Chapter Ten

Tuesday, January 30, 3:45 p.m.

Bailey.” Beardsley’s voice was muffled. “Bailey, are you there?”

Bailey opened one eye, then closed it again when the room spun wildly. “I’m here.”

“Are you all right?”

A sob tore free. “No.”

“What did he do to you?”

“Injection,” she said, trying not to let her teeth chatter. She was shaking so hard she thought her bones would pop out of her skin. “Smack.”

There was silence, then a muted “Dear God.”

He knew then, she thought. “I worked so hard to kick it… the first time.”

“I know. Wade told me. You’ll get out of here and you’ll kick it again.”

No, Bailey thought. I’m too tired to go through that again.

“Bailey?” Beardsley’s whisper was urgent. “You still with me? I need to keep your mind clear. I may have a way out of here. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” But she knew it was useless. I’ll never leave. Five years she’d fought the demons every day. Feed me, feed me. Just a taste to get you going. But she’d resisted. For Hope. For herself. And with one push of a syringe, he’d destroyed it all.

Tuesday, January 30, 3:45 p.m.

The phone on his desk was ringing. He ignored it, staring at the newest letter. Of course I’m the one he calls. This was worse than he’d ever thought possible.

The phone on his desk stilled and his cell phone immediately began to trill. Furious, he grabbed it. “What,” he snarled. “What the hell do you want?”

“I got another one.” He was breathless, terrified.

“I know.”

“They want a hundred grand. I don’t have that much. You have to loan it to me.”

The photocopied page had come with instructions on how to deposit the funds. It was crunched by his own hands, his knee-jerk reaction at what seemed like an innocent page of pictures, but in reality was obscene. “What else did you get?”

“A page with yearbook pictures. Janet’s and Claudia’s. Did you get one?”

“Yeah.” A page of photos cut from their yearbook and pasted in alphabetical order. Ten girls in all. With Xs through Janet’s and Claudia’s faces. “Kate’s picture’s there,” he said hoarsely. My baby sister.

“I know. What am I going to do?”

What am I going to do. That phrase summed up Rhett Porter. For God’s sake, Kate’s picture was on that page and Rhett was only worried about himself. Selfish, whiny little prick. “Did you get anything else?” he asked.

“No. Why?” Panic hitched Rhett’s voice up a half octave. “What else did you get?”

As if Kate’s picture weren’t enough. “Nothing.” But he couldn’t keep the contempt from his voice.

“Dammit, tell me.” Rhett was sobbing now.

“Don’t call me anymore.” He flipped his phone shut. Immediately it began to trill again. He turned it off, then threw it as hard as could against the wall.

He pulled an old ashtray from his desk drawer. Nobody was allowed to smoke in his office anymore, but the ashtray had been a Father’s Day present from his son, made clumsily by five-year-old hands. It was a treasure he’d never throw away. His family was everything. They must be protected, at all costs. They could never know.

You’re a coward. You have to say something. You have to warn these women.

But he wouldn’t. Because if he warned them, he’d have to tell how he knew and he wasn’t willing to do that. He flicked his lighter and touched the flame to the corner of the photocopy. It burned slowly, curling on itself until he could no longer see the picture of his own sister, circled for emphasis. Kate had graduated the same year as Janet Bowie and Claudia Silva Barnes. The threat was clear. Pay up or Kate would be next.

The last picture to burn was the eleventh, the one only his paper apparently had. He stared as Rhett Porter’s face melted, then burned to ash.

Rhett. You dumb fuck. You’re a dead man because you couldn’t keep your damn mouth shut. When the photocopy was fully burned, he dumped the ashes in the coffee he’d left untouched from the morning. He stood up, smoothed his tie.

I, on the other hand, can be taught. He carefully folded the instructions for the required bank deposit and slipped them into his wallet. He knew a guy who could do a bank transfer and keep his mouth shut. He wiped the dust from the ashtray with a tissue, then carefully placed the ashtray back in his drawer. He had to get to the bank.

Dutton, Tuesday, January 30, 5:45 p.m.

Oh, God. Alex. Daniel’s heart started to race as pulled into the street to Bailey Crighton’s house. An ambulance was parked on the curb, its lights flashing.

He ran to the ambulance. Alex sat inside in the back, her head between her knees.

He forced his voice to be calm even though his heart was stuck in his throat. “Hey.”

She looked up, pale. “It’s just a house,” she hissed. “Why can’t I get over this?”

“What happened?”

The paramedic appeared from the other side of the rig. “She had a garden-variety panic attack,” he said, condescension in his tone. Alex’s chin shot up and she glared. But she said nothing and the paramedic made no apology.

Daniel put his arm around her. “What exactly happened, honey?” he murmured, glancing at the paramedic’s badge. P. Bledsoe. He vaguely recalled the family.

Alex leaned against him. “I tried to go in. I got to the front porch and I got sick.”

Bledsoe shrugged. “We checked her out. She had a slightly elevated BP, but nothing out of range. Maybe she just needs some tranquilizers.” He said it with sarcasm and it wasn’t until Alex stiffened that Daniel understood what the man had meant.

Sonofabitch. Daniel stood, fury hazing the edges of his vision. “Excuse me?”

Alex grabbed his jacket between her fingertips. “Daniel, please.”

But there was shame in her voice and his temper blew. “No. That was inexcusable.”

Bledsoe blinked innocently. “I was just suggesting that Miss Tremaine calm down.”

Daniel’s eyes narrowed. “Like hell you were. Plan on filling out about fifty forms, buddy, because your supervisor’s going to hear about this.”

The color rose in Bledsoe’s cheeks. “I really didn’t mean any harm.”

“Tell it to your supervisor.” Daniel lifted Alex’s chin. “Can you walk?”

She looked away. “Yeah.”

“Then let’s go. You can sit in my car.” She was quiet until they got to his car. He opened the front passenger door, but she pulled back when he tried to guide her in.

“You shouldn’t have said anything. I don’t need to make more enemies in this town.”

“Nobody should talk to you like that, Alex.”

Her mouth twisted. “Don’t you think I know that? Don’t you think it’s humiliating enough that I can’t even walk into that place?” Her voice became cool. “But what he intimated is true. I did swallow a bottleful of tranquilizers and nearly offed myself.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Of course it’s not the point. The point is that I need the people in this town until I find out what happened to Bailey. Long term, I don’t care. It’s not like I plan to live here.”

Daniel blinked, for the first time considering that at some point she’d return to the life she’d dropped so abruptly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think about it that way.”

Her shoulders sagged, the cool façade vanishing. “And I’m sorry. You were trying to help. Let’s just forget it.” She bent to get into his car and her face relaxed. “Riley.”

Riley sat behind the wheel, alert and sniffing. “He likes the car,” Daniel said.

“I can see that. Hey, Riley.” Scratching Riley’s ears, she looked through the driver’s window to Bailey’s house. “A grown woman shouldn’t be afraid of a house.”

“You want to try again?” Daniel asked.

“Yes.” She backed out of the car and Riley stepped over the gearshift, following her to the passenger seat. Her expression was severe. “Don’t let me run. Make me go in.”