by Marie Force
She ached for Brian. How long had it been since she’d felt that particular ache? Not since the first couple of years had passed, when she finally accepted he wasn’t coming back, had she allowed herself to yearn for him the way she did right then. To have just a few minutes with him, an afternoon maybe . . . What she wouldn’t give for an hour to do nothing more than look at him. She told herself it would be enough.
The song ended, snapping her out of her stupor. Wiping the tears from her face, she got up and got busy cleaning her spotless apartment. There was no point in sitting around feeling sorry for herself. She hadn’t often allowed herself that indulgence, and there was nothing to be gained from it now. He had his life, and she had hers. Like she had told his father, it was better this way.
Mid-July in Manhattan was not for the faint of heart, Brian decided as he walked the short distance from court back to his office. Once there, he was surprised to find messages from his mother on both his office voicemail and his cell phone, which he’d forgotten to bring with him to court. Since it was unlike her to call him twice in a week, let alone twice in an hour, his stomach twisted with nerves as he waited for her to answer her cell.
“Mom? Hey, what’s wrong?”
“Oh hi, honey. I’m sorry to bother you at work. I know how busy you are.”
“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. What’s the matter?”
“I’m worried about Dad, and I needed someone to talk to.”
Loosening his tie and opening the top button of his shirt, Brian sat behind his desk. “Is he sick?”
“No, it’s the investigation,” she said. “He’s working fourteen hours a day, seven days a week, and he’s not sleeping well at all. I suspect he thinks it’s up to him to single-handedly protect Granville from this guy. I don’t know how much more he can take.”
“It’s not just about protecting the town. He’s out to clear Sam’s name, too. This is personal to him.”
“I know, but I’ve never seen him like this, Bri. He’s completely obsessed.”
“I’m not sure if it’ll help, but I’ll give him a call.”
“It would help a lot. He listens to you. So how are you? Back to your crazy schedule?”
“Of course,” he said with a chuckle.
“What does Saul have you working on now?”
“A couple of drug cases, a B&E, and two gang-related things. Nothing that’ll land me on TV.”
“Ugh, I hate the idea of you dealing with druggies and gang bangers.”
Brian laughed. “What the heck do you know about gang bangers?”
“More than you think,” she said indignantly. “I watch Law & Order.”
“I’ve told you not to watch those shows. It’s a lot more boring and mundane than they make it out to be.”
“Have you gotten any more job offers?”
“A few.”
“Maybe you ought to think about taking one of them.”
“And give up my druggies and gang bangers? I’d die of boredom.”
“Now you’re just being fresh.”
“God,” he said with a laugh. “I haven’t heard that word in years.” It took him right back to getting in trouble with Sam in the back seat of her station wagon. “Hey, Mom? Dad’s still keeping tabs on Carly, right?”
“He’s got her using text messages to keep him and her parents apprised of her whereabouts.”
“Great idea.”
“Well, I won’t take up any more of your time, honey. I appreciate you checking in with Dad.”
“If you think I need to come home, Mom, I’ll do it in a minute.”
“I wouldn’t ask that of you.”
“Staying away has begun to seem foolish lately. I’ll have to go home eventually. What will I do when you guys are ninety? Hire someone to take care of you?”
She snorted with laughter. “How about we cross that bridge in about thirty years?”
“Call me if you need me. Day or night, okay?”
“I will. Love you, Bri.”
“You, too.” Brian ended the call and sat back to think about what she’d said. The strain was taking a toll on his dad, and despite the youthful image Brian had of him, Michael was pushing sixty. With this case taking up all his father’s time, Brian realized it might be months before his parents could get away for a weekend in New York. As Brian dialed his dad’s cell, he imagined himself catching the shuttle from LaGuardia to Providence. His mother would pick him up and drive him home to Granville. No biggie, right?
Yeah, right . . .
“Is this the famous prosecutor from the great city of New York calling?” Michael asked.
Brian smiled, relieved by his father’s joviality. “The one and only. How’s it going, Dad?”
“About the same. We’re waiting and watching.”
“Mom’s worried about you.”
“Did she call and tell you that?” Michael asked with annoyance. “She shouldn’t have bothered you with it.”
“Why not? You’re running yourself ragged, and you’re not thirty anymore.”
“I’m not?”
“Don’t be fresh with me,” Brian joked.
Michael laughed. “You have been talking to your mother.”
“What’s the latest?”
“Not a damned thing. We spent the Fourth of July weekend watching your class reunion, but we got nothing—no lurkers, no oddities, nada. It was completely uneventful. I did see a bunch of your old friends, though, and they all asked for you. They said they’d followed the Gooding trial.”
“That’s cool. It sounds like you’re doing everything you can.”
“This town is crawling with cops and feds. You wouldn’t recognize the place.”
“Well, it must be doing the trick.”
“I guess so,” Michael said in a weary tone. “Part of me just wants to get through this year without any more trouble, because I know I’m right about the five-year pattern. But I’d hate to have to wait five more years for another opportunity to nail this bastard. Hang on a sec, son.”
Brian heard muffled voices on the other end of the line.
“I’ve got to go,” Michael said.
Brian could hear the tension in his father’s voice. “What is it?”
“We just got a report from the south end of town that a dog returned home without the teenaged girl who was walking it.”
“Oh no.”
“I’ll call you when I can,” Michael said an instant before the phone went dead.
Michael’s heart pounded from a burst of adrenaline as he raced through town with lights flashing on top of his unmarked car. On the way, he tried to reach Matt Collins, who was taking a few days off on Michael’s order. They’d been working nonstop for weeks, and the strain had begun to take a toll on both of them.
“Goddamn it,” Michael uttered when he realized Matt’s cell phone was turned off—another thing he’d ordered his deputy to do. “Matt, it’s Mike. Call me the minute you get this message.”
Maybe the dog just got away from the kid. Maybe it’s nothing. Even as he thought it, though, he didn’t believe it. The affluent subdivision was in chaos when he arrived just behind the FBI and several of his patrol officers. The neighbors had poured out of their houses to watch the unfolding scene.
Agent Barclay stood in the driveway of the missing girl’s home, attempting to get a statement from her hysterical mother.
“He has her, doesn’t he?” She clawed at Barclay’s shirt. “You have to do something! Before he hurts her, do something!”
“Ma’am, we’re doing everything we can,” Barclay said in a calm, professional tone that Michael admired. Nathan grasped the woman’s hand. “But we need your help. Can you get us a recent picture of Alicia?”
She glanced at her teenaged son, and he ran for the house.
“Does she have a cell phone?” Michael asked.
The woman wiped the tears from her cheeks and nodded. “She has it with her everywhere she goes, even to walk Ch
ester.”
Hearing his name, a yellow lab bounded over to her, still dragging a leash behind him.
She brushed him aside with the absent wave of her hand. “But when I tried to call her, the phone was turned off.” Breaking down again, she said, “That phone is never off.”
“The dog isn’t protective of her?” Barclay asked.
“He’s still a puppy.” She sniffed. “He loves everyone.”
Michael had to bite his tongue to keep from asking how she could’ve let her fifteen-year-old daughter wander around alone—with a rapist on the loose—with a dog that could be bought off with a pat on the head or a treat. Just as he had feared, the initial shock had worn off, and people had gotten complacent. His worst nightmare had come true.
A fancy sports car came to a screeching stop at the curb. Dressed in a shirt and tie, Alicia’s father bolted from the car and ran up the driveway to his wife. “Did you find her?” he asked frantically.
“No,” she moaned. Her legs suddenly gave out from under her, and she sank to the grass.
Her husband sat next to her and put his arm around her.
“Is it possible she’s at a friend’s house and forgot to check in with you?” Barclay asked.
“Alicia always tells us where she is,” her father said. “Always. And she’d never let Chester run around unattended. She’s raised him since he was two months old. She adores him.”
“How about her activities?” Michael stopped short of asking the one specific question he and Barclay were both dying to ask.
“Um, she plays soccer in a summer league.”
“And during the school year?”
“She’s a junior varsity cheerleader.”
Michael’s blood ran cold as he exchanged glances with Nathan Barclay.
Chapter Thirteen
Zoë Murphy was inconsolable. Alicia Perry had been a good friend of hers since preschool, and even though Alicia was a year older than Zoë, the two had remained close over the years. As the disappearance stretched into a second day, Zoë’s family rallied around her, doing what they could to keep the girl’s spirits up.
Carly found her on a swing in the backyard of Cate and Tom’s house. As Carly took the swing next to Zoë’s, she noticed her niece’s cheeks were wet with tears. Carly reached for her hand.
Zoë wrapped her fingers around Carly’s. “Thanks for coming by.”
As they sat in silence for several minutes, holding hands and swinging slowly, Carly was filled with longing for everything and everyone she’d lost in the accident. Being with Zoë, in good times and bad, made her yearn for the things that were missing in her life, especially the husband and children she should’ve had by now.
“My mom and I were talking earlier,” Zoë said. “She told me what happened to you when you were a senior. I’m so sorry, Auntie Carly. I never knew those crosses on Tucker Road were for your friends. I can’t imagine what that must’ve been like for you.”
With a squeeze, Carly released Zoë’s hand to pull a pad and pen from the back pocket of her jeans. “Alicia is going to be fine.” She underlined the word fine several times.
“He’s hurting her,” Zoë said, breaking down again.
“She’s strong,” Carly wrote.
Zoë nodded.
“You have to be strong, too.”
“I’m trying.”
Carly got up and reached for the girl.
Sobbing, Zoë fell into her aunt’s embrace and held on tight.
By the third day, Alicia’s disappearance had brought the town to its knees in a way that reminded long-time residents of the week that followed the Tucker Road wreck. Other than a candlelight vigil for Alicia on the second night, people kept their kids inside and limited their outings to essential trips only. The local churches held daily services, and counselors were available for students at the high school.
Miss Molly’s was as quiet as Carly had ever seen it. The few customers they did have were members of the local and national media that had lined the town common with their satellite trucks. The story had been carried by most of the national news channels, and one show had devoted an entire hour to Alicia and the case, including an interview with Chief Westbury.
“If you want to take off early, feel free,” Molly offered.
Embarrassed to be caught staring out the window when she was supposed to be working, Carly shrugged. There was nothing she particularly felt like doing. Worrying about what that poor girl was going through had left Carly feeling drained and listless.
“Suit yourself, honey,” Molly said, patting Carly’s shoulder.
“Hey, Carly,” Debby said. “Chief Westbury called. He wants you to meet him by the willow at the lake when your shift ends. He said he’s got something he wants to show you.”
Carly’s cheeks grew hot at the idea of meeting the chief in the place where she used to make love with his son. What could he possibly want to show me there? Her stomach knotted with anxiety. The willow was the one place from her old life she had never returned to. The memories were just too painful. But if the chief needed her for something, she would go.
Since there wasn’t much cleaning up to do at Miss Molly’s, she left at the stroke of two and set out for the lake. With the police on a desperate search to find Alicia, Carly noticed with uneasiness the absence of officers on Main Street that afternoon. She reached into her pocket and wrapped her fingers around the ever-present can of pepper spray.
Twenty minutes later, she arrived at the appointed spot but found no sign of the chief. Several hundred yards down the beach, a few scattered families were enjoying a warm day at the lake, despite the crisis unfolding in town. Carly supposed the kids couldn’t be held captive inside forever.
Where is he? Tugging the slim cell phone from her back pocket, she sent him a text message. “Where R U? I’m at the lake waiting 4 U.”
While she awaited his reply, she wandered over to the willow and was assailed by a flood of memories and feelings. What would it hurt to step inside just for a minute? Fingering the delicate shower of leaves, she summoned the nerve to part the curtain. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath for courage, and walked through the branches. When she opened her eyes, she found Alicia Perry’s lifeless, naked body in the very spot where she and Brian used to make love.
Carly opened her mouth and screamed.
Michael wore a path in the conference room rug as he heard an update from the patrol officers and detectives who were finishing their shift. “Nothing new,” they reported for the third straight day. “There’s no sign of her anywhere.”
“It’s like she vanished, Chief,” one of the younger patrolmen said, his eyes wide with dismay.
“She did,” Michael snapped, annoyed by the stupid statement. “Anyone who can stay for second shift is requested to do so.” His department’s overtime expenses were threatening to bankrupt the town, but that was the least of his worries at the moment. “That’s all.”
He stormed into his office and slammed the door, feeling impotent and exhausted at the same time. Except for quick runs home to shower and change clothes, he had worked around the clock since Alicia’s disappearance but was no closer to finding her today than he’d been three days ago. For at least the tenth time, he stood in front of the TV to watch the video they had taken at the candlelight vigil. Every face was familiar to him, but they’d captured nothing out of the ordinary on the film, no sign of a monster in their midst.
The frustration settled in his chest as he collapsed into the chair behind his desk. He popped two more antacid tablets and rested his head against the soft leather. Matt had called to check in from out of town, and was cutting his vacation short to get back tomorrow.
In his absence, Michael had found himself relying more and more on Nathan Barclay, who’d turned out to be a pretty good guy—for a fed. If Michael were being honest, he’d have to admit that Barclay had been tremendously helpful and supportive. That the feds were equally stumped by the case also ma
de Michael feel less like a loser.
A week before Alicia’s abduction, Barclay’s request for additional agents had been denied. Since the abduction, four more agents had been assigned to the case. He prayed it wasn’t too late for Alicia and hoped the extra manpower would result in an arrest this time.
With his eyes closed, Michael released a deep breath. They had nothing. Not a scrap of evidence, not a clue to follow, and nothing they could do but wait. Bloodhounds had followed Alicia’s scent for a quarter mile to where it had abruptly disappeared. So they knew she had been transported in a car. A complete sweep of her neighborhood hadn’t yielded a single witness, nor had multiple aerial searches by helicopter told them anything new.
When Michael imagined the torture that girl was suffering through, his stomach began to ache as badly as his chest did. Too much time had gone by. They should’ve found her by now. He never kept them this long, so Michael was further tormented by the image of Alicia injured, naked, and alone in the woods hoping someone would find her.
“Damn,” he whispered with a hand on his chest. “This frigging heartburn is killing me.”
His cell phone chimed with a text message. “What the hell?” He read Carly’s message a second time. “Why’s she waiting for me at the lake?” A heartbeat passed before panic set in. Leaping to his feet, he bolted for the door, stopping short when a sharp pain ripped through his chest. Bent in half in the doorway, he tried to breathe his way through it.
“Chief,” the dispatcher called to him. “They found her. They found Alicia.”
“Carly!” Michael cried, gripping his chest.
“Chief!” The dispatcher tossed his headset aside and ran to Michael. “What’s wrong?”
Michael collapsed. “Find Carly Holbrook,” he gasped. “At the lake.”
