Chapter 43
It had been a complete waste of time—or had it? Derek kept rereading the notes he’d made. Notes? More like a few cryptic words. He had put so much hope in Jamie’s rumored psychic abilities. Yet all she’d come up with was some nonsense about boots and a root cellar with apples. None of it made sense. Was Jayna in a root cellar somewhere apples were stored? “The boots. Not the boots.” But Jamie had been adamant that the boots were important. Cryptic nonsense.
Another 24 hours had passed. Jayna was still missing, and Burke was still holed up in his office. Doing nothing. Wasting time.
Derek couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off with the paramedic. The police had cleared him with an airtight alibi, but they wouldn’t share the details. The guy didn’t sit right with him, even if he’d passed the scrutiny of the Blythe Landing P.D. Lance Roman was too polite, too polished, too good to be true. No one was that perfect unless, they were hiding something.
Mabe Lance was a psychopath with a personality disorder, or simply an evil monster!
Derek would swear it on his life—Lance was hiding something. He just prayed he didn’t have to swear it on Jayna’s life. Damn, if he didn’t find her in time, it would destroy him.
Those three weeks spent pretending to be her boyfriend had irrevocably changed him. He’d actually enjoyed being her boyfriend. Fake though it was, it had somehow felt real.
And that realization terrified him. He didn’t want a real girlfriend. But he wanted Jayna.
He missed the way her nose crinkled and her laugh with that little snort. She was blunt and over the top. The way she hustled men at pool—it was sexy as hell. She could pound back tequila like it was Kool-Aid. There was not a single woman like her.
“Drinkin’ Buddy” came on the radio. He glanced at the display on the dashboard. When had he changed from the rock station to the country station? Jayna had switched it when they’d driven to Toronto for the work gala. He’d never changed it back. Had Gord Bamford met Jayna? This song could have been written about her. He groaned and hit the mute button. He didn’t want to have these feelings.
He would find Jayna. Alive! Then he would find a way to reverse these feelings. He just needed to stop finding all her faults charming. Those faults had once annoyed the crap out of him. Why did she have to go and date the next Ted Bundy?
He stopped at the lights in town, glancing down Second Street. Jamie hadn’t helped. ‘The boots. Not the boots. The boots are the key.’ His eyes traveled farther down the road landing on the Ambulance Station. He hit the right signal and turned.
Derek parked just past Jamie’s workshop, pulling ahead so his truck wasn’t illuminated under a streetlight. It was 7:35 p.m. Just past shift change for the paramedics. He didn’t know Lance’s schedule or even what he hoped to find. But he had to do something.
All those years of pranking Ophelia came back to him. Using the stealth skills of a TP-ing expert, he eased up to the station and crouched behind a decommissioned ambulance parked at the side of the building. Lance and Sonny sat on the tailgate of another ambulance in the parking lot.
“How are you doing?” Sonny asked, his voice low but still audible in the still night air.
“Alright,” Lance muttered, staring straight ahead. “Just can’t stop thinking about Jayna.”
Derek sucked in a breath.
Sonny nodded. “I know it’s tough. But they’ll find her. You just need faith.” The older man’s voice was gruff yet tinged with fatherly concern .
Lance’s shoulders slumped. “First Greta, now Jayna. It’s like I’m cursed.”
Like he was cursed? Or responsible? Derek squeezed his hands into fists. He wanted to plant those fists into the man’s face and demand that he tell him where Jayna was.
“You can’t blame yourself for what happened to Greta. And Jayna, well, she’s a wild one, probably took off with some guy she just met.” Sonny shifted on the bumper, crossing his legs in front of him.
Derek’s gaze dropped. Sonny and Lance wore matching boots. His eyes moved from Sonny’s feet to Lance’s feet. After so many years working as a civil engineer, he prided himself on his eye for measurement. Both men wore the same size boots.
His attention moved from Lance to Sonny. The badge on Sonny’s chest shone dully in the dimming light. He’d been a paramedic for as long as Derek could remember. The guy must be nearing retirement age—his hair was graying, and his face was weathered. He’d just become a grandfather. No, he couldn’t be … could he? Derek’s mind swirled. Could he?
“I’m sure Jayna will show up tomorrow.” Sonny clapped a hand on Lance’s shoulder.
Lance nodded and stood. “Yeah, I hope you’re right. My shift is starting, I need to head in. Have a good night.”
Derek moved back into the shadows, watching as Lance walked inside the ambulance station. His gaze quickly drifted back to Sonny. Originally, he’d come here to check up on Lance. Possibly follow him, see where the man would lead him. But instead, Derek pressed himself closer to the cold, rusting metal of the old ambulance. He waited with his eyes fixed on Sonny.
The two men were on different shifts now. If Lance had been working when Jayna disappeared, Sonny would not have been. After a few minutes, Sonny stood and made his way to his SUV.
Derek’s heart hammered in his chest, and he held his breath, praying that Sonny didn’t notice him. The older paramedic pulled out of the parking lot and turned left, away from town. Strange. Sonny lived in the subdivision in town.
Easing away from behind the ambulance, Derek ran down the sidewalk. He yanked open his truck door and jumped in. His hands shook as he started the engine. He left the lights off until Sonny was further down the road. Would Sonny notice he had a tail?
The paved road ended, turning to gravel as they left the town limits behind. Derek’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel as he focused on maintaining a safe distance without losing sight of the blue SUV.
The urban landscape gave way to farm fields and dense patches of forest. How could a family man—a well-respected community member—be responsible for Jayna’s disappearance? For Greta’s murder? Derek had to be wrong. Yet he continued to follow the glowing tail lights of Sonny’s vehicle, continued to follow his gut instinct.
Eventually, Sonny’s SUV turned off the gravel road onto an overgrown driveway, kicking up dust and rocks. Derek slowed, then hit the gas. If Sonny had noticed him in the distance, he would expect the following vehicle to continue past. Derek sped up, stealing a glance at the old, dilapidated farmhouse and the apple orchard beside it.
Once he was out of sight, he coasted onto the shoulder, cut the engine, and stepped out. He pulled out his cell phone, about to dial 911, but hesitated. Did Sonny still have his patch phone with him, able to hear incoming emergency calls? And what exactly would he tell dispatch? That he was following the serial killer who was one of their own? He had no proof, just a gut instinct.
Did he even have gut instincts? He was a civil engineer, not a police detective, as Burke had pointed out more than once.
But if he was right, he’d need help. He pulled up the contact list and tapped the call icon. Burke answered his personal cell phone on the second ring .
“What now, Brennan?”
“I think I know where Jayna is. And who took her.”
“What now?” the cop repeated, sarcasm replacing irritation. “Did you find another psychic who could actually connect with Jayna?”
“No, just listen. I don’t have long to explain. It’s Sonny Mitchell, and he just pulled into an abandoned farmhouse on County Road 29.” Derek ran up the road, stopping at the hanging mailbox. “Fire number 64921. There’s an apple orchard on the property.”
“You’re following him?” Burke’s voice rose. “Derek! You can’t follow an innocent man.”
“Burke, he’s not innocent. He wears size 10 boots. And I just have a feeling.” Derek continued running up the uneven driveway staying along the tree line. “Burke, you just have to trust me on this.”
He could hear the tapping of computer keys through the phone. “Sonny owns the property, Derek. It was his uncle’s farm that he inherited.”
Sonny had left his SUV running and had the headlights pointed toward the rear of the farmhouse. Derek felt his pulse pick up. He needed to be careful. Under his feet, the rocks crunched loudly in the quiet night. He caught a glimpse of Sonny’s silhouette in the headlights.
He moved to the back of the SUV. Crouching down, he peeked around the tailgate. There it was—the entrance to the root cellar, just like Jamie said. Sonny was lifting the heavy wooden door and disappeared into darkness.
“Sonny just entered a root cellar, Burke,” he whispered into the cell phone. “Get here quick. I’m going to…”
Burke swore under his breath. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
What? Seriously? He was the king of stupid.
“Wait till I get there,” Burke ordered, and the call ended.
What was he going to do? His mind was going a mile a minute. It would take Burke over ten minutes to get here. Every second wasted was one closer to losing Jayna. Taking a deep breath, Derek inched toward the cellar entrance. Goddammit, Jayna was in danger.