Silent Night Sanctuary. Rita Herron
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her that night to her awful fate. She’d forgive everything if it meant having Ruby back, safe and sound.
Chapter Four
Gage looked at the names he’d written down. Dr. Donnie Burkham, the man whose son was bruised, and Carmel Foster, the woman whose daughter had run away.
He’d visit them after he canvassed the neighborhood and stopped by the police station to see just how hard Driscill had searched for Ruby. And to find out if there were any registered sex offenders in the area.
He had to consider all possibilities.
Since it was Saturday, he found most of the ten residents on Leah’s street at home. Many of the homeowners were older, empty nesters, and three of the houses were rentals. A Hispanic family occupied one, and a Russian woman with three small children who’d just moved to the area and spoke very little English was renting another one.
The last rental house was empty. The yard was overgrown, the house shrouded in trees. The trash can in back was full, overflowing with pizza boxes and beer cans.
The house backed up to Leah’s property Had someone lived there recently or moved out in a hurry?
He jotted down the rental agency. He’d find out who owned the house, who the last renter was and when he moved out. And whether Driscill had bothered to check it out.
He drove into town, passing the Christmas tree lot sponsored by the local Boy Scout troop, noting the sparkling Christmas lights and decorations in the square. The carriage rides offered a quaint tour, past the stores alight with candles and promises of last-minute holiday gift ideas, and carolers serenading children beside the coffee-house.
On the edge of town, he parked in the gravel lot at the police station, a small, weathered stone building, nearly overrun by untended bushes. Yanking his collar up to ward off the blustery wind, he strode to the door. Brittle grass and pebbles crunched beneath his boots, tree branches swaying violently over his head.
When he opened the door, the scent of strong coffee and stale pastries hit him. He spotted a medium-size paneled room with three desks, one for a receptionist. The other two he assumed were shared by officers.
A pudgy woman with slightly pink hair teased into a bird’s nest on top of her head looked up and smiled. “What can I do for you, mister?”
“My name is Gage McDermont. I need to speak to the sheriff.”
“McDermont?” She popped her gum. “You related to Jerry McDermont?”
He nodded.
“Well, I’ll be damned.” She grinned and extended her hand, bloodred fingernails glittering with yellow stars painted on them. How festive.
“My name’s Carina Burton. I was two years behind you in school, but I remember watching you on the football field. You were the best kicker Sanctuary High ever had.”
He didn’t remember her. Then again, he’d only had eyes for Leah.
And if Jerry had been with her, I wouldn’t have touched her. We definitely had different tastes in women.
Except for Leah.
Damn. He really thought he’d put that behind him.
“Sheriff’s been under the weather,” Carina said, “but Charlie’s here. He’s been in charge about a month now. Running for sheriff in the next election.”
Son of a bitch. Just what the town needed, a Driscill monopoly. He’d tangled with Charlie on the football field and off. The guy played to win and didn’t care if it was a fair fight or not.
In some ways, Gage was just like him.
But he did what he did to seek justice. Driscill just flat out liked to give a beating. And it didn’t matter whether the person deserved it—just depended on Driscill’s mood.
Carina gestured for him to follow her down the narrow hallway to another office.
Driscill glanced up from his desk, a look of wary surprise crossing his face. He’d beefed up some since high school, and his hair was shorter now, receding slightly, but Gage would have recognized his tree-trunk neck and crooked nose anywhere. A mean look still glittered in his eyes.
“Gage McDermont, what in the hell are you doing back in Sanctuary? We having a class reunion someone forgot to tell me about?”
Gage forced a chuckle. “Hardly.” He shot a look across the office. “I have a feeling you know everything that’s going on in this town.”
A cocky grin slid across Driscill’s face. “It’s my job to know.” He patted his gun. “And I take my job seriously. What are you doing here, McDermont? I thought you were some hotshot detective in Raleigh.”
Gage gritted his teeth. He didn’t intend to share the circumstances of his departure from the police department with this moron from his past. “I got tired of playing by the rules and decided to strike out on my own.”
Charlie raked a hand over his thinning hair. “You got tired of the rules? Now that’s funny. You were always the goody-two-shoes in high school.”
He had tried to be the nice guy. But nice guys finished last. “I’ve changed.”
Charlie grinned. “Is that so?”
Gage nodded. “Yeah, I have a private investigation agency. I’m here about Ruby Holden’s disappearance.”
Driscill’s olive skin paled slightly, although he masked his reaction quickly. “You’re a P.I. for kids?”
“I’m working for Leah Holden.”
Driscill stood, boots hitting the cement floor. “She called you in?”
He shook his head. “I read about the case and heard you’d called off the search, so I offered my assistance. Fill me in. Where are you on the investigation? Do you have any leads?”
Driscill scowled. “If you’ve followed the news, you know we did everything we could. Organized search parties, questioned everyone in town. Even consulted the feds. But no leads yet.”
“Why didn’t you immediately call in the bureau?”
“We thought we could handle it ourselves,” Driscill said. “Thought the kid just snuck out and got lost or something.”
Gage arched a brow. “And the child left that cryptic note?”
A muscle twitched in Driscill’s jaw. “We did everything possible to find that little girl. Hell, the whole town was looking for her for days.”
“Did you have any viable suspects?” Gage asked.
“No. You know as well as I do that if someone kidnapped her, they’re probably long gone by now.” He cracked his knuckles. “The feds have issued alerts and have her listed on the database for missing and exploited children. They’ll let us know if they get a tip.”
“Did you look into that rental house that backs up to Leah’s property?” Gage asked.
Charlie frowned. “No. Didn’t see a need to.”
“The kidnapper could have hid out there.”
“Maybe.”
“Are there any registered child offenders in the area?”
“Daryl Trevett. I questioned him already and he was working at the plastic factory all night.” Charlie lowered his voice. “The problem may be Leah Holden herself.”
“What do you mean?”
He cut his eyes toward the door as if debating how much to share, then cleared his throat. “She’s had emotional problems. Had a breakdown when her daddy died. That’s the reason her mama sent her away her senior year.” Driscill narrowed his eyes. “Didn’t you know?”
He’d