Yesterday's Gone (Two Daughters Book 1) (6 page)

She stared at him, unable to figure out why he sounded as if he cared so much. It didn’t make any sense. Sexual come-ons, those she got. But this...this was unfamiliar. It made a lump rise in her throat.

Fighting perplexing emotions she didn’t understand, she lifted her chin. “Are we done?”

“No.” And he kept asking questions. She’d said she watched TV. Maybe she remembered channels, local ads, specific news stories that would pinpoint where she and Mr. Hamby had been at specific times. To her astonishment, she had some answers. Stupid commercial jingles catchy enough she could still hum them.

“There was a murder,” she said slowly, this memory rising from deep within. “The body was found in a room in the motel where we were staying. He had parked out back. He always did if he could. He grabbed me and we walked toward the diner like we were going to eat, then got in the car and left before the police could start knocking on doors. I remember the flashing lights and people gathering to stare. We had to leave some of our stuff behind.”

Seth leaned forward. “What about the name of the motel? Or the town?”

“Walla Walla,” she said without hesitation, surprising herself. “I thought the name was so funny. Mostly everyone I heard there spoke Spanish, so I guess there were a lot of migrant workers. But the man who was murdered didn’t have a Hispanic name. It was a funny name, too. Peter... Penny something.” The name hovered at the edge of her consciousness. The idea of a person
dead
, killed right there a few rooms away from them, had loomed large in her limited world. “Baker. Pennybaker. I don’t know how it would be spelled.”

“You have an extraordinary memory.” Seth sounded admiring, unless he was putting her on.

“I didn’t know I remembered any of this.”

“Have you really succeeded in putting any of this away? Or does it come out in nightmares?”

She flinched, not sure she liked the compassion in his eyes any more than she would the pity she was sure he also felt. And disdain—Seth had to feel that, too, because she could have asked for help instead of enduring until
he
cast her off and she had no option. And even then, when the police might have been able to catch and arrest him, she hadn’t told them enough about him.

How many other girls had he abducted since? Used sexually? Discarded, too...or had he started killing them at some point when he was done with them? There had been a few times she had thought he was going to kill her.

I have to live with knowing I could have stopped him
, she thought bleakly.
Please, God, don’t let there have been any others.

But she knew. Of course there had been.

Reacting to the last thing Seth had asked, she tried to blank her expression. “You know my nightmares. Can we be done?”

“Yes, Bailey.” He closed the notebook. “You’ve given me enough to work on for now.” Before she could move, he held up a hand. “One more thing. The FBI will be getting involved now.”

She stared. “Why?”

“Because child abduction is one of their specialties, and because Hamby took you across state lines. This is standard procedure. An agent will be coming over from Seattle to interview you.”

“But I can go now?” When he nodded, she pushed back the chair, grabbed her bag and jumped to her feet.

He rose to his more slowly, his gaze never leaving her. “You have someplace in mind?”

She thought wistfully of that airport hotel, of being home by lunchtime tomorrow, but knew she couldn’t do it, not when her departure would hurt the Lawsons so much. Anyway, she was realist enough to know it wouldn’t be home as she’d known it, not if her face had appeared on national news. Which it would by tomorrow.

Your life will never be the same.
She couldn’t say she hadn’t been warned.

“I thought a hotel in Mount Vernon.”

“That would be better than here,” he said, “but I have another suggestion. The parents of one of our deputies offered to let you use their summer cabin right on the river. They aren’t here right now and he gave me the key.”

“They...aren’t afraid I’ll steal or something?”

“I don’t think there’s much to steal. I get the feeling it’s pretty stripped down. Private, though.”

Private was good.

“I’ll need groceries.”

“Let me take you out there, and you can make a list. I’ll shop for you. You don’t want to show your face in the grocery store right now.”

“I was going to take Karen out for lunch tomorrow.”

“That’s fine, if you don’t mind everyone staring, cameras shoved in front of you, microphones under your nose. Hell, everyone else in the restaurant will be using their phones to get pictures they can upload to Facebook or YouTube.”

Anxiety prickled her skin. “You’re telling me I have to hide out.”

“For now.”

“Oh, God.” She crossed her arms, squeezing hard.

“Hey.” He circled the table, laid a hand on her shoulder and kneaded. “Interest will die down. People may keep noticing you, but you’ll quit being news just because you’re out in public. I promise.”

Will die down
—was that nicely vague, or what?
When
would her notoriety wane? Next week? Three months from now? A year?

She should never have come. If she’d gone on with her life...

Yes, but three people had said, “Wow, you look like that picture.” Once classes started, more would have. Sooner or later, someone would have taken
her
picture and posted it online with a caption,
I found her!
Or called a reporter.

And it was too late now. Second thoughts were useless.

She practiced her deep breathing again, then nodded, hitching the strap of her bag over her shoulder. “Okay. Shall I follow you?”

“Yep. Let’s do it.”

Suddenly this completely boring conference room felt like the safest place in the world. Ready to flee not so long ago, Bailey was now reluctant to emerge. But if life had taught her anything, it was to forge on.

“Sure,” she said, as if she wasn’t cringing inside at the idea of people staring.

* * *

T
HE
CABIN
WAS
even more rustic than Theo Leighton had implied. Seth had stepped inside first, but Bailey was right behind him. He couldn’t imagine what she thought.

Moss had been growing over the cedar shingled roof, and the whole structure was set on concrete blocks, more of which made up the steps to the minuscule porch. The interior was dim, given that the three windows were small, their frames warped, the panes dirty. A single bulb came on overhead when he flipped the switch, which helped some but not much.

The plank floor was rough enough to give her slivers if she was foolish enough to walk barefoot. The refrigerator had been replaced in the past fifteen years, but the gas stove looked ancient. The bed was really a bunk built against the wall with unfinished lumber. The only room walled off was a bathroom. Seth was afraid to see what it looked like.

“Ah...maybe we should rethink this,” he said.

Her glance held surprise. “You said rustic—that’s what it is. At least the electricity is on. I might have balked if it wasn’t. Basic is fine.”

Oh, damn, he thought; to her this was
fine
because she’d lived in a whole lot worse. He tried not to envision those roach-infested rooms with stained mattresses.

“It’s clean enough,” she commented, “except for the dust.” She swiped some off the table. “The owners must not have come at all this summer.”

“No, Theo’s dad had cancer. They live in Olympia. He’s been having chemo and staying close to home.”

“Well.” Bailey visibly squared her shoulders. “Let me see if there are any cleaning supplies.”

One of the cupboards held some spray bottles, and she found dishes, silverware and old but usable pans. When he tore a page from his spiral notebook, she sat down to make a grocery list.

Watching her, he tried to picture delivering her groceries, saying, “Sorry there’s no TV,” and leaving her while he went home to his big-screen, his primo speakers, nice kitchen, air conditioner in his bedroom window, big bed.

“Sheets,” he said. “I’ll bring something from home.”

“Or a sleeping bag, if you have one.”

“I do.” Yeah, that was a good idea. The mattress here had a venerable history. He’d rather she be tucked in his sleeping bag. “All right,” he said finally. “I’ll be back in a couple hours.”

“Thank you.”

He didn’t think she’d like knowing how very vulnerable she appeared at this moment, sitting with her back straight and her hands clasped on her lap like a good little girl. He wondered unhappily whether him leaving her in this crap place had thrown her back to all the hundreds—no, thousands—of times
Daddy
had left her by herself in places a whole lot worse.

But Seth left anyway, because what else could he do?

At Safeway, he was stopped several times by people asking about Hope Lawson. He nodded, smiled, said, “I wanted to think we’d get this lucky, but I’m not sure I believed it myself.” Two cars followed him after he left the grocery store parking lot. He considered shaking them, but finally decided it would be better if it appeared he was innocently heading home with the groceries he’d stocked up on for himself. He didn’t like leading reporters to his house, but that seemed the lesser of two evils.

He drove into his garage and hit the remote to close the door behind him. Finding a spare mattress pad, the sleeping bag, a pillow and a few more comforts of home didn’t take very long, but he ended up lingering until he didn’t see the cars parked down the block anymore.

He called to order a pizza and picked it up on his way back out to the Leightons’ cabin, keeping an eye on his rearview mirror for pursuers. No other vehicle was in sight on the river road when he turned into the narrow, rutted driveway that led between a thick stand of firs and cedars. Whippets of vine maple and blackberry scratched at the finish on his SUV. Except for the presence of Bailey’s rental car out in front, the cabin looked as abandoned as it had when he led her here. With days so long at this time of year, the sun was high still, so there wasn’t even a comforting glow of light from the windows. As he parked and carried the first load toward the decrepit porch, he looked toward the river, running low, barely strands of shimmering silver between boulders.

Her face brightening at the sight of him, Bailey let him in immediately and insisted on going out for the second load. “Pizza!” she exclaimed. “What a nice thought. Can you stay?”

“If you don’t mind me inviting myself.”

She cast him an oddly wry look. “You went to a great deal of effort to invite
me
in the first place.”

Invite her...? Oh. As in, spreading her picture all over the internet.

He grimaced. “I did, didn’t I? Are you sorry you accepted?”

“Did I have any choice?”

No. Not really. Not given how distinctive her face was.

“I’d say I’m sorry,” he said, “except that knowing you survived means so much to the Lawsons.”

After a moment she dipped her head in acknowledgment. She busied herself putting away groceries in cupboards and the refrigerator, which he realized she had managed to scrub clean while he was gone. While she was doing that, he hoisted the mattress off the bunk to be sure no spiders lurked in dark cracks, then put the mattress pad on before thumping it back in place and spreading the sleeping bag.

“Thank you,” Bailey said behind him. “That looks comfy. Even a pillow.” This smile was the warmest he’d seen, and made his rib cage feel as if it had contracted.

They each had a beer as they ate pizza, Seth careful to steer the conversation into casual pathways. News that didn’t involve her, the rare movie he’d seen recently. He didn’t tell her he intended to call Eve as soon as he got home. Bailey cooperated by sharing a few funny stories about incidents at the restaurant where she waited tables. He asked about her last foster parents, the ones who’d kept her until she “aged out”—he hated that term—and she said they were in their early seventies now and still almost always had two to three foster children.

“The Neales have a son, but their daughter died when she was nine. Riding her bike, she was clipped by a car and hit her head on the curb.” Bailey was silent for a moment. “I don’t know if they were filling an empty place, like the Lawsons did when they took in Eve, or if they blamed themselves and we foster kids were a penance.” She shrugged as if it didn’t matter, although of course it did. “They were good to me.”

Seth ached to touch her but didn’t. God, what was it about her? He had to be careful. Odds were, she’d stay a few more days, a week, then go back to LA. He’d swear she felt something for him, too, but it seemed to scare her more than please her. Anyway, what was he going to do, quit his job and follow her?

Say good-night
, he told himself.
Now. Before you step in it any deeper than you already have.

But, damn, he did hate leaving her in this isolated cabin even if she repeated twice more, sturdily, “It’s fine. Private. That’s good.”

She’d gone back inside and shut the door before he so much as had the key in the ignition. No lingering in the open door to watch a visitor depart, not for Bailey.

She might feel safest alone, it occurred to him.

He swore aloud, his mood dark as he drove home.

CHAPTER SIX

W
HEN
E
VE
’
S
PHONE
RANG
a little after eight and she saw Seth’s number, she almost didn’t answer. If she didn’t talk to him, he couldn’t kindly, honorably tell her that their brief relationship was over. Plus, this was Friday night, and she would have liked leaving him to assume she was in such demand she’d gone out with some other guy.

But really, why put off the inevitable? Suddenly more angry than hurt, she snatched up the phone. “Seth.”

“Hey,” he said. “I tried to catch you today, but your parents were clinging to you.”

Were they? From her perspective, it had been more a matter of
her
pretending they needed her, when she wasn’t sure they’d so much as noticed she was there.

He waited for a response, and when he didn’t get one, he said, “Eve, sometimes it’s easiest just not to call again, but I’ve always thought that’s a lousy thing for a guy to do.”

She closed her eyes. Said nothing.

“You’re a lovely woman. I like you, and I enjoyed the time we spent together.” His explanation came across as rehearsed, which it probably had been. “There just was never enough of a spark to make me think the thing between us would go anywhere. I hope you felt the same and I’m not hurting your feelings.”

“Somehow this isn’t a surprise, given that you haven’t called in a while,” she said tartly. Oh, God—did she sound bitter?
Yes
. She closed her eyes. “But thank you for not leaving me wondering what was wrong.”

“I’m sorry.” For the first time he sounded awkward. “The timing is bad, with us likely to keep running into each other because of Bailey. Ah, Hope.”

“Well, it’s not likely she’ll stay around, is it?” she said maliciously, then was ashamed of herself. She’d seen the way he looked at Hope.

The pause was shorter than she’d expected. “No,” he said, and shifted gears. “You did a great job in front of the cameras today, Eve.”

No mention of how she did when
not
in front of the cameras, of course. Perhaps because she hadn’t done very well, at all.

“Thank you,” she said, with more composure than she felt. “It must have been really difficult for her.”

“Considering her history, she has amazing strength.” The warmth in his voice, missing until now, made her fingers tighten on the phone. “Even so, she can use your support, Eve.”

Wow. Was he blind, deaf and dumb? Her lips curled. No, he was just being a typical man. Contempt joined her anger and hurt.

“Is that’s all you called for?” she asked.

“Uh...yeah.”

“Then goodbye.” She ended the call before he could tangle himself up in adding details about why their
thing
wasn’t going anywhere.

Very carefully, she set down the phone. She was still paying for the latest model. She’d added insurance, so maybe she could get away with some creative explanation of why it was smashed rather than saying,
I threw it
, but why take the chance?

She was a little shocked to realize her vision had blurred. Oh, God, she was crying. Swiping furiously at the tears with the back of her hand, she admitted the truth.

No, Seth, I didn’t feel the same. And, yes, you did hurt my feelings.

And, no, it wasn’t fair, but Eve thought she could easily hate Hope, blonde, beautiful and
amazingly strong
.

* * *

L
UNCH
,
OF
NECESSITY
,
had to be at the Lawson home again. Eve had offered to bring takeout or groceries to cook, but Karen, of course, had declared that she’d love to make lunch.

Once she arrived, Bailey insisted on helping, though, and the two women worked together more harmoniously than she might have expected. She reminded herself that Karen was used to sharing her kitchen with another woman—her adopted daughter. And Bailey had done the dance often enough in her last foster home and then in restaurant kitchens.

At her suggestion, they sat down to eat in the kitchen, at a table set in front of windows looking out at the backyard. Conversation was easier today. Karen chatted about her quilting and asked questions about Bailey’s classes, job and friends.

But all good things must end. Bailey’s quesadilla was only half-eaten when Karen set down her fork. “I can’t get over this.” She gestured helplessly. “Sitting here with you, talking. I feel like I should pinch myself. I swore I’d know if you were dead, but...when the years pass...”

Seeing this woman’s pain hit Bailey hard. There’d been a time she’d wanted quite desperately to know what her mother looked like. One of her fantasies involved a mother who was out there somewhere, searching frantically for her. When she’d quit dreaming altogether, she didn’t know. To find that her fantasy was reality, that she had loving parents who had never stopped looking for her, made her feel a whole lot she hardly understood. A fairy godmother somewhere had waved her magic wand, and the sparkles had floated down to touch her, Bailey Smith. But it couldn’t be real. She wanted to believe it had something to do with her, but just couldn’t.

Only...if she had started to walk past Karen Lawson at the mall one day, she would have stopped dead and stared. She’d have known:
This is my mother
. The resemblance was that uncanny.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice sounded weird, not her own. She was actually choked up. “So sorry I never tried to find out who I was.”

“Can you tell me why you didn’t?” Karen asked, sounding timid.

Not Karen—my mother. Mom?
Bailey couldn’t imagine ever calling Karen that.

“I don’t exactly know,” she admitted. “
He
didn’t want me to remember. I guess... I gave up. Maybe to survive I
had
to block any belief that I’d ever had better or deserved better.”

Seeing the tears in Karen’s eyes, she regretted saying as much as she had, but how could they avoid it forever?

“He...wasn’t kind to you at all?”

To save this woman more pain, Bailey was willing to soften jagged edges of her life, but not when it came to
him
. He was evil. She could only shake her head. “Abandoning me was the best thing he did for me.”

Karen wiped her eyes, nodded and looked at Bailey steadily. “What were you like then? When you realized he was gone?”

“Terrified,” Bailey admitted. “First that he’d come back, then that he wouldn’t.” Ashamed as always to admit that, she launched into automatic justification that was also truth. “I...knew nothing but life with him. I didn’t talk much for a long time. With him, I was supposed to answer when he asked me something, but otherwise keep my mouth shut. I learned—” No, she didn’t have to say this: that she’d learned not to scream when he hit her or did
that
, no matter how much it hurt. Not to cry until she was alone. Eventually, not to cry at all. Sharing that much would only hurt this woman, who loved Hope, if not Bailey.

“You learned?”

She scrambled for something else to say. “I tried to drink up as much knowledge as I could without him noticing. A lot of the time, he didn’t pay much attention to me. I could pick up old newspapers, or magazines that had been left in the lobby of the motels or diners or wherever, and watch TV when he wasn’t there. I listened to conversations whenever I could. Despite everything, I was curious.”

“You were a very bright little girl. You’d taught yourself to read before you started kindergarten. It was a shock when you started reading road signs to me.” Despite tears in her eyes, Karen smiled. “And the speedometer. One day, you said, ‘Mommy, that sign says thirty-five, but there it says forty.’ You pointed at the speedometer and looked so disapproving.”

On a tiny flare of shock, Bailey remembered silently noticing the speedometer when
he
was going too fast, too, although he didn’t very often. Of course he’d been afraid of being pulled over. She would never have said anything to him anyway.

She had educated herself. When she was first put into school—into special ed—she’d felt so stupid. But one day a teacher’s aide working with her had smiled when Bailey finished reading a passage aloud, and she’d gushed, “I can’t believe how fast you’ve advanced. You should be proud of yourself. You must be a very smart girl, Bailey.”

That was the first time she remembered anyone ever telling her she was smart. Or maybe they had and she just didn’t believe it. But that day she felt a glow, and she did believe. After high school, she let herself forget for a few years, but the time had come when she’d taken a hard look at her life and thought
, I can do more than this
.

She had the sudden wish she’d told the aide how much those words had meant to her. Maybe hugged her. She knew she hadn’t. She’d still been very withdrawn.

Now she felt her lips curving. “To this day, I never exceed the speed limit. Friends have teased me about driving like a little old lady.”

Karen chuckled, then teared up again. “Oh, my,” she murmured, dabbing at her eyes again.

“Will you tell me more about us as a family, before I disappeared?” Bailey asked impulsively. “If I liked pink so much, I must have been into girlie things.”

That had the other woman smiling again. “Yes, you loved dressing up, and insisted on being a princess for Halloween. You took dance lessons, but you played soccer, too. Considering your age, you were a fearsome goalie!” The smile became sad. Bailey could tell that for this moment, Karen Lawson saw the past more clearly than the present. “You were a daddy’s girl. You’d run to meet him when he came in the door after a day’s work. He’d have grease embedded in his hands, and you didn’t care! When you were little, you wanted
up
. Kirk would swing you into the air, and you’d chortle and he’d laugh.” Grief moved through her eyes. “I haven’t heard him laugh like that since.” So softly, Bailey barely heard her, she added, “Or at all.”

For an instant, Bailey heard that laugh, deep and happy, as if a ghost hovered in the room with them.
My imagination
, she told herself sharply. Words came from her against her will. “He...doesn’t look like a man who often laughs.”

“He’s never been much of a talker. It took him longer than it should have to ask me to marry him, because he was convinced he wasn’t good enough for me, a teacher with a college degree. I didn’t know what was holding him back. I thought he couldn’t figure out how to put it in words. I was about to propose to
him
when he finally said, ‘I’ll understand if you say no, but...’”

The rising amusement surprised Bailey. “Doom and gloom, huh?”

“He did the voice of Eeyore in Winnie the Pooh really well.”

They both giggled.

Bailey had a panicked thought.
How do I know what she’s talking about?
At twelve years old—as it turned out, really eleven—she’d been way too old to be read Winnie the Pooh stories. She knew vaguely about Pooh Bear and his honey and all that, but not because she’d ever read the books or seen a video. But Eeyore’s deep, slow, hopeless voice was there, embedded in her memory.

The suffocating feeling came from nowhere. “I...remember,” she whispered.

“What?” Her mother stared at her.

“I think... I must remember.” She pressed a hand to her chest.
Breathe
.

“Oh, sweetheart.”

“No. Maybe I saw a video somewhere. One of the younger kids in a foster home was watching it.” She talked faster and faster. “That makes sense.” Relief freed her chest from that crushing grip. “I can’t possibly remember—”

“You can.” Her mother touched her hand, tentative but gentle. “You will, when you’re ready.”

Deep inside was a cry:
No, no, I can’t
.

Long habit made her deft at changing the subject, but even so she saw that Karen—
Mom
—knew what she was doing and why but chose to let it go.

* * *

H
AVING
DECIDED
TO
go into work today, Saturday or not, Seth was on a call when Bailey’s number came up. “I’ll get back to you,” he said hastily, and transferred to the incoming call. “Bailey?”

He heard her voice, muffled. “Please allow me to shop in peace.”

He surged to his feet, understanding immediately what was happening. “Where are you?”

“Walgreens. If you’re busy... I shouldn’t have called.” Just like that, she was gone.

He bounded down the stairs and ran across the parking lot to his vehicle, ignoring stares. Fortunately, the drugstore was on his side of town, a distance he covered in about three minutes. Barely suppressing his rage, he pushed his way through the glass doors. A clerk to his left was gaping at the small crowd blocking the end of an aisle.

“Where is your manager?” Seth snapped. “Get him.
Now
.”

She was fumbling with her phone when he passed.

He found what he expected—Bailey trapped midaisle, bodies blocking her way from all directions, microphones thrust at her.

“Police in Bakersfield say you didn’t remember the name of your abductor. Will you comment, Ms. Lawson?”

“Were you sexually molested?”

Seth’s voice boomed above them as he pushed his way through. “That’s enough. If you’re not here to shop, you’re trespassing. Back off,” he snarled at a cameraman who tried to block him.

Bailey was utterly expressionless, so pale she looked like a marble statue. Only her eyes teemed with distress.

“She has no comment,” he declared, looking from one avid face to another. “Under these circumstances, she will accept no questions. Do you hear me?”

“Detective, has she given you any more information than she did Bakersfield police?”

“I cannot comment about an ongoing investigation. Now please excuse us.”

He gripped her arm and moved forward. They had broken through the crowd when he spotted the manager hurrying from the back of the store. Seth knew Troy Gaskins, who had always seemed like a good guy. He looked almost as mad as Seth felt.

“All of you!” he snapped. “Out of here. I will not allow a customer to be treated this way. Detective Chandler, if they don’t depart now, I’m going to request you start making arrests.”