Until Dark (18 page)

“Nothing,” she whispered to the room as she turned out the lights. “I don’t think we would have done a damned thing.”

That Kendra still harbored animosity toward her aunt had much to do with the fact that her mother had gone to her grave blaming Sierra for what happened to the boys. Between her drug use and her apparent inattention to her son’s activities, Sierra had, in Kendra’s own opinion, left the door wide open for disaster. And when disaster had occurred, Sierra had merely shrugged and told Ian’s grieving mother and sister that “sometimes these things happen.”

Kendra felt the tide of bitterness rise within her again, and let guilt flow over her as she realized the truth: She could not mourn for Sierra Smith.

It hadn’t even occurred to her to ask the sheriff if he knew where they’d buried her.

Chapter
Sixteen

He sat in the worn, overstuffed chair, restlessly punching at the remote control with his thumb, skimming past daytime dramas, quiz shows, and reruns of old detective shows. He hadn’t missed a news broadcast or a newspaper in days, yet there’d been no comment about his sly little reference to Kendra. And surely someone had noticed, for heaven’s sake. This was the FBI he was dealing with, wasn’t it? You’d think that
someone
would have noticed by now that all of his ladies had one thing or another in common with Kendra.

He wondered if she appreciated all the trouble he’d gone to, getting all those little mementos exactly right. He sincerely hoped she did.

After all, imitation was the sincerest form of flattery.

Funny there’d been no mention, though. He frowned.

And then there was the matter of last night’s press conference. Kendra hadn’t been there. Nor had Adam Stark. The only member of the team he recognized was that tall dark-haired Agent Cahill. Now
there
, he smiled broadly, was a dish fit for a king.

He amused himself thinking about Miranda Cahill and wondering if he should add her to his list of potentials. He’d have to think about that. There just may come a time when he’d need to get the FBI’s attention in a way they couldn’t ignore.

And the way they were ignoring his little gestures on Kendra’s behalf was annoying. More than annoying. It was insulting. The more he thought about it, the more he knew for certain that it hadn’t been overlooked. They had chosen not to acknowledge it, and that in itself was an insult. It simply wasn’t fair play.

He searched his jacket pocket for a cigarette, then leaned over to tie his sneakers. He’d have to go outside to smoke. It was a rule. It was okay, though. He didn’t mind. If that was what Father Tim wanted, he didn’t mind at all.

Now, on the other hand, he played devil’s advocate to himself as he walked through the peaceful gardens, wasn’t there always the chance that maybe no one had caught on yet?

Nah, he rejected that thought as he blew a long trail of smoke from one side of his mouth. How could that possibly be? How could they miss something so obvious? Aren’t we dealing with some of the best criminal investigative minds in the country here?

And yet he had them all stumped, didn’t he? No one had a clue. He guessed that made him one of the best criminal minds in the country.

The thought cheered him, and his chest swelled with pride, that he could best the best.

Even her. Especially her. She had always been too smart for her own good.

But where was she? He frowned again. Were they hiding her? He wanted her here, to watch. Here, where she could watch up close, where she would be able to understand, to appreciate, his cleverness. Sooner or later, she was going to have to admit just how clever he really was.

Tires crunched on the stone drive, and a car door slammed. He turned in time to see the pretty young woman get out of her car and take several bags of groceries from the backseat. With one foot, she closed the door, took several steps, then stopped, warily, looking around as if testing the air. She stood for several long moments in the same spot, her head slightly tilted to one side, as if trying to decipher something that eluded her, then turned her back, and went about her business.

He watched from behind a low stand of mountain laurel, and it suddenly occurred to him that should ever the need arise, there was one sure way of getting Kendra’s attention.

He wondered why he hadn’t thought of it sooner.

Chapter
Seventeen

Adam rested a reassuring hand on Kendra’s shoulder.

“How do you feel, coming back here after all these years?”

“I don’t feel much of anything,” she told him honestly. “I thought maybe I’d have a sense of some emotion, or, oh, something relevant. But I don’t.”

“Are you ready to go down and see if they’ll speak with us?”

“Yes.”

“Come on then.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “We’ll have to leave the car here and walk down, since the gate’s locked.”

He ducked under the fence, waited for her, then held his hand out for her. She took it, and hand in hand they walked down the slope that led to the ranch house a quarter of a mile ahead.

“Think we should have called first?”

“I don’t know what I would have said.”

“Well, you better think of something.” Adam gestured in the direction of the house. “Someone just came out onto the porch.”

“Wonder if she’s one of Sierra’s heirs.”

“Guess we’ll soon find out.”

The air was warm for just past nine in the morning, and the sun, still on the rise, cast the shadow of the barn across a clearing that separated the house from several outbuildings. The woman who’d come out of the house sat quietly in a rocking chair, watching their approach. Except for the gentle rocking, there was no other motion that Kendra could see.

Their footsteps making a scuffing sound in the dry gravel, Adam and Kendra walked toward the thin figure hunched in the rocking chair. They were within twenty feet of the porch before she acknowledged their presence.

“Something I can do for you?” she called softly as she stubbed out a cigarette on the wooden floor of the porch. The aroma of marijuana was unmistakable.

“Hello,” Kendra called back. “Are you one of the ladies who owns this ranch?”

“Yes,” she responded somewhat warily.

“I’m Kendra Smith.” She stopped at the bottom step, still holding Adam’s hand. “My aunt, Sierra, owned this ranch at one time.”

“If you’ve come to try to take it away from us, we’ll fight you. We’ll all fight you.” The woman’s eyes narrowed suspiciously and she stood. Her voice began to rise shrilly. “It was all legal. There was a will. Sierra wanted us to have—”

“Whoa, I’m not here to take anything from you. I just came to talk, that’s all.”

“Talk?” Dirty fingers pulled nervously at a long strand of unkempt brown hair.

“Yes. That’s all. I’m just looking for some information.”

“Information about what?”

“Years ago, my brother died out here, along with my cousin, and I was hoping to speak with someone who was living here at the time. Were you living here then, when Sierra’s son and my brother were lost?”

“You’re Ian’s sister?” The woman’s eyebrows raised slightly.

Kendra nodded. “Yes.”

“I was here then. I remember Ian.” She lowered herself back into the chair. “He was a beautiful boy. Spoiled, though. He had too much. He didn’t like to share. He was mean sometimes.”

“Mean to whom?” Kendra’s brows knit closely. Ian had been a handful, true, but mean?

“To Zach. To some of the other kids. He liked to bully.”

“What’s your name?” Kendra asked.

“Emmy Moss.”

“Are you Christopher Moss’s mother?”

“I am.”

“How is your son?” Kendra sat on the top step and looked up at the woman, who looked barely old enough to have had a child who would be well into his teens by now.

“He’s the same. Same as he was. Same as he’s been.” She rocked herself back and forth.

“Do you visit him often?” Kendra leaned back against the railing, and Adam stepped aside as if to step out of the picture. Kendra was doing fine on her own for now.

“No.” Emmy picked at a fingernail. “It makes me too sad to go. He never says anything but that same garble and I never know what it means. I can’t stand it.”

“It must be very difficult for you.”

“Chrissy has always been difficult for me. They said it was because . . . because I used to drink a lot. Before he was born. But whatever, he was never right.”

“My aunt told my mother that the day the boys, Ian and Zach, disappeared, Christopher followed behind them. Do you think they knew that he was following?”

Emmy shrugged. “Maybe. He always was trailing on behind the other kids. He just wanted to be noticed. Just wanted to be included.”

“Did you see them leave that day?”

“I was sitting right here when they came outside.” She nodded. “Zach and Ian. They had backpacks and some food in a small cooler. You have to keep your stuff cool out here, you know, otherwise things spoil so quickly with the heat.”

“Did you see them leave, Emmy?”

“No. I went back inside to make breakfast for Sierra. She always let me cook her breakfast for her. She liked the way I cooked.”

“I guess you miss her.” Adam sat down on the step next to Kendra.

“Sure. She was more like a sister than a friend. She let me live here, let me keep the ranch. Me and Rosie and Sarah. We were like sisters, the four of us . . .” Her voice trailed away.

“Did the boys mention to you where they were going that morning?”

“Someplace out toward the Chiricahuas.” Emmy pointed to the mountains in the distance, beyond the barn. “They were going to camp for a few days.”

“Did Sierra know how far they were going to go?”

“Sure. What difference did it make?”

Because when they ran into trouble, they were too far away to get help, that’s what difference it made,
Kendra wanted to shout.

“So they set out that way . . .” Kendra gritted her teeth, and pointed in the direction of the mountains, “and then Christopher followed?”

“A few minutes later.” Emmy shook her head. “It was a few minutes later that Chrissy left. He never went off on his own, Chrissy didn’t. Never left the ranch by himself. He didn’t know his way around. Just couldn’t remember things well. That’s why he followed the other boys.”

“Who else saw the boys leave? Who else was out here that morning?”

“Just me.”

“Emmy, would it be all right with you if we went to see Christopher?” Adam asked.

“He won’t know you’re there, chances are.”

“We’d like your permission to stop by anyway,” Adam said.

“Sure, whatever.” Emmy shrugged.

“Thanks for your time, Emmy.” Kendra rose and dusted off the back of her khakis.

“You want to wait around to see Sarah and Rose? They sleep late sometimes. . . .”

“Not this time, I’m afraid.”

“Some other time, then.” Emmy continued to twist the long tangle of dark hair and began to rock again.

“Bye,” Kendra waved, suddenly anxious to leave. She barely said a word until they were beyond the gates and in the car.

“Wow,” she said, “the sixties are alive and well outside of Chaco, Arizona.”

“What a way to spend your life.” Adam shook his head as he started up the car. “Getting high on your front porch and watching the buzzards fly by.”

“She was pretty much out there, wasn’t she?” Kendra turned sideways in her seat and rested her arms on the window.

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking about how desolate it is out here. What if everyone believed that the boys went in one direction, and they actually went in another? I mean, with spaced-out Emmy as the only witness, how reliable was the information? Maybe they didn’t search for them in the right place.”

“Kendra, you read the reports last night and this morning. This place was swarming with law enforcement agents and volunteers, twenty miles in every direction. There wasn’t a sign of either of them.”

“But they didn’t start looking until the boys had been gone for almost two days. They could have walked more than twenty miles in two days, Adam.”

“From what I read in the files, those hills were scoured. But we can always go over the files again with Sheriff Gamble. Maybe there’s something we missed.”

“Maybe.”

Kendra leaned closer to the window to rest her chin on her arms. “The ranch looks smaller, shabbier. When I was here before, there were more people. More activity. It’s so quiet out here now.”

“Maybe it was your aunt who kept things moving.”

“No doubt. Mom always said she was a lightning rod, that things always happened when she was around.” Kendra looked back at the hills as Adam started the car. “Strange to think that she died almost a full year before Mom and that no one called us.”

“Do you think it would have occurred to Emmy?”

“I don’t think there’s much that occurs to Emmy,” she said dryly.

“Shall we see if her son has anything meaningful to add?”

“To Benson.” She pointed straight ahead. “But I doubt Christopher will be of any more help than his mother was.”

It appeared that Christopher would be no help at all.

The small private hospital that Christopher Moss called home sat at the edge of the desert. Out front, the pink blooms of the barrel cactus were just beginning to open. Hummingbirds darted around the feeders that hung from the low branches of the cottonwoods. The hospital was mission style, with arches and tiles set into the stucco walls. The grounds were manicured and neat. The overwhelming impression was of money, exclusivity.

“I wonder if my aunt paid for this,” Kendra said in a low voice as she and Adam approached the courtyard.

“Emmy didn’t appear to be a lady of means.”

“It would have been good use of Sierra’s money,” Kendra told him, thinking of some of the ways she was putting the Smith money to work. Father Tim’s Mission was only one beneficiary. “Better to take care of Christopher than to have Emmy and her gang smoke it away. Or worse.”

The hospital was cool inside, the staff cordial. Kendra and Adam were taken to Christopher’s room by a young male orderly who had a buzz cut, several tattoos, and a friendly manner.

“Chrissy, you have some company,” the orderly announced as he led the visitors into the room. He opened the drapes to let in the scenery, then pointed to a chair next to the window.

The man in the chair appeared to be in his thirties, though Kendra and Adam were well aware that he couldn’t have been more than eighteen. His pale hair was long and pulled back in a ponytail held with a red rubber band. He wore a shirt that buttoned down the front and cotton pants with a drawstring at the waist of the same color blue as the shirt. He stared out the window, and it wasn’t until Kendra spoke that his eyes shifted to look at her face, though his head never moved. His left hand moved to one of the buttons on his shirt, which he began to stroke, holding it between his thumb and his index finger.

“Hi, Christopher,” Kendra said as she took a few steps forward, then stopped. “Is it okay if I sit down in the chair there, next to you?”

“He doesn’t talk,” the orderly said, as if Christopher was deaf as well as mute. “He never talks. Well, rarely, anyway. Sometimes you can get him to write or draw pictures, but that’s all.”

“Christopher, my name is Kendra. I’m Ian’s sister. Do you remember Ian?”

Christopher looked past her, to some place beyond the window.

“We saw your mother today, Christopher. Emmy. We went to see her at the ranch. Do you remember the ranch? You used to live there.”

Nothing, not so much as the blink of an eye.

“Do you remember Zach? Zach was my cousin. You lived on the ranch with him, with your mother, Emmy, and Zach’s mother, Sierra, and lots of other people. Do you remember Zach?”

Christopher’s head turned slightly but still, he did not look at her face. Kendra continued to chat with him in a low, soothing voice, hoping that something would reach him, but nothing appeared to have gotten through. He simply stared out the window.

“I guess that’s that.” She looked up at Adam, still speaking softly.

“What were you hoping for?” he asked.

Kendra shrugged. “I have no idea what I thought I’d find.”

She turned back to Christopher and took his hands in her own, patting them gently. “You take care, Christopher. Maybe we’ll get to see you again before we leave Arizona.”

Kendra quietly returned her chair to its spot against the wall, and turned to leave.

“Be . . . ca . . . ca . . .” The voice, little more than a whisper, was raspy from disuse.

“What?” Stunned that he’d spoken, she turned back to Christopher. “What did you say?”

“Be . . . ca . . . ca . . .” he stuttered.

“Because? Because what?” She knelt in front of him, and found that fat tears were pooling in the corners of his eyes. “Because what, Christopher?”

“Be . . . ca . . . ca . . .” he repeated, his eyes not meeting hers.

She quickly searched her handbag for her Daytimer, where she knew she’d find at least a small piece of paper and a pen. She placed the paper in front of Christopher and held out the pen. When he made no move to take it, she put it in his hand, wrapping his fingers around it.

“Here, Christopher. Can you write it for me? Whatever it is you’re trying to tell us, can you write it for me?”

Christopher Moss stared for long minutes at the pen before his gaze moved slowly to the paper on the table, then back to the pen. Kendra had all but given up hope that he’d use them, when Christopher moved the pen to the paper and began to write. When he dropped the pen, Kendra picked it up and handed it back to him, but his gaze had changed, as if he was no longer aware of her presence.

Kendra slipped the pen into her pocket and lifted the paper.

BE CAUS

“What in the devil do you suppose that means?” Adam whispered.

Kendra shook her head and reached behind Christopher to grab a few tissues from the box that sat on the windowsill. She wiped his face dry of tears, then tucked the paper into her purse.

“Let’s see if this means anything to Sheriff Gamble.” Kendra tossed the tissues into the trash. “Thank you, Christopher. I know this means something important to you. We’ll do our best to try to figure out what.”

“So, how’d you make out?” Cole Gamble asked when Adam and Kendra walked into his office later that afternoon. “Was Christopher able to tell you something you didn’t already know?”

“We don’t know,” Adam told him.