Sneaking Suspicions (The Tharon Trace Mysteries Book 1) (12 page)

Tom nodded, straightened his jacket and waited for the traffic to clear.  “Sorry.  I guess I got too anxious to look for a mark on the other side of the street.”

While they waited for the light to turn green, Dana asked, “How did you know that about Officer Brandt’s feet?  Could you tell that from his footprints?”

He shrugged and his mustache ticked up on one side, “No.  I just noticed his shoes had a wide roomy toe and figured he had bad feet.”  He glanced sideways at her. “I didn’t like his attitude.  I took a chance it would throw him off guard.”

An amused expression curled her lips. “I didn’t like his attitude either.”

Across the street, he quickly found Tharon’s mark on the other side of the intersection.  He clenched his jaw when he saw where the children rested and the vomit in front of Tharon’s footprints.

An increased sense of urgency pressed him forward, running when he could, but always checking for Tharon’s marks when tracks were lost on pavement.  At first he checked over his shoulder often to make sure Dana was keeping up, but her impressive stamina and determination soothed his concerns and he focused on following the children’s tracks.

Tom quickly saw the pattern in their movements.  “Have you noticed they keep moving to the side of the tracks that is lined by trees?”  He followed their trail into a wooded area that bordered the tracks to a metal trestle bridge over the Saint Joe River.  The children’s footprints stopped then turned towards the bridge where Main Street crossed the river.  Tom found Tharon’s mark in the dirt by the bridge.

Dana followed him, feeling edgy that Max didn’t know where they were.  She wanted to give him an update but it was all she could do to keep pace with Tom.  Darkness enveloped them and the damp cold chilled her.  She wished she’d dressed more for warmth than appearance.

She could see the tension in Tom’s back and broad shoulders when he wasn’t in sight of Tharon’s marked trail or footprints.  She admired the love he had for his daughter and was anxious to meet the resourceful girl.

On the other side of the bridge Tom stopped short.  There were no markings anywhere in sight.  With Dana trailing him like a puppy, he doubled back and scanned the bridge again.  Nothing.  He retraced their steps and started down the river greenway trail along the Saint Joe River.  Nothing.  He doubled back again and followed the sidewalk west to Cherry Street.  He turned right onto the street and in the second block found Tharon’s mark on the brick wall of the corner fueling station.

He sighed in relief. “I found her mark.  They went this way.”

Dana looked at the mark and said, “She’s quite a girl.”

Tom’s chest expanded and he stood a little taller, his face full of love and pride.  He nodded his head. “That she is.  Let’s go find them.”

CHAPTER 14

The tracks crossed an open field with no cover on either side.  The street light of the next crossing illuminated a cluster of evergreens that bordered the track near the next overpass.  Helm hoped the tracks were far enough from the distant parallel roads that no one would notice them.  He said, “We’d better not use the flashlights.  We’ll need to stick together and feel for the gravel with our feet.”

Kaid muttered, “Right, as long as I feel like I’m about to fall, I’m walking in the right spot.”

Helm tried not to limp.  He was glad he’d worn dark jeans so the blood stains on his knees didn’t show, not that anyone could see them in the dark.  His knees felt raw from where the fabric kept rubbing against the scratches he got when Kaid slipped on the bank.

Helm found it was getting difficult to keep moving fast and was content to lag behind Tharon and let Kaid take the lead.  Every once in a while, Tharon stopped Kaid and they waited for Helm to catch up.

A lonely train whistle warned them of the train coming toward them from the west and they scrambled to close the gap between them and the trees.  They dove deep into a thicket of junipers to wait for it to pass.

Helm didn’t want to let the other two know about his knees, but he had to see how bad they were.  He hoped the evergreen foliage was thick enough to hide the light of the flashlight.  He sat down and rolled up his pant legs and turned on the flashlight to look at them.

Tharon gasped when she saw the raw jagged cuts on his knees.  “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

He frowned.  Why was she scolding him for being hurt and not complaining?  The railroad cars thundered by their hiding spot.  He yelled over the rumbling roar of the train, “It’s not like you could do anything.”

She took the flashlight from Helm and handed it to Kaid, then pulled a wad of damp paper towels from her pocket and gently cleaned his knees.  She had to shout to be heard over the train. “I took some towels from the restroom and put some liquid soap on them.”

The boys looked at her with puzzled expressions. “Why?” Helm asked.

Tharon frowned as she cleaned his knees.  “I cut Marty on the face.  I didn’t mean to, but I forgot I had the knife in my hand.  I got blood on the knife and on my hand.  I washed, but I still feel like my hand has blood on it so I put a bunch of soapy paper towels in my pocket to clean them if I feel the blood again.”  She waited for a wise crack that didn’t come.  “I know.  I’m weird.”

Kaid touched her shoulder and said, “No you’re not.  You’re smart.  I wouldn’t have thought to do something like that.”  He hovered over her shoulder, watching her movements, being careful not to block the light.  The caboose thundered past and the roar of the train faded away.

“Does it hurt?” she yelled.  She was so deep in concentration that she didn’t realize the train was gone.  The boys looked at her with surprise and they all three burst out laughing.  It felt good to laugh.

“It doesn’t hurt too bad; it feels good to get them cleaned.  Thanks.”  He winced has she worked a tiny shard of shale out of his knee.

A trickle of blood flowed from the tiny hole the shard had plugged.  She pressed the spot with the soapy paper towel to staunch the flow.

Helm sucked in his breath from the stinging soap.

“Give me your knife and I’ll cut a bandage for you.”

Helm dug the knife from his pocket and handed it to her.  She cut into the fabric of the bottom of her t-shirt from under her sweater and ripped off two strips of fabric.  She tied them onto each of Helm’s knees. “Is that too tight?  I don’t want to cut off your circulation.”

He shook his head and said, “It’s fine.” Even though he figured the makeshift bandages would be around his ankles before he went a quarter of a mile.

She gently rolled his pant legs down so the bandages stayed in place.  As she did she felt for more pebbles and picked two more shards from the fabric of each knee.  She closed the knife and handed it back to Helm. “I washed it good, but when we get home you may want to dry it in the oven and oil it so it doesn’t rust.

“Thanks.  But you keep it until we get home.  You might need to make more marks.”

Helm pulled out the map and traced his finger along their route, counting off the streets and roads they had crossed.  “I think this is Hillegas Road.”  He looked to the north at the headlights traveling east and west, “I’m pretty sure that is Bass road over there.  The railroad track that crosses this one angles up to Bass Road.  It’s just past the interstate and not far from where it crosses Bass is the Korean War Veterans Memorial on O’Day Road.”

The wind whipped up sending loose leaves swirling around them.  Tharon shivered and her teeth chattered.  She pulled down her sweater and fastened her coats.

Helm opened an emergency blanket and draped it around Tharon’s shoulders, tying it like a silver cape. 

“You don’t have to do that.  I know how to tie a knot.”  She knew he was trying to be kind, but she felt like a two year old having someone else dress her.

He unfolded the poncho and started to slip it over her head.

She stomped her foot.  “I am not a child!”  Snatching the poncho out of his hands she tugged it forcefully over her head and was grateful for the darkness to hide her blushing face.  “There!  Are you happy now?”

Helm blinked. “What did I do?”

She hit her fists against the sides of her legs. “Nothing.  I just—I don’t want to talk about it.  I just want to go home.”

Helm swung an arm across her shoulders and pulled her close.  “We’ll get home.  I promise we will.”

She sagged against him and leaned her head on his shoulder, embarrassed for her childish outburst. “I know.  I’m sorry for snapping at you.  I just don’t like being treated like a little kid.”

He whispered in her ear. “You know that isn’t how I think of you.  I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”

She shrugged out of his arms and pulled the marker from her pocket.  “It’s okay.  I shouldn’t be so sensitive.”

Tharon used the marker and wrote Korean War Veterans Memorial and a rough map of the intersecting tracks on the side of the underpass, they waited for a break in traffic before running across the next open field along the track.  She had trouble running on the rough ground but desperately wanted to reach the cover.  She felt vulnerable in the open, fearing Burt would pop up out of nowhere and shoot them.  If he saw them from the road, he’d just have to drive to the next road, park and wait to kill them.

The thought spurred her on and she passed Kaid and ran ahead of the boys.  At the junction of the tracks they planned to turn onto, she stopped to catch her breath.  The new track passed under the double set of tracks they were following.

She dug a mark in the gravel with her heel to indicate the change in direction and fought to ignore the odds that her father would never see it.  He had no way to know where they started.  Still she took comfort in making the marks.  Trying gave her hope.  To do nothing invited failure.  While she had a moment alone she whispered into the darkness, “Please, Heavenly Father, help my dad find me.”

In answer the dark of the night deepened with thickened clouds.  Rain pelted the ground in huge drops, clinging together forming tiny rivulets that streamed down the banks that sloped away from the tracks.  A damp chill seeped into her bones.  She peered into the darkness and strained to hear Helm and Kaid.

When the boys caught up to her, she took off the rain poncho and pulled out the small flashlight.  “Here, Kaid.  You put this on and we’ll see if we can fit under it with you.  You’ll have to hold the flashlight too.”

Kaid tugged the orange poncho on and poked his head out of the opening with the hood over his hat.  He frowned at Tharon standing with rain streaming off her silver cape.  “You should wear this.”

“If I wear it you guys won’t fit under it but if you do, Helm and I can walk by your side and we’ll all keep pretty dry.  You’ll just be the only one who can see.”

She lifted his right arm over Helm’s shoulder and snapped the side shut around Helm; next she snapped the left side shut and ducked underneath.  She pulled the emergency blanket tighter and wrapped her arms around Kaid.

Kaid adjusted the poncho over them and hugged her close to his side.  Helm reached around Kaid and hung onto Tharon’s arms and she held Kaid with one arm and Helm with the other.

Fighting the closed in feeling, she tightened her grip on Helm and said, “Okay, let’s give it a try.  Kaid, remember, this is where we take the other track.”

“Got it.  Just don’t either of you trip me or we’re all going down.”

CHAPTER 15

Lista Trace sat by the fireplace crocheting a baby blanket.  She and Tom refused to find out the baby’s gender ahead of time so the blanket was predominately yellow and green with touches of soft pink and pale blue.  Her hands worked mechanically as she stared at the freezing rain pelting the front bay window.  Her hands stopped as she listened to the ping-pinging against the glass.  It took a strong wind to drive the rain straight onto the porch.

In her mind’s eye she pictured Tharon, dripping wet and exhausted fighting against the wind and rain.  Fire crackled in the fireplace bathing the living room with the kind of steady warmth that fills one with bone deep comfort.  She looked down at her handiwork and realized she’d dropped three stitches.

When Tom had returned from checking the creek he had stayed only long enough to let her know they hadn’t found any sign of the children.  After a quick shower, he left on his motorcycle to search for them.  Maisy promised to stay with Lista and he assured them that he would find Tharon.

He didn’t kiss her goodbye.  He was angry with her.  He tried not to show it, but the anger was there, like a massive wedge splitting them apart like splintered firewood.  Tharon was angry with her too.  In the perfect vision of hindsight, she was angry with herself as well.

What possessed her to deem it necessary to manipulate her daughter’s life?  She thought of her own manipulated childhood and adolescence.  With a bitter laugh, she thought
the fruit really doesn’t fall far from the tree.

No matter how well intentioned, she vowed never again to interfere in Tharon’s life. 
Please, God, bring her home so I can keep that promise?

She glanced at the clock on the mantle.  Tom called at five-thirty to tell her he was going to Fort Wayne with Deputy Donovan and Max Stephens to follow up on a lead.

That was the last she’d heard from him.  It gnawed at her insides that Tharon was angry with her when she ran to the woods. 
This is all my fault.  If I hadn’t meddled in Tharon’s friendships she wouldn’t be in this danger.  She would have happily come home and helped with dinner or gone to visit Maisy.

Lista felt guilty she couldn’t go with Tom; that her pregnancy kept her bound to the comfort of the living room.  Was she choosing the safety of her unborn child over the safe return of her daughter?

She shook her head dismissing the thought.  She loved her children, born and unborn.  Remembering Tharon’s stillborn twin brother and Lista’s two middle-trimester miscarriages caused a lump to form in her throat.

Blinking back the tears she tried to reexamine her hand work and found more dropped stitches.  Her eyes, blurred by tears, refused to focus on the pattern.  She started tearing out the work she’d done, mindlessly wrapping the yarn around the yarn ball, pulling at the stitches she could no longer see.

The aroma of fresh baked bread wafted in from the kitchen.  Maisy was busying herself, trying to keep Lista from seeing how worried she was. 

Lista knew she should stay calm, not let herself get worked into frenzy, but something about the perfect comfort of her home made her snap.  It was so alien to the torment and turmoil that roiled inside her.  She felt as if she couldn’t breathe.

She hated herself for her comfort; hated that she was confined to the house; hated the blanket for her mistakes; hated the baby—immediately she repented of the thought.  Her guilt boiled within her—if only she hadn’t meddled—if only she’d sent Tom after Tharon right away—if only she wasn’t pregnant.  If only...

Her frustration was more than she could bear.  She wadded up the yarn, pulled the fireplace screen to the side and chucked the unfinished blanket, yarn ball, crochet hook and all into the flames.  She closed the screen and watched the flames melt the acrylic yarn, igniting into a rainbow of hues and billowing thick smoke that worked its way up the chimney and spilled over into the living room.

Maisy rounded the corner from the hallway and stood holding a plate with a slice of fresh warm bread with melted butter.  Her face was filled with sadness as she watched Lista.

Lista understood she was behaving badly.  Was she being temperamental or immature—or both?  She remembered Maisy had bought her the yarn and immediately felt another wave of guilt for destroying it.  She took in a breath to apologize and inhaled a lung full of acrylic smoke which sent her into a coughing frenzy.

Maisy put the plate on the coffee table and rushed to her side.  With one strong arm around her shoulder and the other holding her hand, she gently guided Lista toward the kitchen.

They rounded the half wall behind the sofa and stepped into the hallway when Lista felt a trickle down her leg.  At first she thought she’d lost control of her bladder from coughing, but the bloody flow told her otherwise.

She moaned. “Oh, Maisy!  Not again.  Not now.”

Maisy half carried, half dragged Lista to her bedroom located in the front of the house across the foyer from the living room.  After depositing Lista on the bed she ran to the bathroom for towels to put under her.  She brought a glass of water from the bathroom and as she held the glass to Lista’s lips, she fished her phone from her pocket and called Doc Walker.  “Doc, Lista’s water broke.”

Lista took a few sips of the water and the coughing eased.  She moaned. “This is my fault.  I wished I wasn’t pregnant so I could look for Tharon, too.”

Maisy rushed back to the bathroom and wet a clean washcloth.  She rung it out and hurried back to Lista’s side, wiping her brow with it.  “Hush, child.  This isn’t your fault.”

Lista took the cloth and held it to her eyes to sooth her stinging tears.  She tried to remember the last time she’d felt the baby move.  Had it moved at all today?  Had she felt it yesterday?  She’d been so engrossed with preparing for Tharon’s birthday, she’d failed to notice that the baby had stopped moving.

The guilt settled into a cold hard heaviness in her chest.  No, her thoughts had not caused the miscarriage.  She’d kept herself too busy to face the fact that her baby was dead.  It had died two days ago.

She pulled the cloth from her eyes and clutched at Maisy’s hand, “Don’t tell Tom.  He needs to focus on finding Tharon.  There’s nothing he can do.  Promise me you won’t tell him.”

Maisy blinked at the tears welling in her eyes and nodded her head.