Blood Stained (21 page)

Olivia turned to face Lucy. "I'm not going anywhere without Darrin. I've been reading about being emancipated, seeing if I could get custody of him. But I don't have a job or anything."

"Maybe we could get your mom some help? So you don't have to take care of everything by yourself?"

"Maybe." Olivia sounded skeptical. "You know what I worry about the most? What happens to Darrin once I leave for college and he's alone with them? Part of me wonders if maybe he was smart to run away now before it's too late."

Lucy pulled the car over and stopped. "Olivia. If there's some reason why your brother shouldn't be living with your parents, you need to tell me. If either of you are being hurt, I can stop it. Trust me."

Silence except for the engine idling and the wet
shoosh
of snow being cleared by the windshield wipers. "There's nothing you could prove. They never touch us." She sniffed, a lonely sound in the dark car. "Maybe that's part of the problem. I don't know."

They sat there for a moment longer, then Lucy put the car in drive. Minutes later they reached the house. The lights were all on, making it look like a cruise ship had grown out of the side of the mountain. Dark shadows loomed beneath the cantilevered first floor they parked beneath. Olivia led her inside the basement entrance and up the steps to the kitchen.

"I'm back," she called out, her voice rattling around the large, empty glass and chrome kitchen. 

Lucy kept her coat on. The house was warm enough but she couldn't stop shivering. The kitchen faced the rear of the house with large windows and sliding glass doors backing onto a small deck. The only thing between them and the mountainside. It was a bit claustrophobic and unnerving. She had the urge to grab the countertop for balance as if the entire house might slide off the mountain.

"You get used to it after awhile," Olivia said. She led the way through the hall into the front of the house, which had Frank Lloyd Wright styling combined with a post-modern industrial decor. At least that's what Olivia said, her inflection that of a bored tour guide. "I call it Edward Scissorhands chic. Sharp and sterile." 

They emerged into a wide-open living room/dining room with a staircase splitting the two areas. The space was empty. 

"Mom!"

No answer. Olivia shrugged and began up the steps. "Sometimes I wonder if this house isn't half her problem."

Lucy couldn't help but agree.

Sheriff Zeller greeted them at the landing at the top of the steps. He looked relieved. "She isn't taking it very well." 

Olivia rushed into the master bedroom to tend to her mother. Zeller walked Lucy back down the stairs and over to the front door which stood on a side wall to make room for the two walls of windows. "I finally reached the husband. Out hunting. He's on his way back."

"Did you search this house?"

"Nothing. No signs of any advance planning or anything worrisome." He dropped his voice, glanced back up the stairs. "Nothing comforting either. Sooner we find these boys the better."

"Jenna and your team are coordinating the search and rescue. Marty's mom has her church doing a phone tree getting volunteers and the Civil Air Patrol will come in at first light if we need them."

"Good." He put his hat on and reached for the door. "You need me, I'll be at the school for the duration. Oh, when Harding gets here, try to stay on his good side. Apparently one of the guys he was out hunting with is the Lieutenant Governor."

Lucy shut the door behind him and turned around. The wide-open space angled out on either side, the windows floor to ceiling. In the daytime they would have revealed only sky across the valley below. The vista should have given the room a sense of grandeur, but all that black emptiness felt bleak. Wind rattled the massive walls of glass and clouds scudded black on black across the darkness, adding to a feeling of impending doom.

No wonder Karen never got over her trauma. Trapped in this house would leave anyone unbalanced.

She climbed the stairs again but instead of going to Karen's room she opened the doors to the other bedrooms down the hall from the master suite. Olivia's made her smile. A mirror image to Megan's, all chaos and color and trying hard to make a statement without having any idea what that statement was.

The next room was a bathroom shared by the kids. Nothing out of the ordinary, not much cleaner than her own although the Hardings had the resources to hire a cleaning woman if they wanted.

Then came Darrin's room.

The scent of disinfectant hit her nostrils as she opened the door. Darrin's mattress sat on the floor in the corner. Covered with plastic, no sheets, a single pillow. As if no one expected him back.

On the opposite side of the room was a dirty clothes hamper with a lid. Beside it, a white dresser, no mirror, nothing but a small black comb, the kind they gave out at picture day at school, sitting on top. White walls. No posters, no toys, no music, no games, no electronics.

Prison cells held more warmth and comfort than this room. The room faced the mountain, so no need for curtains, the large window stood naked, exposed. A few small handprints and what had to be nose prints marred the surface.

"Dad took everything." Olivia's voice came from the door. "Told him as soon as he made it a month without wetting the bed, he could earn some of it back."

Lucy hauled in her breath, trying not to show her anger. Not the time or place. Or the right audience. "How's your mom?"

"She wants to talk with you. In private." She looked hesitant as if that might not be a good idea. 

"It'll be all right. I'll call you if we need you."

Olivia gave a reluctant nod and led Lucy to the master suite. There were two large bedrooms with an adjoining bath. That surprised her. That Kurt Harding would make such a concession to his wife—or put her needs above his own. 

Karen's room had two walls of floor to ceiling windows, giving it the same paradoxical claustrophobic feeling as the living room downstairs. As if the wide open space beyond the windows was a thin disguise for a prison cell with no escape.

The rest of the room mirrored the white on white decor of the kitchen. Bare walls, minimalistic bed and dresser, two white chairs that looked more uncomfortable than sitting on than the pale wood floor. Perched on one of them was a woman, also dressed all in white: white silk pajamas, white silk robe, pale white skin down to her bare feet. Even her lips were blanched white.

She sat in darkness, staring out the window. Her vacant gaze not registering Lucy's arrival.

"Mom," Olivia said, arranging a white wool shawl around her thin body. "I'll be in my room if you need me."

Karen Harding nodded, not looking at her daughter. Lucy sat across from her and waited. Sometimes it was best not to rush. Especially with someone as fragile as Karen.

If it wasn't for Karen and the notoriety surrounding her release, Lucy never would have begun her investigation. But once she heard about what happened to Karen, she knew there had to be more victims. No Unsub could have perfected his methods of abduction and protecting his identity so well on the first try.

Karen hadn't been kept in a cave. She described her prison as a hole dug into the dirt, narrow like a grave, not quite long enough to lie flat or tall enough to stand in. But with a door on one wall and a ceiling made of wood. The type of structure that could have been hidden anywhere outside of a city. All you needed was a vacant field with no foot traffic and some camouflage.

The Unsub made a mistake with Karen. He let it get personal. His need to degrade her and her family with as much public humiliation as possible outweighed his need for secrecy. 

He'd taken Karen in the middle of a political fundraiser where her husband was to introduce the guest of honor. An immediate search had been mounted. Her face in every newspaper and on every TV station, first in DC, then nationwide. But no sign of her.

Not until eight months later when she'd been dumped at another of her husband's public functions, naked, hair shorn, an iron collar and chain around her neck, and seven and a half months pregnant. Again the national headlines plunged the family into a media feeding frenzy.

Her husband could neither deny the child nor abandon or his wife—although Lucy had the feeling he wished she'd stayed missing—so he made a huge production out of building her a new house back in their hometown, the "safest place in America." Under public scrutiny, and at the urging of the conservative politicians he worked with, he officially adopted the child.

On paper at least. Obviously never in his heart.

The investigation pried relentlessly into his background, trying to find someone with a grudge strong enough to go to such lengths to humiliate Harding. They found plenty of people with grudges and some rather shady though legal business dealings, but no one they could link to the kidnapping.

If Kurt Harding was the real target, then the Unsub failed. Harding's business skyrocketed with the public sympathy he received. He'd even been approached about running for office himself, although he declined, saying he didn't want to put his family through the scrutiny. Lucy bet it had more to do with the financial disclosures public office would require.

But she was a cynic.

Hard to believe another Harding family member had gone missing. Even if Darrin had run away. 

"I'm sure you must be imaging the worst," Lucy finally broke the silence. 

Karen flinched but said nothing. 

"Did Sheriff Zeller explain that Darrin left school of his own volition? With Marty? No indication he was coerced or taken by force."

She nodded. Her fingers kept tugging the robe's belt tighter and tighter until Lucy wondered how she could breathe. Despite everything that had happened to her, she was still a beautiful woman. But it was a brittle beauty. Lucy hoped she hadn't reached her breaking point.

"How about if you come down to the school? Marty's mom is there and the sheriff is organizing the search parties from there. You can help people understand Darrin. How he'd think. Would he panic, is he the kind of boy who would keep going if he was lost or would he stay and wait for help?"

"I can't." Karen's voice was raspy. 

Lucy had almost forgotten. Eight months wearing the iron collar, screaming and crying, not to mention having a cattle prod rammed down her throat, had permanently damaged her vocal cords. 

"Sure you can. I'll take you. Olivia will be right beside you. We'll have someone here waiting just in case Darrin calls or comes home."

"You don't understand." Karen shrugged so hard, the shawl slipped to the floor. "I don't leave. I can't leave. This house—it's all I know anymore. I haven't left it in six years."

Lucy suspected as much, but was still shocked to hear Karen admit it. That even with her son's life in danger, she couldn't leave the house her husband built to keep her locked safe away from the world.

"I understand," Lucy finally said, holding Karen's hands in hers. 

"Do you? Do you really?" Karen sounded like she was crying but her eyes were dry and unblinking as they searched Lucy's. 

"Two months ago a man almost killed my daughter. Almost killed me when I tried to save her. I would have done anything he asked to keep her alive. I killed him. But after…" Lucy blew out her breath. She hadn't told anyone this, not even Nick. Although she was sure Nick suspected. He was too smart not to—and too wise to say anything when it wouldn't help. 

"After, I had a hard time leaving the house or letting her go anywhere. I'd take her to school, sit there in my car, watch the building. All day if I had to. My husband made me stop. It was hard, but I did. Only then came the panic attacks. They ambushed me in places so ordinary, it was pathetic. Like the grocery store. It got to the point where I couldn't get out of my car to go inside. Too many people, too many blind corners."

Karen hands tightened on Lucy's. "The way the noise echoes and you can't tell what direction it's coming from."

"Exactly. Then at work—and I work in the most secure building in the city—I could drive there okay, but I had to go earlier and earlier so I could get the parking spot next to the elevator. But then I couldn't ride the elevator. Not alone and definitely not with anyone else."

"No room to run. What if they attacked?" Karen agreed as if it were the most sensible thing in the world.

"But taking the stairs? You're so exposed. From above and below, behind you and in front of you. Where do you look without tripping and falling down? Finally, I'd walk up sideways, my back against the wall. It took me forever, always checking the landing above and below before I committed to the next step. But still the panic wouldn't stop. No matter how hard I rearranged my life to avoid it."

"What did you do?" Karen asked breathlessly.

Lucy shrugged. "Nothing. I just kept living. Refused to let it close me in, take any more of my life. I had to. For my family. The panic still comes, but each time I survive it and the next time I remind myself of that. Maybe someday it will go away, but until then, I can't let it take my life or my family. I won't."

"You make it sound so easy." Karen sagged back in her chair, pulling her hands away from Lucy's in disappointment.

"It's not easy. It's the hardest goddamn thing I've ever done. But I just don't give myself a choice."

"You see a choice." Karen turned to face the darkness. "I don't. My choices are all gone. There's nothing left. Not for me." Despair flattened her voice, as if each word was heavier than she could bear. "Maybe for my children, though. Will you take care of them for me, Lucy? Do what I can't? I'm just so tired. So very tired." Her eyelids fluttered and then closed as her head slumped against the back of the chair.

Lucy waited but Karen didn't move. She picked up the shawl, covered Karen and left the room, making sure the door was open and the hall light on. Karen was already surrounded by darkness, she wanted her to see there was a way out, if she chose to take it.

Olivia waited out in the hall. Gone was the cocky teenager facade. She wrung her hands with worry. "I'll stay. Watch over her," she whispered. "I'm used to it."