Did You Miss Me? (47 page)

But she’d shared straight up. And now the shit would rain down on her head. Her career would be over. Her family would know the truth.

The families of over two dozen dead girls would be asking why she didn’t reveal Beckett long before he tortured and killed their daughters. The families of over two dozen dead girls would want their pound of flesh.

Sorry, guys
.
You’ll have to stand to stand in line
.
Daphne Montgomery is mine
.

Wednesday, December 4, 11.30
P.M.

Daphne let Joseph lead her to the stuffed armchair where he tugged her onto his lap. She melted into him, pressing her cheek to his warm chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart as her tears continued to fall. She was too tired to make them stop.

She let herself go, let herself lean on him. Inhaled the scent of him – soap from his shower, his aftershave. He held her close, one hand closing over her hip, anchoring her to him, the other rubbing her back. Slowly, firmly, rhythmically.

Calming her. The tears slowed. Stopped. Until all that was left was the bare, unavoidable truth.
All these years
. She’d thought Beckett dead.
But he’s not
.
He’s been out there
.
Doing it again and again
. How could she face his victims? Their families?

Her own family. Her friends. Herself.
It’s not my fault
.
I didn’t know
.

How many times had she heard that excuse in court?

‘What have I done, Joseph?’ she whispered.

‘Nothing wrong,’ he murmured. ‘You were a child.’

He sounded so sure and in her mind she knew he was right. She desperately wanted to believe him in her heart.

The hand that rubbed her back lifted to stroke her hair, gently at first, gradually increasing the pressure until he massaged her head, taking care to avoid yesterday’s bump. She let her head fall forward and for precious minutes she didn’t think about anything except how good it felt. He seemed to know just how hard to press.

He seemed to know exactly where it hurt. Even if she’d had another wig with her, there was no way she’d put it on now. His touch against her scalp felt too good.

The quiet moan escaped her before she knew it was coming. His chest expanded in a giant exhale as his hips shifted beneath her. He was aroused, but not demanding.

‘Feel good?’ he asked, his voice a deep rumble in his chest.

‘Mm-hm. Thank you. I’ve had a headache since yesterday morning. I thought the worst was over when Ford was found. And for me as a mother, it is.’

‘But for you as a person?’

‘My worst nightmare.’

‘Coppola said you had one last night. A nightmare. Did you dream of Beckett?’

‘Yes. And that little room and Kelly’s screaming. And . . .’ She hesitated, not wanting to tell, but knowing she must.

She could feel his dread as he held her, his arms tensing. ‘And?’ he said, his voice gone darkly menacing.

She sighed. ‘I wasn’t entirely truthful earlier.’

‘You said he didn’t touch you.’ He went still. ‘No, you said he didn’t touch you the way he touched her. Why didn’t you say it before?’

‘He didn’t touch me. He would have, though. That’s why I ran. I didn’t say it before because Ford was there and I didn’t want him to know. But somebody needs to know the truth because now . . . there are others.’

‘What did he do?’ he growled.

‘It wasn’t what he did. It’s what he said. Can you settle down? The growling is making me edgy.’ She sighed, trying to calm herself. ‘I was an early bloomer. Always looked older than I was. I was the only eight-year-old in my class with a training bra.’ She shrugged. ‘Beckett noticed.’

Joseph quietly seethed. ‘And then?’

‘He’d pet my hair and tell me that I needed to “cook” for a while longer. I think he’d planned to keep me until I’d developed more. It wasn’t like he was going to let me go.’

‘He needs to die.’

His expression was deadly, but Daphne felt safer than she ever had in her entire life. ‘I completely agree. But I don’t want you to do it.’

Dark, determined eyes met hers. ‘Why not?’

‘One, it’s against the law. Which I know I’m supposed to say, but which doesn’t make it less true. Two . . . I’m very much an eye-for-an-eye kind of girl. But there are consequences to every decision we make. I don’t want you to have to live with any negative consequences on my account. At least that aren’t absolutely necessary.’

‘Killing him feels necessary,’ he said darkly.

‘Stopping him is necessary. Justice is necessary.’ She ran her finger over his frowning lip. ‘Giving the victims the closure of a guilty verdict is necessary.’

He closed his eyes. ‘You’re right. I still want to kill him, though.’

‘So do I, but I only told you about the needing-to-cook comment because it might help you catch him. Kelly was seventeen and so was . . . is Heather. He might have only shown interest in me because I was convenient. But his attraction may not be based on chronological age. So don’t narrow your field on possible victims.’

‘I understand,’ he said grimly. ‘Is there any more you remember?’

‘His smile. When he’d come back up the stairs from . . . from raping Kelly, he’d smile at me like everything was normal. Like he was . . . Ward Cleaver or something. Later when I’d come home and he wanted to keep me in check—’

‘You mean terrorize you?’ Joseph interrupted harshly. ‘Because that’s what it was. An innocent child being terrorized by an adult with all the power.’

Another voice punched through the memory of Beckett, echoing Joseph’s words. ‘That’s exactly what Maggie said.’

She could feel his momentary surprise. ‘Maggie knows?’

‘She and the FBI agent I gave my statement to are the only ones who did.’

‘His name, too?’

‘No. Maggie couldn’t get me to say his name. My statement to Agent Baker was the only time I gave his name to anyone. Until tonight.’

He processed this. ‘So he’d smile when he terrorized you?’

‘Yes. It would make me throw up. The last time was the day before I met Travis. I was walking to the bus stop after work and there Beckett was, standing under a streetlamp. He smiled at me and drew a line across his throat. I ran back to the restaurant, got sick. Called Maggie to come get me. She begged me to tell her the name of the man but I was too terrified.’

‘Maggie told me she was your adopted grandma. How did you meet her?’

‘After my father left us and Mama moved us to Riverdale, she’d rented a little apartment in this nice woman’s basement.’

‘Maggie was the nice woman?’

‘Yes, she was. She had a big farmhouse with a lot of land. And horses.’

‘Ah, I wondered how the horses factored in.’

‘They were Maggie’s. Her husband had been a breeder, pretty famous in their neck of the woods. Anyway, Mama and I arrived in our station wagon, which was packed full of everything we owned. She took me into the house, introduced me to Maggie, and started down the basement stairs. I freaked out.’

‘I can understand why.’

‘I still have trouble being underground. Mama was trying to calm me and Maggie was staring. Not like she was appalled, but like she was assessing. I was having a major meltdown without saying a word or even making a sound.’

‘You said you didn’t speak for eight months. You mean nothing? No words?’

‘Not one. Mama was getting frantic, telling me that I was going to get us thrown out. And Maggie stopped her. Told her that nobody was throwing us out and that I didn’t have to go down the stairs. She gave me a room, decorated for a girl who loved horses. Maggie was a social worker and she and her husband had been foster parents. Her house had always been filled with kids. Now it was empty because her husband had died and she hadn’t had the heart to take in anyone new.’

‘Until you and your mother.’

‘Yes. She’d decided that her time for grieving was past. She was so patient with me, taking care of me so that Mama could work. When the husband walks out, it’s sometimes financially worse than if he’d died. We were destitute.’

‘If he’d died, you would have at least had his pension.’

‘Exactly. After a few months, I ventured into the barn. And met Lulu. That horse – and Maggie – were my salvation. At first I was like a little ghost, always watching. Then one day Maggie put a brush in my hand. I’d brush that horse and feel connected again. Like I was part of the world. When I’d have a nightmare or a panic attack, Maggie would carry me out to the barn and put the brush in my hand. It’s a wonder Lulu wasn’t bald after all that brushing. But I’d brush Lulu and bathe her. Later, I’d ride her and whisper my secrets in her ear. The wind in my face, the freedom of being able to go anywhere I wanted, the act of caring for an animal . . . It healed me, a little at a time.’

She sighed. ‘And then one day it was just me and Maggie in the barn with the horses and it all came out, all in a rush. That’s the only time I’ve ever seen Maggie cry. I was terrified after I’d told her. I never wanted Mama to know. Mama stood up for me with her family, lost them because of me. My dad was gone, because of me.’

‘Please tell me that you know now that it wasn’t because of you.’

‘I know that in my head, but I still don’t believe it. The other reason I didn’t want her to know was that Mama would have never let me rest until I told her Beckett’s name. And then he’d kill her. Of that I had absolutely no doubt.’

‘I guess I can understand that.’

‘I was homeschooled for a long time, because even when I started talking again, it was years before I was ready to go to a normal school. Years before I’d let anyone touch me other than Mama and Maggie. If I heard anyone say, “Did you miss me?”, I’d be a mess for days and poor Lulu would get the brushing of her life. If Beckett popped up and said it, I was back to almost square one.’

‘It’s a wonder you didn’t have a nervous breakdown.’

‘I did have one. The first time he popped up was when I’d finally started at the local school. I was eleven. My first day, I was headed for my bus and somebody bumped me from behind. I dropped my books. I’d bent down to gather them and a man stopped to help. I looked up to say thanks and there he was.’

‘My God.’

‘Yeah. He said, “Did you miss me?” and then said, “You look pert near cooked” and tried to grab me. The next thing I knew, I was in the hospital, waking up. I’d run away, screaming in my mind. Ran into the street and nearly got plowed by a bus. I tripped trying to get away, hit my head. Ended up in the hospital.’

Joseph’s face had grown very dark. ‘He needs to die, Daphne.’

‘I know. But that’s not why I’m telling you this. These are the things that will come out if I have to tell grieving, angry parents why I didn’t turn him in sooner. Why I waited seven years to turn him in to the FBI.’

‘Who told you Beckett was dead.’

‘Because the county records department told them so. You think that Beckett faked his own death?’

‘It’s the most straightforward explanation. If he was dead, he’d be off the grid. He wouldn’t have to worry about anyone looking for him.

‘He could kill with impunity. I’d like to read the autopsy report. I wonder if he found a body or procured one by murdering the person. Somebody has to be dead to get the ME to sign off on the document itself.’

‘McManus was going to the county records office first thing in the morning, but we may be able to see a copy of the certificate on line.’

‘Can we do it right now?’

‘Sure. Let’s put at least one of these questions to rest right now.’

Wheeling, West Virginia, Wednesday, December 4, 11.45
P.M.

‘Hey, kid. Ford. Are you okay?’

No
.
I’m not okay
. Ford looked up at the ceiling. Numb. When he’d first opened his eyes and seen his mother’s face . . . 
I thought everything would be all right
. His biggest worry had been for her. When she let herself get worn down, she got a cold.

And every time she sneezed he still worried the cancer had come back.

When he’d opened his eyes the next time? It had been to see . . . nothing.
Because there had been a goddamn pillow in my face
.

He’d heard his mother. Her war cry. If he’d been Beckett, he would have been terrified.
Now I know his name
.
Because my mother told it to me
. Because she’d always known.

She’d yanked the old asshole off him like the guy was a fifty-pound third grader.

Don’t mess with my mama
, he thought with a tiny spear of pride.
She was like a mother lion, defending me
.
No
.
I don’t want to be proud of her
.
I want to be mad at her
.
Saying those things about Kim
.
They can’t be true
.
They just can’t
.

She didn’t set me up
.
She didn’t fake wanting to be with me, just to give me over to Doug
.
Whoever the hell he is
.
She didn’t
.
She couldn’t
.

Could she?

‘Hey, kid.’ It was that Fed. Novak. Ford continued to ignore him.
Maybe he’ll go away
.
‘
You okay, Ford? You might as well say something to let me know you’re all right, at least physically, otherwise I’m capable of annoying you until you do. It’s one of my special skills. So one more time. Are. You. Okay?’

Ford blew out a breath. ‘Do I fucking
look
okay?’

‘No, you fucking look like shit. But you’ve been through a lot in the past two days. I figure you’re entitled. You got any questions?’

‘Like what?’

‘Like, did your mother tell the truth?’

Ford turned his head to stare at the Fed. Novak leaned against the doorframe, appearing calm, but there was an intensity to the man that hummed under the surface.

‘Come closer, please,’ Ford said politely and Novak complied, coming to the side of Ford’s hospital bed, holding his gaze steady so that Ford could study his eyes. Each iris was two different colors, brilliant blue and chocolate brown, split right down the center. He looked like a comic book superhero, too brawny and rugged to be real. ‘Do they hurt?’