While Vince searched the house. James deleted Cassidy’s phone number from his contacts and recent calls. Someone at the station would be able to retrieve that information, but hopefully by then she’d have dumped her phone.
He shoved her sweatshirt deep in his kitchen trash, then slipped her glass and bowl into the dishwasher.
He sat and sipped his water as if his insides weren’t balled up like a fist.
He wasn’t sure what to hope for.
He’d convinced himself on their long trek down the mountain that the best course of action would be to call the police, report the shooting, and tell them everything they’d learned. But now, as one of his best friends stomped through his house, gun drawn, James wondered if Cassidy had been right. It seemed that Vince and the rest of the Coventry PD were so sure she was guilty that they might not listen to reason. When James had opened the door, Vince’s face, contorted in rage, had shocked him. He’d never seen his friend wearing that expression before. If Vince had that much fury built up, James worried what he would do if he found Cassidy.
With a gun in his hand.
On the second floor, a door slammed. Vince’s footsteps pounded on the stairs as he descended. A moment later, he banged on a door. “Open up, Cassidy.”
Please, let her be gone. Because the angrier Vince got, the more James was convinced she wouldn’t get fair treatment.
Vince ran out the front door.
James followed and saw his friend at the tree line on his phone. At least he holstered the gun. As James approached, he picked up the words “suspect escaped on foot.” Then Vince turned and glared at James. “I’ll learn what I can. Be ready.”
He ended the call. “Where did she go?”
James wouldn’t deny she’d been there. He wasn’t prepared to lie to the police, or to his friend. Fortunately, he could honestly say, “I don’t know.”
Vince’s overlarge ears turned red, and James fought the urge to step back. “To the house. Now.”
If he’d hoped for special treatment because of their friendship, he’d have been disappointed. Vince gripped his upper arm like he thought James would bolt, but James yanked away. “I don’t need your help.”
“You’re gonna need that and a whole lot more if you don’t start talking.”
Inside, James started for his kitchen, but Vince grabbed him again. “To the bathroom. I want it open.”
James glared down at the hand on his arm. “If you’ll just let me get a tool.”
Vince let him go, and James went to the kitchen. Vince watched as if he might snatch a cleaver and attack.
As if they hadn’t been friends for a decade.
He tamped down the anger, snatched a harmless knife, and lifted it for Vince to see. “Stand back or I’ll butter you to death.”
Vince said nothing, just followed James to the bathroom door, where he used the utensil to turn the simple lock, then stepped back. “Help yourself, friend.”
Vince shouldered past him into the small room. Water on the vanity, the hand towel askew.
The window wide open.
Vince turned and glowered. “Start talking.”
James swiveled and headed for the living room, where he settled in the La-Z-Boy Dad had bought nearly two decades before. Dad had watched countless games from this chair, pounding on the arm when he got angry, cheering when things went well. He’d fallen asleep there almost every night after dinner. The chair still reminded James of his father, and he settled into it and tried to be comforted by the familiarity.
He could almost see his mother on the sofa, catty-corner to him. She used to sit on the end, a cross-stitch project on her lap, only half paying attention to whatever Dad had chosen on TV. Sports, movies, sit-coms—Mom never seemed to care as she followed pretty patterns one stitch at a time.
What would his parents think of him now? They’d blamed Cassidy for Hallie’s death. They’d been wrong—as had Vince and the rest of the town of Coventry. But they’d been certain in their wrongness. They’d see James’s alliance with Cassidy as a betrayal.
That was the problem, though. Everybody had jumped to the same conclusion. And, over the years, they’d become more and more convinced of their rightness, doggedly hanging onto an idea that simply wasn’t true.
To argue a different opinion, even one based on fact, made you the enemy. Even to listen to a different opinion, to consider it, was a betrayal. Even though James’s sister had been the first victim of this kidnapper, by considering that Cassidy might not be guilty, he wasn’t only betraying the idea, he was betraying all who held that idea close.
Vince propped on the arm of the sofa. Based on the look on his face, he saw James as a betrayer too.
James prayed for wisdom. For justice for Hallie and Addison. For rescue for Ella. He prayed for freedom for Cassidy. Jumbled, incomplete prayers he trusted God understood.
“Talk.”
“She didn’t do it, Vince. She doesn’t have Ella. She didn’t take Addison. She didn’t kill Hallie.”
Vince sucked in a breath through his teeth as if barely holding himself together. “Where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
“Best guess.”
James swallowed the lie that wanted to come out. Best guess—back at the cabin she’d rented. But he couldn’t tell Vince that. He needed to give her time to…
Would she run away again? Would she disappear forever?
New, jumbled prayers bounced around his brain. He couldn’t lose Cassidy now, not when he’d just gotten her back.
“Where. Is. She.” Vince’s hands clenched into fists. His whole face took on the color of a ripe autumn apple.
“She didn’t do it.”
“I trusted you. You know that? Cote wanted to swarm your place with cops, but I talked him out of it. Told him you’d tell us if she contacted you. Told him there was no way you’d harbor the fugitive suspected of killing your own sister.”
“She didn’t—”
“We’re going to find her.” Vince seemed to force a deep breath in, then blew it out through his teeth. “It’d be better for her if I found her, not one of the guys in uniform. Emotions are running high right now. I’d hate for your girlfriend to get hurt.”
Was Vince serious, or was that a threat? The anger that infused Vince’s every word told James that Cassidy wouldn’t be any safer with him than with any other cop that got his hands on her. Even Detective Cote, Ella’s uncle, would display more restraint than Vince was showing right now.
Vince’s phone rang, and he grabbed it. “House is clear. Search the forest, the campground, and the trails. And canvas the campers and hikers, see if anybody saw her.”
He waited through a response, said, “I’m working on that.”
When he hung up, he leaned forward, perched his elbows on his knees, and held his phone between his hands. “Fine. She didn’t do it. Not that I believe you, but if you’re right and she’s telling the truth, then it won’t hurt her to come in and answer questions.”
“You guys all think she’s guilty. No way she’ll be treated fairly.”
“That’s her excuse for not turning herself in? Come on, James. You’re smarter than this.”
“How did you know to look for her here?”
Vince rubbed his lips together, then settled onto the sofa and sat back. “Somebody saw you two on the mountain. I got a call early this morning. We’ve been keeping an eye out for you. Cote wanted to station someone here, but I convinced him you’d call us when you came in. Told him you’d do the right thing.” He shook his head, disappointment clear in the set of his lips.
“Who saw us?”
Vince gave James a cop-stare that was probably supposed to intimidate.
“Somebody followed us last night,” James said. “Somebody stole our food. And somebody—”
“Stole your food? Gee, lemme write up a report.” Vince launched himself to his feet. “A child is missing, James. Your best friend’s daughter! She’s going to be dead if we don’t find her fast. Dead. Do you get that? And you’re worried that somebody stole your food?”
James resisted the urge to stand toe-to-toe with Vince. Friend or not, Vince was a cop. He deserved James’s respect. “If you’d please let me finish.”
Vince crossed his arms. “Finish.”
“Somebody shot Cassidy this morning.” He tapped his head where the wound was. “Grazed her right here. An inch to the right, and she’d be dead. Cassidy, the only person who survived this guy. The only person who knows what really happened to my sister, and the only person who can shed light on what’s going on right now. Who do you think would have done that, if not the real killer?”
Vince practically fell in the chair, his breath coming out in a huff. “Why didn’t you call it in?”
“No service. But we’d considered calling the police. I was just cleaning her wound.” Nearly true. “We found the place, Vince.”
“The cave?” Some of the anger leached from his face. “You found it?”
“I can tell you the coordinates, and you can check it out.”
Vince sat back, focused on the floor. His hands were pressed to his knees.
James prayed Vince would see reason, quit focusing on finding Cassidy and start looking for the real kidnapper.
But Vince’s expression was all hard lines and anger again. “Where’s Ella then? Didn’t you rescue her? That was the point, right?”
“You told me there were no caves. Everybody told me there were no caves, but I saw it. Cassidy was—”
“Blowing smoke. And you were sucking it up like a pothead. So, your girlfriend found a cave on the mountain.”
“But there were clear signs of a fire. Someone had been there.”
“So what? Ella wasn’t there.”
“But that’s just it. If the kidnapper saw us the night before—”
“Wasn’t the kidnapper. It was Eugene Cage. I guess him and his dad got in a fight the night before last about some woman prowling around. Wilson said Eugene’s been known to follow women hikers. He’s gotten some complaints.”
Had Eugene followed Cassidy the day she’d stumbled into James’s yard? That would make sense.
Vince continued. “Wilson didn’t realize it was Cassidy, only that Eugene had creeped someone else out. He saw a woman running away from him who looked afraid. Said the woman ran into you. Eugene got mad at his father, took off onto the mountain the next day, and saw you guys. Didn’t have a phone, but when he came down, he told his dad. Wilson realized who it had to be and called it in.”
Eugene. Had Eugene stolen their food? Had Eugene shot at Cassidy?
Had Eugene kidnapped and murdered Hallie?
James had never wanted to suspect his neighbors, but it looked like a possibility. Carefully, he asked, “What did Eugene tell you?”
“I know what you’re thinking, but it wasn’t him.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“What were you doing over there yesterday? Wilson said you went to talk to him about his alibi back when Hallie was taken, but were you really there to check on her?”
“I had no idea she’d be there. I just saw her running—from Eugene.”
“Why was Cassidy there?”
“The guy who kidnapped her wore a mask the whole time, so she never got a look at his face. But she thought, if she could hear his voice, she’d recognize it. She went to the campground to try to get close enough to hear Eugene’s voice. And Wilson’s.”
“And?” Vince’s eyebrows rose as if he already knew what James was going to say.
“Eugene’s voice didn’t sound familiar, but—”
“It couldn’t have been him.”
“His only alibi was fellow gamers online. That can’t really pass for an alibi.”
“Eugene isn’t clever enough to pull this off and get away with it. Cote checked with a few online gamers. They confirmed he’d been playing online the whole time. He was satisfied with the alibi, and so am I.”
Of course they were. They’d decided Cassidy was guilty from the get-go.
And Eugene… was that some kind of discrimination or reverse discrimination? People suspected him because of the severe learning disability, and they discarded him for the same reason. But being learning disabled didn’t make a person good or bad.
“What did Eugene tell you yesterday?”
“He saw you two and followed you for a while.”
“Why didn’t he call it in the day before?”
Vince blew out a long-suffering breath. “You’re here to answer my questions, not the other way around.”
“I’m just trying to put it together.”
“I didn’t interview him, but my understanding is that he didn’t realize it was her at the time. He and his father had the fight, and he took off.”
That made sense. But… “I thought you were heading the investigation. Why didn’t you interview him?”
“Had a lead elsewhere. Turned out to be nothing.”
“And you won’t consider, after everything, that Eugene is guilty?”
Vince lifted one shoulder. “It’s possible, I suppose, that Eugene is our guy. Hard to believe, considering how busy the campground is in the summertime. If he was going to do something like this, you’d think he’d do it when he was bored, not busy. What time were you shot at today?”
“It was about… one o’clock. It took us some time…”
Vince was already shaking his head. “Eugene was at the police station about then. I’ll call ’em, and we’ll confirm it, but, seriously… you really think he could pull off three kidnappings and two murders?”
“Four kidnappings. Cassidy was kidnapped, too. Where was Wilson when Eugene was at the police station?”
“At the campground, I assume.” Vince’s lips pressed together until they turned white. “I’ll look into it, see if anybody can put Wilson at the campground this afternoon.”
“And find out if he stole our food. I think it’s worth digging into. Eugene’s got a learning disability, but he’s not stupid. And he can shoot. Wilson and Eugene go hunting every fall. Have ever since they bought the campground from Dad when I was a kid. We used to keep an eye on things when they were out of town.”
“None of that changes what I have to do right now.”
The gnawing feeling in the pit of James’s stomach that had been growing ever since the first loud knock expanded. “Which is what?”
“Cassidy Leblanc is a fugitive from justice. There’s a warrant out for her arrest. I warned you to tell me if she got in touch with you. You didn’t do that.”
“She’s not guilty, Vince. She didn’t do anything wrong.”
“That’s not for me to decide, and it’s not for you to decide. You had a responsibility to report it when she contacted you. You’ve left me no choice. Stand up.”
James stood, and Vince clamped a hand on his shoulder. “You have the right to remain silent…”