CHAPTER 18
I feel heavy, weighed down with remorse. Nausea coats my tongue with the thick fuzz of regret. I can’t focus. I can’t hold still. I can barely even breathe.
Jake still hasn’t responded to any of my calls or texts, and I can’t help thinking that maybe he can’t answer. That maybe something bad happened when he left last night and I’ll be forced to spend the rest of my life knowing that it’s all my fault. That the last words between us were angry ones.
I’m making myself ill over it. I know I can’t keep obsessing like this. I need to get away from this place, where everywhere I look I’m surrounded by memories that include Jake.
Carrying the raccoon back to her cage in the medical ward, I put her inside.
The noise she makes as I close the door is enough to shred my already shattered heart into microscopic pieces.
My molars grit even harder together as I rush from the room, practically jogging down the hall and out of the house.
Opening my car door, I feel my pocket before climbing inside, making sure I have the list of supplies I need to order from the feed store just outside of town. It’s a task that Jake usually handles, but I’m not sure if I can rely on him to do it anymore.
I don’t know what the future holds, but I do know that the animals need to eat. As much as I’m trying to hold on to my hope that Jake will forgive me, it’s not fair to let them suffer for any reason, but especially not because I’m an idiot.
Reaching over, I turn the radio up a little louder, trying to drown out my thoughts.
Scan the stations until I find one playing a song I used to love when I was in high school.
Now it just sounds like noise. It’s an odd form of torture, one that blessedly does the trick as I find myself pulling into the Gator Glade Feed and Seed lot and parking beside the large step van they use for deliveries.
A bell tinkles as I enter the store. Walking over to the counter, I pull my list from my pocket and wait. After a couple of minutes, my impatience grows. It’s quickly replaced by worry.
Usually the owner, Donna, is perched on the stool behind the register.
I’ve only seen her leave it when she’s showing a customer where to find something, which takes a lot less time than I’ve been waiting.
An itchy feeling takes hold as a memory of the robbery at the pharmacy rises to the surface of my mind.
As I take my first few hesitant steps toward the rear of the building, my hand instinctively moves behind my back, pulling the hem of my T-shirt up and tucking it inside my waistband so it’s easier to access my concealed carry weapon.
I keep my eyes wide, scanning my surroundings, looking for anything out of place as I creep down an aisle.
I’ve almost reached the back of the store when a murmured voice reaches my ears, the emotion in it causing the hair on my arms to rise. It’s Donna’s. And it sounds like she’s crying.
Without hesitation I draw my pistol, quickening my steps until I reach the end of the row. Keeping the firearm concealed alongside my leg, I take a deep breath and step into the passage at the back of the store. Realize that my day just got infinitely worse as I quickly reholster the weapon.
“What’s going on?” I ask as I hurry to Donna’s side. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes.” Sheriff Kingston responds with a single, sharp bark, his eyes narrowing.
At the same time, Donna turns her reddened eyes and puffy, tear-streaked face toward me and says, “No.” Her hands grasp my arm in an iron grip, her voice hitching and high-pitched. “My granddaughter’s gone missing.”
“Oh, Donna,” I say, my heart twisting into knots at the thought of what she’s going through. “I’m so sorry. What can I do?”
“Now don’t going telling her your business,” Kingston warns. “This doesn’t involve her.” The sheriff points at me. “You remember that conversation we had the other day, don’t you?”
“I do.”
“Well, this is what I was talking about.”
“Calm down, Lyle,” Donna says. “She just wants to help.”
“Trust me, you don’t need her kind of help.”
“Are you sure about that? Because you don’t seem to be doing very much to find my granddaughter.”
“Donna, I’m warning you. I won’t be held responsible for anything that happens because that girl interferes with my investigation.”
“That girl is an almost forty-year-old grown woman who’s spent the last decade and a half as an FBI agent,” I remind him.
Donna’s eyes widen at my words. Her fingers tighten on me until it feels like she’s crushing the bones beneath. “You’re an FBI agent?”
I nod, suddenly regretting not keeping a better hold on my temper and outing myself.
“I didn’t know.”
“I…” My teeth dig at my lip, finding the tender raw spot I’ve made from chewing on it.
Though I’ve been trying to keep my affiliation with the Bureau on a need-to-know basis since my return, this woman has helped me in every way she’s been able, no questions asked.
I should have confided in her, told her the truth before now.
I promise myself I’ll make it up to her.
“Not many people do. I’m on medical leave at the moment,” I explain. “And the truth is, even once I’m cleared to return to active duty, I’m not sure I’m going to.”
Ignoring the scoffing noise the sheriff makes, she says, “But still. You have experience with this kind of thing, right?”
“Not with missing teenagers, but with investigating in general, yes.”
“You have to help, then. Please.”
“Of course I will,” I assure her. “I’ll do whatever I can.”
Sheriff Kingston curses. Donna shoots him a nasty look before continuing.
“My sixteen-year-old granddaughter and her friend went hiking Monday. They never came home.”
“Do you know where they went?”
She nods.
“Did you check the trailhead?” I ask Kingston.
“That’s none of your concern,” he answers.
“This doesn’t have to be a pissing contest, Lyle. I’m just asking a question.”
“And I’m just—”
“Yes!” Donna interrupts. “At least, he said he did.”
The sheriff heaves the loudest sigh I’ve ever heard. “I assure you, one of my deputies was out there this morning. He said there were no cars in the lot.”
“Did he check the trail log?” I ask.
Kingston’s expression indicates that he has no idea what I’m talking about. He turns, angling his back to me.
“Donna, the two of us, we go way back. Longer than this one’s even been alive.
You need to trust me. I know it’s hard to accept, but girls that age do these types of things.
They get an idea in their head that they’ll be better off on their own and decide to take off.
As soon as they’re out of money, they’ll come home. ”
“And what if they don’t?” I ask. “What if something bad happens to them first?”
“Now don’t go making—”
“They didn’t run away,” Donna insists. “They wouldn’t. You believe me, don’t you, Cassidy?”
Before I can answer, the radio on Sheriff Kingston’s shoulder crackles to life. Reaching for the device, he says, “Donna, you know I feel for you, I really do, but I’ve got a whole town to keep under control here. The girls will turn up. You need to believe me on this.”
He starts backing away, toward the door. “And you,” he points at me again, like I’m a dog he’s commanding. “You need to remember that you don’t have jurisdiction in my town.”
The finger stays aimed in my direction until he’s no longer in sight. A moment later, the bell on the door rings, celebrating his exit.
I fight the urge to chase after him. Taking a deep breath, my fingers unfurl from the fists they’ve formed. Putting a palm on Donna’s shoulder, I give her what I hope is an encouraging smile.
“I believe you,” I assure her. “Which trail did they go hiking at?”
“The Indigo Hammock.”
It feels like a boulder just dropped in my stomach. “And you said they were out there Monday?”
“Yes.”
I swallow hard, but my throat’s too tight for anything to get past. It doesn’t matter, because my mouth has gone dryer than an empty frying pan left on a hot burner too long.
“Are their names Amelia Owens and Danielle Fuller?”
Donna’s lips tremble as she asks, “How’d you know that?”
“Because I was out there on Monday searching for that raccoon you called me about. And those were the two names that had signed in on the trail log ahead of me.”
But they hadn’t signed out by the time I left. And there’d been no other vehicles in the parking lot.
“So that means they were there, right?” she asks, a ray of hope brightening her eyes.
“Yes, I believe it does.”
What I don’t believe is that two sixteen-year-old girls went hiking before they decided to run away.
Or that they went through the hassle of driving all the way out there to sign the log just to throw off anyone looking for them.
Which means that sometime that day, they ran into trouble.
The question is, was it on the trail, or on the way home?
“Then where are they now?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “But I’m going to do my best to find out. I’ll stop by the house and grab some gear, then hit the trail. I’ll let you know what I find.”
Donna’s entire body seems to deflate as she utters a tearful, “Thank you.”
Hurrying from the store, I groan as I calculate the time since they went missing. No doubt Kingston waited until he absolutely had to before starting an investigation. What was it he said? That one of his deputies had checked out there this morning?
Which means no one checked the trail for signs of a struggle before yesterday’s rain. Any drag marks or blood would most likely have washed away. And though I was out there the day they went missing, I was looking for an arrow made of branches and a raccoon. Big picture, not tiny details.
Passing my car, I walk to the far side of the step van I parked next to, checking to see if Sheriff Kingston’s cruiser is there. It’s not.
I’m not sure whether to be disappointed or relieved that the man has left.
If he’d had only a bit more patience, or interest in helping, he’d have still been here for this development.
And I know better than to approach him for an assist. Which means I’ll just have to hope that whatever I find, it’s something that I can handle on my own.