“What did she say?” Navarro asked.
“Not a lot, really. Said her throat was scratchy, allergies probably, and bought some cough drops. I asked her if she was looking forward to the fireworks tonight, and she said she’d be gone by then. Said her work had called, and she had to head back to New Mexico. Have you ever been to New Mexico? Because it really sounds gorgeous, and—”
“Did she say when she was leaving?” Emma asked.
“Said she’d probably stay for a while, maybe until lunchtime, but then she had to hit the road.”
“You’re sure?” Emma sounded baffled, and wore the expression as well.
“Well, I’m sure that’s what she said. Had her car outside, said she was going to park it way down on the end of town closest to the highway so she could get out when she had to.”
“Thanks,” Navarro said briefly, drawing Emma, unresisting, away from the counter and toward the door. As soon as they were outside the store, he said, “Would she lie about something so…trivial to her?”
“Patty? No, I don’t think so. She’s known as one of the biggest gossips in town, but she’s also—sometimes uncomfortably—accurate in what she says.” Emma shook her head. “But it doesn’t make any sense. Why would Jessie leave without so much as a word?”
Navarro looked at the length of crowded street between their position and Rayburn House, blocks away, and said, “We can work our way to the inn and see if she packed up. I doubt anyone else could have done that given the extra security on the family floor.”
Emma didn’t ask how he knew about that. “But to just leave without a word? Knowing you were here and wanted to talk to her? Knowing she was supposed to report back to Haven?”
“Maggie said she had the knack of justifying her actions after the fact; maybe this is one of those times.”
“But it doesn’t make any sense,” Emma said as she walked beside him—as best she could—along the crowded sidewalk. “I know she was close to finding whatever it was she was looking for, because last night she had that look she used to have when we were kids and she was about to do something to get herself in trouble—”
Even as the words left her lips, Emma felt a chill of understanding. “Dammit, that’s exactly what she had in mind. She intentionally avoided meeting up with you, and ducked both of us all day because she had some cockeyed plan she was hell-bent to see through.”
“A plan that included leaving Baron Hollow? Or just making it seem as if she did?”
“I don’t know.”
Navarro’s fingers tightened on hers, and he kept his voice as low as he could, given the crowd all around them. “Either way, Emma, you’re going to have to break your promise and tell me what happened to Jessie fifteen years ago. If she’s crossed paths with a serial killer, that’s an investigation she is not trained to handle, not alone.”
“I know,” Emma said.
JESSIE STOOD THERE staring at the door, her flashlight’s beam running over it as though searching for something she knew damned well she would never find.
Goddammit to hell.
Stupid of her, she realized now. He’d been getting away with this for a long, long time, and she should have understood what that meant.
She shouldn’t have underestimated him.
Because of course he would have set a trap. Even if she hadn’t raised his suspicions, just as a matter of self-preservation he would have set a trap. She should have realized that.
Too late now.
It was a trap she had fallen into.
Panic surged through her, and she pulled her weapon from the small of her back and aimed it roughly at where the lock and handle were on the other side. And pulled the trigger.
Only a hollow clicking rewarded her efforts.
She stared at the gun and, her training finally taking control, checked it. The clip was empty. In juggling her tool kit and flashlight with the gun, she hadn’t noticed the difference in weight.
Jessie felt her heart pounding, her stomach churning.
Bastard. Bastard.
Somehow, he had known it was her. Known she was hunting him. Because she had cleaned and reloaded her gun the previous night, and put it straight into her backpack.
The backpack that had been locked in her car all day while she’d been at the festival—and this morning it had been parked near the pharmacy.
Had he done it then? Had the son of a bitch, unobserved or just unnoticed, unlocked her car and found and unloaded her gun? Had there even been enough time for that? Or had he followed her to where she had left her car all morning, and taken his time getting in and unloading her weapon? Not that it really mattered now.
Bastard.
Bastard.
She was well and truly trapped. Trapped behind a door with no lock she could pick despite her tools, and a gun that was useless without its bullets.
Trapped.
There was no space for her to stand behind the door and try to ambush him whenever he came. He might wait until her flashlight’s battery died and she was in total darkness when he came after her. And despite all the killing tools around her, her bet was that he would come through that door either with a gun of his own or a Taser. Something that would bring her down quickly and easily despite whatever she managed to arm herself with.
Hell, for all she knew, he had the place rigged to fill with gas.
As soon as that thought occurred, Jessie began to shine her light around the horrible space, this time searching for some chink in the trap, something she could block, or plug up, or otherwise render useless. Her flashlight pierced the pitch darkness of the room, and she forced herself to move it slowly, methodically.
Anything to occupy her mind, to try not to think about how terrifying her situation was.
Trapped.
Helpless.
And no one, absolutely no one, knew where she was. Her car was well off the road in an area not likely to be searched. That was if anybody bothered to look for her after she’d taken such pains to seemingly leave Baron Hollow. She would be missed eventually, of course, when she didn’t turn up back at base, and they’d send somebody to look for her. Maggie would make sure of that if nobody else did.
But…she hadn’t reported her suspicions, much less her findings. Hadn’t confided in her sister. Had, as during her most irresponsible days, gone her own way alone, hell-bent to figure it all out for herself and damn the consequences.
Even Maggie would consider that. Even Emma. Especially Emma. And anyone else in her life.
She had, after all, a history of just driving away whenever life got to be too much to handle. That was what they’d say.
What even Emma would say.
Jessie wasn’t a defeatist. Never had been. But if the past few years had taught her anything, it was that some things had to happen just the way they happened.
She had fallen into his trap.
Okay, then. Ignore the terror. Don’t think about that. Think about your training. Survival—that’s what you think about. Think about whatever you can use. There’s plenty here.
Surely I can fight him. Hurt him.
I can do something.
At the very least, she could give the bastard a hell of a fight.
Before he killed her.
HE SPENT SEVERAL minutes watching her on the small screen of his cell phone, idly wondering if she would find the infrared camera placed high above the doorway and giving him an excellent view of her careful, seemingly professional search of her prison.
She was good. Quite methodical.
He wondered when it would dawn on her that she would never leave that place alive.
Smiling, he cleared the screen and slipped the phone into his pocket even as he slipped back into the festival crowd, secure in the knowledge that his camera would continue to record and that he could watch it all later.
Technology was amazing.
There was an app for everything.
EMMA HANDED THE note to Navarro, vaguely
surprised to see that her hands were steady. “It’s her handwriting. And the way she’d word it, short and sweet. ‘Gotta go, it’s work, call you soon.’”
“And you’re sure she packed up all her belongings?” They were in the foyer of the family suite.
“Everything’s gone.” Emma sank down on an upholstered bench and absently petted her dog, who had joined them as soon as they’d come into the inn.
Navarro was frowning. “It all feels very carefully planned to me. Jessie intended people to think she had left Baron Hollow.”
“But why would she, if she was on the trail of a killer? Wouldn’t she want to be here when he was caught?”
“I’d think so. Unless…”
“Unless what?”
“Unless her being here posed some kind of threat. Or if she was convinced that the killer had to believe she’d left town, maybe because she suspected he was on to her, and wanted to make very sure he believed he didn’t have to worry about that anymore. To give us time to call in the troops before he could panic and run, or destroy evidence. Or do something worse.”
“It makes as much sense as any other possibility, I guess. But why the hell couldn’t she tell one of us that was what she was going to do? Why just make damned sure neither of us could talk to her beforehand? Afraid we’d screw up her plans?”
“Maybe.” Navarro shrugged, still frowning. “From everything Maggie said, I gather Jessie does tend to go it alone. And, honestly, being the one to locate a serial killer is a pretty big feather for anyone’s cap—if that matters to her. If she’s looking for validation. Could that be one of her motives?”
Emma shook her head. “I don’t know what to think anymore. But…the GPS system in her car, that bothers me. If she wanted the killer to believe she was leaving, why disable that? I mean, I don’t know if he could have used it to track her—” She stopped, lifting fingers to massage her left temple. “Or could that be it? She’s not really gone, just waiting somewhere close by, out of town, but just in case he could track her, she disabled the system?”
Navarro looked like he didn’t want to say what he had to. “Maggie hasn’t called. Which means Jessie hasn’t called in the troops. Not yet, at least.”
“Maybe she’s waiting until after the festival. Waiting until she’s really sure he believes she’s gone.”
“Maybe.”
“You can’t sense anything?”
“No.”
Emma eyed him uncertainly. “You’ve tried?”
“I’ve been trying all day. There are just too damned many people crammed into this town. It’s like listening to white noise.” His head was pounding as a result of the effort.
“I have a splitting headache,” Emma muttered.
Navarro wondered whether Emma had unconsciously reached out herself, psychically, trying to find her sister.
Maybe.
He hesitated, then said, “Look, I know you’re still not comfortable breaking your promise to Jessie, but I need to know what you know. Whether her plan is a good one or a bad one, there’s always the chance something will go wrong, and I’m handicapped if I don’t know what’s driving her.”
Emma looked at him for a long moment, then got to her feet. “I’m going to take a few aspirin for my head and get some caffeine. You want anything? It may be a long story.”
He nodded, following her into the sitting area of the suite. “Something cold would be good. Emma…”
She stood at the fridge and looked at him inquiringly.
“You have to realize that something could have already gone wrong with Jessie’s plan. The note and the absence of her things, what she told Patty at the pharmacy, even moving her car, all that shows planning, and tells us she meant to leave, or at least get some distance away. But the fact that she hasn’t contacted Maggie…”
“I know.” She handed him a cold drink, then murmured again that she needed aspirin, and headed toward her bedroom.
Navarro sat down on one end of a comfortable sofa, rather surprised to find that Emma’s dog had remained rather than following her mistress; she sat a few feet away, watching him with an intentness he could feel almost like a touch.
“Did Jessie bother to tell you where she was going?” he asked the dog dryly.
She cocked her head to one side in a quick gesture, as if hearing something unfamiliar.
Navarro decided that talking to someone else’s dog was a bit like talking to himself. He pulled out his cell and made a call.
Maggie heard him out, then said, “You’re right; she hasn’t called here. Not even a text message.”
He could hear it in her voice. “But?”
“I was just about to call you.” She drew a breath and let it out slowly. “I’ve never had a really strong connection with Jessie, but I can tell you she’s in trouble.”
“Any idea what kind?”
“She feels trapped. And panicked.”
Navarro didn’t have to look at a clock to know that the day was rapidly winding down. “It’ll be dark in a few hours; even in summer this valley loses the sunlight early. We don’t even have time to launch a search. And not a clue where to start looking; from all appearances, from witnesses to what she said to a note in her own handwriting, Jessie just left town. I’ve got a hunch the chief isn’t going to be all that concerned, especially if we report Jessie missing with no evidence except our feelings and hunches.”
Steadily, Maggie said, “Then you’re on your own, at least until you have some evidence she’s in trouble, or you can convince the police that’s true despite the lack of any proof.” Maggie drew another breath. “John and I can report her missing, no contact, no GPS on her car, say she was supposed to check in and didn’t…but she’s an adult.”
“With a history of just taking off,” Navarro added grimly. “Especially from this town.”
“Yeah. Look, find out what you can, talk it through, try to figure out what Jessie was really up to, but you and Emma be careful. Jessie may have asked the wrong person the wrong question, and you two could do the same thing.”
“You believe this killer is somehow connected to whatever happened to Jessie fifteen years ago, don’t you?”
“I don’t believe in coincidence,” Maggie replied. “And neither do you.”
NINETEEN
Jessie had no way of knowing how much time had passed, but she was certain it was hours, because she had explored every inch of her prison, and had broken her lockpick tools spending what felt like forever trying to unlock the door along the left-hand wall.
She suspected he had somehow booby-trapped that lock, because she was careful and she was good—and tools like that didn’t just break. He was just toying with her; that was what she thought. Toying with her, allowing her to believe there might be a way out, and then making certain she would be defeated.
Bastard.
Jessie’s bravado lasted a long time. Refusing to waste time thinking about what would happen to her if she couldn’t escape, she concentrated fiercely on finding a way. She explored, and she thought, and when she finally had to admit to herself that there was no way she could escape on her own, she methodically considered and rejected various plans of how she might get the upper hand whenever he came for her.
She refused to give up.
When she spotted the infrared camera, she went to get the horribly bloody chair so she could stand on it and smash the camera, only to find that the chair was somehow fastened to the hard dirt floor. Her guess was concrete underneath, but she didn’t bother to confirm it.
Refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her panic—because surely he was watching or recording her—she kept her face expressionless as she nerved herself to pick up several of the blood- and tissue-covered implements until she finally found one she was able to throw at the camera and smash it.
“Fuck you,” she muttered, feeling a surge of triumph.
Her bravado lasted a long time.
And then she realized her flash
light was growing dim.
“Oh, shit,” she whispered.
NAVARRO WASN’T NORMALLY a pacing sort of man, but he prowled around the sitting room like a restless cat in a cage. Outside, darkness had finally fallen, and they could hear the sounds of the fireworks of the festival getting under way.
Neither of them felt very festive, and Emma had a lapful of Sheltie who hated fireworks.
“I should have told you sooner,” Emma said. “Promise or no promise.” Her eyes were still a little red, as they had been when she had finally returned to tell him what she knew of Jessie’s mission, but her voice was steady.
He gestured slightly, as though pushing that aside. “You say she was still claiming she didn’t remember what happened to her, but was certain something had.”
“That’s what she said. She was focused on Victor, at least in the beginning, and said she definitely remembered him egging her on to drink too much. But, later…if anything, she seemed less certain as time went on, more baffled. Distracted.”
Curled up at one end of the couch, stroking her trembling dog, Emma watched him prowl and tried to remember every nugget of information Jessie had shared. “She seemed to think she’d find the answers she needed during the festival, when she talked to—whoever it was she suspected. She was so closemouthed about it all, especially these last few days. Dammit, I don’t even know for sure if—if she was hurt, or how many men she suspected. She—she never actually said there was more than one, or at least I’m not sure she did, but thinking back I got the impression there was.”
“We both saw her talk to a lot of people today, Emma.”
“I know, I know.” Emma chewed on a thumbnail for a moment, then said, “It was so hard to tell, at a distance and with so many people around, how many there were or even who some of them were. But she did talk to Victor. And Sam, and Dan, and Peter Troy. Others. And we have no way of knowing which one mattered.”
Navarro stopped pacing and looked at her. “Jessie is not dead—you realize that, right?”
“You mean not yet.”
“She’s alive.”