He hustled Jenna into the coffee shop, where the smell of brewing coffee wafted through the patrons. Over the whistle of the espresso machine and the notes of Christmas carols drifting from hidden speakers, conversation buzzed.
As predicted, Rinda, seated at a tall table and sprinkling cinnamon onto the foam of her latte with one hand while pressing her cell phone to her ear with the other, took one look at Carter, scowled, and aimed with both barrels. “Geez, Shane,” she said, snapping her cell phone off while setting down the glass shaker so hard that cinnamon puffed up in a fragrant, rust-colored cloud. She didn’t seem to notice. “You’re the last person I expected to see tonight. Shouldn’t you be out busting crime or at least persecuting innocent taxpayers?”
He grinned and tried to deflect. “Thought I’d take a break.”
“Give me a break.”
“Give me one, Rinda, okay? I’m just doing my job, and tonight it’s not about you or me or Wes or Scott. It’s about the women who are missing.”
She wanted to say more—he could see it in the flare of her nostrils, the pinched corners of her lips, the angry glare she bestowed upon him—but decided to avoid a scene. At least for the few minutes before the service, she held her tongue and there was an uneasy peace, one he couldn’t think about for too long as he was watching the throng of people that had gathered in the coffee shop and spilled onto the street. He recognized many of the faces, though some were foreign to him—strangers. He stayed close to Jenna, his arm brushing hers, the scent of her perfume reaching his nostrils as he watched each and every person who filed toward the First Methodist Church.
Cassie checked her watch. Time to meet Josh. He’d called and said he’d be waiting on the other side of the fence. In the woods. Where they’d met before. There was an old logging road that abutted the property.
But she had to shake the bodyguard. Turnquist was more sticky than ever, though all her talk about “female problems” had been a brilliant stroke of genius and he’d left her alone in her room, staying downstairs with Allie.
Her attempts at making it look as if she was in the bed, lumpy pillows with a bit of doll’s hair visible, were lame, but might work if she wasn’t gone too long.
So…now…if she could just sneak out through her mother’s bedroom and shimmy down the smooth wooden pole that supported the hot tub and deck, she’d have it made. She’d put extra clothes in a backpack and slipped through the rooms upstairs, her ears cued into any sounds out of the ordinary.
Assured that the big lug of a bodyguard wasn’t climbing the stairs, she darted out the door to the deck, closed it softly, and eased her way down the pole.
She ignored the part of her mind that accused her of being nuts, the part that reminded her that women were being abducted left and right, the part that mentioned the weirdo notes and icky finger her mother had received.
All it proved was that the house wasn’t safe. Not even with Jake Turnquist, the ridiculous excuse for a bodyguard.
She slipped on her boots, hung close to the house, careful to duck beneath the windows, then sprinted across the breezeway and around the garage. She hazarded one last look over her shoulder and nearly tripped when she saw Allie standing in the window of Cassie’s room.
What? No way!
Cassie looked up at the house again, but this time Allie’s image was gone—almost as if what she’d seen had been a damned ghost. Pull yourself together, she thought, and zipping her coat to her neck, she dashed beneath the windmill and behind the barn, her boots slipping and leaving tracks that she hoped the snow would cover.
The air was so cold it burned her lungs, the wind wailing down the gorge and forcing the snow-laden branches of the fir trees to dance and sway.
This is stupid, she realized. It was too damned cold to be out here, too scary with the nutcase of an abductor on the loose, a royal pain in the butt. She’d meet Josh and tell him she’d changed her mind. No party was worth all the hassle. And then there was her mom. As mad as Cassie was with her, she couldn’t risk scaring her out of her mind. If Jenna found Cassie gone, not only would Cassie be grounded for life, but Jenna would be frightened and the woman was already losing it. No…it wasn’t worth it. And besides, truth to tell, Josh was boring her these days, but then, what wasn’t?
Head ducked against the brutal wind, she made her way along the fence line, found the usual spot, and hoisted her backpack over the top rail. It hit the soft snow and was nearly buried. She climbed over, jumped to the ground, and grabbed the pack by its strap.
“Josh,” she whispered. “Are you here?”
She heard nothing, glanced a
t her watch again, and silently damned the big jerk if he was running late or had stood her up. She flipped open her cell phone, dialed his number, and waited as voice mail picked up. “Damn it, Josh, don’t do this.” When it came time to record, she said, “I’m here where I’m supposed to be. I’ll wait five minutes and if you don’t show up, then I’m going back home. This is insane anyway. It’s freezing out here.” She clicked the phone shut and eased into the surrounding woods where she wouldn’t be seen by Allie.
She wasn’t looking out the window. That was your guilty imagination working double time.
The wind whistled wildly. Eerily. Cassie ducked behind one tree, reached into her backpack, and after tearing off one glove with her teeth, fumbled through the pockets until she found her cigarettes and a lighter. She lit up with trembling fingers, then shouldered the pack and walked toward the logging road. Maybe Josh was waiting for her in the warmth of the truck. He probably had his music on so loud he couldn’t hear his damned phone ring.
But that didn’t seem right. He was never without his phone. Always answered. “First time for everything,” she thought, and spied a flash of light through the curtain of snow. She drew hard on her cigarette and stared, saw the flash again. Headlights! He was waiting for her. Well, the idiot. He was going to get a piece of her mind! She marched through the trees, heard the music from his CD player, saw him sitting behind the wheel.
The son of a bitch wasn’t even going to get out of the truck to greet her. “Hey! I’ve been waiting over there where we were supposed to meet!” she said, but he didn’t move, didn’t act as if he could even see her. That was it. She had to break up with him. She’d thought someone was better than no one, but she’d been wrong.
“Cassie!”
She froze, turned toward the sound.
“Cassie!” Allie’s voice rang through the trees.
What was the kid thinking? This was a nightmare. She had to turn back. Tossing her cigarette into the snow, she walked to the passenger door of the pickup and yanked it open. “Look, I can’t do this,” she said, before she really looked at Josh. He still didn’t turn in her direction. “Josh, did you hear me? I’ve got to go back to…”