All of which made Lori feel guilty. She’d like to have a friend like Logan, someday. Maybe someday she could explain her reasons for lying.
Lori waited until Shannon was asleep before lifting the bulky bag off the top shelf of her closet and tiptoeing out the back door. The last thing she wanted was for Shannon to wake up and start asking questions. She took the shortest route, a narrow, grassy path that ran behind the studio garage, adjoining the two properties.
Logan answered her back door with a soapy sponge in one hand.
“Come on in,” she said, turning back towards the sink. She tossed the sponge back in the sink and dried her hands on a flour-sack dishtowel hanging on the refrigerator door handle.
“Looks like fun,” Lori said, as she stepped inside, bag in hand, closing the door behind her.
“I don’t mind—Ben and I have an arrangement. He cooks fabulous food, I clean,” she said, smiling.
“Speaking of cooking, Ben made brownies. He just went to get them. He likes to serve them hot, and his oven works better than mine. He’ll be back in a minute if you want to stick around.”
“No, I need to get back, but thank you so much for helping me out with this,” Lori said, handing the bag to Logan by the handles.
“No problem, happy to help,” she said, taking it from her. “I can’t wait to see Shannon’s face when you give it to her.”
Placing the bag on the kitchen counter for now, she added, “Do you know what kind of puppy you want, yet? Big, small?”
“Not yet, still researching,” Lori said, opening the back door. “I really should get back. Shannon’s a sound sleeper, but still ...”
“OK, I’ll bring some over tomorrow if Ben doesn’t eat them all.” Logan said.
Lori laughed, “OK, ‘nite then,” letting herself out.
It seemed darker now - the moon must have gone behind a cloud. Feeling with her feet, Lori picked her way over uneven clumps of crab grass and weeds. The night was soft, but she felt an increasing sense of anxiety, bordering on panic, and ran the last few feet. She shouldn’t have left Shannon alone - even for a minute!
Relief flooded through her as she opened the door to Shannon’s bedroom and saw her daughter’s peacefully sleeping form. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Lori sat there for a few minutes, enjoying watching her daughter breathe. Everything was going to be OK. The world was not an evil place. That was her old life. This was her new one. She had to stop living in the past.
”Assume the positive,” her mother always said. Normal people could run next door for a minute without panicking. Normal was going to take some practice. A sharp knock on the front door interrupted her reverie.
Wow, that was quick. Logan must have decided to deliver a couple of brownies before temptation struck. Wishing she had remembered to pick up milk, Lori went to let her in.
“Now, this is what I call service ...” Lori said, sliding back the deadbolt on the front door, swinging it wide open.
Her heart sank.
Garrett’s darkened form loomed in the doorway, only the planes of his face lit sharply by the porch light. Before she could slam and re-bolt the door, he pushed his way in.
Placing his finger on her lips, he forestalled her crying out, “Shhh ... you don’t want to wake Shannon, do you?”
Reflexively, she started to jerk back, expecting a blow, but caught herself. This was the new Lori, not the old Lauren. Lori didn’t flinch.
Taking in the Spartan decor in one disparaging glance, Garrett strolled into the living room and plopped himself down on the couch.
“Nice place you’ve got here,” he said.
It was much easier to be brave with Garrett on the phone than when he was sitting two feet away. She had to think of a way to get him out of here before Shannon woke up.
Keeping her voice as steady as she could, she said, “You can’t be here, Garrett. I’ll talk with you. Tomorrow. I’ll meet you anywhere you want, in town.”
“You’re my wife and I can talk to you wherever I want,” he said. “Get your things. I’m taking you and Shannon home tonight.”
From somewhere in her gut, Lori found the strength she needed. If she didn’t stand up to him now, she’d be running the rest of her life, or worse.
“No, I’m not going back,” she said, “I meant what I said.”
Without missing a beat, he went from threatening to pleading.
“You know this is wrong, don’t you? We’re good—things are good when you’re home. If you didn’t keep pulling these stunts, everything would be fine.”
As if someone let the air out of him, Garrett’s shoulder’s sagged and his face crumpled.
“I love you, Lauren. I’ll do whatever you want,” he said, getting up to pace the floor. “You want to go to counseling? We’ll go to counseling. I know I’ve been working too much. I can take some time off. We can get away, just the two of us.”
If she hadn’t seen this hundreds of times before, she’d be impressed.
Then he added the one thing that may have worked—in fact, had worked in the past.
“We got Shannon into Darwood, right? Best pre-school in Seattle. That took a lot, Lauren. I called in some favors for our daughter. Kindergarten at Wharton starts soon and they only take kids from Darwood, you know that. Just come home, Lauren. Everything will be all right—if you’ll just stop all this. I promise.”
Lori looked at the man she married, the man she fell in love with. Part of her still loved him, in spite of everything. She remembered running her hands through those thick curls, kissing his brow, his eyelids, making love. Thrilling to his touch. Now, she recoiled from it.
She knew he believed everything he was saying. He could flip a switch that fast. She also knew he would never keep his promises. She used to agonize over whether he was incapable of change, or simply chose not to make the effort, but it didn’t matter anymore. The results to her and Shannon were the same.
She remained standing.
“We’re not going back, Garrett,” she said. “Like I said on the phone, it’s over.”
16
Something in her voice must have made Garrett realize she meant what she said. For a moment there was only silence.
Then, looking past her, he said, “Fine, then give me what you’ve got, or I’ll just take my daughter.”
Rising from the couch in one fluid motion, he added, “It’s obvious you don’t care about what’s best for her.”
Stopping only to glare at her on his way past, he said, “You’re selfish, Lauren. You’ve always been selfish. I just didn’t see it until now.”
Reaching out, he flipped her nose up sharply with his index finger, snapping her head back. Dialed back, it may have been a playful gesture, endearing and flirty even, if it didn’t have such venom behind it. Lori knew the signs. Garrett wasn’t going to be able to contain himself much longer.
He’d almost reached the hall.
“Where’s her room, down here?” he asked, heading for the narrow hallway.
“No!” Lori said, throwing herself in front of him, blocking the entrance with her outstretched arms.
“Then where is it? On your computer? Where’s your computer?”
“I don’t have one! It’s not here,” she whispered urgently.
“Then go find it. In the meantime, I’ll just get Shannon. You can have her back when I get whatever it is, wherever it is,” he said.
Lori stayed where she was. “Just go, Garrett. Leave us alone, please!” she begged.
Garrett bored a look of pure hate into her eyes.
“Get out of my way!” he growled.
Grabbing her wrist, he twisted her around, jamming her right arm up between her shoulder blades until her shoulder popped, making her cry out at the pain. Pushing her away, he shoved past her towards Shannon’s bedroom door.
/> Lori scrambled up, launching herself onto his back. Grabbing a fist full of hair with her good hand, she yanked his head back, trying to flip him onto his back, or at least stop his forward movement. She didn’t care if he landed on her, as long as he didn’t get to Shannon.
“Bitch!”
Throwing her off like a wet raincoat, Garrett turned and came after her. He wasn’t a large man, but he was tall, sinewy, and fueled by rage. She knew she had no chance against him.
Looking desperately for anything she could use to even the playing field, Lori ran back in the living room for the lamp, but Garrett, right behind her, reached over the back of the couch, lifting it out of her reach, holding it in the air.
“Is this what you wanted, Lori? You’re going to attack your own husband?” he said.
Lori stopped, her whole body tensed, eyes laser focused on his.
Placing the lamp back on the end table, he calmly lowered his arm. Hidden behind the couch, Garrett’s right hand curled into a tight fist. Lightning fast, he slammed it into her face, knocking her back onto the coffee table, then took his time walking around the couch.
Blood spurting from her nose, dazed, Lori roused herself enough to roll onto her side, away from him. Blinking her eyes repeatedly, she tried to focus. If she could only make it to the front door, she could get help.
It was just steps away, but it might as well have been miles.
Garrett stood between her and any escape.
Easily lifting his 120-pound wife up off the floor by her t-shirt, he threw her against the wall. She literally bounced off like a rag doll, landing in a heap next to Shannon’s play tent. Instinctively, Lori curled into the fetal position, using her arms to protect her face, resigning herself to what she knew was coming.
Then, starting with a swift kick to her ribs, he began the beating in earnest. Soon, either unconscious or dead, she no longer moved.
♦ ♦ ♦
“Mommy!”
Garrett whirled around.
Eyes wide, mouth opened, chubby legs rooted to the floor, Shannon stared at her father. Eegee dangled from her left hand, long ears grazing the ground.
“Shannon...!” Garrett faltered, pulling himself back from his murderous rage.
Within seconds, he switched gears smoothly and started helping the limp body of his wife off the floor.
“It’s OK, Shannon,” he said, in as calm a voice as he could manage, “Mommy fell and hit her head. Come help me take care of Mommy.”
Shannon dug her chin farther into her chest, slowly shaking her head. Then, after one last look, she let out a strangled animal cry, turned and fled down the hall, her bare feet thumping a staccato rhythm on the hardwood floor.
Before he could recover himself completely, Garrett heard her fumbling with a doorknob.
“Shannon!” Garrett called, running after her.
Cool air whooshed in and he heard the back door bang against the wall.
Shit!
Directly behind the house was a hill.
Which way did she...?
Quickly patting the inside wall for a switch, he found one, but no porch light came on when he flipped it. Piece of crap!
He saw a flash of white to his left, the bottom of Shannon’s bare foot as she rounded the corner of a detached garage next to the neighbor’s house. The woman he’d seen Lauren with earlier.
Moving as quickly as he could without making any noise, Garrett followed his daughter. Maybe he could still catch her.
“Shannon,” he whispered, crouching down when he got to the corner around which she disappeared.
No answer. Then a loud crash as someone, probably Shannon, banged into some metal trash cans against the woman’s house. Within seconds, bright light flooded out, silhouetting a woman in the doorway. Seeing Shannon run into the woman’s arms made the rage rise within him again, but he forced himself to stay where he was. He needed time to think but didn’t have much.
If the woman lived alone and had any sense, she wouldn’t chase after him, but she might call the police. If she knew Lauren, she might try to call her first. When no one answered, her next move would probably be to call the cops. He had three or four, maybe five minutes tops.
Running low, he used one of those minutes to get back to Lauren’s house. He did not check on her to see if she was OK. Instead, he looked around quickly for her backpack, dumped it on the floor and searched all the compartments.
Nothing.
He looked back at his wife. She was wearing yoga pants, so no pockets. Skin tight yoga pants. He’d never allow her to wear those.
Whore.
Aiming another satisfying kick at her stomach, Garrett was on his way to the kitchen next, when he heard someone opening the back door. Before whoever it was got inside and saw him, he turned left and bolted out the front. Quiet was no longer necessary. His whole focus was to make it to his car and get the hell out of there. As usual, Lauren ruined everything!
17
Something crashed into the trashcans outside.
Ben? Maybe carrying brownies in the dark wasn’t such a good idea. Why was he coming in that way? The shortest path from his house to hers led through the garden. He usually came in through the French doors.
Preparing to give him lots of grief, Logan opened the kitchen door and looked out. Instead of a handsome Norwegian bearing chocolate, a tiny whirlwind propelled on short little legs threw herself inside and latched onto Logan’s knees. She found herself looking at the top of a mop of wild, black curls.
“Shannon?”
The little girl, eyes screwed tight shut, thumb in mouth, was shaking all over. It wasn’t that cold outside.
Automatically going into mom mode, Logan picked her up.
“Hey, hey there ... what’s wrong, little one?”
She looked around in the back yard, but couldn’t see anything, so shut and locked the door, carrying her little leech into the living room.
“Where’s mommy, Shannon? Is Mommy at home?”
No answer.
Wrapping her up in the knit throw she kept on the couch, Logan decided her questions could wait. Moving from the couch to the rocking chair, Logan lowered herself into it, holding the frightened little girl’s head gently on her shoulder. Pushing off lightly with one foot, she soothed her with a gentle, rocking motion.
“It’s OK, Shannon, I’ve got you,” Logan said softly, “I’ve got you.”
She’d held her own daughter many a night over skinned knees or bad dreams, but this was different.
What happened? Where was her mom?
Just then, Ben arrived. Through the French doors as expected.
“Hey, Girls,” Ben said, raising a questioning brow at the little girl in Logan’s arms. Ben’s dog, Purgatory, padded faithfully in at Ben’s heels and immediately plodded over to the girls and sat down.
“We’re just taking a little rest,” Logan said, hoping she sounded calmer than she felt. “Shannon had a bit of a scare, I think.”
Directing her comments to the top of Shannon’s head, Logan turned her charge a bit so she could see the dog.
“Look who came to visit you, Shannon. It’s Purgatory, Ben’s dog. Do you remember Purgatory? You played with him the other day.”
As if knowing his job, Purgatory then lifted his head and nuzzled Shannon, licking her bare feet, then her arm and cheek. Being a Greater Swiss Mountain dog, his head came to Logan’s shoulder, right at Shannon’s level. Shannon opened her eyes, reached out a hand and grabbed onto his neck, pulling the big dog in closer. He allowed this without protest.
“Babysitting?” Ben asked, putting the brownies down on the counter along with his phone. “I thought her mom didn’t have to work tonight.”
“No, we’re just visiting, aren’t we Shannon?” Logan said, then mouthed, “I don’t know,” an
d looked in the direction of the kitchen door. “I have her number, but maybe we should check.”
The look of concern on her face was all Ben needed to see.
“Flashlight?” he asked.
“I think there’s one in the junk drawer.”
There was.
With a nod back to Logan, Ben stepped out the back door, scanning the path with the beam from the flashlight as he picked his way past the trash cans. Maybe Lori had tripped in the dark and fallen on the way over. But the little girl was barefoot and in her pajamas. He doubted any mother would let her out of the house without shoes. Unless she’d been carrying her.
“Have you got your cell?” Logan whispered.
He’d already left, so she didn’t know if he heard her or not.
Nothing for it but to wait until he got back.
For a few minutes, Logan heard nothing. Then, someone running from the direction of Lori’s house, loudly crunching gravel in her driveway with each sprinting step, followed by the sound of a car door being yanked open.
Ben must have scared them off. If it was whoever frightened Shannon, they were getting away. Haley’s pedophile-next-door theory started sounding more real, but if it was someone from the neighborhood, why would they use a car?
Killer Hill had no streetlights, but Logan kept a security light on in the front of the studio. She wasn’t stupid enough to try to stop him herself, not with a preschooler in her arms, but maybe she could catch a glimpse of the license plate before he took off.
Keeping a firm hold on Shannon, Logan strode across the living room, whipped open her front door - just in time to see a tall man get into a Jeep and start the engine. If the Jeep had a color, she couldn’t see it clearly - just that it was dark and looked fairly new.
She clearly saw the back of the man’s head and shoulders for a second or two before he shut off the overhead light. Short curly hair, black, broad-shouldered, lean. Collared, knit shirt. Fit the description Haley gave of the creep spying on her and Shannon the other day.
The Jeep’s engine leaped to life as he gunned the gas and peeled away from the curb, making a hard left u-turn. Squinting, she tried to make out the license plate, but saw mostly tail lights and exhaust. She didn’t know who was getting away or why, but nobody peeled out like that if they were just a neighbor going to the all-night market for some ice cream.
Vanishing Day Page 6
