Читать книгу Lost - Helen R. Myers - Страница 18

4:12 a.m.

Michaele couldn’t sit for more than a minute or two at a time. Ever since Jared had left, she’d been moving from room to room, window to window, stopping every few minutes, tempted to reach for the phone to call and ask for an update. Surely it had been long enough to do that now?

She glanced at the kitchen clock and uttered a deep-throated groan. No wonder she ached all over; she’d been awake for almost twenty-four hours. But no way did she dare lie down at this stage; even if she could fall asleep—which she doubted—she would never be able to rouse herself again in time to reopen the garage.

“This has to end,” she muttered. “It has to.”

She wondered again at why Jared had cut short their conversation. Sure, she’d heard Curtis on the radio, but that didn’t mean it had been about Faith. But what other reason could he have, not to have called her back by now?

That’s it, Ramey. You’re overdosing on self-importance—

At the sound of a vehicle, she immediately dashed to the kitchen door. Yanking it open, she saw that it was indeed Jared’s patrol car. For one instant her heart lifted with hope—only to plunge when she saw the empty passenger seat. She felt a strange sense of disconnection, until he started up the stairs; then she noted his expression was as ominous as she’d ever seen it. Except the time…

“What is it?” she demanded.

He didn’t reply, not until he was inside. How she held on to her temper, she didn’t know; probably because of his appearance. He looked as though he’d been rolled in mud and again in weeds.

“We haven’t found her,” he finally announced.

“Then why do you look as though you did, but can’t find the stomach to tell me?”

“Because we do have…something. Her car.”

Once, when she was thirteen, Buck had punched her in the belly. After she lost her lunch, Michaele had knocked him cold with the empty bottle at his feet, and when he’d come to, she’d vowed that if he ever touched her again, she’d have him arrested, and she and Faith would take their chances with foster care. Jared’s announcement brought that sickening pain back. Only, this time she couldn’t afford to lose it, not in front of him.

“We had a call from Pete Fite,” he continued. “His dogs woke him. When they refused to calm down, he figured he had another coyote or worse after his stock.”

“That doesn’t make sense. Her car at Pete’s place?”

“The tags and VIN number check out. Also…Hell,” he muttered, looking as though he’d prefer to be anywhere but here. “There’s no other way to do this, but say it straight out. Her purse was in there, too.”

Her mind refused to register what he was saying. She heard the words, but their meaning somehow would not pass through the icy morass that had shut down her brain.

“Maybe you’d better sit down,” Jared told her.

“You’ve been searching the woods out there, haven’t you?” she said with dawning realization. “Looking for her body.”

“There’s every reason to assume she’s alive.”

“You searched the woods!”

“We had to!” His equally testy reply reverberated through the house. That seemed to shake him as much as it did her, and although he placed his hands on his hips, he said more calmly, “What you need to take comfort in is knowing we found nothing. There’s no evidence of violence—not in the car, not anywhere.”

That wasn’t comforting at all. “So she was forced. Taken away at gunpoint.”

“Damn it, don’t make this harder on yourself than necessary.”

“You took fingerprints and—what do you call them? Trace samples?”

“We brought in John Box. He got a few prints. As good as they are, I suspect they’re Faith’s—and yours.”

The slight delay in adding her name made Michaele lift her chin. “So now I’m a suspect in my own sister’s disappearance?”

“Of course not. The point is aside from those prints and a little red ore on the driver’s floor mat, it’s as spotless as if she had just washed the thing.”

“She did. Yesterday. She’s very proud of that car. Should be, considering what it cost.” The crass comment made her grimace. “What about the steering wheel?”

“Clean.”

“You mean, except for her prints and mine again, right?”

“No, it’s been wiped down.” That revelation triggered her queasiness again. “The caller.”

“Maybe.”

“What now?”

“I need you.”

They weren’t new words to her. He’d said them before; in fact, they were his usual “call to duty” whenever he phoned to say he had a vehicle in need of a tow. But tonight they sounded different, somehow…and stirred emotions too complex to deal with.

“Good,” he said, when she didn’t respond. His gaze moved over her face. “I was afraid I was going to have to fight you about this. I’m glad you don’t want to go out there. I’ll call Cuddy and tell him to get Bendix. It’ll go over better if he phones—”

She clamped her hand over his on the phone’s receiver, and held him still. “Don’t even think it!” Of course, it was merely a token gesture, but she had to try.

“It’s the best way to go in this case,” he told her.

“That clumsy ox isn’t putting his paws on my sister’s car.”

“Could you please let me save you from having to do this?”

“You didn’t let anyone hide anything from you when you lost Sandy.” His warm breath on her face made her release him and take a step back, but she didn’t yield on her argument. “This is my job.”

“You’ve got the wrong wrecker. You’ll need the rollback for the Firebird.”

Seeing that he knew he’d lost this round, she grew calmer. “Which is at the garage and directly on the way.”

“You’ll wake Buck.”

“Fat chance.”

“I’ll talk to Bendix and watch him like he was on the Ten Most Wanted list. He’ll have to be careful, and under the circumstances I’ll bet he’d have no problem with dropping off the car at your place. C’mon, Mike. For once, don’t turn this into a twelve-round championship fight.”

Is that how he saw this? To her, it wasn’t about stubbornness, it was about being a professional—dependable and efficient. But as she rubbed her sweating hands against her hips, she was reminded of what she was wearing.

“From what I heard today on the police scanner, Bendix’s already had a pretty full day. Give me a minute to change, and I’ll be ready to go.”

As she started for the stairs, he blocked her way with his arm across the doorway.

“No matter how hard you try to prepare yourself, this isn’t going to be like a normal call.”

“I thought you said there’s nothing there?”

“There isn’t. That doesn’t mean it’s an easy scene to look at. Everything reverberates with more questions than answers, as though someone stood there and set a scene.”

“Premeditation.”

“No, sweetheart. Psychological fucking. I don’t care how long you’ve been in the business, a situation like this preys on your mind, starts eating at you from the inside out.”

“Right now, I’m more concerned that Buck might wake up as Bendix drops off the Firebird, and instead of asking questions, take a crowbar to him.”

“Bendix is three times your size—he can take care of himself. Don’t you get it? One Ramey is already missing—I’d rather not go for two.”

It was then that she felt his fear, almost tasted it. “You do think she’s dead,” she whispered.

“Don’t start putting words in my mouth.”

“Don’t treat me like some just-hatched chick. It’s even in your eyes. You’re thinking the worst.”

“No.”

“Why give up so soon? You said yourself that all you have is an abandoned car. Or is it? If there’s something you haven’t told me, I want to know. Now.”

“Will you give it a rest! Somebody is playing a nasty trick. You know it. I know it. But until I understand why and find Faith, I want you safe.”

They were logical words, but as insistent as he sounded, there was something in his expression that kept her from believing him.

“I’m not ready to explain more, Mike.”

She continued just standing there.

“It’s for your own good.”

How she hated that line. “In case you haven’t noticed, I already have one daddy more than I need.”

“If you think that’s how I think of you, you’re in deeper denial than I thought.”

She felt a muscle twitch under her right eye. Embarrassed, she bowed her head. “Not now.”

“You brought it up, not me. Either way, I’m not going to pretend your safety isn’t as important to me as finding Faith.” Before she could interrupt, he removed the arm blocking her. “All right, all right. Go do what you have to do. I’ll be outside. Just understand this—I’m not letting you out of my sight until you’re back here and locked up tight again.”

Afraid he might change his mind, she hurried upstairs.

Once she’d exchanged wreckers as quietly as possible and was driving toward the Fite farm, Michaele’s adrenaline really kicked in. It was one thing to want to save face in what was a male-dominated profession; it was quite another to act the classic masochist-martyr. But how much worse would it be to be stuck at the house with her overactive imagination? No, she needed to see everything Jared had seen before facing her father, let alone everyone else who was bound to stop by, once word got around, asking innumerable questions.

Jared’s car lights remained close behind her. She wasn’t used to such mother-henning. This had to be triggering something about Sandy long buried in him; in any case, she hoped he would snap out of it. Although she wanted and needed friendships—more than was comfortable to admit—if this search stretched out, she was going to shelve the whole concept and focus on protecting herself. That would mean not allowing anyone to know just how vulnerable she was feeling.

Less than a mile down the road, she turned into Pete’s driveway. Considering the hour, the number of vehicles and people that were subsequently illuminated by her headlights was as touching as it was disconcerting. She was comfortable around cops and enjoyed shooting the breeze as much as anyone, but this was overwhelming. There hadn’t been this kind of turnout of law enforcement personnel since young Doc Arnold’s ten-year-old suffered a fatal jet ski accident out on the town lake.

She maneuvered around and between people and vehicles to turn the wrecker on the narrow driveway, since the Firebird was parked sloping toward the woods and would first have to be pulled back onto the roadway. A simple J-hook would be the least intrusive method.

Bruce Griggs, her personal favorite aside from Jared, helped her navigate and get people out of her way. By the time she had the thing set to load, her nerves were back in control.

She jumped down from the cab, aware of the numerous eyes on her.

She’d already greeted a few of the guys, but had made it clear that she wasn’t interested in small talk tonight—or any consoling. As promised, Jared was watching, too, and she didn’t want to jeopardize her right to be there, or anywhere else down the road if the occasion arose.

If it hadn’t been for the license plates and the familiar crystal star dangling from the rearview mirror, Michaele might have tried to convince herself that this vehicle wasn’t her sister’s.

“How you holding up, Little Bit?”

The voice spawning images of mangling gears belonged to Chester “Cuddy” Cudahy, the sheriff of Wood County. As usual the six-and-a-half-foot beef-loving, bourbon-worshipping man had an unsmoked cigar clamped between his stained teeth, and his red face was half hidden by a huge straw Stetson. Stereotypical as he looked, one glimpse of those compassionate, rheumy eyes made her own suddenly burn as though she’d rubbed them after harvesting a field of jalapeños.

“Hey, Sheriff. Sorry you had to be called out tonight.”

The East Texas icon, whose motto was “Keeping the department lean and the county clean,” tugged her close with a gruff gentleness for a brief hug. “Would have come regardless, once I heard this involves your kin, honey.”

“I appreciate that.” Michaele drew a deep breath. “I’ve already asked the chief his opinion of this. Would you mind giving me yours? What do you think is going on?”

Cuddy rolled his cigar between his tobacco-browned fingers. “Be easier to teach a three-legged dog to scratch.”

Jared joined them. “She thinks I’m keeping something from her.”

Michaele shot him a frustrated look. “I said no such thing. Did you tell him about the call?”

“He knows.”

“So she’s been kidnapped, right?” she said to Sheriff Cudahy.

“Possibly.”

“Well, what else could it be?”

“We’re trying to figure that out, Mike. Unfortunately, no one left us a note.”

His gentle chiding forced her to check her impatience. But as she made a complete circle to inspect their surroundings, the sight of the woods on either side of the driveway intensified her convictions. Even on a clear night with a full moon and the floodlights on, Michaele couldn’t get Faith to toss out a bag of trash for fear something might slither across her toes. The idea that she would willingly have come here, let alone walked away, was more than unacceptable. There was no way—not if a wild boar were snorting up her skirt.

“She’s been kidnapped,” Michaele said. “And with every hour the kidnapper is carrying her farther away.”

“Everyone in my department was called in as of a half-hour ago,” Cuddy replied. “Chief, you’ve called your day-shift people in, too, haven’t you?”

“Right.”

Cuddy gave her a “You see?” look. “I’ve also notified the Texas DPS, and all the counties around us have been called, too. Have a little confidence in us, Mike.”

She would love to; the problem was, nothing this close to home had happened to her before. Embarrassed, she nodded to the car. “Are you ready for me to take it?”

The two men exchanged glances, before Cuddy said, “It’s all yours…but you know the drill.”

A vehicle brought in as evidence was to be secured until released by legal authority. That meant she had to keep it locked in the fenced yard behind the garage so that it would be out of reach of anyone and everyone, in case it needed another going over.

“Tattooed on the brain,” she replied.

Michaele went back to work, anxious to get out of there. The place felt…evil. It was probably her imagination; nevertheless, she couldn’t help thinking something bad had happened in or around this car. The aftermath lingered, fouled the air, and sent images of inexplicable things flashing through her mind.

“What?”

Startled that Jared had managed to get so close without her hearing him, she dropped the leather gloves she’d just tugged off, now that the car was secured on the bed of the wrecker. Swearing under her breath, she swept them up off the ground.

“Michaele, something’s going on in that busy head of yours. I want to know what it is. If you’ve seen or heard something—”

“It’s just a feeling.” She noted his blank expression. “Disappointed, huh? What did you think—I spotted something under the chassis? Maybe a message stuck there by bubble gum. Or how about the kidnapper’s wallet, complete with address and photo so you can head straight over to his house and arrest him?”

He did what she’d done to him: he remained silent and just waited.

“Nothing about what went on here was her idea,” she said quietly. “And what I said about kidnapping? Forget it. Anyone who knows us, knows it would break us to pay the most modest of ransoms.”

“I’m thinking more of some kid wanting the Firebird. Maybe he dropped her off a few miles away, then lost his nerve and dumped the car, too.”

“You mean someone connected with a chop shop?”

“I hope not. Those folks can be rougher on the driver than on a vehicle. It’s almost graduation, Mike. You know how the kids are at this stage. They gulp a few beers, they start to get stupid.”

“The purse I saw John take from the car—it’s hers. Can I check it? Maybe I’ll see something noteworthy.”

“Sorry. It’s been bagged.”

Just in case, that’s what it all boiled down to. They would even keep things from her if it suited them—just in case.

“This is crap,” she muttered, and, slapping the gloves against her thigh, she climbed into the cab of the tow truck.