DON'T TELL (Jack Ryder Book 7)

by Willow Rose

  "Don't forget your jacket; it's freezing out there,” Shannon said.

  I grabbed the jacket off the hanger, then put it on with a smile. Phone clutched against my ear, I closed the door and stepped out into the crisp air and tapped a number. A familiar voice came on the phone.

  "Rebekka Franck."

  "Hi, Rebekka,” I said with an exhale. “It's Jack. I need your help with something."

  22

  Shannon let me take the car to the hospital since she and the kids were just staying in today. Haywood Regional Medical Center was located about eight miles from downtown Maggie Valley, so I figured I could do it fast and be back in time for lunch. Abigail made me promise I'd bring back some ice cream. I didn't quite understand how anyone could eat ice cream in this cold, but Abigail had insisted and told me that there was so much I didn't understand anyway.

  How could I argue with that?

  They had put up a guard at Eliza Reuben's room and, as I approached him with my badge in my hand, I realized it was Deputy Winston.

  "Ryder, my man," he said and shook my hand. "How's the kid?"

  "To be honest, he's not doing very well. He hasn't spoken a word to any of us, not even his twin sister. He didn't come down this morning for breakfast, and it worried me."

  "That's a bummer, man. I am so sorry. I am sure he'll get better, though. He's probably just in a state of deep shock."

  I nodded. "I know. It's just tough when it's your own kid, you know?"

  Winston shook his head. "I still can't believe Lyle would do that in front of him."

  "You knew Lyle well?" I asked.

  "You could say that. He used to be friends with my little brother, Anthony. They practically grew up together. He never seemed like someone who would end himself like that, but I guess that's what they always say, right?"

  "I guess."

  Deputy Winston looked down at the bouquet of daisies in my hand. I had bought them at a small flower shop on my way there.

  "Are you here to see her?" Winston asked and nodded toward the door.

  "I thought I'd check in on her. Any news?"

  Winston shook his head. "Still the same. Take a look for yourself."

  He pushed the door open, so I could walk inside. Eliza was lying pale in her bed, monitors beeping next to her and tubes in her nose and throat. I had seen her picture under the byline of the articles I had read and on her social media profiles, but this didn't look much like that woman. Once again, I was reminded how lucky we had all been that she didn't hit us, and once again, I thought about that black pick-up truck I had seen on the scene.

  Winston left me, then came back with a vase for my flowers, and I put them in water.

  "Does she have any family?" I asked.

  Winston nodded. "A mother who can't leave the house and a brother who's a drunk and that we haven't been able to locate. We went to her apartment and found an old dog that we took to a shelter."

  "Did you find anything else there?" I asked, fishing for details of the case. "Do you have a motive yet?"

  Winston shook his head. "We don't, no. We don't know what she was doing at Harry's place."

  "Harry, huh? And how did Harry die?"

  "He was shot in the chest, and her fingerprints were all over the weapon. We found it in the living room, a few feet away from the body."

  "Really?" I asked.

  Winston nodded. "Yeah. Now, all we need is for her to wake up so we can get her to confess and then this will hopefully be all over."

  23

  Back in the car, I found my phone and started to search for Harry’s and other recent deaths in Maggie Valley. Soon, I found a couple of small notes in the local media of the finding of a Harry Mayer in his home, the same night that Eliza Reuben crashed her car. Nowhere did I find that the police linked the two stories to one another, so it hadn't been made public yet.

  "Harry Mayer," I said out loud in the car. "Who were you and why did you have to die?"

  It had started to snow again, and I watched the flakes dancing in the air before hitting my windshield, then my phone rang. I saw Rebekka's name on the display, then picked up. Rebekka Franck was a journalist from Cocoa Beach who had recently helped me solve the case of ten missing girls from our local school. She had also recently been involved in another murder case in Webster in Central Florida and gotten herself hurt so badly that she ended up in a wheelchair, but only for a few weeks, the doctors had promised her.

  "Hi there. You got news for me?"

  "I sure do," she said.

  "I know you're supposed to be in recovery, but I was desperate for help and figured you could give me what I needed."

  "Are you kidding me? It's not like I have anything better to do. You have no idea how helpless I feel in this thing. I get so bored in the house when the kids are in school all day, and with nothing to do. Making a few phone calls can hardly tire me out. Besides, it felt good to use my brain a little, so don't you feel sorry. I’m happy to help."

  I smiled and held the phone close to my ear. I had been so scared when I heard what had happened to her back there and had to admit that, even though she could be quite annoying, I had grown to care about her.

  "So, what have you got?" I asked. "You said you found something?"

  "I made a few calls around to some of my colleagues and, apparently, Eliza was working on quite a big story in Maggie Valley, North Carolina. She lives in one of the neighboring towns and threw herself at the story as soon as it turned up. The story went national for a few days before something else turned up, but my colleague at Time, the magazine she was working on the story for, said it was something pretty big. She had recently had a big breakthrough and had told their editor to make room for it in next month’s issue. That was before the accident, of course. The story was about the disappearance of a young boy named Benjamin Rutherford. Does that ring a bell?"

  I leaned back in my seat. "It most certainly does. Did they know exactly what she was working on?"

  "I'm sorry. They can't reveal that, especially not to another journalist. They probably won't tell a detective either. If it's as good as I got the feeling it was, then they're not revealing anything. Eliza probably didn't even tell anyone either. She can't risk anyone blabbing to another journalist from some other magazine or stealing the story for themselves."

  "Wonderful business you're in," I said.

  "I know. It's nasty. Can't turn your back on anyone without returning with a knife in it. I still love it, though. Don't ask me why. Anyway, I should get going. I have a hair appointment in an hour, and Sune has promised to take me there."

  "Are you guys back together?" I asked, concerned. The last I heard, her boyfriend Sune had cheated on her, and they had broken up.

  "No. He's just helping me now that I can't get around on my own. Anyway, let me know if I can do anything else for you, okay?"

  "Thanks."

  I hung up, then looked at the display, thinking about Eliza and her story. It was something big, she had said. Had she made a discovery of some sort in the case that no one else knew about?

  I started up the engine, remembering the laptop I had seen in the front seat of her car when I pulled her out. It had probably contained all her work, her research, and interviews. But it had been completely destroyed in the crash. It didn’t look like it could be recovered.

  24

  "Austin? Are you in there?"

  Shannon knocked gently on the door to the children's room, but no answer came. She hadn't seen Austin all morning, and he hadn't come down for breakfast. She had spoken to Abigail, who said that her brother had decided to stay in the room. He hadn't told her why and he still hadn't said a word to her about the incident. Shannon had decided to give him some space, then fed the other children and cleaned up after them before she decided she had to go check on him and make sure he was all right.

  "Austin?" she said again and knocked a second time, but still there was no answer, so she opened the door carefully and peeked i
nside. She spotted Austin sitting on the bed, looking out the window.

  "Austin? Are you okay?"

  He didn't turn his head to look at her, so she walked in, careful to not step on all the bags and clothes on the floor. She picked up one of Angela's shirts and folded it, then placed it on top of her suitcase. Then she sat down next to him on the bed. She looked out the window, trying to figure out if he was actually looking at something or if he was just lost in his thoughts. In the neighboring yard, she spotted a man gathering firewood and guessed that had to be Mr. Rutherford, the local pastor whose son had gone missing. She lifted her glance to look at his wife, who was still sitting in the window of the small tower, rocking back and forth. Shannon wondered if she ever slept. She had to get some sleep and food at some point, right?

  Poor thing.

  "Aren't you hungry at all?" Shannon asked. "I made pancakes with chocolate chips in them, your favorite."

  Austin shook his head, then looked down at his socks.

  "I can bring them to you if you prefer to eat up here."

  He shook his head again. It broke Shannon's heart to see him like this. He had always been the quiet one of the twins, but still. This was too much. It was torture to witness. Part of her wanted to tell him to drop it, to just start speaking, but the other part, the one that remembered what it was like to be a child like that, knew it was best to take it calmly and not get upset with him. He needed her to be understanding and caring. No one had understood that about Shannon when she was a child and shut up like a clam whenever things got tough. It had happened after her dad left. Shannon had loved her father more than anyone on this Earth and never felt very close with her mother, so it broke her heart more than any of her sisters’ that he would just leave and never look back. Shannon had stopped speaking for almost a year and drove everyone around her nuts with her silence, especially her mother. When she finally started to make sounds with her mouth again, it had come out as singing, and after that, she had never really stopped. She preferred singing over talking any day and often felt like she could express herself better through music than through any other means of communication. Later in her life, the not speaking had been her way of reacting when things got bad, like when her mother beat her up or after her uncle had molested her, or after her brother accidentally shot himself. She would pull into her own world and simply not speak to anyone. But the singing, she couldn't stop anymore. Music had to get out of her, no matter how hurt she was, and soon she found out that singing was a way better weapon than silence because it meant she didn't keep it all bottled up inside anymore. She got it all out.

  Now, she wondered if Austin might feel the same way. She looked at him and started tapping rhythmically on her leg, then began to sing one of her songs that she believed he knew the lyrics to. But as much as she sang her heart out, he didn't join in. He didn't even look at her but kept staring out the window like she wasn't even there, and slowly the song died out. Shannon stopped it with an exhale.

  "Guess you're not in the mood for singing, huh? Or eating or talking. Is there anything I can do?” She paused and waited. “I guess not."

  Shannon was almost by the door, ready to leave when the boy suddenly made a sound. To her disappointment he wasn't talking, nor was he singing. What came out of him was ear-piercingly loud and made the hairs stand up on her neck.

  25

  Maggie Valley 2017

  They went back to his house after dinner. His parents weren’t home, he said. They turned on the TV and watched a movie, snuggling up on the couch. Savannah felt a sigh of relief rush through her body as they kissed. Benjamin had kept his promise to her and the past couple of weeks had been wonderful between them. She finally felt like he was all hers.

  "Do you want something to drink?" he asked as their lips parted and they looked into each other’s eyes. She felt such warmth and knew in this instant that there was no way back anymore. She was falling for him. Now the falling, in itself, wasn't the problem; it was when you hit the ground that the trouble began. That's when you got hurt, and Savannah had been hurt badly before. She pulled away with a light gasp, suddenly afraid of what was happening to her, fearful of repeating her old mistakes.

  "Are you okay?" he asked. "You just looked like you wanted to run away or something."

  The movie continued on the TV, but they weren't watching it anymore. Savannah looked into Benjamin's eyes. Did she dare to give her heart to him? Did she dare to go all in and risk getting hurt again?

  Her shoulders came down as she once again looked into his soft eyes and saw his gentle smile. No, Benjamin wasn't like that. He would never hurt her.

  "I'm okay," she said. "Just a little tired; that's all."

  "Let me get you a soda," he said.

  He was about to get to his feet when Savannah stopped him. Determined not to let her past pain destroy what she had right now, she pulled him close, then kissed him deeply and intensely, wanting to let him know how deeply she was falling for him, how much she wanted him.

  Benjamin grinned as their lips parted. "Wowzah."

  Savannah smiled and let go of him. “Now, go get that soda, will you?"

  "You betcha,” he said and winked, then jumped off the couch and disappeared toward the kitchen.

  Savannah sat up and wiped her lips, then chuckled happily as the main character in the movie finally got the woman he had been longing for and they kissed. Savannah thought about Benjamin and couldn't stop smiling, not until she saw something reflected in the TV, or rather someone. Savannah gasped lightly, then turned her head and spotted Penny behind her. She was standing in the doorway, a soda can in her hand, glaring at Savannah.

  How long has she been standing there? Has she been watching us while we were making out?

  Benjamin came back with a Coke in his hand, then stopped as he saw her too. "Oh, hey, Penny. I didn't see you there."

  Penny stared at both of them, eyes scorching, then turned around and stormed off.

  Savannah looked at Benjamin, debating if she should say anything or simply stay out of it. It seemed to be a thing between him and his sister.

  "Someone's in a bad mood,” he said with a shrug, then handed Savannah the can with a shrug. He sat down next to her, and they continued watching the movie. A few minutes in, his phone buzzed, and he picked it up. He held it so Savannah couldn't see the display, then read the text before putting it down on the couch again.

  They watched the movie, but Savannah couldn't stop thinking about Penny or about the text he had received, and later, as he ran for the bathroom, she picked up his phone and saw that he had received another text. It was from Penny, and the text said:

  ARE YOU COMING TO BED SOON?

  What the…?

  Benjamin returned from the bathroom, smiling at her, then leaned over to kiss her. Savannah stopped him and pulled away.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Did I do something?”

  "Why is your sister asking you if you're coming to bed soon?" she asked. “I saw the text on your phone.”

  Benjamin sat back down with a shrug. "She sleeps in my bed sometimes. She thinks her own room is too scary; that's all. She suffers from terrible nightmares sometimes."

  "And your parents are okay with that?" Savannah asked, puzzled. She had never had any siblings, so she didn't know whether this was normal at their age. It made her stomach uneasy, but she didn’t know if it was just her.

  "Sure. It's always been like that."

  26

  Shannon stormed outside, not even caring enough to put on her coat. The cold didn't matter; she barely felt it with all the adrenaline and fear rushing through her veins.

  She ran across the snow, toward the creek, running through the backyard of the property they had rented. She stopped as she reached the dock that was shared between their cabin and the house next door, then knelt on the wood, heart pounding against her ribs.

  Oh, dear God, no. Oh, dear God!

  What Shannon had seen from the wind
ow had been nothing but an odd dark shape floating midstream. Austin had seen it first, then began to scream. Shannon had felt like screaming too but instead told the boy to stay put, while she ran to see what it was. In her heart, she had known right away, just like Austin knew when he saw it. But in her mind, she had prayed that it wasn't it, that it was something else. As she came closer, the shape had turned into a body…the body of a young man floating on his stomach. His blond hair was spread out in the water, shaping what looked like a halo around his head. Shannon found it hard to breathe. The creek was carrying the body away, and Shannon feared it would soon get lost. She bent forward and reached out her arm to try and grab it as it floated by. She managed to get her fingers on his belt and pull him toward the dock. She then grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him up, grunting and panting with effort. His body was heavy and hard to maneuver, but finally, she succeeded. The heavy body plunked down on the wooden dock. Shannon fumbled with the weight of the body, then turned it around to look at the face. She stared at the pale face, then exhaled deeply, recognizing him from the photo in the paper.

  Thinking she'd better call Jack, she rose to her feet when she spotted someone, a figure standing at the end of the dock. It was a woman. Her face was pale from weeks of barely any sleep and no sunlight, her hair and clothes raggedy and scruffy, but you could still see that she used to be someone who took care of herself.

  Mrs. Rutherford stood like a statue and stared at the body on the dock. Her eyes were stained with tears, but more frozen in shock than moved by what she saw.

  "Is it him?"

  She spoke in an even tone with no sense of urgency like had she asked Shannon what time it was or how to find her way downtown.

  Shannon swallowed, searching for the words. How did you tell a mother you had found her dead son?

  "Yes."