Читать книгу Shattered Secrets - Карен Харпер - Страница 9

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“Of course we want to cooperate with the outside authorities, but please run that by me again before I say yay or nay about parading our young maidens before you, Sheriff McCord,” Brice Monson insisted. He had agreed to meet with Gabe that morning in the deserted common room of the largest building in the Hear Ye compound. Monson raised one eyebrow as he examined the photo Gabe showed him.

Gabe had to admit that “Bright Star” Monson’s looks alone could make someone think he was from another world. The man was pale with hair either bleached or prematurely white, and eyes the hue of water. His face was gaunt and his torso thin as though he lived on alien food in this area of homegrown goods. He always wore loose-fitting, draped outfits that reminded Gabe of something a swami would wear—or was that a guru? It was hard to tell the man’s age. His long hair was pulled straight back in a ponytail, which accentuated the shape of his skull. He wore a strip of leather tied around his forehead as if a dark halo had slipped.

“You’re aware, Mr. Monson, of the abductions of two—possibly three—young girls from the area. The most recent loss was of a six-year-old, and that photo of a child in your group greatly resembles her. I’m accusing no one of anything and I realize blonde girls that age can look somewhat alike, but the mother of the missing child is adamant that I look into this, which I’m sure you understand.”

“But all our young maidens are with families,” Monson said, handing the photo back. “I assure you, if someone in our flock had taken such a girl, we would be smitten with confusion and rebuke because we had forsaken the light. But yes, to comfort that mother’s heart, we will allow you to step into the room where that child is, maiden Lorna Rogers. There are two other daughters, if you would like to meet with the parents or their other girls.”

It suddenly seemed like such a wild-goose chase that Gabe almost backed off. But since he thought some sort of mind-control game was going on with the clever, charismatic Monson, he followed him into what looked like an old-fashioned schoolroom at the back of the building. About a dozen girls of the approximate age he’d requested were weaving baskets into which their adult mentors—craft teachers?—were placing bouquets of bloodred bittersweet boughs.

“For our market booth uptown on Saturday,” Monson whispered. Darned if the guy’s voice didn’t make Gabe think of the serpent whispering to Eve in the garden. Did he command control of this place by talking in that low voice instead of yelling?

Once the teachers caught sight of them, they and their young charges stood and bowed slightly to Monson, because Gabe knew it sure wasn’t to him. The girls were all dressed in similar navy blue or brown dresses and reminded him of reruns of Little House on the Prairie. All had long hair pulled straight back from their faces with black cords similar to the one around Monson’s forehead.

“Please, return to your games,” Monson intoned with a single sweep of his right arm. The girls, without a grin or giggle, settled back to their tasks.

Games? Gabe thought. Right away he spotted the girl Marian Bell had been so riled up about. She did resemble Amanda Bell, but, this close, he noticed differences right away. Lorna Rogers was shorter and had not one freckle, while the Bell girl’s nose and cheeks were dusted with them. Still, driven by his need to turn over every rock, he approached the child and the others with her.

“Is that weaving hard to do, Lorna?” he asked.

Her eyes widened as she looked up. She stared at his uniform, especially his badge.

“No, sir,” she replied quietly, still not looking him in the eyes. “It’s lots of fun, and I want to make more baskets for the walnuts too.”

Aside from her distinct freckles, Amanda Bell had green eyes and an obvious lisp. This girl had neither. Gabe nodded and stepped back, realizing Monson had sidled over to hear what was being said. Did everyone whisper around here?

“Thank you for your time and patience,” he told Monson as he started out of the room. “Sorry to have bothered you and the maidens.”

“I’ll see you clear out,” Monson said, and Gabe noted the double meaning of that.

At least he’d learned some things today. Lee and Grace Lockwood were crazier than he thought for coming here to live, letting their boy and girl be part of this. And though Lorna was not Amanda, he definitely didn’t trust Brice Monson.

* * *

Tess drove around Lake Azure, where the Lockwoods used to picnic and play as kids, when they were a family. The wildness of it seemed tamed now with manicured lawns and earth-hued condos set back in landscaped plantings of trees and late-flowering foliage. None of the residences looked the same, some two-story, some ranch, some A-frame. Part of the lake was cordoned off for swimming and paddleboats. Canoes were pulled up on two man-made sand beaches edging the green water. A large, two-story lodge stood at the center of it all. This was a Cold Creek community?

Feeling she didn’t belong there, she drove back into town. She’d already wandered along the new part of Main Street, reading the handwritten menu on the Little Italy Restaurant sign, peeking in Miss Marple’s Tearoom and the Lion’s Head Pub. She’d gone inside the pub because she could see a bulletin board, where she put up one of her posters. That board was a twin to the dartboard that was just inside the door.

“Want a pint or a shandy, luv?” came a very British male voice from inside. “Fish-and-chips be ready straightaway!”

That all sounded good, but she made an excuse and went back outside. No one recognized her at the fire department. The dispatcher was alone since it was all volunteer, but he said the only postings allowed were for duty shifts and schedules. She knew she’d be allowed to put a poster up at the sheriff’s office, so she headed next door. Despite the fact that it wasn’t in the same place and, no doubt, had different people from those who had staffed it years before, her feet began to drag.

She found herself both hoping and dreading that Gabe would be there. Her stomach did a weird little flip-flop at the thought of him.

Inside, a young, pretty brunette sat behind the front desk. “Can I help you?” she asked with a smile.

“I was just wondering if I could put up a poster for a house for sale if you have a public bulletin board. I told the sheriff I’d be putting some up around town.”

“Oh,” she said, rising. “I’m his day dispatcher, Ann Simons. Are you Teresa Lockwood?”

“Yes. I go by Tess now.”

“Oh, right. So I heard. Sure, I got the idea Sheriff McCord wouldn’t mind. You passed the board we use in the entryway there if you can find a place for your sign,” she said, pointing. “I don’t keep it very up to date, and please ignore the Most Wanted posters on it. We’re glad to have you back for a little while, Tess.”

“Thanks. People have been very kind.” She headed for the corkboard, then turned around. “Ann, if you hear of anyone who needs a solidly built house just outside town, then—”

The front door banged open, barely missing Tess. A woman flipped her long blond hair back over her shoulder with a metallic clatter of bracelets. She wore knee-high boots with fringed cuffs, tight black leather pants and an orange brocade jacket. Her face looked too old for the hair or the clothes—or was her rough complexion just the result of too much sun? Tess wondered if maybe she was a regular at Marva’s tanning salon.

“Is he back yet?” the woman demanded of Ann.

“No, but I’m sure you’ll be the first to hear if there is anything to know,” Ann replied calmly.

The woman huffed out a sigh as her shoulders drooped. “I’ll wait. That’s all I do now, wait. And study the other cases and find similarities despite the differences the sheriff’s been preaching to me.”

She collapsed on the pine bench in the waiting area, hunched over and swung her suitcase-sized orange leather purse between her legs. Tess watched her out of the corner of her eye. The woman looked Tess’s way and exploded again.

“You’re Teresa Lockwood, aren’t you?” she cried, jumping to her feet. “I mean, of course you’ve changed, but I’ve studied the old newspaper pictures and articles in the library so long and— You are, aren’t you? I don’t mean to startle you,” she said as she hurried toward Tess, “but my daughter’s disappeared too. If you could just help me, I’m desperate for word of her. Here, let me show you her picture—I mean, you were younger when you were taken, but you are both blonde, and the sheriff—”

“Marian,” Ann said, stepping between the two of them, “why don’t you just sit down and wait for Sheriff McCord?”

“Because I said I’m desperate and I am! Surely this woman can help me find my girl if she can just recall what happened to her years ago.”

“Come on now,” Ann cajoled, tugging on Marian’s arm. “Let’s have some coffee and calm down. Deputy Miller or the sheriff will be back soon, and—”

“Calm down? I need to talk to her—to you, Ms. Lockwood,” she cried, peering over Ann’s shoulder.

Tess was shaking. Had her own mother been this berserk when she was lost? Her heart went out to this woman—Marian—even though she wanted to flee. She finally found her voice.

“I’m sorry,” she told the woman, “but the sheriff, like his father before him, knows all I could tell. I came back, so I hope and pray your daughter will too, and then—”

“Amanda Bell. Her name is Amanda, and I’m Marian Bell. I live up in Lake Azure on Pinecrest if you recall anything at all—where you were kept, anything!”

“I don’t,” Tess whispered, more to herself than to the others. She didn’t, did she? No, of course not. If she did, it would help find the other—now two?—missing girls. It could lead to Gabe’s solving the case. It would end the horror that still haunted her like a monster just out of reach, trying to devour her. But, God help her, she could not recall a thing that would lead to anyone or any place.

Tess saw she still held the poster in her hand and quickly stuck it to the board between an announcement about a charity auction and a bank robbery in Chillicothe, the largest nearby city. She opened the door and went out into the brisk, sunny day, feeling assaulted, as though her soul had been shredded by that woman. Yet she forgave and understood her. Being recognized and interrogated like that—it was one of her worst fears about coming back.

Tess had started for her car when she heard a voice behind her.

“Hey, Tess, I thought that was your car. How’s it going, putting up posters?”

She turned to face Gabe as he caught up with her.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded, his piercing eyes scanning her face. He put a gentle hand on her arm. He wasn’t wearing his hat, and the wind ruffled his mussed hair. “Were you in my office? Did Ann say something to upset you? I told her you might be in.”

“Marian Bell recognized me. She’s distraught, demanded I remember things I just can’t.”

“I’m sorry. She gets out of control, but I—”

“Understand why,” she finished with him. “I guess I was thinking about how it must have been for my mother as well as me. One thing I’m sure of. I must have felt forsaken when I was abducted and gone so long, like I was abandoned. I never really thought how devastated my family must have been—only that they didn’t come for me. I guess that was selfish.”

“Don’t think that way. You were a little girl. You were so young you might not even have formed memories into words at that point, and so you can’t recall things in words now.”

“Sounds like you’ve been reading up on it.”

“Over the years. Especially lately. I’m sorry you ran into Marian or vice versa. I’m going to have to break her heart again, set her off on another tirade. I followed a lead she gave me today that didn’t pan out. Her daughter, an only child she had late in life, was taken about four months ago and ever since, she’s been seeing her behind every tree, so to speak. But I’ll be sure she leaves you alone. I should have prepped her for you being back. If worse comes to worst, I’ll get a restraining order on her. Let me walk you to your car. Were you leaving?”

“I am now. Thanks for everything, Gabe.”

She unlocked her car door, and he opened it for her. “Don’t thank me for anything,” he said, “unless I get the bastard who’s been doing this.” Despite his words, his voice was deep and quiet, even soothing. She felt as if she almost stood in his protective embrace since he had one hand on the car roof and one on the open door while she stood there. She sank quickly into the driver’s seat, and he leaned down toward her.

Not looking at him but staring at her hands gripping the steering wheel, she spoke. “I want you to know I don’t blame you for my being...being lost that day. You told me not to run into the cornfield, but I didn’t listen, didn’t obey, even though my mother told me you were in charge. I just needed to say it, because I’m not sure I ever told you or your dad.”

“You remember that? I do too, but I still shouldn’t have been so angry that I paid no attention to the little scream you gave. Even when I decided to just ignore your antics and you didn’t speak again, I thought that was just the little tomboy next door carrying on, bugging me more. Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone about our little argument either, including my dad.”

“But— I did? I screamed? I don’t recall a thing after you yelled at me and I ran through the corn rows.”

“I’m not pressing you to remember more. Sorry, if Marian Bell’s doing the yelling now. I’d better go in and break the bad news to her. Listen, call me if you need anything.”

“And if I remember anything else?”

“Yeah, of course, but no pressure from me. Keep in touch, okay? And good luck with selling the house. I’ll mention it to the mayor, since he sees lots of folks every day. He’s been in office for years now. He knows everyone.”

He extended his hand. She took it, and they shook. Despite the stiff, brisk breeze, his skin was warm, his touch strong. She needed that and gravitated to it when she didn’t want to. She had steered clear of romantic complications in her life because she just didn’t want to get close to anyone that way. And, of all people, for many reasons, Gabe McCord was way out of bounds.

He stood back and closed her car door. She started the engine and rolled down her window to say goodbye, even though they’d probably said all there was to say. She heard the crackle of his radio as words came over it.

He gasped and stepped back. “Gotta go. Marian Bell will have to wait,” he said. She thought he’d head for his car, but he ran down the street toward the old part of town.

Tess sat stock-still, watching him in the rearview mirror. Tomorrow was the twentieth anniversary of the day she’d disappeared. And what she’d overheard made her want to cover her head, curl up and scream. “Jace here, Gabe. Four-year-old Sandy Kenton’s gone missing from her mother’s gift shop!”

Shattered Secrets

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