Without A Trace (Echo Lake Book 1) Page 9

  Tom’s gaze was still on her. She didn’t want to look up into those rain-colored eyes, but she couldn’t help herself. He moved in, not so close as to be threatening, but enough so that the space between them grew intimate. She could almost imagine his hand on her arm, his knuckles scraping softly against her cheek. Everything will be all right, Rae.

  Instead, he said, “I’m not your enemy. You need to trust me.”

  She let out a slow breath, releasing the anger she’d been harboring for hours. Not at Tom this time, but at her brother. At her niece’s abductors. At her feeling of helplessness. “I’m trying to. I want to trust you. It’s just...”

  “My sister came home and yours didn’t.”

  “Yes.” She folded her arms. “As irrational and petty as that still sounds.”

  “Then I don’t know what more I can say. Do you honestly think my dad didn’t do everything in his power to find Riley? Do you think he wouldn’t have given his own life to bring her home safely? Do you think I wouldn’t? Not a day goes by that I don’t think about what happened. I’ve asked myself a thousand times what I might have done differently to change the outcome. If I’d gotten to the Ruins sooner or if I hadn’t let down my guard. If I’d never left the house that night in the first place.” He paused, but his gaze never wavered. “I don’t know why my sister and I were spared. I don’t think it was intentional. I’ve always believed we were left for dead. What I do know is that Ellie wasn’t breathing when I came to. I had to act fast. Make a split-second decision. I could have left her there on the bank to go back and search the Ruins, but letting my sister die wouldn’t have saved yours. Deep down, I think you know that.”

  His blunt assessment took Rae’s breath away. Her brother wasn’t the only one who could wound her with words. “We all do what we have to do,” she murmured.

  She wondered if he would be so understanding of her decision to keep quiet when he found out about the ransom demand. If the kidnappers let Sophie go, all would be forgiven eventually. But if her niece never came home, Rae would spend the rest of her life playing the same terrible game of what-if. What if she’d told Tom the truth? What if she’d gone to him with the ransom demand and asked for his help?

  His gaze narrowed. “What did you mean by that?”

  “Just what I said. Most of us do what we think is right in any given situation. Second-guessing is pointless. I just wish there was something more I could do right now. Some way I could help with the investigation.”

  He was still eyeing her with what Rae thought might be suspicion. “What can you tell me about Blaine Fenton?”

  The name took Rae by surprise. “Blaine? Why do you want to know about him?”

  “His family owns an adjoining ranch. I understand his father is suing Cavanaugh Industries. There must be bad blood between the families.”

  Rae shrugged. “I can’t tell you much about that lawsuit. I’m not involved.”

  He looked skeptical. “You’re the money person in the business. How can you not be involved?”

  “My brother calls the shots now. He and my father have deliberately kept me out of the loop. I like to think they’re trying to protect me, but I suspect the attorneys have advised them I could have a conflict of interest.”

  “What kind of conflict?”

  “Blaine and I were once engaged.”

  The gray eyes flickered though his voice remained steady. “When was this?”

  “About a hundred years ago,” Rae said with a grimace. “We dated before he went into the service. When he came home, we tried to pick back up where we left off, but it was too late. I wore his ring on my finger for all of a week before I realized I wasn’t ready for that kind of commitment.”

  “You broke things off? How did he take it?”

  Rae sensed a sudden tension. She said carefully, “About as well as you can imagine.”

  “Did he get violent? Make threats? Anything like that?”

  “No. He left town without a word. We didn’t keep in touch. I heard that he came back when his dad got sick, but I haven’t seen or talked to him.” She slanted Tom a puzzled glance. “Why all these questions about Blaine? You don’t think he had anything to do with Sophie’s disappearance, do you?”

  “He’s convinced your family swindled his sick father out of a lot of money. That’s a powerful motive. So is rejection.”

  “You think he’s carrying a grudge against me?” The notion that Sophie had been taken because of Rae’s past was another painful blow. “If that’s true, why didn’t he come after me personally? Why take Sophie?”

  “She was living with you when she went missing. He’d know how her disappearance would affect you.”

  She was silent for a moment. “I don’t believe it. It’s been too many years. Besides, Blaine wouldn’t do something like that. He’s always been a good guy.”

  “You said you hadn’t had any contact with him in years. People change. Or sometimes something happens to bring out their true nature.”

  “That’s a scary thought.”

  “People do scary things,” Tom said. “Is there anyone else you can think of who might have it in for you or your family?”

  “We’ve been in business for a long time. My dad and brother aren’t the easiest people to deal with. We’ve had our share of bitter competitors and disgruntled former employees, but I’m not aware of any physical threats. As for me personally, my opinion pieces for the Star have ruffled a few feathers. I don’t tend to pull punches.”

  “I’m well aware of that fact.”

  “Tom.” She suppressed a shiver. “Do you really think Sophie could have been taken because of me?”

  “Whatever the abductor’s motive, this isn’t your fault.”

  He stared deep into her eyes as something shifted between them. Any rancor that might have remained melted in the face of his compassion. Before Rae could stop herself, she placed her hand on his arm, unconsciously reaching for his warmth. “Find her, Tom. I can only imagine how frightened she must be. Please bring her home.”

  “I’ll do everything in my power. You know that.”

  She nodded and dropped her hand as her gaze traveled down the long drive, probing into the woods and then returning to skim the shadowy windows. Physical contact was inadvisable. Someone could be watching. From outside the house and from within.

  * * *

  RAE DIDN’T LEAVE the ranch again until late that night. After Tom drove away, she’d taken the money inside and locked it away in the safe. The housekeeper had made sandwiches and iced tea for a late lunch, but no one was hungry. The casserole she made for dinner went virtually untouched, as well. They sat huddled in her father’s office until the sun set over her mother’s rose garden and the bats came out of their houses. Rae stood at the French doors and watched them circle until they vanished against the deepening sky. One by one the stars twinkled out and the moon rose over the treetops. And still no word of Sophie. Still no phone call from the kidnappers.

  They were all scared and bone-deep weary. Rae wanted a shower and her own bed, but she was reluctant to leave her father alone on the ranch with all that cash. Not that he would be truly alone. The housekeeper had quarters off the kitchen and the ranch foreman lived on the property. The house was well secured and her father well armed, but if he was right and they were dealing with professional kidnappers, anything could happen.

  “Go home,” Jackson finally insisted. “You’re dead on your feet and no help to anyone. I’ll stay with Dad. I want to be here in case we get another call. Just let me run home and change clothes before you leave. Lauren can stay at our house in case anyone decides to call the landline there.”

  Lauren nodded her acquiescence and the two of them left. They were barely speaking by this time. Maybe it was a good thing they had another night apart.

  Jackson returned a little while late
r and Rae hugged her father good-night. All the way home, she kept an eye on the rearview mirror. Once, a car came upon her so quickly she became certain someone was trying to overtake her to force her off the road. She gripped the wheel as the car passed and sped off into the night. By the time she drove into town, her neck and shoulders ached from tension.

  Fueled by the strain and a pervasive dread, her imagination went to bad places. She’d never noticed before how dark the streets were in her neighborhood. The old-fashioned streetlamps were quaint but not effective in holding the night at bay. Everywhere she looked, she saw lurking shadows.

  Pulling into the garage, she lowered the door all the way before getting out of her car. Once inside the house, she turned the dead bolt. She rarely bothered with the security system, but she felt the need to activate the sensors tonight. After checking to make sure the garden doors were secured, she went straight upstairs to the shower and stood under the hot water until phantom sounds drove her dripping from the bathroom. Wrapping herself in a towel, she padded across her bedroom into the hallway, then to the staircase, where she glanced down into the foyer.

  No one’s there. You’re safe. Sophie was the one in danger.

  But even as Rae shrugged off the night sounds, uneasiness dogged her back to the bathroom. She couldn’t shake the sensation that someone had been inside her house while she was away. Finishing her bedtime routine, she opened the door to the hallway before crawling between the cool sheets. If a sound came from anywhere in the house, she would hear it.

  She didn’t think she’d be able to sleep a wink, but she grew drowsy the moment her head hit the pillow. She’d just dozed off when one of those sounds catapulted her upright in bed.

  No one could get into the house through a door or window without tripping the sensors and setting off the alarm. But what if someone had already been inside when she got home?

  Throwing off the covers, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and perched on the edge as she listened to the house. She’d almost convinced herself she’d dreamed the noise when she heard it again, so low and distant she couldn’t pinpoint the source or location. She padded to the hallway door and glanced out. She’d left a light burning at the top of the stairs. Keeping her back to the wall, she eased once again to the landing and glanced into the foyer. She started down the stairs when the noise froze her again. She recognized the muffled reverberation this time. It was the sound of a phone that had been set to both ring and vibrate.

  Returning to her bedroom, she grabbed her cell from the nightstand charger and checked her screen even though she knew the strange ringtone wasn’t hers. Then whose?

  Was someone in the house with her at that very moment?

  She pocketed the cell and returned to the hallway, tracking the sound past the guest bathroom and bedroom to Sophie’s room. Pushing open the door, she hovered on the threshold as she gazed around. Moonlight and a night breeze flooded in through the open window. Her pulse leaped as the curtains billowed. For a moment, she was certain someone stood behind them. Then the wind died away and the gauzy panels flattened. Only then did she remember closing the window the night before. It had been shut that morning when she stood looking down into the rose garden as Tom searched the room behind her.

  The ringing had stopped by this time. Rae checked the bathroom and closet and then dropped to the floor to search under the bed. Rising, she crossed the room to the window and peered down into the garden. Was someone down there watching her? A shadow moved and she jumped. A dog barked and she jumped.

  Hand to her heart, she turned to scan the room once more. Her gaze fell on the bed and she traced a faint impression in the chenille spread as if someone had been lying there recently. The idea was so frightening and repugnant, Rae wanted to run screaming from the house, but the sudden vzzzzt of that vibrating ringtone froze her.

  As if in a dream, she walked to the bed and picked up one of the pillows. Sophie’s image stared up at her from a cell phone screen. She was bound and gagged, her face bruised and tear-streaked. But she was alive. Or had been when the photo was taken.

  Reluctantly, Rae accepted the incoming call. “Hello?”

  A metallic voice said in her ear, “Call the police and she dies. Call the FBI and she dies. Come alone to the drop or you die.”

  Chapter Eight

  The next morning, Tom stood at the back of the conference room while Craig Jarvis updated the department’s active investigations on the whiteboard and handed out assignments to the assembled officers. He tried to concentrate on the business at hand, but his mind kept straying to the previous day’s events, in particular to the scene he’d witnessed at the ranch. The bitterness between Jackson and Lauren Cavanaugh had been palpable. He’d been shocked by the nastiness of Jackson’s attack and the underlying viciousness of Lauren’s volley. If they fought like that on a regular basis, no wonder their daughter had wanted to run away.

  He thought about Rae, too, and her revelation that she’d once been engaged to Blaine Fenton. Tom didn’t know how he felt about that. The relationship was ancient history and likely had nothing to do with Sophie’s disappearance. On the other hand, the bad blood between Fenton and the Cavanaughs provided a motive and Tom wasn’t about to leave any stone unturned. A cursory background check had turned up an interesting detail and Tom thought it might be time to pay Fenton a visit.

  After the officers had filed out of the room, he and Craig conferred for a few minutes and then went their separate ways. Back in his office, Tom scoured a county map, familiarizing himself with the terrain surrounding the Fenton ranch. Then he plugged the address into his GPS and headed out. The excursion took him deep into the swampy bottomland of Nance County. As the road narrowed, the pine forest grew denser until only streamers of sunlight filtered down through the bowers. The air was steamy and pungent, the shadows so deep on either side of the road that Tom could understand how the primitive landscape spawned tall tales of swamp creatures and black panthers.

  A metal cattle guard across a paved lane marked the entrance to the ranch. The one-story brick house was modest in comparison with the Cavanaugh spread, but the trim looked freshly painted and the roof appeared new. Despite the hardships the family had suffered, someone had recently infused money into the property.

  Tom got out of his vehicle and took stock of his surroundings before climbing the porch steps to knock on the door. When no one answered, he followed a footpath back to the barn. One of the double doors hung open and he thought Blaine Fenton might be working inside.

  Calling out the man’s name, he stepped from bright sunlight into the dim, cavernous interior. A barrage of scents greeted him—leather, hay and diesel mixed with the lingering aroma of horses. The animals were long gone, replaced with a small fleet of four-wheelers. Tom walked down the row of empty stalls, checked the tack room and was on his way back to the front when a furtive sound halted him. His gaze lifted as a few bits of hay floated down through the cracks in the loft.

  He went up the steps as quietly as he could, pausing at the top to reconnoiter. The space looked like any other barn loft he’d encountered with a wide-plank floor and overhead rafters. Some of the bales of hay had been broken apart and piled on the floor, creating a cozy mattress where someone had recently slept. An old blanket had been neatly folded and stored on a bench, along with a towel and a bucket of basic toiletries.

  The only occupant up there now was a fat yellow tabby that crouched at the top of the haystack, eyeing the intruder with sleepy-eyed suspicion. Tom had a quick look around before the hum of a four-wheeler drove him back down the steps. By the time he got to the front of the barn, the motor had died. A moment later, Blaine Fenton appeared in the doorway with a shotgun.

  Tom approached with caution, moving his hand to his side where he could draw his weapon if he needed to.

  “It’s Tom Brannon,” he called out.

  Fenton hesit
ated and then took a step inside, dropping the barrel of the shotgun toward the floor. “Sheriff? What the hell are you doing in here?”

  His tone wasn’t as cordial or deferential as he’d seemed in Tom’s office. Fair enough. He’d been caught by surprise. Tom tried to defuse the situation. “I need to have a word. I knocked at the house first, but no one answered. When I saw the barn door was open, I thought you might be back here working.” His gaze flicked to the shotgun. “Mind putting that away while we talk?”

  Fenton propped the weapon against the wall. “Sorry about that. I’m in the habit of arming myself before I go out. I don’t even think about having it with me anymore.”

  “You expecting trouble?”

  “In this part of the county? Damn right. We’re remote and lousy with meth heads. They’ll steal anything that isn’t nailed down. And they tend to get violent when confronted. I guess I don’t have to tell you that.”

  “Pays to be careful,” Tom agreed. “But if you’re that worried about thieves, I’d suggest locking up before you leave. Unless you’re expecting someone.” He chin-nodded toward the loft. “Looks like someone’s being staying up there. One of your ranch hands?”

  “Pop has a few regulars that come by now and then. He gives them a hot meal and a place to clean up and sleep.”

  “What do you mean by regulars?”

  “Not PC to call them hoboes anymore. Guys that ride the rails. They get on and off at the crossing by the river. Pop’s been letting them stay here for years. Harmless for the most part, but I’ve warned him about keeping the doors up at the house locked.”

  For the most part. He had Tom’s attention. “When was the last time someone came by?”

  “I’d say a couple of weeks at least.” Fenton appeared more relaxed now. Leaning a shoulder against the wall, he slid his hands in his pockets. “What did you want to talk to me about? I said everything I had to say when I came by the station.”