After She's Gone (25 page)

Jenna bit her lip, a new habit that had come with the strain and concern over her daughters.

Shane didn’t have children. Not biological. Not adopted. Just the stepchildren he’d inherited when they’d married. He hadn’t wanted children with his first wife, Carolyn, and it had been a deep fissure in that marriage. Once he and Jenna had married, he’d changed his mind. However, he’d never been as disappointed as she when she hadn’t gotten pregnant.

Obviously another baby wasn’t meant to be.

She could be okay with that.

Maybe.

If her daughters were safe. She thought of her previous pregnancies, the births, the joy of life and the sadness, of the mistakes she’d made, the guilt over decisions that hadn’t turned out well. God knew she hadn’t been a stellar mother, and more often than not she’d second-guessed herself. But being a parent meant making errors that sometimes came back to haunt her, one of many being that she’d hoped neither Cassie, nor Allie, would turn to Hollywood. She hadn’t wanted them to follow in their mother’s footsteps.

However, the bright lights of Hollywood had beckoned them, her daughters’ desires amplified by their father’s own dreams.

Rubbing the kinks from her neck, she reminded herself it was all part of being a parent: heartache and joy, happiness and pain. And always, inevitably, guilt.

God knew she had enough on her plate with the children she already had. She threw the test strip into the trash and told herself, “No more,” then checked her watch as she passed through the bedroom she shared with Shane. Cassie had called and said she’d be coming by.

The dog started making a ruckus, barking her fool head off. Jenna hurried down the stairs of this old ranch house with its log walls and paned windows. She’d bought it when she’d relocated from California and Shane had moved in as soon as they’d married, now nearly ten years ago.

She racewalked through the hallway, threw open the front door, and, with the dog galloping ahead of her, spied Cassie’s little Honda appearing over a slight rise in the lane to her house. “Thank God,” she murmured. She hadn’t bothered with a coat and rain was lashing from the sky. Jenna didn’t care as she ran across the wet grass and muddy puddles only to stop on the gravel drive at the spot where Cassie stopped her car and flung open the door. Relief washed over her at the sight of her daughter and damn, if a lump didn’t form in her throat when Cassie climbed from behind the wheel.

“Cassie!”

“Geez, Mom, you’re getting wet.”

Jenna threw her arms around her daughter and desperately tried not to cry. She’d been out of her mind with worry. Allie was still missing. Cassie had been distant, her mental health fragile. Jenna felt a gap widening between herself and her two children and she hated it. She clung to Cassie as if to life itself. “I’ve been so worried.”

“I’m okay.”

“Good.” Jenna squeezed her eyes shut and wished she could believe it. God, how she prayed that her daughter was healthy and strong.

“And we’ll find Allie, Mom,” she said as the wind blew cold down the Columbia Gorge.

Jenna nearly broke down. Her throat closed, her eyes burned, and she held Cassie tight. “Of course we will,” she whispered, her voice cracking a little. What she would give to have Allie with them right now. Memories of moving to Falls Crossing assailed her, memories of carving out a new life for herself and her two girls on this very patch of land, this ranch nestled near the shores of the river.

Fighting a losing battle with tears, Jenna finally released Cassie and realized that Trent Kittle had been in the passenger seat and now was standing on the opposite side of the car. She’d never thought she would approve of Kittle, but found herself grateful he appeared to be in Cassie’s corner. “Come on. Let’s go inside. You’re moving back, yes? Into your old room?”

Cassie and Trent exchanged glances over the top of her car.

“Silly of me,” Jenna said, catching the eye contact and feeling a moment’s confusion mingled with relief. “You’re with Trent. Married. Together.”

Cassie appeared uncomfortable and it seemed that rather than answer, she turned her attention to the dog, petting Paris’s wet head. Were they together again? It seemed so, but the last Jenna had heard, before Cassie had checked herself into Mercy Hospital, was that she was ending her marriage. Maybe the divorce had been tabled. Maybe they were working things out. Though Jenna had never been on board with the relationship.

He’d been too old and experienced when they’d first started seeing each other in Falls Crossing. Cassie had been recovering from the trauma of being nearly killed by a stalker who had his sights set on Jenna and her daughters, and she’d also been dealing with the pain of her most recent boyfriend’s murder. She’d witnessed Josh die, so Trent—older, more mature, kind of a bad boy who’d been through the military—didn’t seem to be the right guy at the right time. At least not to Jenna. But once Cassie took off for Hollywood and had been on her own a bit, she’d hooked up with Trent again and that time Jenna hadn’t been as against the relationship. Now, standing in this cold rain, she was grateful her daughter had someone who, it seemed, still cared for her. Cassie took a long time to pet the dog, then both she and Trent followed Jenna into the house. In the living room, Cassie dropped her purse onto the floor and tumbled onto the couch, taking over the very spot she’d claimed as a teenager. The dog, muddy feet and all, hopped up beside her and wiggled close. Trent sat nearby, in a leather recliner, and Jenna dropped into the rocker by the window, the chair that had become her home while sitting and waiting for news of her missing daughter. A fire glowed in the hearth, red embers nearly dead, the smell of wood smoke heavy.

“Whitney Stone’s been calling me. Well, along with the others,” Jenna said, switching on a table lamp. “So many reporters or paparazzi or whatever these days!”

Cassie made a sour face. “Whitney Stone actually tracked me down in California.”

“I’m not surprised. She’s pretty . . . determined.”

“Ruthless,” Cassie said, before launching into her story about the reporter chasing her down and trying to film her at a park. She ended with, “I nearly ran over her goon of a cameraman. Geez, what’s wrong with that woman?”

“Greed. Ambition. Whatever. She feeds into the public’s fascination with the minutiae of celebrity life. That’s why I ended up here.”

“And how did that turn out for you?” Cassie tossed out, then seemed immediately rueful. “Sorry.”

“I got Shane out of the deal,” Jenna reminded. Then, “The trouble is Whitney Stone wants to not only talk about what’s going on now, she’s putting out a ‘special report.’ I think it’s about what happened in the past. The stalker during the ice storm.” Cassie’s eyes looked bruised and Jenna added, “None of us want to live through that again. I’m just giving you a heads-up in case you didn’t know.”

“She told me,” Cassie said.

“I’m sorry,” Jenna responded, heartfelt.

Trent stood and walked to the fire, then bent down and added a log to the already burning pieces of oak. Flames caught quickly on the dry moss to crackle and burn hungrily, all the while casting the room in a shifting golden glow.

Cassie said slowly, “I want to show you something.”

Jenna noticed Trent’s hand tightening over the fireplace poker. He shot Cassie a warning glance that her daughter ignored as she scrounged inside her purse.

“What?” Jenna leaned closer as Cassie extracted a small plastic bag and handed it to Jenna. Inside was an earring, blood red and in the shape of a cross.

“Ever seen it before?” Cassie asked.

“No . . .” Jenna surveyed the bit of jewelry, then started to hand it back. “No wait . . . maybe. God, a long, long time ago. I had a bit part in a soap opera when I was first starting out.
North Wing.
The show was only on for two seasons, then died. And my part was nothing, a foot in the door to get into the business, you know? My character, Norma Allen, barely spoke. Really, I was little more than an extra who played a nurse who was always in the background.”

“Was the show set in the 1950s?” Trent asked.

“Sixties or seventies. It was a little retro at the time and didn’t catch on.”

Cassie’s face drained of color.

“What?” Jenna asked.

“This was found when I was at the hospital. I thought it was a bad dream, a nightmare, and that the nurse who visited me was a figment of my imagination.”

“What’re you talking about?”

Cassie explained about being visited by a nurse dressed in an old-fashioned uniform, that she had woken to find the woman in her retro costume in the room.

“What?” An icy talon of fear slid down Jenna’s spine.

“She must’ve dropped the earring.” Cassie swallowed tensely. “Somehow she knew that Allie was okay.”

“When did this happen?” Jenna demanded.

“The night before I left the hospital.”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“I thought it was all in my imagination. Except for that.” She indicated the bit of jewelry.

Jenna was stunned. This was so bizarre! But maybe . . . could the nurse actually know where Allie was? Or was this some kind of cruel prank or, worse yet, something her daughter’s fragile mind had concocted?

But there was the evidence of the earring . . .

She handed it back to Cassie and tried to stay calm. What did it mean? What the hell did it mean? “I haven’t heard anything about your sister,” she admitted, moving the rocker slowly back and forth. “Shane’s talked to the Portland police but if they have any new information they haven’t shared it. I assume they don’t.” She rubbed her hands together, caught herself, and grabbed both arms of her chair. “Have you shown them this?” She motioned with a finger toward the bagged earring.

“Not yet,” Trent interjected.

“Detective Nash thinks I’m crazy or worse.” Something unreadable passed behind Cassie’s eyes.

“What?” Jenna stopped rocking. Her trouble radar, now on alert, ratcheted up a couple of notches. “You know something?”

“No.”

“Cassie?” She could always tell when her children were lying to her and right now Cassie was hiding something. “What is it?”

“Is Shane around?” Cassie asked. She’d turned deathly sober as she and Trent exchanged glances.

“He’s on his way home. I texted him when you called and said you were coming by. But what is it?” Then her heart stilled. “Is it Allie?” she whispered, fear knotting her insides. “Oh, my God.”

“No, no, no . . . I don’t know about Allie. I don’t. But . . .” She looked at Trent just as the sound of a truck reached their ears. The dog lifted his head, leaped from the couch, and began whining at the door.

“We’ve got something we’d like to show him and you,” Trent explained. “I’ll go get it.” Following the spaniel, he was outside in an instant.

“What?” Jenna asked, her pulse pounding. “What’s going on, Cassie? What’s he got to show me?”

Cassie’s expression turned even more serious and her lips barely moved as she spoke. “A mask, Mom. A mask of Allie that was left in my bag. I think someone broke into my apartment and left it there, you know, to freak me out.” Cassie’s eyes held Jenna’s. “Mission accomplished.”

“For the love of God, what’re you talking about?”

Cassie climbed to her feet and stared out the window. Rotating her chair, Jenna watched the two men approaching the house, Shane and Trent, both head-bent against the rain, the dog running circles around them. Trent was carrying what appeared to be a legal-size zipper pouch. Their boots echoed on the porch before the door swung open and the dog streaked inside.

For once, Jenna didn’t care about the dirty paw prints visible on the hardwood. “Show me,” she said, on her feet and walking toward the entry hall. Her gaze was fixed on the pouch Trent carried.

“In here,” he said, heading into the dining room. Jenna’s heart was thudding, her pulse pounding in her brain. She barely heard Cassie’s footsteps behind her as they collected around the dining room table and Trent unzipped the black pouch to retrieve a clear plastic bag. Inside was a thick piece of paper, an obscene twisted picture of Allie from one of her movie roles. Her mangled face was life-size, the paper trimmed around her hairline, and her eyes had been cut out for viewing holes.

“Oh, God.” Jenna’s hand flew to her mouth and she backed up a step, but she still stared at the horrid mask. She barely felt Shane’s arm around her shoulders as she sank against him. “What the hell is this?” she whispered, quivering inside. “Dear God, what?” She felt as if her soul was being shredded.

“Some sick bastard left this for you?” Shane demanded of Cassie.

Jenna felt rather than saw Cassie nod. She couldn’t drag her gaze from the table and its wretched display.

Her stomach churned.

Sweat tickled the back of her neck.

Bile crawled up her throat and she knew in that instant that she was going to throw up.

Beginning to retch she frantically stumbled away from her husband, from the dining room, from the marred visage of her youngest daughter. She ran half-blind to the powder room where she heaved over the toilet, hot tears filling her eyes, her stomach emptying again and again. For the love of all that was holy, where was Allie? Where was her baby? Why had the horrid mask been left at Cassie’s apartment?

A new fear slithered through her: Would Cassie disappear as well? Was this a warning?

For a few seconds she stood, bent over the toilet bowl. Until she was certain nothing else was coming up. Then, unsteadily, she flushed the toilet and stepped to the sink where she bent down again and rinsed her mouth with water from the tap. Her body’s shaking had stopped, she was no longer trembling, but the fear still gnawed at her as she splashed water over her face. A floorboard near the doorway creaked and she caught sight of Shane’s face in the reflection. A tall man, with an intimidating stature, he met her gaze. “We’ll get him,” he told her. “We’ll get the bastard.”