Faithless Page 28

  Jeffrey waited a beat. “And?”

  “And I don’t know what happened, but obviously Mama and Daddy got back together.” She looked up at Jeffrey. “She told me they got together because she was pregnant with me.”

  He took a second to respond. “That’s not the only reason she went back to him.”

  “Children change things,” Sara said, coming as close to talking about their own inability to have children as she had ever dared. “A child is a bond between two people. It ties you together for life.”

  “So does love,” he told her, putting his hand to her cheek. “Love ties you together. Experiences. Sharing your lives. Watching each other grow old.”

  Sara laid her head back down.

  “All I know,” Jeffrey continued, as if they hadn’t been talking about themselves, “is that your mother loves your father.”

  Sara braced herself. “You said Lev has my hair and my eyes.”

  Jeffrey didn’t breathe for a full twenty seconds. “Christ,” he whispered, disbelieving. “You don’t think that—” He stopped. “I know I was teasing you, but—” Even he couldn’t say it out loud.

  Sara kept her head on his chest as she looked up at his chin. He had shaved, probably expecting some kind of celebration tonight in light of the good news about his blood test.

  She asked him, “Are you tired?”

  “Are you?”

  She twirled her fingers in his hair. “I might be open to persuasion.”

  “How open?”

  Sara lay back, taking him with her. “Why don’t you feel for yourself?”

  He took her up on the offer, giving her a slow, soft kiss.

  She told him, “I’m so happy.”

  “I’m happy you’re happy.”

  “No.” She put her hands to his face. “I’m happy you’re okay.”

  He kissed her again, taking his time, teasing her lips. Sara felt herself start to relax as he pressed his body into hers. She loved the weight of him on top of her, the way he knew how to touch her in all the right places. If making love was an art, Jeffrey was a master, and as his mouth worked its way down her neck, she turned her head, eyes partly closed, enjoying the sensation of him until her peripheral vision caught an unusual flash of light across the lake.

  Sara narrowed her eyes, wondering if it was a trick of the moon against the water or something else.

  “What?” Jeffrey asked, sensing her mind was elsewhere.

  “Shh,” she told him, watching the lake. She saw the flash again, and pressed against Jeffrey’s chest, saying, “Get up.”

  He did as he was told, asking, “What’s going on?”

  “Are they still searching the forest?”

  “Not in the dark,” he said. “What—”

  Sara snapped off the bedside light as she got out of bed. Her eyes took a moment to adjust, and she kept her hands in front of her, feeling her way to the window. “I saw something,” she told him. “Come here.”

  Jeffrey got out of bed, standing beside her, staring across the lake.

  “I don’t see—” He stopped.

  The flash had come again. It was definitely a light. Someone was across the lake with a flashlight. The spot was almost exactly where they had found Abby.

  “Rebecca.”

  Jeffrey moved as if a gun had been fired. He’d thrown on his jeans before Sara even managed to find her clothes. She could hear his footsteps cracking the pine needles in the backyard as she slipped on a pair of sneakers and took off after him.

  The full moon illuminated the path around the lake, and Sara kept pace with Jeffrey from several yards behind. He hadn’t put on a shirt, and she knew that he wasn’t wearing shoes because she had put on his. The heel of the right sneaker was pushed down, and Sara made herself stop for a few seconds in order to slip it on properly. This cost her precious time, and she pushed herself even harder as she ran, feeling her heart pound in her throat. She ran this same route most mornings, but now she felt as if it was taking forever to get to the other side of the lake.

  Jeffrey was a sprinter while Sara was better suited for long-distance running. When she finally passed her parents’ house, her second wind kicked in and in a few minutes, she had caught up with him. They both slowed their pace as they approached the forest, finally coming full stop as a flashlight beam crossed the path in front of them.

  Sara felt herself being yanked down by Jeffrey as he crouched out of sight. Her own breathing matched his, and she thought that the noise alone would give them away.

  They watched as the flashlight went toward the woods, farther in to the spot where Jeffrey and Sara had found Abigail just three days ago. Sara had a moment of panic. Perhaps the killer came back later for the bodies. Perhaps there was a third box that all their searching had not turned up and the abductor had returned to perform another part of the ritual.

  Jeffrey’s mouth was close to her ear. He whispered, “Stay here,” walking off in a crouch before she could stop him. She remembered he was barefoot, and wondered if he was even thinking through his actions. His gun was back at the house. No one knew they were out here.

  Sara followed him, keeping well behind, desperately trying not to step on anything that would make a noise. Ahead, she could see the flashlight had stilled, pointing down at the ground, probably at the empty hole where Abby had been.

  A high-pitched scream echoed in the woods, and Sara froze.

  A laugh— more like a cackle— followed, and she was more frightened by this than the scream.

  Jeffrey kept his voice firm, authoritative, as he told the person holding the light, “Stay exactly where you are,” and the girl screamed again. The flashlight went up, and Jeffrey said, “Get that thing out of my face.” Whoever was on the other end obeyed, and Sara took another step forward.

  He said, “What the fuck do you two think you’re doing out here?”

  Sara could see them all now— a teenage boy and girl standing in front of Jeffrey. Even though he was wearing nothing but a pair of jeans, he looked threatening.

  The girl screamed again when Sara accidentally stepped on a twig.

  “Jesus,” Jeffrey hissed, still out of breath from the run. He asked the young couple, “Do you know what happened out here?”

  The kid was about fifteen and almost as scared as the girl beside him. “I-I was just showing her . . .” His voice cracked, though he was well beyond that embarrassing stage. “We were just having fun.”

  “You think this is fun?” Jeffrey snarled. “A woman died out here. She was buried alive.”

  The girl started crying. Sara recognized her immediately. She cried just about every time she was at the clinic, whether she was getting an injection or not.

  Sara asked, “Liddy?”

  The girl startled, though she had seen Sara standing there seconds ago. “Dr. Linton?”

  “It’s okay.”

  Jeffrey snapped, “It’s not okay.”

  “You’re scaring them to death,” Sara told Jeffrey, then asked the kids, “What are you two doing out here this late?”

  “Roger wanted to show me . . . to show me . . . the place . . .” She sniveled, “I’m sorry!”

  Roger joined in, “I’m sorry, too. We were just messing around. I’m sorry.” He was speaking fast now, probably realizing Sara had the power to get him out of this. “I’m sorry, Dr. Linton. We didn’t mean anything bad. We were just—”

  “It’s late,” Sara interrupted, suppressing the desire to throttle them. Her side ached from the run and she felt the chill in the air. “You both need to go home now.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Roger said. He grabbed Liddy by the arm and practically dragged her toward the road.

  “Stupid kids,” Jeffrey muttered.

  “Are you okay?”

  He sat down on a rock, muttering a low curse, still breathing hard. “I cut my damn foot.”

  Sara joined him, aware that she was out of breath herself. “Are you just determined not to get throug
h one day this week without injuring yourself?”

  “You’d think,” he allowed. “Christ. They scared the shit out of me.”

  “At least it wasn’t . . .” She didn’t finish the sentence. They both knew what it could have been.

  “I’ve got to find out who did this to her,” Jeffrey said. “I owe that to her mother. She needs to know why this happened.”

  Sara looked across the lake, trying to find her house— their house. The floodlights had been tripped when they ran outside, and as Sara watched, they blinked off.

  She asked, “How’s your foot?”

  “Throbbing.” His chest heaved in a sigh. “Jesus, I’m falling apart.”

  She rubbed his back. “You’re fine.”

  “My knee, my shoulder.” He lifted his leg. “My foot.”

  “You left out your eye,” she reminded him, wrapping her arm around his waist, trying to comfort him.

  “I’m turning into an old man.”

  “There are worse things you can turn into,” she pointed out, though from his silence she could tell he wasn’t in the mood for teasing.

  “This case is getting to me.”

  All of his cases got to him; it was one of the many things she loved about him. “I know,” she said, admitting, “I’d feel a lot better if we knew where Rebecca was.”

  “There’s something I’m missing,” he said. He took her hand in his. “There has to be something I’m missing.”

  Sara looked out at the lake, the moon glinting against the waves as they lapped against the shore. Was this the last thing Abby had seen before she’d been buried alive? Was this the last thing Rebecca had seen?

  She said, “I need to tell you something.”

  “More about your parents?”

  “No,” she said, feeling like kicking herself for not telling him this before. “It’s about Cole Connolly. I’m sure it’s nothing, but—”

  “Tell me,” he interrupted. “I’ll decide whether it’s nothing or not.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Lena sat at the kitchen table, staring at her cell phone. She had to call Terri Stanley. There was no way of getting around it. She had to apologize, to tell her she would do everything she could to help her. What she would do beyond that was a mystery. How could she help her? What could she do to save Terri when there was nothing Lena could do to save herself?

  In the hall, Nan shut the bathroom door with a click. Lena waited until she heard the shower running, then Nan’s pained rendition of some pop song that was playing on every radio station, before she flipped the phone open and dialed the Stanleys’ number.

  Since the altercation at the gas station, Lena’s mind had turned the number into a mantra, so that as her fingers worked the buttons, she had a sense of déjà vu.

  She put the phone to her ear, counting six rings before the phone was picked up. Her heart stopped midbeat as she prayed that the person on the other end wasn’t Dale.

  Obviously, Lena’s name showed up on the Stanleys’ caller ID. “What do you want?” Terri hissed, her voice little more than a whisper.

  “I want to apologize,” Lena said. “I want to help you.”

  “You can help me by leaving me alone,” she replied, her voice still low.

  “Where’s Dale?”

  “He’s outside.” Terri sounded increasingly frightened. “He’ll be back any minute. He’ll see your number on the phone.”

  “Tell him I called to thank you for coming in.”

  “He’s not going to believe that.”

  “Terri, listen to me—”

  “It’s not like I’ve got a choice.”

  “I shouldn’t have hurt you.”

  “I’ve heard that before.”

  Lena winced at the implication. “You need to get out of there.”

  She was quiet for a beat. “What makes you think I want to?”

  “Because I know,” Lena said, tears coming into her eyes. “Jesus, Terri. I know, okay? Trust me.”

  Terri was silent for so long that Lena thought she had hung up.

  “Terri?”

  “How do you know?”

  Lena’s heart was thumping hard enough to press against her ribs. She had never admitted anything about Ethan to another person, and she still found herself unable to come right out and say it. She could only tell Terri, “I know about it the same way you do.”

  Again, the younger woman was quiet. Then Terri asked, “You ever try to get away?”

  Lena thought about all the times she had tried to make a break: not answering the phone, avoiding the gym, hiding out at work. He always found her. He always found a way back in.

  “You think you can help me?” Terri asked. An almost hysterical note was threaded through the question.

  “I’m a cop.”

  “Sister, you ain’t nothin’,” she said, harshly. “We’re both drowning in the same ocean.”

  Lena felt her words pierce like daggers. She tried to speak, but there was a soft click on the line, then nothing. Lena waited, holding out hope, until the recorded voice of the operator bleated through the receiver, advising her to hang up and try the number again.

  Nan came into the kitchen, her natty pink robe tied around her waist, a towel wrapped around her head. “You going to be home for dinner tonight?”

  “Yes,” Lena said. Then, “No. I don’t know. Why?”

  “I thought it would be nice to talk,” she said, putting the kettle on the stove. “See how you’re doing. I haven’t talked to you since you got back from Hank’s.”

  “I’m doing okay,” Lena assured her.

  Nan turned to look at her closely. “You look upset.”

  “It’s been a rough week.”

  “I saw Ethan riding his bike up the driveway just now.”

  Lena stood so quick she was dizzy. “I should get to work.”

  “Why don’t you invite him in?” Nan offered. “I’ll make some more tea.”

  “No,” Lena muttered. “I’m running late.” She was always nervous when Ethan was around Nan. He was too volatile, and she was too ashamed to let Nan see the kind of man she had ended up with.

  Lena muttered, “I’ll see you later,” tucking her cell phone into her jacket. She practically ran out the front door, stopping short when she saw Ethan standing at her car. He was pulling off something that had been taped to the driver’s-side window.

  She walked down the steps as if her heart wasn’t in her throat.

  “What’s this?” Ethan asked, holding up a mailing envelope. She recognized Greg’s handwriting from ten feet away. “Who else calls you Lee?”

  She grabbed it from him before he could stop her. “Just about everybody who knows me,” she told him. “What are you doing here?”

  “I thought I’d come by to see you before work.”

  She looked at her watch. “You’re going to be late.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “Your parole officer told you that if you were late again, she’d write you up.”

  “That dyke can kiss my ass.”

  “She can send you back to jail is what she can do, Ethan.”

  “Chill out, okay?” He made a grab for the envelope, but again she was too quick. He frowned and asked, “What is it?”

  Lena saw she wasn’t going to get out of the driveway until she opened the envelope. She turned it over, pulling the tape carefully like she was an old lady trying to save the wrapping paper on a present.

  “What is it?” Ethan repeated.

  She opened the envelope, praying to God there wasn’t something inside that would cause a problem. She slid out a CD with a blank white label on it. “It’s a CD,” she said.

  “A CD of what?”

  “Ethan,” Lena began, looking back at the house. She could see Nan peering through the front window. “Get in the car,” she told him.

  “Why?”

  She popped the hatch so he could stow his bike. “Because you’re going to be late for work.”


  “What’s the CD?”

  “I don’t know.” She started to pick up his bike, but he took over, the muscles on his arms flexing against his long-sleeved T-shirt. Back in his skinhead days, he had tattooed himself all over with Aryan Nazi symbols, and now he seldom wore anything that would expose them— especially at his job bussing tables at the university coffee shop.

  She got into the car, waiting for him to secure the bike and get in. Lena tucked the CD over the visor, hoping he would forget about it. Ethan pulled it out as soon as he settled into the seat.

  “Who sent you this?”

  “Just a friend.” She told him, “Put on your seat belt.”

  “Why was it taped to your car?”

  “Maybe he didn’t want to come inside.”

  Lena realized she had said “he” about a second after the word left her mouth. She tried to act like it hadn’t happened, putting the car into reverse and backing out of the driveway. As she turned back around, she chanced a look at Ethan. His jaw was so tight she was surprised his teeth didn’t start cracking.

  Without saying anything, he turned on her radio and pressed the eject button. His Radiohead CD slid out. He held it by the edges, forcing in Greg’s CD as if it was a pill he wanted to shove down somebody’s throat.

  Lena felt herself tense as a guitar was strummed, followed by some feedback. The intro took a few seconds, heavy guitar and drums leading up to the unmistakable voice of Ann Wilson.

  Ethan wrinkled his nose like there was a bad smell. “What’s this shit?”

  “Heart,” she said, trying to keep her emotions flat. Her own heart was beating so fast she was sure he could hear it over the music.

  He kept scowling. “I’ve never heard this song before.”

  “It’s a new album.”

  “A new album?” he repeated, and even though she kept her eyes on the road she could still feel him staring a hole into her. “Aren’t they the ones who were fucking each other?”

  “They’re sisters,” Lena said, disgusted that old rumor was still around. Heart had made a huge impact on the rock scene, and invariably, the boys in charge had felt threatened enough to spread nasty rumors. Being a twin, Lena had heard every filthy male fantasy about sisters there was. The thought of it made her sick.