Authors: Jodi Thomas
When they’d met the museum curator last Sunday when they’d been out walking, Polly had acted interested in the museum. Maybe she’d planned to go back to the cabin, but took the wrong turn.
Lauren shook her head. No matter how she turned she couldn’t miss the lake or the lights along the edges.
Maybe Polly had twisted an ankle and stopped somewhere.
Lauren waited. With each minute, trouble seemed closer.
A car pulled up a few feet farther down the road from their drive. She recognized Wilkes Wagner’s Tahoe as he folded out of the driver’s seat. “Evening, Lauren. Any chance your father’s home?”
“He’s out looking for my roommate. She went for a walk and, uh, got lost,” Lauren explained as she walked toward Wilkes. “You can reach him on his cell.”
Wilkes frowned. “I forgot mine. Could you call him? I have an emergency here.”
Lauren hit her Pop’s number and handed over her phone. She thought of telling him that they were already dealing with an emergency, but losing Polly might not seem as much of a problem. After all, Polly wasn’t a lost child, and the lake wasn’t a dangerous place.
“Dan,” Wilkes said into the cell, his voice loud enough to carry around the lake. “Someone broke into Angie’s house. Ransacked the whole place. I don’t know who was there at the time, but no one is there now, and there’s fresh blood pooled in a few places on the porch. From the looks of it, there was a struggle right at the door.”
Wilkes looked concerned, but he didn’t seem to be panicking. Lauren leaned closer.
Wilkes listened, then answered, “Angie’s fine. I called from her cabin, and she’s still at the museum. Thank God she was running late. I told her to stay at her office until I can get there.” He listened again and added, “I’ll meet you at the cabin first.”
He listened again, then added, “I agree. If it was just a robbery, there shouldn’t have been blood.”
Wilkes handed back the phone. “The sheriff said for you to round up your friends and get inside as soon as you find Polly.”
The tall cowboy didn’t wait around to answer questions.
A crime scene at the lake made no sense, Lauren thought. There had to be an explanation. Maybe a bobcat came down along the canyon. Maybe he killed a cat or dog. Maybe a burglar cut himself trying to break in, but in all the years she’d lived here she’d never heard of a crime happening here.
She looked out over the lake and saw the two tiny beams from the flashlights meeting on the other side. Tim and Reid had made it halfway around the lake and neither had called in.
Where was Polly?
Lauren could sit and wait no longer. She had to move. Take action. Help.
With everyone searching the lake, the only place for Lauren to look was the road toward town. Maybe Polly decided to walk into Crossroads.
It didn’t make sense, but then Polly didn’t always make sense.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Angie
B
Y
THE
TIME
Wilkes picked her up at the museum, Angie was near panic. Not only had someone broken into her cabin, he’d apparently hurt himself. She didn’t know whether to be mad or feel sorry for the criminal.
Angie laced her fingers and tried to hold them still in her lap. Wilkes was talking to her as he drove, but she kept asking him to repeat every detail he knew. The burglar had tried breaking the window first, but he couldn’t make a big enough opening to climb in, so he kicked down the door. It took him several tries. Wilkes described a half-dozen dents in the door.
“Dan Brigman has called in backup from Bailee,” Wilkes said for the third time. “He told me to take my time picking you up so they can check out the crime scene. Want to stop for a malt?”
“No.” She sounded frustrated.
“Why not?” he asked.
“My house is a crime scene!” Angie closed her eyes. “How can you think of eating or drinking?”
“I worked through lunch imagining how we’d be ordering appetizers at a fancy restaurant about this time. Now I know you’re okay, I’m hungry.” He grinned. “Think about it, honey, what is some burglar going to steal? Your quilts? Your fishing gear? Your food? He must have had the wrong cabin. Once we board the place up, we go eat.”
“Right,” she said. “I’m sorry about the date. Are you starting to think that maybe we weren’t meant to go out? This is the third time we’ve tried.”
“No,” he answered. “The night’s not over, Angie. It just got off to a bad start. Even if we drop by Dorothy’s when this is over, at least we’ll be alone and have something to talk about.” He hesitated, then admitted, “I want this time between us more than I’ve wanted anything in a long time.”
Wilkes circled around town. When he stopped at the only light, he covered her hands. “It’s going to be all right, Angie. I’m right here with you. And before you start arguing, I’m telling you right now, you’re sleeping at my place tonight.”
“No argument.” She almost wished he was inviting her for other reasons and not just because she was in danger. Lifting her chin she forced herself to think logically and not start dreaming of what-ifs.
“Was Doc Holliday at the cabin?”
“I didn’t see him, but you know how he hides. Besides, someone wouldn’t kick the door in to get Doc.”
“They might. I don’t have anything of value. Surely they could look in and see that there was nothing worth stealing.”
Wilkes agreed with her but that didn’t seem to calm her down.
When they got to the cabin, four lawmen were trying to figure out what had happened.
“Anything missing?” the sheriff asked as she looked at piles of broken dishes and mounds of clothes that had been pulled from the closet. “Whoever did this was looking for something. Every drawer and shelf has been swept clean. Even every cup was pulled down from the rack and dropped on the floor.”
The place looked just like her parents’ little house had a few months ago in Florida. Nothing taken but everything pulled apart.
Angie didn’t care about the clothes or the dishes. She walked directly to her bed and coaxed her cat out. “Doc Holliday must have seen it all,” she said. “Too bad he can’t talk.”
She handed the cat to Wilkes and walked around making sure her mother’s quilts were all there and that nothing from her father’s fishing box, now spilled across the floor, had been taken. The whole scene felt unreal. Someone had pulled the sheets from the bed, and the flipped mattress was sideways, but on her nightstand a book and her pearl earrings were left untouched.
One by one she moved through all her things. Some were broken or bent or wrinkled, but as near as she could tell, everything was there.
Dan took a call, then stepped back into the cabin. “Polly, my daughter’s friend, is still missing. She went for a walk about an hour ago. I’m sure she’s fine, just doesn’t know her way around out here.”
One of the deputies from Bailee asked, “What does she look like?”
Dan stared at Angie. “She’s about Angie’s height. Last time my daughter saw her, she was wearing a sweatshirt and baggy jogging pants. Navy blue.” Dan looked straight at Angie. “When I saw her out walking last week, I thought she was you for a moment. One curl of her dyed red hair was sticking out of her hood.”
Everyone in the room was silent. They all seemed to come to the same conclusion. Polly might have been kidnapped. Whoever had taken her must have thought she was Angie.
“Impossible,” Angie whispered, but deep in her gut she knew it could be true.
Dan moved into action. He hit one number and got the county dispatcher who handled all emergency calls for thirty miles around. “We may have a real emergency, Delynn. Get this down fast. A missing girl, about eighteen, small build, wearing dark sweatpants and a hoodie. May be injured or abducted. Last seen near my house. Call the volunteer fire department. Tell them to knock on every house at the lake. Ask if anyone has seen anything. Have the homeowners search their property and those who aren’t able, have the volunteers look.”
He was silent for a minute, then shouted, “No, Delynn, this is not a joke. Her name is Polly Peirce. She’s been missing over an hour.”
He turned to one of the Bailee deputies. “Set up a roadblock at the top of the hill. It may be too late, but I want to know everyone and every car going in or out tonight.”
Angie fought back tears. “If Polly was taken, what will happen when they find out she’s not me?”
No one answered her question.
Finally, Wilkes put his arm around her. “No one knows about the girl yet, Angie. She could just be sleeping in one of the picnic areas. There are a dozen trails around the lake where she might have headed up before dark and then not known how to get back.
“Right now, I’ve got to get you somewhere safe. If someone did take Polly thinking she was you, when he figures out Polly is not the woman he came after, he might head this direction.”
“I’ll call the FBI and let them know their investigation might not be as over as they think it is,” said Dan.
“This is how my house in Florida looked the night before I left,” Angie whispered. “Someone is still looking for me and I have no idea why.” All the reasoning that the things that had happened to her could be a mistake vanished. She was being hunted.
The sheriff nodded at Wilkes. “I’ve got my hands full here, can you keep her out of harm’s way?”
“It’s done. I’m taking the back road to my place now. Within thirty minutes there will be an armed guard at every gate into my place.”
She couldn’t breathe. Not only was she in danger, someone might have been hurt because of her. The world started to spin.
She was barely aware of Wilkes picking her up as if she were a little kid and carrying her out into the night air. “There is nothing we can do here. You’re coming home with me.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Lauren
A
S
L
AUREN
JOGGED
along the road to town, she heard a fire truck siren.
She moved off the road not wanting to attract any attention. A moment later the volunteer fire truck raced past her heading toward the lake.
She thought of turning back, but she was only a few minutes from town. Polly might be at the mini-mart buying the root beer she’d been craving earlier, or she might have walked a few blocks for a malt. Three people were looking for Polly at the lake. Lauren’s best chance at being helpful was to search in town.
Lauren walked in a soft carpet of leaves as she approached the lights of Crossroads.
Polly had said she didn’t want to be at the party. She must have been upset when Reid showed up. What if she decided to walk into town and hitchhike back to Lubbock? That sounded like something she’d do.
Lauren saw the old Gypsy House in the distance. She weaved among the trees not wanting to get too close to the house, and hoping to stay far enough away to not be seen by passing cars.
Ever since that horrible night, the place gave her the creeps. Lauren didn’t believe in ghosts, but the house seemed to moan into the night. She refused to look toward the house and found herself tiptoeing as if the house might hear her passing.
“This is as good a place as any to stop.” An angry voice came from the direction of the house.
Lauren froze. All the stories of ghosts and devil worshippers she’d heard filled her head. Slowly, she turned her head in the direction of the Gypsy House.
“Damn it, woman, be still.” The voice came again. Ten, maybe fifteen feet away.
Lauren moved between the trees, inching closer in the midnight darkness.
A man, not the house, was talking, she reminded herself. He must have parked behind the old house so no traffic would see him from the road. She watched as he pulled someone out of the trunk of his car.
The man was big, but the other person was small, a woman. From the way the woman moved awkwardly, Lauren knew that her hands were tied in front of her.
Lauren heard a slap. Then another, harder. The woman’s head fell first one way and then the other.
“That should sharpen your memory, girl.” The man raised his hand again. “You want a few more? We can do this all night.”
The woman shook her head, and Lauren thought she heard the word
no
blend with the wind in the trees.
The man pulled the woman’s body up as if straightening a mannequin.
“That’s better. If you pass out on me again, I’ll leave you in the trunk for the night.” He batted at her face as if teasing a wounded animal. “Tell me where it is, Angela, or I swear you’ll end up just like your father did.”
Lauren inched closer as a slice of moonlight broke through the clouds.
The sight she saw made her shake and she held in a gasp. The man was holding the woman by the front of her shirt. When she didn’t answer, he slapped her again and then shook her. “Talk!” he ordered. “Or I swear more than your nose will be bleeding.”
The girl didn’t say a word. Her body swayed like a rag doll in the man’s grip.
Lauren knew she shouldn’t be watching this, but she couldn’t move. She’d seen the blue sweatshirt. The dark hair tipped with red was all too familiar.
“Stop acting like you’ve fainted,” the man roared as he grabbed his victim’s arm and twisted it above her head.
The woman’s cry was quickly silenced by a fist slamming against her jaw.
When the woman’s body went limp, he began shaking her violently as if he could wake her up. For a blink the hood slipped.
“Polly.”
Lauren wasn’t aware she’d said the name out loud, but all at once, the man looked around.
“Who’s out there?” He shoved a limp Polly toward the car’s trunk and took a few steps into the trees.
The moment he loosened his grip on her, Polly seemed to come alive. She jerked away and tumbled against the open door of the trunk.
Lauren panicked. If she answered, she’d be caught like Polly. If she ran, she’d be leaving her friend.
The man took another step trying to see into the shadows.
From behind him, Polly rose with something in her hands.
Lauren opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out as Polly swung what looked like a bat through the air.