Deadly Dozen: 12 Mysteries/Thrillers (142 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

“IT STARTED WHEN I turned twelve. My mother died and Hank lost it. He’s such a pig. I think he killed her, but that’s another story.”

So she was his … daughter?

“He gave me everything—I even had a frickin’ pony, just like in the movies. That was our life—parties, people always over, and then night after night of terror. He turned into a different person, mean and jumpy. He would get angry at the drop of a hat. I hated him, wanted to kill him, but I was scared.”

“Did you tell anyone?” Joshua asked.

“Yeah, my uncle Glen, but he did nothing. Said I was imagining things. That I was stressed because of my mother’s death. He said that if I told anyone my lies, I would lose everything. But a few nights after I told him what Hank was doing, he came into the room and … watched.”

“I’m
so
sorry, Heather.” I meant that with every fiber of my being.

Her eyes filled with tears and they spilled down her pale cheeks. I didn’t think she had seen kindness in a very long time and my heart broke for her. “I was Hannah back then. I made it to my eighteenth birthday and then I moved in with my boyfriend. I worked at Hank’s office every Saturday, filing papers. They paid me crap for wages. We did the best we could with the few pennies we had to rub together, but I had to pull from the money I’d saved for college. My guy left me a year later when the money ran out. Quitting work was the first thing I did after he left.”

“Did your dad look for you or try to find you?”

“No, that was the strange part. He just let me go, didn’t say a word. No police report, nothing. I was so sure he was going to bring me to his house again. I was going to run. I was too scared to talk to the cops. Hank would kill me—I knew he would. I started to imagine killing him, but even in my dreams, he was there with his stun gun.”

My heart jumped at the familiar weapon. So Heather had seen the end of one too.

“But I didn’t run—I was too chicken to face the unfamiliar. Glen told me he’d give me a stipend every month. I was using, and was in debt with some bad people. I needed the money and so I took it. And I was so scared that one day Hank would attack me again. But he traveled so much that I never saw him. Glen always went everywhere with him, but stayed in the shadows like a vampire. He’s so weird. And it was weird to see them together.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Well, it’s always weird to see identical people walking side by side.”

What the heck was she talking about?

Heather riffled through some magazines in a bookshelf and then took out a photo album. She flipped through the pages until she landed on what she wanted and handed it to me. My eyes widened in surprise. This case was getting stranger by the minute.

The picture was of a small family in front of a huge mansion. A young Heather stood in front of a squinty-eyed woman, who stood beside Hank, who stood beside a man who looked exactly the same as he did. Same shape of face, same build, same smile, same facial hair.

“Twins? Hank and Glen are twins?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

MY HEART BEAT IN my ears. They were identical twins, and in this picture I could not tell who was who.

“Yes, twins. But Glen was the quiet one, stayed in the background, never was one for the public eye. I don’t think he’s even publicly listed, so he can do whatever the heck he wants. He’s the one I thought I could trust, but we see how that worked out.”

My mind raced with the possibilities. Could Hank have switched places with Glen? Joshua leaned over and took the picture out of the album.

“Can we take this?”

“Sure. When I look at him, I see my father—I mean Hank. They’re different sides of the same coin.”

“Where is your uncle now?” I asked.

“Who knows? He’s never around. He lives in Hong Kong most of the time. And when he’s here, he doesn’t go out in public. I don’t think the things he does overseas are good.” Her eyes darkened. “Or decent. I heard him and Hank laughing about it once.”

The pieces were beginning to fall into place, but I still felt like something was missing.
Why did he let his daughter leave without a word? And why isn’t Hannah in this family photo?

“I feel like you’re not telling me something—how did you end up here?”

Heather began to cry. I pulled her to me and held her as she wept. I tried not to care when she got tears and snot on my jacket sleeve. I held out my hand and gave Joshua a fierce look, and with a sigh he handed over his handkerchief. She blew her nose in it. After a time Heather calmed down and looked up at me. I could see the little girl in her eyes, so innocent and vulnerable, the girl she was before her father ruined her forever.

“I was getting back on my feet. I had a good job at Macy’s and I was going to stop using the stipend. I was even going to buy a little house. But then I got a letter.”

I waited for her to keep going. I felt for her—I could see her healthy, strong, and rising above all the hell of her past. I could see myself in her hollow expression.

“It was from no one, no return address, nothing. Just a note that said that I was not Hannah Williams—I was Heather Dade.”

“What do you mean? What happened to you, Heather?”

Through her sobs, she said, “I had been kidnapped!”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

“WHAT? KIDNAPPED?” I EXCHANGED a look with Joshua. This story was getting too fantastic, and a sliver of doubt went through my mind.

“I was taken when I was three. Hank Williams is not my real father, and my mother is not even my real mother! That bastard took me and killed my real parents and then raped me when I turned twelve!”

“Slow down. What do you mean, he killed your parents?”

“After I got the letter, I started looking up everything I could find on the name Dade. I became obsessed. I found this old report of a missing girl, three years old, up in Washington. They never found her and the parents died a year later in a boating accident. I think Hank killed them.” Heather sucked in a heavy breath and blew her nose again.

“They died, and I have no other family. My grandparents are dead, they were both only children, and I’m the last. Once I discovered the truth, I was so sick that I lost it. A month later I was admitted to a mental ward in Boise and they got me hooked on drugs. The place just kept its patients under, medicated, and once I got out, I tried to tell the police. But it was my word against theirs. I don’t think I told the story well. They have money, power. And I have nothing but a broken mind.”

I put my hand on her shoulder. “You have more than that. Blood can’t lie. You could have a DNA test done to prove who you are.”

“Then what? I was under a different name, I looked different, and all he has to do is claim that he never knew who I was, that I was just a crazy person who wanted money for drugs.”

I shook my head and said, “But you have this picture. You aren’t gone.”

“Oh, but I am. I’ve been replaced. The Hannah Williams at Williams, Inc. is my stand-in. You think they want the press asking questions about where his daughter went, why I’m not involved in the family business? She works for him—she’s the one in charge whenever Hank is away. Who do you think is running things now?”

I blew out a low whistle, trying to digest it all. If it was true, everything Hannah told me earlier today was hot air. She was in on it all. She wasn’t even Hannah Williams, and the plot was much more sinister. “Wow. I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t say anything,” she said with a hiccup. “If you do, you’ll end up like me, or worse. He doesn’t fight fair. My advice? Forget about him and pretend you never knew who Hank Williams was!”

This was much deeper than I’d ever thought. Tracy Mulligan wasn’t the first. He’d had a life of crime, but had only been caught once. And now the psychopath was walking free.

“Heather,” I said, leaning forward. “Will you testify against Hank? With your testimony and our evidence, we would be able to put him away.”

She trembled and shook her head so hard that her hair whipped around her shoulders. “N—no,” she stuttered. “I can’t. I’d be dead before I ever reached the stand. You don't know how powerful he is, Sarah!” Terror choked her voice. “His hands are everywhere. It seems like he’s paid off someone on every level.”

Was she just paranoid, or was there some truth behind her words? My mind raced through the possibilities. There were some big players involved with Williams, Inc. If what she was saying was true, what would that mean for Boise, for everyone involved in the process—senators and politicians?

“That’s exactly why you need to tell your story,” I said, touching her arm. “He must be stopped.”

She set her lips and her face closed down, as if a mask had fallen over her features. Taking the handkerchief, she handed it to Joshua, who mumbled, “Keep it.”

“I think you should leave now,” she said.

“But, Heather—”

“Leave!”
she shouted.

I stood and followed Joshua toward the door. Before I left, I looked back. “Pedophiles don’t rehabilitate,” I said. “This is going to happen again. If you testify, you may save another little girl from your fate.” I set my card on her table. “If you change your mind, give me a call. We’ll protect you.”

She looked up at me, eyes scared. “No one can be protected from Hank Williams. No one.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

“GLEN IS THE ONE who kidnapped me.” I glanced over at Joshua, who drove with one hand on the wheel.

“I thought you didn’t recognize any of the men,” he said with a frown.

“I never said that—you just assumed. I saw Hank Williams there and didn’t tell anyone because it was too crazy.”

Silence rested between us.

“Nothing’s too crazy,” I said.

He nodded. “So I'm learning. You know you can’t stay at your apartment,” he said.

“I know. Drop me off so I can pack a bag and then we’ll head to the office to process everything.”

The first thing I did when I got inside was to go over to the drawer in my bedroom and take out my gun. I didn’t load it, but I put a bullet in my pocket.

In the quiet of my home, I took a moment. Joshua could wait a little longer. I kicked off my shoes, flopped onto the couch, and covered my eyes with my arm. The cool room felt good. I could hear the clock on the wall ticking. In the kitchen, the fridge hummed and the dishwasher beeped, letting me know it was done. I was home.

One more thing Hank Williams was taking from me.

This case was getting deeper than I ever thought. And I was afraid I would drown in it.

Heather’s face flashed in my mind. That’s what he did to people—destroyed them from the outside in so they’d hate themselves. Was that who Tracy Mulligan would’ve become if she’d survived?

My phone vibrated. I grabbed my purse, fumbling through it with my eyes still closed. I pushed the talk button.

“Hello.”

I waited. The other end was just static and some faint background noise.

“Hello?” I could hear the other person breathing slow and steady and I thought maybe they pocket dialed me.