Forgotten Secrets (21 page)

Gram stood, and the sketch pad fell from her lap. She walked over to the waiting room desk. “Cheyenne needs to do a better job of keeping her office clean. I’ll drag in Willow, Norma, and Fannie to do a spring cleaning next Saturday.”

Without another word, she strode out of the clinic.

“I guess she’s finished,” he said, rushing out the door after his grandmother and into the dim light of evening at the same time he snagged his phone and dialed Pops.

“Thayne? Is she—” Fear laced his grandfather’s voice.

“We found her at the clinic. She’s fine.”

“Thank God. I’m on my way.” He hung up.

Thayne strode up beside his grandmother and hooked his arm through hers. “Pops is on his way to pick you up.”

She looked up at him. “That’s not right. I have to meet Cheyenne for dinner.”

“There’s been a change of plans.”

“Oh.” She frowned. “Cheyenne’s gone off with that Riverton boy again, hasn’t she? Nothing good can ever come of that. He’s not what he seems. He has secrets. He’s dangerous.”

Gram knew a lot more than anyone realized. Brett Riverton definitely hid a lot more than he shared.

“I think Pops is expecting you for a date and dancing this evening.”

“He’s planning more than that, boyo,” Gram said, with a twinkle in her eye. She patted Thayne’s face. “You could learn a thing or two about romance from Lincoln. I’ll tell him to have a talk with you.”

“Yes ma’am,” Thayne said, biting back a smile. He let himself chance a glance at Riley, who shook her head in bemusement. He could relate.

“You’re a good boy, Thayne. Don’t let anyone tell you differently.”

A pickup screeched up beside them. “Helen!” Pops hurried over to his wife. He wrapped her in his strong arms. “I thought I’d lost you.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Lincoln. Not until you kick me out.” She leaned her head against his chest and held him. She closed her eyes, resting there.

Pops placed his cheek against her hair, the brightness of tears causing his eyes to sparkle.
Thank you,
he mouthed.

Thayne simply nodded. Pops and Gram truly belonged together. They had that Blackwood kind of love. For better or for worse.

Pops led her to his truck and lifted her slight body inside. She shifted in her seat closer to Lincoln, leaning her head against his shoulder.

Without saying a word, Pops raised his hand, and the truck drove away.

“You didn’t say anything about the drawing to him,” Riley said.

“I didn’t want to get his hopes up. Not until we know more.”

“How do you and your family keep up with your grandmother, Thayne? My head’s spinning with confusion.”

Thayne recognized the feeling. When he’d first come home, he’d had trouble following Gram. “Her behavior changes every day, or even every minute sometimes,” Thayne said. “The trick is not having any expectations. Be thankful for the flashes of the Gram I know and remember and help her be comfortable whatever her reality is.”

“I admire you all.”

“We love her. That never changes, but sometimes it’s hard not to wish for her back. Like now. She’d be able to tell us everything.” He turned back to the clinic. “We need that sketchbook to put out an APB on the kid.”

They walked back into the clinic, and he grabbed Gram’s sketchbook and sat down.

“Is that the only sketch?” Riley asked, taking a seat beside him. “I usually draw several versions.”

Thayne flipped the page. “Oh, Gram.” He tilted the drawing toward Riley. The boy stood in front of the clinic’s desk, a terrified and sad expression on his face, his eyes staring at someone in the distance. A dark SUV was visible through the front window. Gram had even drawn exhaust from the tailpipe. In one hand, the kid carried a bottle and what appeared to be a rag. Cheyenne lay helpless on the floor, unconscious, with what appeared to be blood on her forehead. A girl stood over her, crying. A girl with long red hair down her back who was much too slim.

Stunned at the detail, Thayne took in every stroke. “This is real,” he said in awe. “This is what happened Friday night. Gram knew all along, but she couldn’t tell us.”

Riley pointed to the girl. “She could be the one we found at the waterfall, Thayne. She looks so familiar to me. That must be why.”

Thayne’s phone rang. He picked it up and pressed the speakerphone.

“Blackwood,” he barked out.

“We got a hit on the print,” Pendergrass said.

“You’re kidding. So fast?” Thayne could hardly believe the good fortune. Maybe their luck was changing.

“He was in the NCIC database.”

“A felon?” Riley asked. “Is there a warrant?”

“Not even close. The print belongs to a kid named Brian Anderson. He went missing six years ago.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The clinic faded into white nothingness, and Riley fell back into the chair, unable to comprehend what Deputy Pendergrass had just said.

She stared at Thayne’s cell phone. “Let me get this straight. You’re telling me the young man who broke in to the hospital pharmacy, possibly murdered Nurse Crawly, and left a fingerprint was a missing child?”

“Yes, ma’am. He was ten when he was kidnapped.”

“Which makes him sixteen now,” Thayne said. “Still a kid.”

“A kid who’s now our prime suspect,” Pendergrass added.

Riley’s heart hurt, because she’d spoken with too many kidnap victims over the years, including long-term captives. Their lives were never the same. “He’s also a victim,” Riley snapped. “Do you have a picture?” she asked, flipping the sketchbook to the close-up drawing Helen had completed.

“Sorry, ma’am. But I can do better than just a photo. The Center for Missing and Exploited Children has his original photo
and
an age-progressed image. Thayne, do you want me to put out an APB on the kid?”

Thayne looked over at her. “He’s our insider.”

“If we put out an APB, we’ve put a target on his back, and maybe Cheyenne’s, too.” Riley squeezed the bridge of her nose. “Don’t do it. Not yet.”

“You heard her, Pendergrass. Hold off on the APB, but send the photos to my phone and Riley’s.” Thayne rattled off her number. “And let the sheriff know as soon as he finishes the press conference.”

“Don’t tell him before it’s over, Deputy,” Riley added. “We can’t risk the press getting a whisper of any leads. It could put the boy in danger.”

“You got it, ma’am. I never liked the vultures anyway.”

“Keep the information close,” Thayne warned. “Someone tipped off the press about the fingerprint. Until we find the leak, I want a tight lid on every aspect of this investigation.”

He ended the call. A few seconds later, a tone sounded on Riley’s phone. An image appeared on her screen.

First an auburn-haired little boy of six. Very familiar. She compared it to the sketch. “It could be him.” She tilted the phone so Thayne could see it, too.

When the next image flashed on the screen, he sucked in a breath. “Gram could have drawn that age-progressed picture. They’re nearly identical. It’s a match. Brian Anderson was here.”

Riley gripped the sketch pad and stared hard, back and forth, between the images on her phone and the drawing.

“Riley?”

“He looks so familiar,” she muttered. The image staring back at her sent chills skittering through her entire body. She shivered, and the hairs on her neck stood at attention.

“Because of Gram’s drawing.”

“Something else . . .” Riley gasped. “Oh my God.”

“What is it?” Thayne asked.

“Give me a second.” Riley handed him the sketch pad and ran to the SUV, grabbing her satchel. She clutched it to her chest, her heart pounding so hard she knew he could hear every beat.

She sat down next to him. “I’m probably imagining things,” she said under her breath, pulling a thick manila expandable file from her bag, bulging with red folders.

Thayne’s leg rested next to hers, the heat from his body warming her frozen soul. Was she right? She pulled out the first record.

Her hands shook. She riffled through page after page, her face growing paler with each item she touched until she reached the photo she’d been looking for.

“This can’t be happening.”

“Who is it? Another suspect?”

She shook her head, fighting the confusion washing through her mind. “This can’t be right. It just can’t be.”

Thayne gripped her hand to stop her shuffling. “Talk to me.”

She handed him a photo. “Look at this girl.” She pulled out another folder and went directly to a picture. Something in her heart squeezed tight. “And this one.”

One by one, she handed him more. “Look at them.” Her voice trembled. “Nine photos. Nine redheaded girls.”

“Who are they?” he asked.

“Wait. There’s more.” She swiped her phone. “This is the age-progression drawing of Brian Anderson. He’s sixteen.”

She placed a series of photos on the floor in front of them. “These are age-progressed photos of the girls. Aged sixteen. What do you see?”

Thayne’s entire body went numb. “Similar face shapes, similar hair color. All with blue eyes. They look alike. Those girls and Brian Anderson.”

“Exactly.”

“Who are they?” he repeated.

“Let me show you two more.” Riley’s hand trembled. She removed the last two red folders. She hadn’t been wrong. She couldn’t believe it.

When she removed the photographs, Thayne gasped. “Is that Gina Wallace?”

“Yes. And here’s her at sixteen.”

Thayne sank back in his chair and stared at her, his expression as stunned as she felt. “Brian Anderson, our prime suspect in Cheyenne’s kidnapping, looks like a male version of Gina. That’s impossible.”

Riley’s eyes burned and her head spun. “And then, there’s this.”

She set down the last photo gently and swallowed deeply.

Thayne picked up the picture. Something different about this one. Bright blue eyes and smiling mouth. Wearing a half-heart bracelet on her arm.

Just like Riley’s.

The truth slammed into him like the butt of a rifle to the solar plexus.

“Is this your sister?” he asked.

She swallowed deeply and nodded. “That’s Madison.” She ran a trembling hand across the photograph of her sister’s familiar face. She could see her now, the night she had disappeared. The night of that terrible fight.

The day she’d told Madison she wished she didn’t have a sister.

I’m sorry, Maddy.

She dropped her head in her hands, rubbing her eyes with a force that should have hurt. She could barely process the reality of the stack of photos in front of them.

“Riley?” Thayne’s voice was gentle but urgent.

She blinked and looked at him. “Brian Anderson, the boy who kidnapped Cheyenne. He looks like Gina. And my sister.”

Cheyenne couldn’t leave Bethany’s side. She’d failed to convince Ian and Adelaide to help. They were too frightened of Father. How could she blame them? For someone who appeared so urbane, he scared the hell out of her.

A cloak of foreboding had settled around her, pressing down, making it hard to breathe. Bethany’s fever had finally begun to break. The angry red of the wound had diminished. She still wasn’t out of danger, but her recovery looked more promising.

Cheyenne had to wonder how long Father would keep her alive once he noticed the improvement.

She wasn’t about to sit and wait for fate to step in. Blackwoods never went down without a fight.

Footsteps raced past the outside door. “Come here, Micah!” a girl’s voice shouted.

“No! I want my mommy!”

“Don’t you get it? She doesn’t love you. She made your daddy go away.”

“That’s not what she said.” Micah sobbed.

“She lied. They all lie. Only Father tells the truth.”

The sobs didn’t lessen. Finally, the girl let out a curse. “I can’t do it, Father. I failed you.”

“Have patience, Delilah.” Father’s calm and oddly unemotional voice made Cheyenne shiver. “He’ll understand soon enough. Take him. He can have Hannah’s room.”

“Yes, Father.”

A set of footsteps disappeared, and then a loud door slammed shut.

“Oh God. That poor boy.”

After a moment of quiet, sobs filtered into Cheyenne’s room. What had happened? After seeing Ian’s bruises, she couldn’t imagine any sort of punishment in this place was easy.

“Don’t cry, Dee,” Micah said. “I’m sorry I got you in trouble, but they won’t listen. My name isn’t Micah.”

“Oh, Micah.” A few sniffles sounded. “Please. You can’t fight anymore. It’s dangerous. Something bad could happen to you.”

“I won’t give up. My mommy never gives up. Neither will I.”

“You have to,” Delilah said. “Come sit in my lap. I know what will make you feel better.” She began to hum.

A tune that Cheyenne hadn’t heard in years, not since she was a child. But with made-up words.

Delilah’s voice was clear and pure. Another voice, a tenor, joined in, in perfect harmony to the tune of “Puff the Magic Dragon.”

When things go bad, and life seems so unfair,

Just hold on tight with all your might, and I’ll always be there.

Bethany stirred. “Always be there,” she whispered in a singsong voice from across the prison room.

The tenor went silent.

Delilah’s voice paused, then started singing again, trembling but louder.

“Sing, Micah,” she said softly. “Please.”

The little boy stumbled over the words, but he sang.

A violin played from somewhere in the distance as a key clattered in the lock. Ian stuck his head through the door. He blinked and stared at Bethany. Shadows bruised the pale skin below his eyes. With a furtive look, he closed the door behind him and brought in a tray of food.

“I stole it from the dinner table. None of us is sick,” he said as he set it down on the small dresser. He joined Bethany and sat beside her before taking her hand in his.

“How is she?” he asked softly.

“Better.”

Ian gnawed on his lip and raised his gaze to hers. “I was happy until Bethany got sick. Until you and Micah came.”

A kindle of hope burned inside Cheyenne. “Can you help us?”

“We’re watched. All the time. Hannah was stupid. She thought she could get away with it.”

“Who is Hannah?”

“She was my friend. She was supposed to wash your clothes, but she stole them and tried to make herself beautiful. She was caught. And punished. She’s not coming back.”

Cheyenne was afraid to ask, but she had to be sure. “What do you mean?”

“She’s dead. She’s not the first to be punished.”

“H-how many?”

“I don’t know. I try not to remember the ones who just went away. It’s easier that way.” His eyes glimmered with sadness, his face vulnerable. He stared into Bethany’s closed eyes. “She’s so brave. She stands up for us.” He lowered his voice. “I’m going for help. I’m taking Micah with me. He won’t ever fit in. We shouldn’t have taken him. He’s too little.”

Where excitement and hope should have rushed through her, Cheyenne could barely breathe in fear. She grabbed his arm. “You have so much courage. Take Micah to Singing River. Find Deputy Thayne Blackwood. He and my father will help you.”

The door slammed open. Father stood, framed by the door, Adelaide a pale, weak shadow behind him.

“Ian, what are you doing here?” Father’s voice was low and threatening. “You’re supposed to be with Micah.”

“I b-brought broth for Bethany,” Ian said, his voice shaky. “She hasn’t eaten in days.”

Father frowned and shook his head sadly. “Adelaide, escort Ian to the punishment room,” Father said. “We must reinforce our lessons.”

Adelaide’s face went white. “Please, Father, don’t make me—”

“Silence.” He glared at Adelaide.

Ian stood with a stiff back. He raised his chin and faced Father. “I’m ready.”

Without a word, Father took him away.

Several minutes later, a cry of pain pierced through the air.

Then the world went silent.