Gone (38 page)

Clare focused on the drops, trickling down the glass. From what she’d observed while in the south, tomorrow’s heat would soon remove all trace of this night’s rain. Other thoughts filled her mind. Thoughts she didn’t want to ponder. Better to focus on the rain.

She didn’t want to think about the last hours with Jake. Didn’t want to think how wonderful she felt being in his arms again. She didn’t want to think about the repercussions of this night.

Jake stirred in his sleep, drew her closer. It still wasn’t close enough for her. Clare curled up against him. And focused on the rain.

Chapter Twenty
 

The next morning Jake led a team made up of agents, state police, and Farley law enforcement into the woods behind Dannon’s cabin to search for Sara McCowan’s grave.

Clare had wanted to be on the team, but had been forced to remain behind. Her crutch was not ideal for trudging over the uneven grounds and would only slow the others down.

Though she couldn’t take part, there was no way she could sit still and wait at Jake’s place or the office for the results. He seemed to understand that, and grim-faced, agreed to leave her in his SUV to sit on the periphery.

She sat tight-lipped, staring at dense trees. The videotape of the grave had panned the area around it, revealing that Dannon had left signs marking the location. Trees were notched. A birdhouse, of all things, had been placed in a tree near the site. It was as if Dannon didn’t want to risk forgetting where the grave was.

Still, it was a formidable task covering the area. The men and women had moved deeper into the woods in the hours she’d been waiting, and she could no longer see or hear any of them.

The sun was low in the sky when she spotted Jake coming toward her. Clare’s heartbeat felt as if it tripled. She didn’t blink, watching his steady progress to her and the vehicle.

She popped the latch on the door and left the SUV. She lurched toward him. She wanted to call out to him, but her throat had tightened, making speech impossible.

“We found the grave,” Jake said when he reached her. He gripped her shoulders. “Skeletonized remains. Dental records will give us a positive ID, but there’s a necklace on the skeleton with a name plate that reads ‘Sara’.”

Since Beth had been gone for only a couple of weeks, her body could not have been reduced to a skeleton. Clare felt a terrible sadness for Sara but clutched Jake’s forearm. “No bodies?”

“No bodies.” He held her gaze.

“Take me there.”

She needed to see for herself that Beth wasn’t in the grave.

Jake nodded as if he’d anticipated her request.

He retrieved her crutch from the back of the SUV and taking her arm, led her back the way he’d come.

When they reached the grave site, it was a hive of activity. Men and women bustled about processing the crime scene, collecting samples, and taking photographs.

The remains had not yet been removed. Clare went to the open grave and peered into the hole. One skeleton that was obviously not Beth. Some of the tightness in Clare’s stomach eased.

Jake cupped her shoulders and tugged gently, but Clare didn’t turn away. It had become important to her that Sara’s killer be brought to justice—Sara whose tragic disappearance she’d learned of only recently while searching for Beth.

Sara’s remains were clothed only in a black leather thong, matching bustier, and stiletto heels. The tough leather had held up well over the years of exposure to the moist soil, hot climate, and breakdown of the body itself. The setting sun illuminated the gold filigree necklace Jake had noted that bore the name Sara, and steel manacles around the bones at the wrists and ankles.

Clare took it all in and her resolve built. She would remember it all, and she would see Rich Dannon prosecuted.

“I’m not finished here,” Jake said, “but there’s no need for you to stay, Clare. Take my truck.” He handed her the keys. “Drive yourself home and I’ll get a ride back.”

Clare nodded as she took them.

* * * * *

Clare returned to Jake’s house. The image of Sara McCowan’s remains was strong in her mind. So far, her best efforts had not resulted in provoking Dannon to speak of Beth. He maintained that he knew nothing about her whereabouts. Of course, he’d said the same about Sara.

They hadn’t found anything of Beth’s at the cabin. No videotape or photos to remember her by. Clare hoped that meant Beth was still alive. That Dannon had wanted her available to him.

The manacles on Sara’s wrists and ankles flashed before Clare’s eyes. She hadn’t watched the videotapes, but she’d viewed the photographs found at the cabin. They were shots of Sara in life and in death. In the pictures taken while she was alive, Sara wore the necklace found on the skeleton. She was clothed in what appeared to be the same black leather thong, matching bustier, and stilettos she’d been buried in. Rouge gave her cheeks a soft blush. Liner and lipstick extended the natural lines of her lips, enlarging them, creating the illusion of a pout. Her eyes had been outlined in black for a dark, exotic look. Rich Dannon had gone all out to satisfy his sexual tastes.

Sara had been slender before her abduction. Photographs showed her deterioration as her captivity progressed. Her body had become emaciated, whittled down to bone. Bruises, welts, and burns marked the girl’s skin, skin once spotted with tiny freckles. Several close-up angles caught Sara open-mouthed, in the throes of screaming, her eyes nearly opaque with pain and terror.

Being available to Dannon likely meant he was brutalizing Beth as he had Sara. Tears burned Clare’s eyes.

Copies of the photographs Sara’s family had provided to police when she’d first gone missing were on the dining room table. Clare wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, then picked them up. In one, Sara was smiling. Dressed in a low-cut party dress, she clutched a box wrapped in gleaming paper with cartoon faces of Santa Claus. In another, Sara in jeans and a thick wooly sweater crouched, hugging a spotted hound. The contrast between these photos and the others squeezed Clare’s heart.

Someone knocked on the front door. She turned toward the living room window and saw Laura North and Sammie standing on the porch.

“Hi, Clare,” Sammie said.

“Hi,” Clare said carefully as Sammie brushed by her and entered the house.

Laura’s face, Clare noticed, was pale. Her hands were clasped tightly at her waist.

“Sorry, Clare,” Laura said. “I tried to reach Jake. No luck.”

Clare figured that out in the middle of nowhere, it was likely Jake’s cell phone had no signal. “He’s in the field,” she said as Sammie started up the stairs.

“Oh, God.” Laura shook her head, took a breath, then went on. “My mom called from the city. My dad is at the hospital. She thinks he’s had a heart attack. I need to go to the hospital. I can’t stay with Sammie until Jake gets home. Can you watch her?”

Clare recoiled from the suggestion. Jake would likely be gone for hours yet. Hours she would need to take care of Sammie. Alone. Clare’s stomach fluttered.

“I’m not really—” But she didn’t finish the sentence. Laura had her own emergency.

Clare swallowed a lump that had formed in her throat. She faced down armed criminals. Surely, she could watch one little girl for a short while. And besides, what choice did she have? “Okay. Sure. You go ahead.”

“Sammie had dinner.” Laura blew a kiss to Sammie. “I’ll see you tomorrow, sweetie,” she called out.

Sammie stopped and waved to Laura, then Laura turned and raced down the drive where Mike North and their kids waited in a van.

Sammie continued up the stairs. Clare closed the front door with what she considered an ominous thud. The floor above where Clare was standing creaked. Sammie’s room was directly above that section of the hall. Okay, the child had gone to her room. After a few minutes, all became quiet in the house. The ball of tension in Clare’s stomach eased somewhat. She returned to the dining room and focused on the photos again.

“What are you looking at?”

The little voice startled Clare. She glanced up. Sammie stood on the stairs.

“Pictures,” Clare said.

The photos Clare held were the holiday shots of Sara, so when Sammie moved in for a closer look, Clare allowed it.

“What’s her name?” Sammie asked.

“Sara.”

“She’s pretty.”

“Yes.” Clare stacked the photos and placed them on the table. “Do you need something, Sammie?”

“Is Uncle Jake home?”

Clare shook her head. “Not yet.”

“It’s time for bed.”

Clare glanced at the wall clock. An hour had gone by. She sat straighter in the chair. “Oh. Goodnight.”

“Uncle Jake reads me a story.”

“Yes.”

“I know what story I want.”

Clare cleared her throat. “Oh—okay.”

In Sammie’s room, Clare settled on the stool. Sammie presented her with
Goldilocks and The Three Bears
.

Clare began to read. Sammie giggled and mimicked the voices and antics of the bears as Clare imagined Jake must do when reading the story to her.

“I don’t have a mommy and daddy like Baby Bear,” Sammie said.

Clare glanced up from the page.

“Uncle Jake isn’t my daddy,” Sammie went on. “Uncle Jake says my mommy and daddy went to heaven.”

“It’s sad when that happens,” Clare said softly. “I didn’t have my mommy and daddy with me either when I was growing up.”

Clare wasn’t sure what had prompted her to say that. She never spoke of her parents to anyone.

Sammie’s eyes widened and she moved a little closer to Clare. “Are they in heaven too?”

Clare didn’t know who her father was, let alone where he was. Over the years, Jolene had entertained a battalion of men in the many places they had lived. As for Jolene, Clare couldn’t say if she’d found a warm place to rest or not. When the penitentiary had contacted Clare, asking if she’d like to make burial arrangements for her mother, Clare had declined. She didn’t know where her mother had been interred.