Shattered Secrets. Karen Harper
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it in their heads that Gabe should be proposing about now.
“Okay, Gabe, got it,” Ann said. “I’ll start making lots of coffee. I’ve got the urns here for the charity auction. You take care of yourself, for the possible victim, the community—and me.”
“Talk to you later. Let people wait inside if they show up early for the volunteer search.”
For the possible victim, the community—and me, she’d said. Now there was a motto for a reelection poster, but that was the least of his worries right now. How about adding For the first victim too—Tess Lockwood? When she heard about this would she be stoic or distraught? Would it trigger any memories? If only he could be there to comfort her when she eventually heard.
Damn. He spotted Mayor Owens hustling across the street toward the store, looking really steamed. Having him around was the last thing Gabe needed.
* * *
Tess slowed as she passed Dane Thompson’s house and vet clinic. She could see the fenced-in pet cemetery beyond the back lawn with its separate drive. Of course, the size of the cemetery had grown a lot from what she recalled. Once, before she was abducted, Char and Kate had taken her the entire length through the cornfield to read the tombstones—the names and quotes about the buried pets. There had been a few photos too, embedded into the marble monuments, but nothing like the electronic resurrection of pets Marva had mentioned.
Though she was trembling already, Tess shuddered at the memory of pictures of dead pets—some even after death, made to look natural, as if they were asleep. Or were they ones that had been stuffed and mounted by Dane’s taxidermist friend? Pushing thoughts of dead pets aside, Tess wondered if the kidnapper was getting so desperate that he took a child from a store in town? And if Marian Bell’s daughter was kidnapped only four months ago—she didn’t know any details of that abduction—the crimes were a lot closer together than hers and the second girl, Jill Stillwell’s, had been.
And why pick on one little town, one small, rural area? It had to be because the kidnapper knew it well, probably lived here. So, did he keep his victims nearby? Why didn’t he go to Chillicothe or Columbus, where there were more victims available and no one would recognize him? Her mother had said once that Gabe’s dad had tried to check for similar kidnappings, but no other statewide or nationwide crimes had the same circumstances. Now, this missing girl’s situation didn’t match the first two either.
Tess saw that the same huge cornfield that backed up to her house still ended behind the Thompson property. Like many of the large fields nearby, it was owned and farmed by a wealthy local man using huge, mechanical planters and reapers. That deep, dark cornfield abutting the Lockwood property was one reason Dane had been on the list of persons of interest when Tess was taken. That and the fact that people just plain considered him a bit weird. He’d never married, had stayed out of public life and, with his close friend, a taxidermist named John Hillman, had always been fascinated by dead animals. And for some reason she could not explain, Tess admitted she had an instinctive dislike and fear of this place.
She didn’t see the white van parked anywhere around, but she did see Marva raking leaves at the side of the house. Tess turned around at the next intersection and drove back. She wouldn’t go into the house, the clinic, of course, especially not the cemetery, but she could drive in and chat with Marva. Indirectly, she could learn if Dane was home or where he was. It would be something to help Gabe, because she could never help him in the way everyone thought and hoped she could—by remembering any details about what had happened to her.
Her heart hammered in her chest as she drove slowly up the paved driveway. She reached for the sack of donuts she had bought for Gracie and Lee and got out.
“Oh, Teresa—I mean Tess,” Marva called, obviously surprised to see her. She stopped raking. “Is this a return visit already, or do you have a pet who needs help? Dane’s not here right now—house calls at Lake Azure and someplace else.”
So Dane was out in his van somewhere while a new girl was missing. Gripping the sack in front of her, Tess walked closer. Dried leaves rustled under her feet. Did she remember this place? The farmhouse, the garage and clinic building? No, but she did recall being pulled through the pet gravestones here, didn’t she? Or was that the memory of when Dane yelled at her and her sisters and they fled? What a shock it would be if she’d spent the eight months of her captivity so close to home.
“You were just so kind to bring me that delicious coffee cake, and I saw these fresh-baked donuts in town, Marva. After all, we are neighbors of the same cornfield.”
“Why, yes, we are. I didn’t expect one thing back in kind, but I thank you.” She peeked in the bag. “Dane loves this kind, and coming from you, he’ll be extra pleased.”
“Why is that?” Tess asked, annoyed her voice quavered.
“Didn’t anyone tell you that some busybodies blamed him at first when you disappeared? This will mean to him that you certainly don’t believe that false drivel and slander. Why, he’s dedicated himself to protecting life, not harming anyone. Won’t you step inside?”
Tess shook her head and stepped back a bit. She considered telling Marva that another child was missing, just to see her reaction. She should probably agree to step into the house, even to wait to talk to Dane, but she was suddenly filled with the need to get out of here.
She’d have to tell Gabe what she’d done and learned. Marva was outside as if nothing had happened, but Dane was out somewhere—and with his van. Perhaps someone had spotted him uptown today. Maybe he’d have an alibi. Guilt and fear aside, Tess knew deep down she’d be best staying out of all this, for her own safety and sanity. So what was she doing here on the property of the man many suspected was the Cold Creek kidnapper?
“See you later, Marva!” Tess called as she got back in her car.
She turned down one country road and then another, just driving, thinking. Finally, she found herself stopping at the spot where a man in a pickup truck had seen her walking dazed along the road eight months after she’d disappeared. Eight months! And she couldn’t really recall one thing about her time away.
No cars were coming from either direction. Tess stopped and, sitting in her car with tears in her eyes, thanked the Lord for letting her be found in this very place—well, somewhere along here, Mom had said. And she prayed Sandy Kenton and the two other missing girls would be found safe and sound and soon.
“Is it true? Another girl gone?” Mayor Reese Owens shouted at Gabe as he ducked under the yellow police tape across the front door of the gift shop and exploded into the room. That’s the way Gabe always thought of the man’s entrances—explosions. Reese would have made a great national politician with his dramatic actions and shoot-from-the-hip comments.
“Sandy Kenton is missing—true,” Gabe told him, gesturing for Reese to keep his voice down. “But by the same kidnapper as the others, not sure yet because of the different M.O.” He put his hands on Reese’s shoulders and backed him up to keep him away from the Kentons, who were huddled together at the checkout desk. He didn’t want Reese lecturing Lindell that this was her fault. Reese loved to play the blame game.
“Yeah, well,” Reese said, not taking the hint to keep his voice down, “besides being desperate to get his hands on another one, maybe he wants to make a point about Teresa Lockwood coming back—like a warning to her to shut up or get out of here.”
“It’s been well publicized Tess—she goes by Tess now—has amnesia about her time away.”
“So? People get over amnesia. She’ll just draw media interviews—especially when this gets out, which it has. I already got a call from my wife and a Columbus TV station. I want publicity for the town, but not this again.”
Reese was out of breath, but he was also out of shape. At least eighty pounds too heavy, he was all swagger and stuffing. Years ago, Reese had married one of the richest women