Spooked (16 page)

“None taken,” I said. “But seriously, I think it should be me.”

“Actually, it might be better if it were me,” Fiona said. “But not for the reason Mick has for throwing my ass to the wolves.” She gave him another dirty look.

“Sorry,” Mick said.

“Yeah, yeah.” Fiona rolled her eyes, a small grin on her lips. “I get it. Whatever.” She leaned forward on her knees. “They already think you’ve been kidnapped, Lore. So it’s more believable if it’s me.”

“Yeah,” Mick said. “She does have a point. Plus, there’s the Delia thing to think about. You come out of hiding—she’ll definitely come at you again. And maybe this time you won’t make it back.”

They both made valid points. I looked at Fiona. “You’re not from this town, Fiona. Nobody knows you.”

“So? That’s not going to matter to a jonesing rapist-slash-murderer. All he’s going to care about is that I’m a young girl. Alone. Easy pickings. I’ll tell people that I’m your cousin and I came to help with the search.”

I lifted my eyebrows. It really might work. But what if something went wrong? “I don’t like you putting yourself in harm’s way.”

She regarded me with her exceptional brown eyes. “I’m a lot tougher than I look, Lorelei. Believe me; I can take care of myself. I have tricks you’ve never even heard of.”

“I believe it. But what about your phantom friends? Can you send them away long enough for this to work?”

Fiona leaned forward, rolling the foam coffee cup in her hands. “I can talk to them. Have them stay close, as backup.”

“Can they actually do anything to protect you? Can they kick ass?” Mick asked.

“I honestly don’t know. They’re more of a protective blanket. They camouflage me.” She thought for a moment. “But I won’t be in any real danger with them watching. I’m sure they can do something.”

“You hope,” Mick said.

“We’ll be there anyway,” I said.

“Yeah. You won’t be alone, Fiona,” Mick said, standing still for a moment, regarding Fiona seriously. “We’ll be there. Nothing will happen to you.”

“Right,” Fiona said. “Except to possibly get kidnapped by a potential rapist and murderer.”

“Right. Except that,” Mick said, grinning.

Fiona tossed her empty cup at him and it bounced off his forehead.

***

Keep it simple. That was the main thing. Get too complicated and things start going wrong. We didn’t want to leave any room for error. We’d worked out the details for any scenario we could think of.

The abductor didn’t seem to care much about the personality or style of the girls he stole. He only seemed to care that they were teenage girls around the same age. Fiona was a pretty girl, in a strange, creepy way. Those narrow brown eyes had the look of the predator about them, but that might be because of what’s she’s been through, I thought. She reminded me of a beautiful, dangerous, red wolf.

She was smart and resourceful, and I knew she had to be tough. I didn’t know her story, but she’d been at Chez Lucian for a while, so she must know how to take care of herself. And if she’d had any run-ins with the perverted rapist Leo, she’d been through enough for a lifetime. I doubted she’d ever let anyone get the best of her again.

She wouldn’t go down without a hell of a fight.

“Okay,” I said, uncurling myself from my spot on the sofa. “Let’s do it.”

***

It was Sunday. The town’s churches would be full and most of the locals went to the diner for breakfast after services. Mick hadn’t been to church in a long time, but he said he figured that a prayer or two couldn’t hurt, and the plan was to make sure that Fiona was seen, so the idea was for them to go to the early Mass and then hit the diner for food.

But first, she would visit the vigil spot, alone. Mick would drop her off while he ran an errand. That would be the story. Fiona would want a few minutes alone at the vigil spot to speak with her cousin, Lorelei. We thought it was a good enough story—simple enough.

Whoever was stealing the young girls from Saints Hallow wouldn’t be able to resist being out and about, listening to conversation snippets about the missing girls, and even being involved in those conversations. He’d be at the vigil spot as often as he could. He’d at least watch from a distance, but I was certain he’d be there a lot. He’d look at the enlarged, laminated photos of the missing girls, pretending to be worried and putting on a show for the whole world to see. He might get a secret thrill out of being there, hiding in plain sight.

I didn’t know whether it would be pride, shame, regret, or simple perverted fascination in the search for the girls that would keep him coming around, but I knew he’d be watching. And I knew for certain that he’d be instantly fascinated with Fiona, with her coppery hair and mocha eyes. She was new and only staying for a little while. He wouldn’t be able to help himself.

***

Mick and I parked across the street where we could get a bird’s-eye view of the vigil spot, though it was partly blocked by trees. We could see well enough if somebody walked up on Fiona.

And in moments, he did.

Edward Tanner had apparently been at the school, parked around the other side of the building—a side that wasn’t visible to the road.

Mick and I watched as Mr. Tanner emerged from the side of the building, having probably come out of the side door, after watching Fiona standing alone through one of the windows that overlooked the empty parking lot.

A serious case of the creeps made me tremble as I thought of him just staring out the window for hours, looking at the photos of the girls in the vigil area, at the edge of the woods.

Mick and I both leaned forward, our faces almost pressed against the tinted window glass of his father’s SUV.

“That bastard was watching,” Mick murmured.

I shivered. “Yes. He was.”

Mr. Tanner slowly, silently walked up on Fiona. She jumped, not having heard him approach. He touched her lightly on the back, by way of apology.

Mick and I used binoculars to get a clear view of their faces. Fiona was turned toward us, so we could see her face. Mr. Tanner was turned toward her, but we got a partial view of his profile.

He was a handsome man. Beautiful, even. Light brown hair swept back and lightly touched the collar of his black pea jacket. Even features. Generous smile. Warm, intelligent eyes. He really looked like he’d stepped out of a men’s magazine. I could see how young girls could easily be taken with him. I’d had a bit of a crush on him myself, until recently. It could have been me, I thought.

Fiona smiled sadly at him, and then looked back at the photos. Her lips were moving, and I knew she was explaining to Tanner how she was my cousin, and she couldn’t believe this had happened. She’d tell him how close we are, and that she doesn’t know what she’ll do without me.

I smiled as her chin quivered and her eyes filled with tears.

Mr. Tanner stepped closer to her and moved a hand over her back. He reached out with long, delicate fingers to Fiona’s cheek and gently wiped the tears from one, and then the other. Then he ducked his face toward her and said something close to her ear.

Fiona seemed to consider this, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She tilted her head, frowning.

“He’s inviting her somewhere,” I said to Mick.

Mr. Tanner patted Fiona on the arm, reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small piece of paper and a pen. He scribbled something onto it. Turning the paper over and, using the palm of one hand to keep the paper flat, he drew something.

I frowned. “What the hell is he doing? Drawing her a picture of the Easter Bunny?”

“I think he’s drawing a map.”

“Holy shit. That’s risky.”

“Not if he makes sure he gets the map off her before he dumps her.”

Jesus. “Okay, that’s long enough. Let’s go get her.”

Mick started the truck and began the short drive to the school. I hunkered down in the back seat, thankful for the tinted windows. He parked in the school parking lot.

“Be right back,” he said just before closing the truck door.

“You’d better be,” I breathed.

He was back with Fiona in moments.

She climbed into the passenger side and I could see her wave a red mitt, bright against the white, snowy background, before closing the door. “Holy-o creeper.”

“What was he doing? Thrilling you with his drawing ability?”

She handed the piece of paper to me.

“A map?” Mick asked as the truck began moving again.

Excitement raced through me. This could be where the missing girls were taken.

On the paper was a crudely drawn map with a square box indicating a building. Near the box was the word, “farmhouse.”

“It’s a map,” I said. “This could be where those girls vanished to.”

I let the unspoken thought hang in the air.

The last place they were alive
.

***

The weather wasn’t that cold for the middle of November, but it was damp and foggy. I’d dressed warm anyway, as Mick wouldn’t be keeping the truck running. I hunched down, big fleece blanket over my legs, waiting for Mick’s texts. We figured that it would be tough to find a parking space at the diner because most people would be heading there after church, so Mick and Fiona took the opportunity to make sure she was well seen by slowly walking down the road to the diner.

I watched as several people made their way to them and introduced themselves. No one had seen Fiona before. This was good. If the abductor doesn’t see Fiona this morning, he’ll certainly hear about her, I thought.

The chilled air seeped through every crack and crevice in the SUV. It had gotten cold in a hurry, and according to the radio, they were calling for a winter storm of vast proportions. Two feet or more. I wanted to get this mystery wrapped up and whoever was abducting the girls behind bars before the storm swept in.

I did realize this was a tall order. But I figured, why not aim big?

Shivering, I listened to the college radio station in Blackwood, the closest town to Saints Hallow. It would be the college that the missing girls would likely attend if they ever got the chance. It would be the college I’d go to. The next closest one was three hours away. Some kids went farther away if they went to college, but most opted to stay here. For us, because I fell into that last category, small town was familiarity, family, and until now, safety. The bad things that happened were few and far between.

The snow was coming down in lazy, fat flakes, drifting slowly onto the windshield. Soon I wouldn’t be able to see what was going on outside the truck. If I risked turning the key to move the snow off the glass, I risked somebody noticing the wipers moving. Damn it.

Sitting up straight, I peered as best I could between the flakes on the window glass. The snow was coming faster now, huge flakes clumping and sticking to the surface, blocking my view to the outside. I moved around in the truck, trying to get a better view.

From what I could see, the street was deserted. A memory of Christmas shopping with Delia came into my mind, clear and merciless. She held my small hand in hers as our winter boots slipped and slid along the snow-covered sidewalks of downtown Saints Hallow. Her voice hushed in the falling snow, rhyming off a list of what we needed to get for families who had fallen on hard times. She thought out loud about where to get the best bargains for children who needed warm coats, hats, mitts, and boots. She spoke of toys that would be enjoyed by either boys or girls, like puzzles and building blocks, paints and molding clay. She thought about where to get the cheapest books for parents who needed an escape, a reprieve from thinking about their situations. Of comforting items like hot chocolate, soup, and cookies.

I took a deep, shuddering breath as hot tears spilled over my cheeks. Feeling broken inside, but determined not to let it completely crush me, I wiped them away with my thick, fleece gloves. I needed to think of what I needed to do now to get things right. As right as I could without Delia. I willed the pain in the center of me to fade as I searched for even the smallest space between snowflakes on the windows of the truck.

There were none. I sat, trying not to shiver as the snow wrapped me in a pure white cocoon.

I texted Mick, asking when they were going to wrap things up.

My cell buzzed against my palm. I read the text:

Waiting for Fiona to come back from the ladies room.

She’s taking forever in there
.

I sighed and sat back against the seat. Four minutes went by.

I texted him again:

She hasn’t come back yet
?!

His reply was:

No. And I’m getting worried
.

I frowned. I sat straight up. Something was wrong.

I tapped out my response, dread clawing at my insides:

Go in there after her. Now
.

His response:

I asked Addy to check on her
.

Addy was the forty-something waitress that had been at the diner for more than twenty years. She wasn’t familiar with Fiona, so she’d have noticed her coming and going.

I tapped another message to him, my fingers urgent and fumbling.

Mick
?

Nothing for a long few minutes. I speed dialed his cell.

He answered on the fourth ring.

“Lorelei.” His voice was spiked with panic.

“Mick. What’s going on?”

“She’s gone,” he said.

“What?” My heart raced and my ability to breathe seemed to have evaporated.

“Fiona’s not in there. She’s gone.”

***

I sat in the car for another hour while people from the diner were questioned. Nobody was allowed to leave. But mercifully, Mick, sitting near a window facing the parking lot, used his remote car starter to give me fifteen minutes or so of warm air from the truck’s heater before it would shut off again. The temperature was rapidly dropping, according to the radio. I didn’t need the radio to tell me it was cold as hell. The frigid air found me just fine.