Find Me (37 page)

Public Safety Office, Friday, March
6, 5:50 A.M.

It was almost daybreak.

Kale paced the lobby. They'd called off the search two hours ago to wait for daylight.

He'd raised hell when the chief first mentioned taking a break to wait for the sun to come up. But, like him, the deputies participating in the search were half frozen.

It was the right thing to do… but he couldn't bear the thought of Sarah being out there in the cold… or worse…

Being tortured.

The chief was already reorganizing the groups, laying out the new search grid.

Kale needed him to work faster. He needed the sun to fucking come up.

Agent August strolled past him, hands shoved deep into his trouser pockets. He glanced at Kale. "She's a survivor, you know."

Kale gritted his teeth. He didn't want to hear anything this prick had to say.

"Two years ago she had a little meltdown." August studied Kale's face as he spoke, analyzing, concluding. "A total mental break, they say. She spent seven days in a padded room. But she came back. She'll come back from this."

Kale hadn't intended to, but he blinked. The burn of emotion wouldn't be assuaged any other way. He didn't know if anything this asshole said was true… but he knew that Sarah had to be the strongest woman he'd ever met. Who wouldn't have a meltdown considering the kind of work she did and how invested she got? Or if you considered her childhood.

August smirked and shook his head. "You shouldn't get so hung up on her. She'll go when the investigation is wrapped up and you'll be left here wondering what the hell happened."

Kale took a swing at him. The bastard dodged in the nick of time. "Conner!"

Hands held him back. August just laughed. Kale wanted to kill him.

The front entrance doors burst open. "I need some help over here!"

All eyes swung to the door.

Jimmy Tate, Sarah leaning against him, stumbled into the lobby.

Kale's heart swelled. He rushed to her.

"Sarah! Are you all right?"

She blinked. Stared at him, her pupils wide.

Shit! He lifted her into his arms.

She was freezing.

Where the hell was her coat?

"We need to warm her up!" Kale shouted to anyone listening.

People started clambering around him.

"Let me go." Sarah struggled against his hold.

"We need to get her to a hospital," Kale said to the chief.

"No." She struggled some more. "I'm all right. Put me down."

He had no choice but to do as she said or risk dropping her. She staggered. He steadied her.

She searched the faces until she found the chief's. "I can take you to where I was held."

Kale shook his head. "First, we go to the hospital."

"Listen to her," August urged. "If she needed immediate medical attention, she would tell you."

Sarah pushed away from Kale. Glowered at August. "Chief,"—she looked directly at him—"take me now before my memory is muddled with other influences."

"Where'd you find her?" the chief asked Tate.

"I was on my way to work," Jimmy told him. "Found her way down on 52. She was trying to climb outta the ditch. It's a miracle I saw her. She'd about frozen to death. I wanted to take her to the ER but she made me bring her here."

"Why the hell didn't you call?" Kale demanded.

"I don't have no cell phone," Jimmy growled. "She wouldn't let me stop nowhere. She wanted to come straight here."

"We're wasting time," Sarah argued, her voice quivery and weak.

Kale jerked off his coat and wrapped it around her. She shuddered. Damn it! She needed medical attention. He didn't care what she or anyone else said.

"Get the lady some coffee," the chief shouted. "And let's take her where she wants to go."

After a few wrong turns in the woods, they found the location where Sarah had dropped her cell phone.

Sarah pointed to the shore. "Down there."

Kale didn't want her to go back down there but there was no stopping her. Now that she had some caffeine in her veins she was taking no orders from him. Or anyone else.

At the mouth of the cave, the chief halted the progress. "Agent August, you, Kale, and Ms. Newton come with me." He surveyed the rest of the group as they ambled closer. "Karen, you call the State Police and tell them to get their lab techs down here. And call Billy Jackson and let him know we're out here."

This cave wasn't technically in Youngstown town limits, so the local police needed to be contacted.

The chief glanced at Kale. "Let's see what we've got here."

Sarah led the way.

The powerful flashlight beams bounced around the dark interior. Kale spotted the bag she carried everywhere. He started to reach for it.

"Don't touch nothing," the chief reminded.

"Over here, Chief," August shouted.

Kale stayed close to Sarah. The agent's flashlight was focused on an object on the ground.

Silver glinted… big-ass knife… bloody.

The chief studied it a moment, then surveyed the area around it.

A piece of white cloth lay on the ground nearby. Small, empty tubes that had once held glue. A partial roll of duct tape. Empty food containers. A woman's shoe. And eyeglasses.

All kinds of evidence.

Anticipation burned inside Kale.

'Bout fucking time.

They were going to get this bastard.

2312
Beauchamp Road
, 11:00 A.M.

Jerald watched the security monitor in his study as the police cruisers braked to sudden stops in front of his home. Five, no seven deputies spilled out of the vehicles and formed a perimeter around his home. Chief Willard and Special Agent Lex August approached his front door.

He'd expected them hours ago.

Some things took time, he supposed.

When he'd gotten his passport years ago he'd had to provide his thumbprint. It should have been an easy process with the federal agent's assistance to match the prints on the evidence to him.

Apparently they had taken the route of caution, not wanting to jump the gun and risk double-jeopardy complications.

Understandable.

The doorbell sang its greeting, echoing through the house. He had ensured his wife and daughter were away this morning.

That made things simpler.

Less traumatic for all involved.

His primary goal was to ensure they were both protected.

No matter the cost.

Enjoying a final look at the home he had so lovingly designed himself, he took his time arriving at the front door.

At least now he had no reason to worry about the carpal tunnel surgery. His hands would no longer be of any use to him.

When he opened the door, Chief Willard stepped forward. Jerald was surprised his service revolver remained holstered.

"Good morning, Chief." He glanced at the agent. "Agent August. How can I help you this morning?"

"Jerald, I have a warrant here to search your property." Willard held the official document in his hand. "We'll need your full cooperation."

Jerald stepped back, opened the door wide. "Be my guest."

He got a glimpse of Sarah Newton waiting near one of the police cruisers. He smiled, gave her a nod.

Perhaps she didn't know it yet, but this was a game she could not win.

717
High Street
, 12:15 P.M.

Deborah watched, transfixed, as Jerald Pope was escorted, hands cuffed behind his back, into the Youngstown Public Safety Office.

She blinked, returned her attention to the reporter touting the breaking news.

"More to come in this gruesome story. For now, according to Chief Willard of the Youngstown police, after discovering overwhelming evidence early this morning, master boat builder Jerald Pope has been arrested for the murders of Valerie Gerard and Alicia Appleton. Back to you, Scott."

The reporter's image was replaced on the screen by her colleague's back at the station. He wore a grim face for the camera. "Thank you, Marcia. That news comes from Youngstown, where it appears a frantic investigation into the disappearance and murder of two young women is finally coming to an end."

Deborah turned from the television, shock settling over her. She walked numbly to the kitchen and picked up the prescription bottle. She stared at the few remaining tablets inside.

What had she done?

Fear slithered around her throat and tightened like a noose.

She rushed to the window and gazed out at the church where Christopher was working on the upcoming Sunday's sermon. Soon he would grow sleepy and eventually lose consciousness.

Think rationally, she told herself.

There were two options.

She could call 911 and stop this now before it was too late. But then she would likely go to prison for the rest of her life. Christopher would understand and forgive her as she had forgiven him, but the rest of the world would not be so forgiving.

The other option, if chosen, would play out as set in motion, leaving her and Tamara well provided for, financially. Their futures would be assured. The chances of the police discovering the truth were minimal. The insurance was more than adequate for their current and future needs.

But Deborah knew her Father in heaven would know.

And He would not forgive her.

As much as she had no desire to spend the rest of her life in prison, she had a greater desire not to spend eternity in Hell.

Deborah reached for the phone.

The Overlook Inn
, 12:15 P.M.

Barton stared at the television set.

Was it possible?

Was the nightmare finally over?

If an arrest had been made, the investigation would end.

He looked heavenward and repeated a mantra of thanks.

Sweet Jesus, was it really over?

But Jerald Pope? Incredible.

Barton hurried into his private office and unlocked his desk. He grabbed the plastic bag in the bottom drawer and removed the bane of his existence from it. Now that the danger had passed, he had to decide what to do with it.

Destroy it once and for all.

He'd kept it all these years… just in case he needed to prove that he'd found the journal and learned of the secret inside. But now, that was no longer necessary.

Perhaps he would burn it… or bury it with his father when he eventually passed.

No waiting. He would act today.

Since he'd only just cleaned out the fireplace, his wife would be suspicious if he started a fire before evening. No, that wouldn't work.

Bury it. Yes. He would bury it. Time and the elements would destroy the filthy pages. They would decompose and return to the earth where they belonged.

He had a minor yard task or two. Some of the landscape lighting needed repairs. His wife would think nothing of him doing those chores. But just to be safe, he would wait until she was away from the inn. She had errands. Perhaps he would insist she do them this afternoon.

A relieved sigh whispered past his lips.

He didn't have to worry about the police anymore. Or that annoying Sarah Newton. Lucky for her. He'd racked his brain coming up with a plan to scare her away. That business was no longer necessary.

Finally, he could rest easy again.