Chapter Eighteen
“Shouldn’t we call the police?” Leah scrubbed a pan crusted with oatmeal and wondered why no one had patented the adhesive quality to use as glue. Maybe if she’d washed the dishes this morning instead of leaving the pan to sit on the stove . . . She gripped the handle with shaking fingers. She needed to pull herself together.
Ryan jotted something down on the pad of paper resting next to the pictures he’d spread across the table before glancing up. “I’d like to consider what we know first. These photos were taken twenty years ago. There’s no rush to turn them over to the authorities this second.”
He had a point. Whoever the woman stretched out naked in the pictures was, they certainly couldn’t help her after all this time. A shudder rippled through her, and she turned back to the sink full of dishes. Just looking at those images made her feel sick.
“What, precisely, do we know?”
“Well, the exact date the roll of film was put in the time capsule is established. Identifying the people in these pictures may not be possible, but we can figure out who had access to the box our class buried twenty years ago.”
She sloshed water as she rinsed the oatmeal pan and set it on the drain rack. “Why would anyone put undeveloped film of sicko photos like that in our time capsule? It makes no sense.”
“I can only think of one reason.” Ryan’s voice hardened. “To hide it. Dropping it in the box must have been a spur-of-the-moment decision and implies the person was desperate or frightened.”
Tamping down her emotions, she tried to look at the facts like a puzzle. How did each piece fit? “Okay, I agree with your hypothesis. Whoever was carrying around that film put it in the time capsule to get rid of it in a hurry, knowing it wouldn’t be found for years . . . if ever.”
“Exactly. So the challenge is to determine who had access to the box before it was buried. I’m making a list.”
“Of course you are.”
“What was that?”
“Nothing.” Leah waved a hand. “You’re organized, and I’m not. The state of my kitchen is ample proof of that. Sorry, but I’m a little on edge.” She rinsed the last of the dishes and dried her hands on a towel. “So, who’s on your suspect list? Us?”
He regarded her steadily as she walked over to pull out the chair next to him. “Are you okay?”
“I guess. Those photographs bother me . . . a lot, but I’m not going to lose it on you.”
“You aren’t the only one feeling disgusted and angry. That’s why I want to figure this out.”
She squeezed his arm. “I know. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“I believe we can eliminate the twenty-odd kids who were in Sloan Manning’s class. We were ten at the time, and we’ve agreed the people in these pictures aren’t children. So, let’s focus on the adults who had access to the time capsule.”
“Okay. Obviously Sloan did.”
“He’s at the top of my list.”
Her stomach knotted. “I don’t like this.”
“Neither do I, but it has to be done.”
She pressed fingers to her eyes and forced herself to think before glancing up. “Edgar Vargas was in and out of the room. I remember he went to get a hammer to nail down the lid.”
Ryan made a note on his list. “We had a party. There were parent helpers in the classroom, including my mom.”
“Paige’s mom brought frosted sugar cookies.”
He nodded. “I remember those cookies. Delicious, and she always decorated them for the holidays. I seem to recall the room was all decked out for Halloween.”
“It was actually early November when we buried the time capsule, and we hadn’t taken down the witch and skeleton art projects yet. We planned our reunion over the Fall Festival weekend, hoping to get a better turnout, so we were a few weeks shy of twenty years when we unveiled the time capsule.” Leah planted an elbow on the table. “We didn’t wait for the exact anniversary.”
“Obviously you have a better memory than I do. Which other moms were present?”
“Don’t be sexist. A couple of dads dug the hole.” Her brow wrinkled as she tried to picture that day so long ago. “I think Pete’s father was one of them.”
“Interesting.” Ryan added Waylon Brewster to the list then pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll ask my mom. Maybe she’ll remember the other parents since she helped that day.”
Leah couldn’t control the bitter edge to her voice. “Are you going to put her name and Ava Shephard’s on that list?”
“I guess I should.” He was silent for a moment. “You really hate this, don’t you?”
“I look for the best in people instead of the worst.” She stood. “I’m not very hungry, but I suppose I should start dinner while you talk to her.”
Ryan rose slowly and placed a firm hand on her shoulder. “Sit. You can pick my mom’s brain while I cook. Tell her I haven’t forgotten she has her book club meeting tonight, and I’ll be home in an hour to drive her there.”
“Fine.” She returned to her chair. “How much of this situation do you want me to explain?”
“Whatever you feel comfortable with.” He pulled a bowl off the cupboard shelf then opened the refrigerator door.
Leah took out her phone and scrolled through her contacts to dial. Marion answered on the second ring.
“Hi, Mrs. A. It’s Leah.”
“Well, hello there. How are you, dear?”
Her cheerful tone eased some of Leah’s tension, and she loosened her grip on the cell. “Fine.”
“Are you looking for Ryan? I’m afraid he isn’t here right now, but—”
“Actually, he’s with me. He asked me to tell you he’ll be home shortly to take you to your book club meeting.”
“No need. Flo is picking me up. I’ve told that boy time and again I’m perfectly capable of getting along on my own, but he won’t listen. Not that I want him to go home. Still . . .”
Leah pressed a hand to the ache in her chest as Ryan’s mother chatted away. Apparently his time in Siren Cove might be even shorter than she’d thought. When Marion paused to take a breath, Leah broke in, “Uh, we were wondering if you could help clear up a few facts about the day we buried the time capsule all those years ago.”
“Well, sure, if I can. I remember taking an extra-long lunch break from work at the travel agency to help with the class party. That was back before everyone booked their own vacations online. What did you want to know?”
“Which other adults were around that day? I know Paige’s mom helped, and I think Waylon Brewster was there.”
“That’s right. Let me think.” She paused for a moment. “Three dads were out digging the hole where they buried the time capsule. I remember thinking they were acting like little boys, bickering over who should do what, while Tina Radcliff, Ava Shephard, and I worked together inside like a well-oiled machine.”
Leah smiled. “I’d forgotten Quentin’s mom helped out. Who were the fathers, do you remember?”
“Waylon Brewster, Arnold Dorsey, and . . . Kimmy Long’s father. What was his name?” Seconds ticked by. “Rodney Long. I think he and his wife still live in town, but I haven’t seen him in years. Why all the interest in that day, Leah?”
She juggled the phone to write down the names on Ryan’s list. “Uh, we found a roll of film in the time capsule, and the pictures made us curious. There are people we didn’t recognize in them.” Maybe not the whole truth, but she couldn’t bring herself to explain further.
“Probably the detectives who were at the school that day.”
Her jaw sagged open. “What?”
“Oh, it was quite exciting, not that we all weren’t worried to death about the poor girl they were looking for.”
“Mrs. A, I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Of course no one said anything to the students. . . Such a shame. A young woman from just south of here was hitchhiking in the area and went missing a couple of weeks before your class buried the time capsule. I still remember her name, Merry—spelled like the adjective rather than the traditional way—Bright. So cheerful, in stark contrast to the awfulness of her disappearance. The police never did find that girl.”
Leah noted the name on the pad and drew a line under it. “That’s horrible, but why were detectives at the school?”
“I guess Mrs. Winston, the principal, had watched a follow-up story on the morning news and called to report she’d seen the girl on the highway. Apparently, she’d driven by Merry Bright just as a car coming from the opposite direction pulled over, presumably to pick her up. For some reason, Nola Winston hadn’t seen a picture of this pretty blond woman when the story originally broke.”
The breath stalled in Leah’s throat. “So the detectives on the case came to question Mrs. Winston?”
“That’s right. The detectives were there along with our current police chief. Not that Irving Stackhouse was chief at the time, of course, but he was on the force. Ava and I pulled him aside to ask what was going on, but he wouldn’t give us any information. The whole story leaked out eventually, but I’m afraid the information Mrs. Winston provided never led to the girl’s recovery or an arrest in the case.”
“Wow. I guess all the kids were completely clueless, totally focused on the excitement of burying the time capsule. At least I was.”
“As it should be. The authorities had no reason to upset the students.”
Leah let out a shaky breath. “You certainly satisfied my curiosity. Thanks, Mrs. A. I’ll tell Ryan you already have a ride to your meeting.”
“Thank you, dear. Have a nice evening.”
“We will. You, too.” Leah disconnected and set down her phone. “Oh. My. God. Unbelievable.”
Ryan slid a cast iron skillet into the oven. “What was that all about?”
She gave him a brief recap and then added, “Oh, and your mom has a ride tonight, so you don’t need to hurry away. Unless you want to.”
He gave her a long look. “I don’t want to. You’re as nervous as a cat in a room full of attack dogs. Seems like you could use some company, despite your earlier snarkiness.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean . . .” She rubbed the back of her neck in a futile attempt to ease her tension. “Those pictures are a little terrifying. I keep imagining what that poor woman was thinking, lying there naked and vulnerable . . .”
“Don’t.” He pulled her to her feet and into his arms. “There’s no reason to torment yourself.”
“I guess not.” She leaned against his chest. “I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you.” She forced a smile. “What’s for dinner?”
“A frittata with tomatoes, mushrooms, chives, zucchini, and peppers.”
“Yum. I guess calling the police can wait until after we eat. I bet everyone in the department is sick of seeing my name pop up on their reports, anyway.”
“I’ve been thinking about that.” His voice took on a grim edge. “Maybe we shouldn’t contact them.”
She pulled back to meet his troubled gaze. “Why not? We have new information related to a crime.”
“Yes, we do. We also have nine faceless individuals who were more than likely involved in the disappearance of Merry Bright, if that’s who the naked blonde in the pictures was.”
“Seems like a pretty safe assumption. Detectives were at the school questioning Mrs. Winston about this young woman and the car that stopped to pick her up. Someone who had the film in his possession freaked out, maybe believing the principal would point the police in his direction, so he buried the evidence in our time capsule.”
“Makes a whole lot of sense to me. You said he. You think it was a man, not a woman?”
Leah resisted the urge to shout. “I will not consider either your mom or Paige’s or Quentin’s is one of the hooded figures in those pictures.”
“Easy.” He cupped her chin and stroked her cheek with one finger before dropping his hands to her shoulders. “I don’t believe it either.”
“Then why did you say—”
“Just making a point. If we eliminate the women, there are five names left on our list.”
“Sloan Manning, Edgar Vargas, Waylon Brewster, Arnold Dorsey, and Rodney Long.” Leah shook her head. “I can’t imagine any of those men would kidnap and hold some poor girl captive in the woods. That’s just sick.”
“The woman is naked and seems to be the centerpiece of some twisted ceremony. Sick doesn’t begin to describe it.”
“Agreed. So, we report what we know and let the police question them. I hate to throw any innocent person under the bus by bringing up his name, but this is too horrible to keep to ourselves.”
“One problem. Siren Cove has a small department, and one of their own could very well be involved.”
“Are you talking about Chief Stackhouse? Your mom said he was with the detectives who came to question Mrs. Winston.”
Ryan shook his head. “No, I mean your buddy, Chris Long, the cop who’s always on hand to investigate all your problems. His dad’s name is on our list. If Rodney Long is the one responsible . . .”
“Chris could find a way to bury this a lot deeper than the time capsule.” A chill slithered down her spine. “Maybe he already tried.”
In the silence that followed her words, the timer dinged.
Ryan’s grip on her shoulders tightened. “What do you mean?”
“Someone searched my house, my car, and my bag, and he wasn’t afraid to hurt me when I got in the way. Also, your Jeep was broken into. What if that person was looking for the film? What if he never wanted those pictures to see the light of day? It could have been Chris Long, covering up for his dad.”
“Yes, or it could have been one of the others, since we’re short on concrete evidence. Edgar Vargas might have knocked you senseless then pretended to find you when his son arrived. Or, Sloan Manning didn’t really leave the school and circled back on foot to hit you over the head.”
“I don’t believe that.” Her voice broke. “I can’t and won’t.”
“Well, you’d damn well better start because one of these men is responsible.” Ryan gave her a shake. “Merry Bright was never found. Someone on this list isn’t the person you believe he is. One of those five men may very well be a cold-blooded killer.”
* * *
He slowed to a stop beside the compact car pulled to the side of the road and lowered his window. “Need some help?”
The woman crouched beside the front tire dropped the jack and rose to her feet. The glare of his headlights illuminated long, dark hair and a face streaked with tears. Young. Pretty.
Perfect.
“Oh, thank God. I don’t have a clue how to change a flat. I can’t even get the stupid jack in place. Wouldn’t you know I had the bad luck to puncture my tire in a dead zone, so my cell doesn’t work to call roadside assistance.” She moved closer and bent to look through the open window. “I was just about ready to lose it when you stopped. Thank you so much.”
“Happy to help a lady in distress. I’ll just pull over and park.”
When she stepped back, he cruised to the edge of the road in front of her car and turned off the engine. Taking a moment, he controlled the jitters of excitement quivering through him. Talk about fate—or Satan himself—throwing him a bone. He was getting a hard-on just thinking about his unbelievable luck.
Drawing in a deep breath, he let it out slowly, opened the door, and got out. The girl was there, waiting for him with a smile. She shivered and ran her hands up and down her arms.
“It sure is chilly out tonight. Do you think you can fix the tire for me?”
“Oh, I can fix it, all right. What’s your name, miss?”
“Yvonne.” Her smile faded as she backed up a few feet and glanced down the empty road. “I really appreciate this.”
He bent to retrieve the jack and held it by the handle. “No problem at all. I was having a crappy day, but do you know what? You just made my night.”
Her dark eyes widened. As she turned to run, a cry ripped from her throat.
Her scream echoed in the night before he swung the jack with a delicate touch. Metal connected to flesh and bone with a satisfying thunk before she crumpled into his arms. Not hard enough to kill her. Not so easy she’d offer up any resistance on the drive to their holding room. He’d had practice perfecting his technique.
Perfect.