Authors: Cheryl Bradshaw
Detective McCoy arrived a half hour later looking far more haggard than he had earlier that morning. He apologized, saying he thought he was coming down with something. By the looks of him, he’d already come down with it.
Mr. Tate paced the floor like he was preparing to give the most important speech of his life. It wasn’t until he realized all eyes were on him and no one else was talking that he started in with his story. Cade and his father listened while Mr. Tate talked about his theory on the correlation between the two kidnappings. Then he switched gears, mentioning the coloring page he’d received in the mail. Detective McCoy seemed relieved the truth was finally coming out, but Cade looked like he wanted to blacken both of Tate’s eyes for withholding evidence. When Mr. Tate finished, no one said anything for a long time.
“At least we are all on the same page now,” I said. “Once the two cases come together, maybe we can find these girls.”
I hoped, alive. It was a lot to wish for, but I didn’t want to accept the worst until I had no other choice.
Cade shook his head. “What a mess.”
“We’ll have to get with the boys in Sublette County and sort all this stuff out,” Detective McCoy said. “Since we may have mutual interests, my hope is we can swap information with each other.”
He rose from the sofa and winced, placing a hand on his lower back and holding it there. When he caught me staring, his hand dropped to his side. “If you all will excuse me, I better call the chief and tell him what’s going on.”
Once Detective McCoy was out of the room, Cade started in on Mr. Tate. “How could you keep this critical piece of evidence from my father?”
Mr. Tate looked at me, but I didn’t want to interfere. Not yet. My turn was coming.
“Olivia’s parents said they never got the picture back once they handed it over to the police,” Mr. Tate said. “And once they had it, they still couldn’t find her, so why should I trust it with you?”
“It could help us find your daughter and the other girl, Olivia,” Cade said. “What good does it do sitting here in your house?”
“It helps my wife—gives her peace, gives her hope.”
Cade threw his hands in the air. “Hope for what? Your wife barely gets out of bed anymore!”
The words slipped out of Cade’s mouth just as Lily’s sweet face poked around the corner. I placed a hand on Cade’s arm and squeezed just enough for him to stop before it got any worse.
“I’ll be outside,” he whispered to me. “I can’t believe you knew about this and didn’t say anything. What was you thinkin’?”
“We’ll discuss this later,” I said. “Away from here.”
“Get the flippin’ paper, or whatever it is.”
I nodded.
Mr. Tate had already left the room, apparently to get the paper. When he returned, he said, “I hope you don’t get in trouble because of me.”
“I’m sure I can handle it.”
He handed the folded page to me. “There was an envelope, but I can’t find it. I swear. I saw it yesterday, but now it’s gone. Maybe my wife knows, but she’s sleeping right now, and I don’t want to—”
I took the paper from him and smiled. “No worries,” I said. “When you find it, let me know. In the meantime, I’ll make sure they get this.”
Mr. Tate closed his eyes. He looked worried. I didn’t know if it was because the envelope was missing, or if it had to do with something else. If it was over the envelope, he was fretting over nothing. I knew exactly where it was.
CHAPTER 20
“Where’s the rest of it?” Cade said.
I shrugged, handing him the coloring page.
“This is all he gave to me.”
Cade dangled the plastic baggie in front of me. “Paper doesn’t come in the mail without an envelope.”
“He said he’ll try to find it.”
Cade slid into the seat of his truck, started the engine, and snatched his cowboy hat from the seat next to him. He put it on and said, “It doesn’t matter. Once they get a warrant, they’ll find it, along with whatever else the man has been hiding.”
“Why don’t you bring that high horse of yours down a couple notches?” I said. “They’re suffering. Do you really want to rip their entire home apart for an envelope? Your father certainly has told you what Mrs. Tate is going through—she’s barely coherent.”
Cade whipped his head around, staring at me. “Are you done giving me advice? If I want to know how you feel, I’ll ask.”
I felt an uncomfortable pain in my stomach over a man I’d just met.
He pulled the truck door shut and sped out of the driveway, leaving me alone with his father who had taken it all in like we were shooting the main scene of an old movie.
“I guess I’ll be seeing you later, maybe,” Detective McCoy said.
The way the words came out of his mouth was awkward—like he didn’t really know what to say, but he felt compelled to say something.
“Have you told him yet?” I said.
“I don’t follow.”
“That you’re sick,” I said.
“Why would I—it’s just a nasty virus. It’ll pass.”
“But it won’t, will it?” I said.
My accusation caught him off guard.
“What makes you say that?”
“You grabbed your back when you stood up in Mr. Tate’s house. And when you came by my hotel room this morning, I noticed your eyes. Even though it was early, they looked a bit yellow to me.”
Part of me was sorry for prying—whatever he was going through wasn’t my business.
Detective McCoy walked over to where I was standing and looked at me. “You assume a lot, Miss Monroe.”
“Am I wrong?”
There was a long pause and then he said, “Do you think Cade knows?”
“I’m not sure. I don’t know your son very well. How’s he been acting since he moved back here?”
“Fine. A little on edge, maybe. But I just thought it had to do with the case, or looking after his teenage daughter. He’s got a lot of his own things he’s dealing with right now. I didn’t want to add one more thing to the list.”
“Do you mind me asking what’s wrong?” I said.
“Pancreatic cancer.”
“Are you getting treatment for it?”
He shook his head.
“Too late for that now. I felt fine at first, and by the time I realized something was wrong, the doctor told me it had spread. It’s too late to operate—too late to do anything but sit and wait to die. Doesn’t seem fair, but I suppose nothin’ ever does.”
I wanted to say something, but what could I say to a person who knew he was going to die? I was a fixer. I liked to fix things, make things whole again. I didn’t know how to be any other way.
“You won’t tell my boy, will you?” he said.
I grabbed Mr. McCoy’s hand, a gesture that shocked both of us. “Of course not. It’s not my secret to tell.”
He smiled.
“You know what? I like you, Miss Monroe. I like you a lot.”
I liked him too.
CHAPTER 21
“Is it possible to lift a print from an envelope?” I said.
Maddie held her hand out. “Anything’s possible, sweetie. What do you have for me?”
I took the envelope out of my bag, using a tissue to handle the edges and handed it to her. “Sorry, I didn’t have time to put it in anything. I just grabbed it.”
She read the address on the front and peeked inside. “Where’s the rest of it?”
“Cade McCoy has it. They’re probably processing it now.”
“And you didn’t want this processed along with it?”
I ran a hand through my hair. “I don’t know. I wasn’t really thinking. I saw it inside the top drawer of Mrs. Tate’s nightstand, and I couldn’t resist. I knew I had to leave the coloring page, but I thought I could get away with nabbing this part, so I did.”
She raised a brow. “All righty, then.”
“Can you do anything with it without being at your lab? I doubt we have access to the chemicals you’d need here.”
She raised a finger. “There is another way—a new technique we’ve been using lately in the lab. Believe it or not, I can get prints off this by using a ceramic hair straightener.”
“You’re not serious?” I said.
“Completely. I’ll need my glasses to see the prints though.”
“You don’t wear glasses,” I said.
“I’m not talking about regular glasses. They’re special goggles with orange lenses. Under a certain light, I’ll be able to see the prints. It would probably be easier just to mail this to my guys and let them do it, but then we run the risk of this getting lost somewhere along the way, not to mention what could happen if one of my guys screws up.”
“They know what they’re doing, don’t they?” I said.
“Lifting prints from paper is delicate. If the straightener is on the paper for too long, the paper turns brown, and the prints are lost. Once that happens, there are no do-overs. They’re lost forever.”
I sighed.
“I shouldn’t have taken it,” I said. “Even if you get a print that doesn’t belong to you, me, the mailman, the processors at the post office, and Mr. and Mrs. Tate, you still can’t run it. Not here.”
It was like my brain was running on half a cylinder. I was practical, not irrational. I thought things through. I didn’t talk first and think later. My words were orchestrated, almost rehearsed. So what the hell was I doing?
“Well, it’s too late now,” Maddie said. “What do you want me to do with this?”
I shook my head.
“I don’t know.”
Maddie grabbed a container out of her suitcase, emptied it out, and placed the envelope inside. Then she shoved it into her purse. “While you’re thinking about things, I’ll go pick us up some dinner.”
Maddie scooped Lord Berkeley up with one hand and walked out the door. I stripped down to nothing and stepped into the shower. I stood beneath the faucet wishing the moisture could wash away a lot more than a few flecks of dirt. In some ways, I felt I was getting somewhere locating the missing girls. I’d found a new witness and convinced Mr. Tate to turn over the drawing. But in other ways, I wasn’t anywhere near finding the answers. Maybe that’s why I’d taken the envelope in the first place. I wanted to grasp at something, even if it was the wrong thing.
I thought about Giovanni and wondered if he’d found his sister yet. I should have been there helping him, even if he didn’t want me to—but I was committed to finding Olivia and Savannah. I couldn’t stop now.
I turned the water off and reached around the shower curtain for my towel. I dried off, wrapped the towel around me, and stepped out. A hand grabbed at my arm, slapping a handcuff around my wrist. I looked up. Cade McCoy lifted my cuffed hand into the air and snapped the other half of the cuff around the shower rod. Not the greatest idea, but since it was bolted into the wall on both sides and the rod appeared to be industrial-strength, it wouldn’t be the easiest thing to get out of. And he knew what he was doing. He’d wrapped it so tight, even with my small wrists there was no way for me to break free.
“What are you doing?!” I said.
“Where’s the envelope, Sloane?”
“What?”
“I know you took it from Tate’s house.” He dangled a key in front of my face. “Tell me where it is, and I’ll unlock you.”
“I don’t have it,” I said.
He shrugged.
“Guess I have no choice—I’ll have to find it myself.”
He walked out of the bathroom. A moment later I heard the sound of various items being strewn around the bedroom.
“How dare you—you can’t just go through my things!” I said. “What right do you—”
He stuck his head into the bathroom and winked. “You wanna stop me, go right ahead.”
The nerve of him breaking into my hotel room and rifling through my personal items was too much for me. I braced myself against the wall and tugged on the cuffs, using every muscle at my disposal. They wouldn’t budge.
Cade burst out laughing.
“It’s not funny!” I shouted.
“Not to you maybe, but it is to me. How long do you think it’ll take you to get out of those?”
“Maddie will be back any minute, and then we’ll see if you still find it so amusing.”
“No, she won’t.”
“What do you mean?” I said.
“I saw her down at the Chinese place a few minutes ago. Paid my friend a few bucks to uh, keep her busy for a while. She’s easily distracted, so I’d say I have all the time I need.”
“You could have just talked to me. You didn’t have to hold me against my will.”
“I’ve tried talking to you,” he said. “It never works. Thanks for the suggestion, though. I’ll keep it in mind for next time.”
Drawers opened and closed, and then Cade walked somewhere else. I heard the sound of papers shuffling around, followed by the unzipping of a suitcase. So much for privacy.
“Stay out of my bag—you can’t go through my personal items!”
“You know, Sloane, this would be a lot easier if you’d just told me where I could find it,” he said.
“Fine. Let me out of these cuffs, and I will.”
“Oh, no. Somethin’ tells me once you’re released, you might have a change of heart.”
He was getting ready to experience that change of heart first-hand. While he’d been sifting and sorting, I’d used my foot to inch over a sewing kit on the bathroom counter, a complimentary item provided by the hotel. Once it was close enough, I slid the plastic lid open with my hand, carefully and quietly pulling out the needle inside.
“You give up yet?” Cade shouted.
I thought about turning on the waterworks, but even I wouldn’t buy that. “I have nothing to say to you. I’d appreciate it if you’d stop talking.”
“Works for me,” he said.
I lifted the needle into the air, lining it up with the hole on the cuff around my wrist. All I had to do now was stick it in, make sure it was in the correct position, and I was free.
“What do you think you’re doin’?” Cade said.
The needle dropped as I glanced up. Defeated. Cade was inches from my face, staring down at me. My damp, soggy hair splashed droplets of water into my eyes, probably causing my mascara to run. I knew I should have scrubbed it off in the shower. I imagined I resembled one of the female zombies in Shaun of the Dead. No wonder he’d been laughing. Cade smelled like a mixture of spices and some kind of wood, which I shouldn’t have found intoxicating, but I couldn’t help it.