Exposure (20 page)

Wordlessly, he wandered toward the two officers.

Kaycee backtracked up her porch steps and hovered there, wedged between two nightmares. In time she saw Seth and his hound advancing up Walters Lane. Kaycee ran down her sidewalk and across the street to join the onlookers near the yellow tape. She pushed in to stand at Ryan’s side.

Nose to the pavement, the dog sniffed its way along with much excitement, dragging Seth in a trot.

The hound led its owner right to the blood stain.

It’s Hannah’s!

Kaycee’s hands gripped each other so hard she thought her fingers would snap.

Ryan moaned.

Some thirty feet beyond the stain, on the left side of the road — Seth’s dog lost the scent.

After the hound lost Hannah’s trail, Chief Davis, Mark, Ryan, and Officer Sam Walsh gathered for a quick meeting on Kaycee’s porch. They had numerous things to discuss. Ryan slumped against a white pillar with one hand thrust in his hair, his face slick with sweat. He stared at his feet, barely blinking. Guilt gripped Kaycee as she watched him. This was what real fear looked like. Her petty frights were nothing.

Chief told her and Ryan that the evidence bag of blood from the street, plus the photo she had found, would soon be on their way to the Frankfort lab. They hoped to hear by tomorrow afternoon if the blood was human and the types were the same. Hannah’s type was O, the most common. Even if the blood in both evidence bags was O, there was still a big chance one or the other wasn’t hers.

Ryan frowned, as if his brain just registered the conversation. “What photo?”

Gently, Chief Davis explained the events at Kaycee’s house. Kaycee let him do the talking. By the time he finished explaining, Ryan’s mouth hung open. He stared at Kaycee, his eyes darkened. “Why didn’t you tell me this?”

“I — I didn’t think they were linked.”

“How could you
not
think that?”

“Because — ”

“Mr. Parksley — ” Chief Davis raised a hand.

“No. I want to hear it from
her
. You’re my daughter’s best friend, Kaycee. She thinks the world of you.” Ryan’s words thickened. “Less than an hour after you visited last night, she ran away to
come here
. And you don’t think what happens with you is ‘
linked
’?”

Kaycee shrank back. “I didn’t want to bother the police with my problems, I just wanted them to look for Hannah — ”

“It’s a little too
late
, don’t you think?”

“Ryan.” Chief laid a hand on his arm.

Ryan shook it off and stepped toward Kaycee. His cheeks flushed. “Why did Hannah walk all that way in the dark to come here? Tell me that. What’ve you been filling her ears with? Is she crying to you about my marrying Gail so soon, and you’re just going, yeah, yeah, poor thing, your dad’s such a louse? You standing there, judging me?” Ryan’s lip curled. He swung his head from her to the three officers, a dead man come to life. “You’re all judging me! You got no idea what I’ve been through. No
idea
!”

“Ryan.” Sam gripped his shoulder. Ryan pivoted away. He wrenched himself two steps toward the street and hung there, breathing hard. Peering toward the spot where Hannah vanished.

Kaycee’s eyes stung. She raked a despairing glance at Mark and saw a compassion that tightened her throat. He shook his head —
You didn’t deserve that.

Ryan dug his fingers into his scalp, his spine folding over. His legs seemed to crumble out from under him. Sam jumped to his side and caught him before he toppled. Ryan hung on like a drowning man thrown a lifeline and broke into sobs.

The sound tore Kaycee’s heart in two. Turning away, she covered her face and cried.

A presence materialized beside her. “It’s okay, Kaycee.” Mark’s voice. “It’s okay.”

But it wasn’t. Nothing was okay. Still, she nodded and gulped back the tears.

After a minute Ryan quieted. He drew himself up, wiping both cheeks with the back of one hand. “Sorry.” His voice sounded raw.

“No need to apologize.” Chief Davis looked worn. He had two children of his own. Kaycee knew the pressure on him to bring Hannah home safely must be crushing.

The five of them looked at each other, the air heavy with unspoken thoughts. Defensiveness wafted from Ryan, as if he knew he’d tipped his hand to his own guilt.

He stuttered a sigh. “What do we do now?”

Chief stood with one hand on his hip. He looked to Kaycee. “We’ll get someone in your house to dust for prints soon. And we’ll get your car back to you. Meanwhile we’ve got to decide what to do with you tonight. I suggest you stay with your friend again. We’ll keep watch on your house, see if we can catch anyone lurking around.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ryan, we really don’t know if these events are linked to Hannah’s disappearance, but we need to act on the assumption they are. Which means trying to catch who’s doing this is of utmost importance, even as we take all the other steps to find Hannah.”

Ryan nodded. His mouth opened then shut, as if he didn’t trust himself to speak. He wouldn’t look at Kaycee.

“I’m staying here.” The words popped from Kaycee.

Chief Davis pulled in the corners of his mouth. “That might be pretty frightening.”

“Doesn’t matter how frightening it is.” Kaycee’s words sharpened. “I
have
to stay here. Most of the stuff has happened inside my house. How are you going to know what’s going on in there by just driving by now and then? And we have to remember whoever’s doing this is aiming it at
me
. If it has anything to do with Hannah, it’s probably only because she got in the way.” Kaycee’s voice cracked. She swallowed hard. “I have to do this. I left last night, and look what happened. I’m
not
leaving tonight.”

Ryan surveyed her for a moment, then looked away.

Mark rubbed the back of his neck. Lack of sleep drew ridges around his mouth. “I don’t know that it would’ve made any difference if you were home.”

“I’m not leaving, Mark. I’m not walking away from this.”

Chief Davis looked from Kaycee to Ryan and back. Sighing, he turned to gaze down Walters Lane. The crime-scene tape bounced in a slight breeze. Ed stood behind it, legs apart, holding his clipboard and looking their direction. Kaycee could practically see the wheels of decision turning in the chief’s head. So many details to handle, with a finite amount of officers. And despite his patience, Kaycee sensed his drive to get moving. Any further searching on foot for Hannah would be far more difficult after dark.

He cleared his throat. “There is a benefit to you staying. If you’re here, that may draw these suspects out. Then we can move in. But your safety comes first. I’ll put two officers on your house tonight.”

“I’ll do it,” Mark said. “You haven’t slept.”

“Let me go sleep now. I’ll come back on duty at nine or ten, whenever you want.”

Kaycee threw Mark a look of gratitude. “But that would mean less officers looking for Hannah.”

The chief shook his head. “No it won’t. Soon as I get back to the station I’ll be calling the State Police for help with this case. There’s too much for us to handle. We’ll need more officers — plus volunteers — to help in grid searches. I might request the State Police to provide the second officer to watch this place tonight. I’m thinking one officer in the black barn to cover the left side of your property and one in Mrs. Foley’s house to cover the right.”

Mrs. Foley
,
great.
Kaycee pushed hair off her face. “Mrs. Foley might not want to cooperate. When I found that picture in my car I went a little crazy. And she saw it.”

“I’ll talk to her,” Chief said.

Panic spiraled through Kaycee’s chest. This plan, her staying here tonight — it could really happen.

“This is workable, if you think you can handle it.” Chief Davis must be reading her mind. “Officer Burnett and the second man will be only a minute away if you need them. With lights off in Mrs. Foley’s first level, Mark can move from front to back to see out windows, and that barn’s dark at night. Plenty bowed slats to look through. Keep your cell phone with you at all times, and the officers will have theirs. I’ll remain on duty all night as well, and I won’t be far away.”

“Okay, but . . .” This was going to sound so paranoid. “Whoever these people are, they’re watching.” Kaycee whisked nervous fingers up and down the bottom of her purse strap. “If they see Mark going into Mrs. Foley’s house . . .”

If Chief Davis thought she was being crazy, he didn’t show it. His “velvet touch” at work. “Mark, dress in civilian clothes and wear a hat. Park across the street in your own personal car. Carry your weapon and laptop in a small suitcase. You’re a guest visiting for the night.”

“Okay.”

“As for the other guy, we’ll station him as unobtrusively as possible, also in plainclothes.”

Kaycee glanced from Mark to the chief. She was suddenly having trouble processing oxygen. “So . . . what exactly do we expect to happen?”

The chief spread his hands. “None of this is predictable. But with three episodes at your house in less than twenty-four hours, it’s not unlikely whoever’s bothering you will come around again. This time we’ll get them. And let’s hope they can lead us to Hannah.”

Let’s hope.

“You okay with this?” Chief raised his eyebrows. “The alternative is to go stay with your friend.”

Kaycee thought of the dream her watchers had somehow caused her to have at Tricia’s house. The “wrong number” call there asking for Belinda, a haunting name that had to be connected to all this. “If I’m not here, they’ll know. They . . . see things. They
know
.”

“Oh, brother,” Ryan muttered in disgust. He turned toward the crime-scene tape, hands at his temples. His eyes closed, and the cynicism drained from his features, replaced with abject pain. “This sounds so crazy,” he whispered. “But just . . . make it work. Bring Hannah back.”

Yes
,
God
,
please
. But it only worked if they showed up. Which would be beyond terrifying.

The meeting broke up. Sam and Ryan wandered back to Sam’s vehicle to return to Ryan’s house — and wait. The chief crossed the side yard to knock on Mrs. Foley’s door. Kaycee could imagine their conversation. The old woman would play like she was being put upon while privately basking in her incredible fortune. She’d get to help a police officer snoop.

Mark lingered on Kaycee’s porch. She surveyed him, vulnerability swirling in her chest. Ryan Parksley’s words still bit deep.

Mark cleared his throat. “About last night. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.”

Kaycee focused on her feet. Once again he’d surprised her. There was so much more depth to this man than he was willing to show. She wanted to reach down inside him, pull it out. “After four false alarms, why should you?”

Silence ticked by. She could feel his eyes upon her. For once she didn’t mind being watched.

Mark put a finger beneath her chin and nudged her to look him in the eye. “Guess what.”

Something whispered down the length of her, like silk. “What?”

“I read your column every week.”

She swallowed. “The one that only ‘stirs up people’s fears’?”

Instantly she wanted the words back. Why had she said that? Like she had to get in a dig.

Mark tilted his head as if considering his response. “Sometimes,” he said, “maybe it hits a little too close to home.”

Abruptly he turned and headed down her porch steps, leaving Kaycee to stare after him, half wondering if the moment had happened at all.

Lorraine and Tammy sat on the bed, propped up with pillows, watching
Sesame Street
. That is, Tammy watched. Lorraine’s thoughts tumbled elsewhere. Tammy’s legs splayed apart, her right foot jerking back and forth. Belinda lay in her arms. With one finger Tammy absently rubbed the bear’s velvety nose.

Questions, always the questions. They snaked through Lorraine’s head, writhing from the bank robbery to Martin’s words that morning to hiding in the closet. Could she have done something different? Could she somehow have kept her husband alive?

“Please tell me this isn’t about the bank robbery.”

Lorraine knew Martin’s reactions too well. She’d always been able to read him. As he’d stared at that mouse in the toilet — was that just yesterday? — she’d seen his consternation. She’d had to tell him what to do, how to be the hero. Sometimes Martin’s dreams outran his head. He wanted so much for her and Tammy and was afraid he couldn’t always come through for them.

“We’re going to lose a lot of money.”

He’d done it, hadn’t he? He’d helped those robbers in exchange for a cut of the money. The man who killed him was supposed to come over and give Martin his share. That man told Martin to get her out of the apartment because he didn’t want her to see his face. But she wouldn’t listen.

Maybe the man never planned to give Martin any money in the first place. Her husband was set up to die like some worthless dog.

Tears burned Lorraine’s eyes.

Was all the money sitting in that storage unit this very minute?