Chapter 12

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The noise of Gracie vacuuming upstairs filled the townhouse. Clara tossed a load of dirty clothes into the washer machine, added detergent, and pushed the button. She picked up her phone off the dryer and looked at the time.

Nine o'clock.

She returned to the living room and picked up the feather duster and tub of window wipes, returning them to the cabinet under the kitchen sink. Her and Gracie got an earlier start on the chores that had been neglected lately because the neighbor decided to take his dog outside at five o'clock in the morning and let it bark. Despite running on two and a half hours of sleep after working the night before, once she started cleaning she became energized.

They really never had a chance to stay home and enjoy their new living arrangements because the bar took up all their time.

The vacuum turned off, and Gracie came downstairs. Clara walked into the kitchen. "Want a muffin? I'm going to butter one for me. I can do two if you're hungry."

"Sure." Gracie washed her hands at the sink. "Have you ever noticed the extra light switch in the bathroom?"

She opened the top of the butter container and slid the knife through the end. "You mean the extra flipper knob on the light switch?"

"Yeah, there's one for the lights, one for the fan, and the third one turns on a heater that blows heat out of where the fan is on the ceiling." Gracie sat down on the stool at the counter. "I never realized it was there, but I must've flipped it on with the lights when I cleaned the bathroom. All of a sudden I was getting hot and figured out I was getting blown."

"That's what he said." Clara grinned.

Gracie rolled her eyes. "Pass me more butter."

She pushed the container and the knife closer to her sister. They were getting spoiled with Paxton working at the bar making them actual meals. At home, they only kept quick, pre-made breakfast items in the house.

"Only two more days and we start the new schedule." Gracie took a bite of muffin and continued talking. "Want to go shopping on Tuesday? We could look for table lamps for the living room."

They both had complained about the darkness when they came home after closing the bar. The quick walk through a dark living room until they could flip on the kitchen light freaked them out. The frantic scramble to find the light switch kicked her adrenaline into high gear and made it impossible to fall into bed and go right to sleep.

"Maybe." Clara stepped over to the sink and brushed the crumbs off her hands. "There's a Target by Fred Meyers. I saw it the other day when I ran and bought toilet paper."

"Then let's make plans. Don't leave it at maybe." Gracie studied her. "Or, are you wanting to do something else that day?"

Clara shook her head and ended up shrugging. "I don't know. My head is telling me something is wrong."

"Like what?" Gracie licked butter off the corner of her mouth. "About our reason for coming back to St. John's?"

"I don't know." Clara rinsed out the sink. "Probably that."

A doorbell rang. She hated keeping secrets. It was probably the guilt of keeping information from Wayne that made her uneasy.

Gracie hissed her name, and Clara turned. "What?"

"The doorbell rang. Someone's at our door," said her sister.

Clara looked into the living room even though she couldn't see who was standing on the other side of the solid wood door. "Here?"

"Yes."

"Who would come visiting? We don't know anyone." Clara walked into the other room. "Maybe it was the neighbor's doorbell, and we can hear it through the wall like we can their television."

Gracie caught up with her and grabbed her arm. "Look out the window first before you go opening the door."

Clara pulled the drapes to the side and straightened in excitement. "It's Wayne."

"Why is he coming over during the day?" Gracie crossed her arms.

"It's his day off."

"Yeah, but he's supposed to be out searching for that Hillard girl," said Gracie.

"I guess we won't know until I let him in." Clara gathered her hair in her hand and pulled it all over her shoulder as she walked to the door, unlocked the handle, and swung the door open.

Wayne stood in front of her, tall, intense, and hard. The thinned lips, squint, and wrinkles between his brows a replica of a statue chiseled out of stone. She reached out and touched his arm.

He cleared his throat. "Can I come in?"

The whole situation would be easier if Wayne weren't so damn touchable. Around him, she lacked oxygen. He made her woozy.

"Yeah, sure." She moved back making room in the doorway.

Wayne stepped into the living room, nodded at Gracie, and waited until Clara shut the door. Her pulse raced.

The way he watched her without saying anything. It wasn't like before when they were together, and he was open and warm. Today, his attention toward her was hardened as if it hurt to look at her and so he closed himself off. His attitude scared her.

"What's wrong?" she asked softly.

"Something happened, and I need to talk to the both of you." He squeezed the riding gloves he held bunched in his hand.

Clara moved toward Gracie and met her sister in the middle of the living room, grabbing her hand, as she often had growing up when she needed the support to face bad news. "Did something bad happen?"

He motioned toward the couch. "Sit down, and I'll tell you."

Clara pulled Gracie with her, and they sat side by side. Wayne sat down in the chair across from them. Had one of the Notus members been hurt? Had they found the girl who was missing? Had someone else disappeared?

"You're not going to be able to open the bar today or tomorrow." Wayne held up his hand when Clara opened her mouth to ask why. "I received a call from Lieutenant Gomez with the St. John's Police Department this morning while Notus was out searching for any clue that would help us find out where the Hillard girl is located."

It was Sunday. She'd talked to him late last night. No news had been good news, which meant the teenager could be alive.

"Why can't we open the bar?" said Gracie.

Wayne's gaze flickered to Gracie and back to Clara. "What I'm going to tell you both needs to stay in this room."

Clara nodded, looking toward Gracie for her promise. "Okay."

"There were clothes found in the alley, about five feet from the back door of the bar. Mr. and Mrs. Hillard have verified the clothing belonged to Megan. It was the outfit that she was wearing when she walked out of the house to meet her friend." Wayne's Adam's apple bobbed in his neck. "The police partitioned off the alley and are trying to keep the discovery away from the media for the moment. Right now, there are investigators that are looking for any blood splatter, fingerprints, footprints, anything that can clue them into where Megan is. When they're done, the dogs will come in, and they'll see if Megan left the alley, or if it was only her clothes brought to the location."

"Oh, my God," whispered Clara, leaning heavily against Gracie. "Do they think she was killed?"

She hated herself for asking. It was obvious that something bad had happened. The child's clothes were removed.

"There's no way of knowing." Wayne leaned forward, braced his elbows on his knees, and clasped his hands. "The police were on the way here to talk with you, and I asked them if I could bring you to the station instead. I wasn't sure how you'd like the attention of law enforcement arriving at your house, and since they want to keep this quiet, they agreed."

Gracie squeezed Clara's hand. "So, basically, the cops are going to question us to see if we're guilty of what? Kidnapping the girl?"

"Sis," murmured Clara. "Don't. We own the bar where the clothes were found."

"Clara's right." Wayne rubbed his hands together. "At this point, they want to talk to you about closing the bar, see if you have any security cameras that cover the alley, and if you've seen anything suspicious or concerning while you're at the bar. You'd be helping them further the investigation."

Clara blew out her breath, unable to ease the ache in her chest. What was it about St. John's? Was it a mecca for missing persons and murders?

"Let's go and get this over with." Gracie stood. "I'm going to change my clothes and put on my shoes."

Clara remained sitting and watched her sister go up the stairs, each foot landing on the steps as if marching off to war. She needed to calm Gracie down before her mouth got her in trouble at the police station.

"Hey," said Wayne, moving across the span of the room and sitting beside Clara. He put his arm around her, cupping her neck underneath her hair, and bringing her closer to kiss her forehead. "I know this fucks things up for you, coming so soon after buying the bar, but customers will come back when you re-open."

"I know." She slipped her fingers into his hand and held his grasp to her chest. "We put the notice up three days ago that we'd be closed on Mondays and Tuesdays starting this week. Since we can't open today, that'll be 3 days of no business."

"Maybe push back the new schedule one week and open on Tuesday. If the police get done in time. They should be done later tomorrow."

"No, it's fine. We'll figure everything out." She groaned. "I shouldn't even be worried about the business. There's a girl missing and her clothes found by our back door. How did that happen?"

"That's what they're going to figure out." Wayne squeezed her neck. "We should get going, though."

She nodded and moved to stand, and Wayne stopped her. "I'd like you and Gracie to come stay at my house."

"Why?"

"Until the police learn why the clothes were by the back door of the bar, I don't like the thought of you walking out to the alley after two o'clock in the morning when you go home alone." Wayne let her go.

She stood. "We'll be fine."

"Sweetheart, can—"

"Really, there's no need." She turned around. "Gracie and I know how to be safe."

She couldn't be around Wayne until she talked to Gracie alone. They needed to discuss what was going on and the sooner they got into the car where they could talk privately, the better.

Gracie bounded down the stairs, stopped at the edge of the living room, and said, "Ready?"

"Yes." Clara grabbed her purse off the coat hook by the door. "The car is parked in the driveway. I pulled it out before we started cleaning, planning on washing it before we went to work."

Wayne walked out the door. Clara grabbed Gracie's hand, and behind Wayne's back, she looked at her sister as they walked to her car. Non-verbally, she communicated with Gracie to not say a word until they were alone.

Wayne half turned. "The police department is about five blocks across town. I'll show you the way."

"Okay, we'll follow you." Clara unlocked the car door, catching Gracie raising her brows at her over the top of the car before they both ducked and slid inside, shutting the doors. "Don't say anything yet," she whispered.

The roar of Wayne's motorcycle permeated the vehicle. Clara's chest thrummed with the noise.

"How could we have not heard his motorcycle approach the house?" asked Gracie, putting on her seatbelt.

Clara put the keys in the ignition and started the car. "You were vacuuming. We didn't say anything before we heard the doorbell, did we?"

"No." Gracie slumped in the seat. "I'm positive we only talked about shopping and the muffins."

Clara pulled out of the driveway and followed Wayne. "We don't have much time. What are we going to tell the police?"

"Nothing." Gracie pressed a hand to her chest. "They only want to know if we saw anything, and we haven't. I'll take a damn polygraph test if they want."

Clara glanced over at her sister and took one hand off the steering wheel. "I'm shaking. This is freaky. We come back to St. John's because mom's killer was never caught and now this...shit with the bar."

"Don't be nervous."

Clara groaned. "There have been two killings since we've moved to St. John's."

"The last girl isn't dead."

Clara's vision blurred. She blinked and watched the traffic, following close behind Wayne. "Do you really think that? If she's alive, she's somewhere with no clothes. Even if she ran away from home and didn't want anyone to find her, do you really think someone who had a good relationship with her family would put her mom and dad through the pain of putting her clothes somewhere for them to find?"

"Look at who is facing reality now," muttered Gracie.

"Wasn't that what moving here was all about? Finally doing what should've been done twenty-four years ago?" Clara's voice came out louder than she wanted and she took a deep breath. "There's the police station up ahead."

She'd give anything to go back and be innocent, to believe that tomorrow would be better than today. To walk outside and not feel as if the truth was ready to ambush her again. The missing girls, so close together, wasn't a random crime.

She pulled into the parking spot beside Wayne. "I hope they find the girl, and all of this will end."

"Will it ever end?" Gracie opened the door without waiting for an answer and stepped out.

Wayne opened the driver's door and held out his arm. Clara slipped her hand into his and let him pull her out of the seat. She had to keep believing there was an end and the missing girl would be found alive. There had to be hope, or everything they were doing would be for nothing.