.
A noise popped my eyes open.
Footsteps.
Down the hall a door closed. Joshua, going into the bathroom.
My arms still clutched the T-shirt. I pushed to a sitting position, eyes pulling toward the paperback on the shelf. It sat just as I left it, sticking out from the other books about an inch.
Straightening, I peered toward the clock on the stove. Eight fifteen. My mouth opened. Eight fifteen? I’d been asleep almost seven hours.
The bathroom door opened. I dropped the T-shirt onto the couch.
Joshua came up the hall. I tensed. He sneered at me. “Still here, I see.”
My gaze fell to the floor.
“You sleep?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
Joshua stretched with satisfaction, tilting his jowly face from side to side. “We need to get going.”
Desperation flamed in my chest. Nine hours. In darkness. What if we reached the cabin before dawn? My plans for the T-shirt would never work.
I had to delay him.
Casually, I moved the T-shirt to the carpet beneath the coffee table. “Don’t you want something to eat first?”
Joshua heaved a sigh and placed both hands on his hips. “Yeah. Might as well. Less stopping on the way.”
“I’ll get something.” I rose from the couch and brushed past him to enter the kitchen. That mere touch made the hair on my arms stand up.
Nine hours.
I opened cabinet doors and found shelves full of canned goods. Soup, baked beans, vegetables. I grabbed a can. “Want some chili?”
He shrugged. “Sure.”
I found a pan beneath the stove and poured in the chili. Placed it on a burner over low heat. My eyes wouldn’t stop glancing at the clock. Was it frozen? The hands were barely moving.
What time would the sun rise?
The smell of chili wafted into the air.
When it started to bubble, I poured it into a bowl and set it on the table with a spoon. “There you go.”
“Thanks.” He pulled out a chair.
I watched him from the corner of my eye. Thanks. First time he’d said anything half nice to me.
My thoughts fled down the corridor of days, months, years. Stuck in some cabin serving this despicable man. I couldn’t imagine my life. It simply couldn’t be. Fresh disbelief welled up in my chest. I still couldn’t grasp this was really happening.
God, please help me!
Joshua ate all too quickly. I went to the bathroom, drank some water. Put on Jean’s sneakers. They fit.
I offered to do the dishes.
“No, we’re leaving.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and pushed from the table.
The clock read 8:33.
“Please. It won’t take long. Haven’t we done enough to this place, breaking in the door?”
&nb
sp; Joshua waved a hand in the air. “Make it quick.”
I washed the plates from earlier, as well as the pot and bowl and spoon. Dried them. Left them out on the counter. When Ed and Jean came back, I wanted them to see I’d at least done this for them.
“Let’s go.” Joshua pointed toward the door.
Nothing else left to do.
Boldly, I walked to the coffee table and picked up a women’s magazine. “I want to take this with me.” As I leaned over, I plucked the T-shirt off the floor, silently pleading Joshua wouldn’t make me leave it behind. Or worse, check it.
My heart fluttered as I straightened. My eyes grazed past Joshua to the stove clock. It was 8:39.
The sun was setting as we drove away.
34
Another endless night. Brittany didn’t know how they’d live through it.
She sat in the great room with Rayne, Ross, Gary, and the band members. Everyone was scattered throughout the room on couches and chairs that had been moved back from the circle.
Agent Scarrow was in the dining room with his files and laptop. Brittany didn’t even want to see his face right now. He couldn’t seem to give them any good news.
Why hadn’t someone spotted the Explorer?
“Maybe he ditched the Explorer for something else.” Gary spoke as if he had read Brittany’s thoughts. “If everyone heard the press conference, he probably did too. Maybe we shouldn’t have told them after all.”
“Stop, Gary.” Kim pointed at him. “You did the best you could. And besides, the FBI agreed to tell.”
Rayne didn’t reply. Brittany knew she was just too tired.
In the dining room, Agent Scarrow’s phone rang. Brittany stilled. Every call brought fresh hope…then disappointment. Her head tilted toward the sound of his voice, but she couldn’t make out many of his words. A moment later the agent’s chair scraped back from the table. His footsteps sounded on the marble floor. When he appeared, everyone in the room focused on him.
Rayne and Gary stood and faced the agent. Brittany sucked in a breath.
Agent Scarrow raised a hand. “The Explorer has been found in a parking lot just south of Salt Lake City. It’s been abandoned, apparently for another car.”
“Oh.” Rayne reached for Gary’s arm.
Weakness flooded Brittany. How would they ever find Shaley now?
“So now what?” Ross strode toward Agent Scarrow. Kim, Rich, Morrey, and the rest of the band members left their seats to crowd around.
The Explorer had been discovered in the back parking lot of a strip mall, Agent Scarrow told them. The owner of a maroon Toyota Camry had left her car in that parking lot since morning. When she returned the Camry was gone. She called the police. The responding officer immediately recognized what she’d been too upset to notice—the license plate of the Explorer parked in the very next spot.
“It’s a pretty good bet Shaley’s now in that Camry,” the agent said. “As we speak, a bulletin for the stolen car is going out. We’ll have law enforcement everywhere looking for it.”
“But the public won’t know.” Brittany bit the side of her cheek. “They’ll still be looking for the Explorer. Plus now it’s dark, so how will policemen even see the Camry?”
“Yeah.” Morrey rubbed his arms. “But the kidnapper won’t know we know what car he’s in.”
“That’s right.” Agent Scarrow nodded. “He thinks he’s eluded us again. Maybe that’ll make him sloppy.”
“But what if we’re wrong?” Gary’s voice edged. “What if they’re not in the Camry at all?”
“That’s a possibility but not likely. The minute the suspect ditched the Explorer, he’d need another car. Since the one right next to that Explorer is now missing, it makes sense to proceed with this lead.”
Salt Lake City, Brittany thought. He was taking Shaley farther and farther north.
“What about the Explorer?” Rayne asked. “Will they check it?”
“It’s already being towed to the local police station. They’ll go over it for fingerprints and other evidence.”
Please, God, don’t let them find more blood in it!
“Even though it’s night now, I want you to know the car will be processed immediately,” Agent Scarrow said. “As far as everyone’s concerned, there’s no off time on this case.”
Brittany and the others peppered Agent Scarrow with more questions until there was nothing left to ask. His phone rang again, and he disappeared back into the dining room.
Rayne and Gary wandered out the rear doors of the great room and onto the huge deck overlooking the lighted gardens. Brittany watched them, trying to imagine their wedding that should have been. Yesterday seemed like years ago. All the white rented tents for the reception had been taken down from the backyard. Brittany hadn’t even noticed when that happened.
She floated through the next few hours, her mind whirling with fear. Shaley’s second night away from them. What was happening to her?
Shortly after eleven o’clock, Agent Scarrow received more news. Some of the band members had wandered off to their bedrooms. Brittany, Rayne, and Gary remained in the great room.
“They’ve processed the Explorer,” Agent Scarrow told them.
Rayne gasped. “Did they find blood?”
“No blood.” He gave her a tired smile. “Useable fingerprints were lifted from the steering wheel and driver’s door. These match the ones found in the van’s driver’s area and the pay phone, which we know belong to Ronald Fledger. Techs also found numerous pieces of evidence from Shaley. Two are particularly noteworthy. The first are seven of her hairs. The second is an absolutely perfect thumbprint on the back window on the driver’s side. The position of this thumbprint, near the bottom of the window and with no other fingerprints near it, leads us to believe Shaley intentionally put it there.”
The information filtered through Brittany, trailing hope. Shaley was fighting back.
“The hairs also look as if Shaley plucked them out and purposely dropped them on the floor of the backseat. The seven hairs were found in a cluster, with follicles attached. Our theory is that Shaley was lying down in that third row of seats. Maybe she knew the kidnapper was going to steal another car. She wanted to leave her mark behind.”
“She hasn’t given up hope,” Rayne whispered.
“I think you’re right.” Al put a hand on his hip. “This is very good news. It’s one thing to find evidence. It’s another to find evidence that tells you the mind-set of the victim. Even as we’re separated from Shaley, she’s leaving a trail. She’s trying to connect. That tells us her inner strength and her intelligence. She’s doing all she can—right now—to help us find her.”
Keep it up, Shaley. Brittany closed her eyes, envisioning her best friend. Lead us to you.
35
I sat in the front passenger seat, watching the road, trying to memorize every sign on the route as our headlights swept over them. The rolled-up T-shirt lay under my seat. Every once in a while, I pushed a sneakered foot against it, just to feel its bulk. Just to know it was still there.
After meandering off the tiny back road that led to the trailer, we’d reconnected with Highway 20 and followed it north, crossing into Montana. It then took us over the border into Wyoming, nearing Yellowstone National Park. Joshua turned north on Highway 191. We crossed back into Montana.
How did he know all these roads? It’s like he’d memorized a map.
A question that had bugged me popped back into my mind.
“How did you know about the jewelry van?” I kept my eyes on the road.
“Who’s askin’?”
Huh? I glanced at him. He drove with one hand on the steering wheel, his right arm resting on the console. His full lips worked, and his beady eyes focused on the road with hunger, as if one more mile under our wheels meant one mile closer to “home.”
“I’m asking.”
He threw me a look. “The old Shaley, or the new Joshua’s girl Shaley?”
/> I forced myself not to grimace. I would never be “Joshua’s girl.”
“You obviously planned this really well. I can’t figure out how you did it, that’s all.”
He chuckled, a dry rasp in his throat. “You think about it some more.”
I watched our headlights eat up the road, obstinacy festering within me. I didn’t want to figure this out. I wanted to persuade Joshua to tell me. The more he talked, the more lax he might become. Maybe I’d hear something really useful, beyond satisfying my curiosity.
An eternal half hour passed. I lifted my hands. “Tell me about the van.”
“You can’t figure it out?”
“No.”
He grunted. “Must not be as smart as I thought.”
“Guess not.”
Joshua drew a long breath. “I’ve been planning this a long time. Just didn’t know when or how. Then God dropped the perfect opportunity into my lap.”
God? How dare this kidnapper, this criminal, credit God for this! I stared through the windshield, jaw tightening. The God I worshiped didn’t lead people to evil; he led them toward good. If Joshua didn’t know that, he was crazy.
Or merely rationalizing.
My shoulders sagged. How sad to think not everyone who called on God did it righteously. It made figuring out this world all the harder.
I pushed back the emotions, made sure my voice would sound even. “How did he do that?”
“You know that jeweler down by where you live? The one that did the rings? I know the security guy there, works at night. He told me he’d heard from an employee that the man’s ring didn’t fit when it was delivered.”
That would have been Friday. Not much time for planning.
“My friend said Rayne called the store and got all huffy. Said there was no time for them to fix it.”
I bit back a retort. It was a sloppy mistake. Mom had been upset, but I’d been even more furious.
“I asked him what they were gonna do. He’d heard that Rayne said she’d have to get a jeweler in Santa Barbara to resize it.”
Once more, I fought to keep my expression placid. To think this horror was all because of that mistake. “So you started checking out jewelry stores there?”
Final Touch Page 11
