Andy had been a surprise from the first day she met him. She’d greeted him at the door fully expecting a smart-mouthed kid with a bad attitude and a huge chip on his shoulder. But he was nothing like that. He was polite. Charming, even, and Marissa frowned as the irony hit her with full force. Rick had been charming too. She hadn’t seen the monster that lay beneath his handsome face until after they were married. Maybe Andy was just like his father after all. A sociopath?
Mental illness, she jotted down on the sheet of paper, and racked her brain for anything else.
Andy had volunteered at a youth camp for troubled kids out in Snoqualmie Valley, some kind of scared-straight program. It was probably nothing, just another dead end, but she wrote it down anyway.
Cahill had one of those voices. Loud. Penetrating. Marissa pressed a finger to her ear, trying to focus in on her own thoughts, but it was no use. She couldn’t hear herself think.
“Yes, I’m calling about Rick Bowman,” Cahill said, doodling on the notepad beside his keyboard. “No, I’m not family. I’m with the Holt Foundation. Is there a problem?”
The change in Cahill’s tone instantly registered with Marissa. She glanced up. Cahill was on his feet now, spinning toward her. His large hand clamped down over the receiver.
“Call Seth,” he said.
“What?”
“Call Seth. Now.”
Confused, Marissa reached under her desk and grabbed her purse. She rummaged through the jumbled contents until she found her cell phone and dialed. The phone rang. Cahill held out his hand. She slapped the phone into his palm.
The purse yawned open on the desk, and Marissa caught sight of Brooke’s insulin pen. How could something this small hold the power of life and death? Here she sat scribbling down notes while somewhere out there Brooke’s body was seizing up like a car’s engine without oil. If she wasn’t already in a coma. If she was still alive.
Cahill slammed down the receiver to the landline and pressed the cell phone to his ear.
“Come on, answer,” he growled.
“What now?” Marissa asked.
Cahill held up a finger and she fell silent.
“Seth? I called the mental institution. There’s something going on there.” He paused, listening. “I don’t know what, but as soon as I asked about Bowman, things got tense.”
Cahill’s landline rang. He wrapped up his conversation with Seth and handed the phone back to Marissa. She set it on the desk beside her purse and turned back to her list.
There had to be something else.
Her cell phone rang and she picked it up. With Cahill barking on the other line, she walked out into the hallway.
“Hello.”
“Marissa?”
Her heart plummeted. It wasn’t Seth. It was Logan.
“How did it go with the principal today?” she asked.
With any luck Logan’s silver tongue had charmed the school’s administration into welcoming Kelly back with open arms.
“Uh, fine,” he said.
But it wasn’t fine. The electric edge in his voice sent fear rippling through Marissa.
“What’s wrong, Logan?”
He hesitated. In that silent second, a host of horrific thoughts filled Marissa’s mind until, finally, he spoke.
“Have you seen Kelly?”
Dread lodged like a tumor in her throat, making it hard to speak, hard to breathe.
“What do you mean? She’s with you.”
“I just got home from the high school, and Kelly’s not here.”
“You’ve called her?”
“Her cell phone is going directly to voice mail.”
“Oh God.”
“Did you send flowers?” Logan asked.
“Flowers? What flowers?”
“There are flowers on the floor,” he said, sounding every bit as shaky as she felt.
“No.”
Panic set Marissa in motion. This couldn’t be happening. She burst through the office door. Cahill was still on the phone. She blurted out Kelly’s name, but before she could say more, he raised his palm. Marissa didn’t wait. She shoved the insulin pen in her pocket and bolted out the door.
“Is there a card, a logo, anything that tells you where the flowers came from?”
“Nothing. They’re wrapped in plain brown butcher’s wrap tied with a white ribbon.”
“She can’t be gone.”
The elevator doors slid shut. Marissa sagged against the back wall with the phone pressed against her ear, praying to God she didn’t lose signal.
“Logan. Are you still there?”
“Yes.”
“What time did you leave?”
“Just after lunch.”
“Dammit, that was two hours ago.”
Logan fell silent. Marissa drew a tremulous breath. She shouldn’t have snapped at him. This wasn’t his fault.
“Look, I’m sorry.”
“I’m worried too, Marissa.”
“Call the police. I’m on my way.”
Wind blasted through the high-rise buildings and howled through the downtown core. Sheets of rain slashed against her windshield. Squealing out into traffic, she could barely see a block ahead. Marissa punched down on the accelerator and slalomed her way through a pack of slow-moving vehicles.
She merged onto the interstate heading north. The road was slick as she shot past cars at a blistering pace. If just one person pulled out in front of her, she was done. There would be no time to stop. Still, she didn’t slow her pace as she swerved onto the exit for the 520 Bridge.
Marissa’s cell phone rang. Hoping it was Seth, she picked up the call.
“Marissa?”
“Yes,” she snapped, not recognizing the voice on the other end.
“Where are you?” the man asked.
“Who is this? Evan?”
The floating bridge lay dead ahead. Eastbound lanes were choked with traffic as nervous drivers crawled along the narrow span across Lake Washington. Gray waters churned on either side of the bridge as the fierce winds pounded an endless series of white-capped waves into the barrier.
“Are you on your way to Logan’s place?”
Besides Logan, no one knew where she was going. She hadn’t even told Cahill. Who on earth could this be?
A wave jumped the barrier and smashed against her car. She jerked the wheel, veering out of her lane. A car horn blared behind her, and she corrected her course, narrowly missing the car beside her.
“Who are you?”
His laugh sent chills racing through her.
“Check the caller ID.”
Tearing her gaze away from the slick bridge deck, Marissa glanced at the call display. Fear sucked the air from her lungs.
“Kelly,” she gasped. The line went dead.
The phone rang again. This time she checked the call display. Brooke. Marissa’s eyes swam with tears. She blinked them away. She knew who this was.
“Andy.”
“Well done, Mommy Dearest. Just under the bell.”
“What have you done with my girls?”
“They’re waiting for you,” he said.
Waiting? Waiting where? What was he doing to her girls?
“I thought I’d host a family reunion. Would love it if you could join us.”
He was crazy, a monster—ten times worse than his father.
“If you hurt them . . .”
“You’ll what? Ground me?” he laughed. “Come on, Mom. Surely you can do better than that.”
“We never did anything to hurt you, Andy. I’m not like your father . . .”
“Dad? Don’t worry. I’ve already taken care of him. He won’t be joining us.”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing I’m sure you didn’t consider a hundred times yourself. No thanks necessary,” he said. “Where are you?”
“On Highway 520, heading toward Redmond.”
“Go east on Route 202. I’ll call you with more directions.”
>
Andy hung up. Marissa screamed. She pounded the horn with her fist, willing the line of cars to move aside and let her pass, but they didn’t. The phone slipped from her grasp and fell to the floor. She swore. She needed to call Seth.
Crouching low in her seat, she brushed her fingers along the floor of the car, searching for the cell. Shoving her hand into the deep crevice between the seat and the armrest, she felt a slick corner of plastic.
Her fingers scrabbled for the phone. She felt it. The car shifted and the phone slid away. Gritting her teeth, she pushed deeper, managing to pin it in place with her finger. She held her breath, easing it toward the armrest one centimeter at a time. Finally she curled her fingers around the phone and pulled it out.
She hit redial.
Chapter 57
Cahill had been right. There was trouble ahead. Police cruisers formed a barrier around the entrance to Valley Mental Health Institution. Seth’s every instinct told him they had something to do with Rick Bowman and his son’s secret life. Although he was curious to learn the specifics, he knew there was no point asking the cops. He was no longer part of the inner circle. Finding Alicia Wright would be a better use of his time.
Seth headed back toward his car. He heard someone call his name. Stopping under the glass covering of the walkway, he turned to face his former boss.
Alvarez shot him a thunderous glare. “What are you doing here?”
Seth forced a crooked smile and scratched the back of his neck. “I thought I’d check myself in.”
“Not the worst idea you’ve ever had.” A small smile tugged at the corners of Alvarez’s lips. “Now, why don’t you tell me why you’re really here?”
Seth paused. The sound of the rain striking the glass and the rustling of the thick pines overhead filled the silence as he considered his answer. Knowing Alvarez wouldn’t be easily brushed off, he opted for the truth.
“I’m here to see Rick Bowman.”
“Why?”
“Because Drew Matthews is Andrew Bowman, Marissa’s stepson.”
“You’re telling me he’s Rick Bowman’s son? You’re sure?”
“Marissa identified him.”
“Son of a bitch,” Alvarez said, kneading his lined forehead like a headache raged inside his brain.
“Is Rick dead?”
Alvarez didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. The grim expression on the lieutenant’s face was confirmation enough.
“First Alicia Wright. Now his father. Andrew Bowman is escalating.”
“You don’t know for sure Wright is dead,” Alvarez said.
“If you mean we haven’t found her body yet, you’re right.” Seth shoved his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders against the bitter wind.
“How is it you’re two steps ahead of us?”
“It’s a whole hell of a lot easier to go with your gut when you don’t need evidence to build your case.” He shrugged. “For what it’s worth, I’d have every state patrol from here to the Oregon border looking for his car. If Andy killed his girlfriend and his father, he’s not coming back.”
Seth waited for Alvarez to reprimand him, to warn him to stay away from the case, but the speech never came.
“Listen, Seth. The way things ended . . .”
Seth raised a hand, forestalling the lieutenant’s words. Replaying the past was pointless. They had both said things they wished they hadn’t. Funny thing was, now that it was all over, Seth wasn’t sorry he’d quit.
“I made a decision. It’s all for the best.”
Alvarez’s phone chirped. He read the text message and sighed.
“That’s my cue.” Alvarez stuck out his hand and Seth shook it. “Call me if you have any more breakthroughs.”
“Sure,” Seth said, surprised to find he meant it.
Seth paced back down the covered walkway. His thoughts were filled with Andrew Bowman and where he might flee. Maybe Cahill had some ideas. Reaching into his coat pocket, he grasped his phone. It vibrated in his hand.
“Marissa,” he said.
He knew he should tell her about Rick. Better she hear it from him than from someone else, or worse, the news. Before he could say another thing, Marissa barreled ahead.
“It’s Kelly. He has her too.”
Marissa’s voice shook. Fear was transmitted in her every syllable. Bowman? It had to be Bowman. Seth started jogging toward his car.
“How do you know?”
“He called me from Kelly’s phone.”
“Fuck.” Here he was down in Tacoma, hours away from where he needed to be, when Marissa needed him most. “Where are you?”
“I’m on 520 just past 405. He told me to take 202 East.”
The words poured out of her in a panicked rush.
Seth knew the Snoqualmie Valley. Farmland, trees, dozens of little twisty roads winding up into the foothills of the Cascade Range, tiny lakes, the river—millions of hiding places. Abandoned barns, mountain cabins, bunkers built by end-of-days nut bags. Unnamed roads that went nowhere.
Bowman could be anywhere. Anywhere. And Marissa was heading straight for him.
“Pull over. Wait for me,” Seth commanded, praying she would listen.
“He said he’d call with more directions.”
“For fuck’s sake, Marissa, pull over. You’re walking into a trap.”
“He’s got my girls, Seth.”
The raw burst of pain in her voice drove splinters of dread deep into his heart.
“Marissa,” he roared, but the phone beeped. “Marissa.”
But she was gone. The call dropped, and he lost her.
Seth sprinted down the slick walkway, grappling in his pocket for the keys. He grasped them in his fist. Skidding to a halt in the parking lot, he dropped the phone. It splashed into a deep puddle at his feet.
He swooped down and scooped it up. The screen was shattered and the display black. He thumbed the power button. Nothing. It was dead.
“Fuck. Goddamn it to fucking hell!”
Seth pounded his fist against the roof of the car.
Marissa was headed east, directly into Andrew Bowman’s trap, and he had no way of getting in touch with her.
Seth pitched the phone onto the passenger’s seat and jumped behind the wheel. Laying on his horn, he pulled a highly illegal, highly dangerous U-turn and raced back toward the interstate.
Chapter 58
Cold settled over Kelly like a blanket of dew. She drew in a quick breath and expelled it from her lungs in a steamy cloud of vapor. Her nose dripped. She sniffed. It smelled like rotting wood and dank earth and something else. Water. Her eyes snapped open.
Where the hell was she?
Stretched out flat on her stomach, Kelly was pressed face-first against a damp wooden floor. It was pitch-black. She blinked. At least she thought she blinked. Eyes wide, she couldn’t see a thing. No shapes. No light. Nothing.
She shifted. Her shoulders ached. Her hands were tightly bound behind her back. She tugged. Rough, fibrous ropes bit into her bare wrists. She yanked on her bonds until a burst of pain blasted through her head, ten times worse than the worst headache she’d ever had.
“Hello,” she said, her creaky voice fading into the hollow darkness.
Nothing. No response. Kelly closed her eyes and listened.
At first all she could hear was the frantic beat of her own heart. Then she heard other sounds. Water. Water coming from everywhere. Rain on a tin roof. And something else, something bigger. A nearby river moving fast.
And breathing.
Breathing? She wasn’t alone in here. Fear blew through her at gale force.
Kelly curled her knees toward her chest. Twisting her shoulders, she shifted her weight. Pain burst through her brain. She gritted her teeth and ignored it, rocking harder until she rolled onto her knees.
“Hello.”
No one answered. She heard something though. Head cocked, she closed her eyes, straining to hear. It was a soft sound, barely disce
rnible over her pounding pulse. It sounded like someone coughing. Coming from where?
Kelly lurched upright, staggering to her feet. Her head swam. She stood stock-still, waiting for the wave of dizziness to pass.
“Who’s there?”
She heard a grunt. Human. Definitely human.
“I can hear you.”
Kelly’s voice trembled. She staggered ahead, one step at a time. God, she hated stumbling blind. The suffocating dark made her feel more vulnerable, more freaked out than she already was.
“Kel . . .”
The frail voice cracked and faded. Kelly froze. A half sob escaped her lips.
“Brooke?”
“Yes,” the response came, half a sigh, half a whisper.
Kelly lurched ahead, feet scraping the floor. She tripped on something hard. Sparks of pain lit up her ankle. Without her hands to steady her, she almost went down, but at the last second she shifted her weight and regained her balance.
Tears flooded her eyes.
“Brooke, where are you?”
“Here.” Another raspy whisper.
Her knee smashed into a rail. She pitched forward. Sharp metal ripped through her jeans, tearing her skin. She landed face-first on the wall. White-hot bolts of pain shot through Kelly’s forehead and cheekbone. Her neck snapped back. The coppery tang of blood filled her mouth.
“You . . . okay?” Each word came slowly, haltingly for Brooke, like each syllable caused her pain.
Kelly grunted. Ignoring the pain, she rolled onto her knees again, wishing she could wipe the blood from her face. She jerked to her feet, moving more slowly this time toward the voice.
“Yeah.” She slid a foot along the floor, testing, back in the direction from which she’d come. She felt something press into her leg and stopped.
Brooke lay stretched out on the bed. Kelly hunkered down over her sister’s body and struggled against the ropes that bound her hands. She wanted to throw her arms around Brooke, feel her sister’s beating heart beneath her palms. After so much worry, so much fear that she would never lay eyes on Brooke again, it seemed unreal that they were both here at this moment. She bowed her head onto Brooke’s chest and felt the thin breathing, the rapid rise and fall of her sister’s rib cage.
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