Shadow of Vengeance (9 page)

Shorty?
Absolute fury whorled through Rachel’s body as her mind spiraled with bitter, poignant childhood memories. Images of the kids at school and in her neighborhood suddenly took front and center, replacing the behemoth of a woman looming over her from the staircase. Ricky Lawrence and his pitiful crew appeared first. They had constantly teased her about her height, her small boobs, red hair and freckles. Then there was Ginny McAndrews, such a snobby bitch, and her equally snobby gang of mean girls. They loved to make fun of her for not having a dad around, for wearing the secondhand clothes her mom would buy from Goodwill, and they’d call her mom a slut because she always had a new boyfriend and Sean had a different dad. As she’d matured, Rachel had overcome her childhood insecurities, but she still harbored zero tolerance for bullies. Joy, plain and simple, was nothing but a bully who needed to be put in her place.

Stopping short of the staircase, she said, “Rachel.”

Joy raised her dark eyebrows. “Right. You Rachel. Me Joy. Is this name thing too much for you to handle?”

“Not for me,” Rachel replied.

“Well then, Shorty, quit with all this bullshit and let me show you your room.”

“Call me Shorty again and we’re going to find out if you can
really
haul my ass out of your house…ya know, personally.”

After Joy sized her up, she snorted. “I could wipe my ass with you.”

“Do it,” Rachel said even as her heart raced with fear and outrage.
 

“Good God.” Owen grabbed her arm. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
 

Without breaking eye contact with Joy, Rachel pulled free from his grip. “This doesn’t concern you.”

“Yeah, it does. Spending the week sleeping in my car doesn’t work for me.”

“You’re right. You stay here with Miss Sunshine. I’ll sleep at the hospital. There’s a recliner in Sean’s room. I’ve suddenly discovered that The House of
Joy
comes up a bit…short, even for me.”

A shadow of a smile worked along Joy’s lips. “No pun intended.”

Ignoring Joy, Rachel said, “Let’s go. We’ve wasted enough time.” Hands clammy, heart still beating erratically, she walked out of the colonial.
 

Owen caught up with her on the front porch and touched her shoulder. “What are you doing? Who gives a shit what that woman thinks or says?”

“You’re mistaken. I don’t care about her at all.” She really didn’t. Being short, being called short…that was who she was and until there was such thing as limb-lengthening surgery, she’d remain—as Owen had aptly referred—vertically challenged. Joy, though, had touched a raw nerve. She’d treated them like crap the moment they’d walked into her house, threatened them, made fun of her height and Owen’s looks. As a whole, Joy wasn’t just a bully, she was a bitch. Between her mom, and the dozens of women she’d shared rooms with during her time in the army, Rachel had decided she’d lived with enough bitches. No need to add Joy to that list.
 

“If you don’t care, then why the hostility?”

She stopped at the edge of the porch and faced him. “My brother is lying in the hospital. His best friend is missing and we have one week to find him. Bola, Wexman University could possibly have a serial killer roaming around here. I’m a bit…” The weight of what they needed to accomplish in a matter of days suddenly overwhelming, she reached behind her ear for the pencil. When she realized she’d left it in the car, she bit the inside of her cheek to keep her emotions under control. “I’m a bit stressed. I don’t need any
Joy
in my life right now.”

 
Understanding softened Owen’s blue eyes. He gave her shoulder a light squeeze. “At the start, every case seems unsolvable. When they’re personal…they can be downright daunting. I know it’s easier said than done, but don’t let the stress affect you negatively. Treat it like a tool you can use to hone in on your investigative skills.”

She had no investigative skills, but didn’t want to voice that to Owen. She’d already admitted enough. “Do you really walk into a case feeling like it’s unsolvable?”

“Depends on the assignment.”

“What about this one?”

“We’ve got a file box filled with years of missing person cases, a note, a missing kid, and the so-called legend of Hell Week…yeah, I’m a little worried.”

His honesty, his admission to having doubts about the case, eased her to a degree. A very small degree. If Owen, a total badass with a one hundred percent case resolution, worried about figuring out this particular puzzle, Josh Conway could end up like the other missing persons from Bola and Wexman. An unsolved mystery.

“We still have Sean’s clothes, which I need to overnight to DecaLab.”

Owen took a step off the porch, and withdrew his cell phone. “I’ll look up the nearest post office. We can stop on our way to the university. If you give me the sheriff’s number, I’ll call and see if I can crash at his place for—”

“Rachel,” Joy called from the front door.
 

She ignored the bitchy bully and followed Owen.

“You don’t seem the type, but maybe you prefer Miss Davis?” Joy asked.

Curious, Rachel turned.

Wearing only a thick, cable knit sweater, Joy hugged herself then moved down the porch steps until the two of them were eyelevel. “So which is it? Rachel or Miss Davis?”

“What do you think?”

Ten years fell from Joy’s face when she smiled. “I think you’re a real ball buster.”

“You have no idea,” Owen said.

Joy’s smile grew. “That right?” She nodded. “Good. This place could use a ball busting bitch to spice things up.”

“Is there room enough for two of us?” Rachel asked, still uncertain as to whether or not Joy was screwing with her.

What Rachel imagined a barking seal might sound like, if it was being run over by an ice cream truck with a dying sound system, suddenly echoed throughout the front yard. Holding her stomach, Joy continued to release the strangest laugh Rachel had ever heard, then she snorted and wiped the tears under her eyes. “Now that was fucking funny,” Joy said, wrapped an arm around Rachel and grew serious. “No need to shack up at the hospital. I’ve got you covered.”

Beyond confused, but grateful she wouldn’t have to sleep in a chair, Rachel shook her head. “Okay. Um…can we take care of the paperwork and payment when we get back? We need to get to the university.”

“No paperwork. No payment.”

“Joy, we can—”

“Listen to me,” Joy began and gripped Rachel’s shoulders. “I’ve lived here my whole life. I didn’t know any of those kids that had gone missing, but the four locals…” She looked away for a second. “This has to stop. Jake says you might be able to make that happen. Even if you fail, as long as you try to give us some answers, The House of Joy is open to you.”

“So that Shorty BS was a test?”

“Nope. You
are
short, and neither one of you fit what I had pictured in my head as the people who were going to end this Hell Week shit.” She shrugged. “It pissed me off.”

“But we’re good now?” Owen asked.

Joy pulled a key from her pocket and handed it to Rachel. “We’re good. Dinner’s at six. If you can’t make it, leftovers are in the fridge. If you come home when I’m not up, room three and five are yours. Clean linens are in the closet in your rooms. Breakfast is at seven.” She headed back up the steps, then stopped at the front door. “Bola might be a speck on the map, but it’s a good place to live and raise a family…even if most of us are living in fear.”

*

After shipping Sean’s clothes to DecaLab, a private genetics laboratory CORE employed at a hefty price tag, Owen drove the Lexus down the only road leading to Wexman University. “How long before we hear anything from the lab?” he asked Rachel.

Without looking up from the list the sheriff had given her, she said, “Chihiro thinks, once they receive the package, it’ll take about a day before they’ll have any results.”

“Chihiro?”

“Kimura.”

“What? You’ve lost me.”

Releasing an impatient sigh, she looked up from the list. “Chihiro Kimura is a forensic DNA tech for DecaLab.”

“And I was supposed to know this how?” When she didn’t answer him, he said, “Joy’s right. You are a ball buster.” Truly. Other than Joy Baker, he’d never met a more hostile woman.
 

“Yes, I do have my moments.”

He wished she’d have less of those
moments.
They were partners and needed to act as if they were on a united front. Although maybe he shouldn’t discourage her from blowing him shit. Her volatile, sarcastic remarks might help remind him that he had no business thinking about her in any way other than coworker. Each barb she threw at him could keep this mind off her sexy ass and curvy hips. Her sassy mouth and tempting lips. Her big, green eyes…

He cleared his throat and shook all those enticing images of Rachel from his mind. “What do you make of Joy’s parting comment?”

“About living in fear? Joy doesn’t seem like the type who scares easy. Honestly, until Jake told us about the four missing locals, I hadn’t given a whole lot of thought about the Townies. Well, except for considering that one of them is our kidnapper or killer or whatever we want to call him.”

 
“Having a killer in their midst is bad for local business.”

“True. But what if one of the locals, or a couple of them, has a grudge against the college students?”

“Possible. That doesn’t explain the four missing Townies, though.”

She tapped the pencil against her mouth, then slowly glided it along her full lips. Before he veered the Lexus off the road and into a tree, he looked away and brought to mind his nephew’s poopy diapers. Anything to keep from thinking about what it would be like to have Rachel’s lips and mouth slipping and sliding along…

“You have arrived,” the GPS told them as the forest they’d been driving through parted and revealed the entrance of the university.

Thank God. He needed out of the Lexus and his mind focused on the investigation, not the woman running it. Besides, she didn’t like him and even if she did, having an affair with Rachel might jeopardize his career with CORE. While Ian hadn’t issued a “no dating” policy, he couldn’t imagine his boss liking the idea of potential relationship drama at the workplace.
 

After they passed between two immense brick walls with Wexman engraved on one and University on the other, Rachel pointed to the left. “We’re on the campus’s main drag. The dorms are up ahead.”

Old style lampposts lined the narrow road. As he drove through the campus, similar sized lanes and dozens of narrower, paved paths splintered through the snow and led to various buildings. Naked trees, empty, snow-covered benches and stone picnic tables littered the area. In the fall, he’d bet the campus was a beautiful kaleidoscope of color. With the large gothic buildings, the barren trees, vacant paths and the surrounding dense forest, right now the university campus gave off a formidable vibe.
 

“This place is like a ghost town,” he commented. “Where is everyone?”

She glanced out her window. “It’s freezing. Plus it’s almost four-thirty. It’ll be dark soon and I’m assuming most classes are either finished or wrapping up for the day.”

“What time do the administration offices close? We should probably talk with the university president and dean.”

She flipped through the notes Jake had taken. “The president, Richard Lambert, is…well, this is random. He’s in Wyoming for a funeral. Jake noted that the dean, Xavier Preston, is willing to fully cooperate with us, but it looks like his office hours are until five.”

“Maybe we should meet with him first, then look at the dorm.”

“I’d rather go to Sean’s room. Jake also noted that campus security and the residence hall’s RAs have warned students to leave the room alone, but I don’t want to take any chances.”

Considering Sean and Josh were taken
after
they’d left the dorm, and that the sheriff hadn’t found any bottles—empty or full—of Mountain Dew, let alone any other evidence, he thought a search of the room could wait. “Your call. What about the professor?”

“I have his cell phone number. We can call him when we’re finished.” She tapped the dashboard. “Slow down. You see that building?” She pointed to a three-story brick building.

He read the sign out front. “Stanley Residence Hall.”

“Right, Sean’s room is in there. You can park in the lot behind it.”

As he made his way to the parking lot, he said, “I really think we should speak with the dean. Maybe you should —”

“Call and at least set up an appointment for tomorrow?”

“Seriously. I really hate when you finish my sentences.”

“
Anyway,
I spoke with his secretary. We have an appointment with him in the morning.”

“When did you set that up?” he asked as he parked the Lexus.
 

“When you ran back into Joy’s to use the boy’s room.”

“There’s a sense of urgency for you,” he said and reached for the door handle.

“Are you talking about hitting the boy’s room or the dean?” she asked.