Out Of Control (20 page)

“I’ve
rented a house for however long I’ll be here. One night at the High Ridge Motel
was about all I could handle.” She pulled out one of her business cards and
wrote on the back of it. “This is my cell number. You can reach me
twenty-four/seven. And thank you.”

Dana’s
entire body was tight with the tears she’d choked back, and the pain in her
chest threatened to overwhelm her. She was about three miles from the Winslow
house when she found a place to pull off the road, away from traffic. Turning
off the engine, she put her head on the steering wheel and cried harder than
she had in years.

Chapter
Seventeen

Shannon
Fowler kicked a stone in front of her as she trudged down the dusty road from
the bus stop to her house. She hated living out here in the middle of nowhere.
Surrounded by pastures and hay fields, the Fowler house was the only one for
miles. Her parents thought it was great. Her dad worked for the people who
owned all the property. They gave him the use of the house for practically nothing,
just for taking care of the hay and watching the cattle when they moved them
into the closer pastures.

It
also gave him a place to fix cars and trucks for people without having to rent
a shop and worry about what he called “idiotic things like licenses.” People
just brought him their junkers, he fixed them up and pocketed the money.

Her
mother spent her days baking cakes and cookies that she sold to Harry’s Café
and Patty’s Pastries. As the woman said so often, they weren’t ever going to
get rich but they didn’t starve.

But
Shannon hated it. None of her friends lived within walking distance and none of
them had a driver’s license yet. That meant someone’s parents had to cart them,
and that was often a problem. She daydreamed a lot about the day she’d graduate
high school. A handsome man would ride into town in a brand new Ford F-150 and
carry her off to a beautiful life on a big fancy ranch.

That’s
what Shannon wanted. A ranch, where she could have her own horse and ride him
any time she wanted. But at fifteen that possibility seemed a long ways away.

She
heard the truck before she saw it, rumbling down the dirt road, kicking up
stones around it. Who would be driving down this road at this time of day?
Visitors were almost nonexistent. She stepped to the side to move out of the
way, then smiled when it stopped and she saw it was someone she recognized.

“Hi,”
she called and gave a little wave.

“Hi,
Shannon. Early finish with school?”

“Yeah.
They didn’t finish all the state testing yesterday. Those of us who did got out
early.”

He
nodded. “Used to love those days myself. So, you walking home?”

“Have
to. Dad’s not gonna pick me up and mom’s usually in town this time of day
making deliveries.”

“Well,
then, if you don’t think your folks would mind, I don’t have a problem dropping
you off at your place.”

Shannon
chewed her bottom lip. She knew not to get in a car or truck with a stranger,
but this was no stranger. Everyone knew him and her folks would probably be
grateful he’d offered her the ride. Besides, walking down this road was such a
pain in the butt. Making up her mind, she grinned. “Sure. That would really be
great. Thanks.”

She
tossed her book bag into the cab and climbed up to the seat, carefully
fastening her seat belt.

“I’m
sure glad you came along,” she said, tightening the belt. “What are you doing
way out here in Noplace, anyway? Hardly anyone ever comes down this road.”

He
chuckled. “Just taking a short cut to the Nobles’ ranch. Your road goes
straight through and cuts off about five miles from the highway.”

“Well.
Then I’m real happy you decided to do it today.”

“Oh,
no, my dear.” He grinned. “The pleasure is all mine.”

While
she was still settling herself in her seat, he pulled off on the side of the
road, put the truck in park and fumbled in the center console.

Shannon
frowned. “What’s the matter? Is something wrong?”

“No,
little girl. Something’s very right.”

In
seconds, he’d pulled a damp cloth out of a plastic bag and clamped it over her
nose.

Shannon
gripped his forearm as hard as she could and tugged, kicking at him with her
feet, a scream rising in the back of her throat. The stuff on the cloth smelled
terrible and made her dizzy. She tried to keep fighting, but whatever she was
inhaling made her weak and sleepy.

“That’s
right,” she heard him say. “Just go to sleep, little girl. We’ll be there soon,
and then we’ll have a lot of fun.”

As
the darkness took her, Shannon’s last thought was she’d never been more scared
in her life.

Chapter
Eighteen

Dana
thought about going to Harry’s for a quick lunch, but she was so disturbed by
her visit with Ivy Winslow that she drove straight home. In the dining room,
she booted up her laptop again and, while it was loading, made herself a cup of
Tension Tamer tea. By the time it was ready, she had the book file open and
began scrolling through it very slowly.

She
sipped at the tea, hoping it would calm the jittery feeling in her stomach,
feeling disorganized and hating it. With every other book, she had a pattern
she followed. First the outline, filled in as she did her research. Then the
list of questions, varied slightly with each person she interviewed. A
spreadsheet she filled in as she acquired each new piece of information.

But
being personally involved was throwing her off her game and she hated it. Hated
what had happened back then and what was happening now. Clowns. How could some
sick freak use something so innocent and so appealing to lure kids to their
death? It made her nauseated just to think about it. Especially, since she knew
how effective he’d been, how easily she and Kylie had been lured to danger.

Kylie.
Oh, God. All these years she’d managed to put the image of her sister’s body at
the back of her mind. Remembering the touch and feel of the man was bad enough.
But last night, Kylie had been front and center in her nightmares, her adorable
little face blending with the image of her body and thighs smeared with blood.

Yesterday,
on the Internet, she’d found three other cases besides the Kellys where clowns
had been mentioned. Today, Ivy Winslow had added a fourth. Now, she went
through the information she’d copied from each incident report looking for
more. By the time she finished, she found the mention of clowns nine times.

Nine
times!

Dana
leaned back in her chair, running her fingers through her hair. Idly, she
slipped the scrunchee off her wrist and pulled her hair into a somewhat messy ponytail
to keep it out of her face.

Why
hadn’t anyone ever put this all together? Why hadn’t the old sheriff—what was
his name? Nickels?—seen some kind of connection here? If he was any kind of cop,
he should have picked up on it. How much did he remember now?

She’d
track him down and arrange to see him. She knew from the article she read about
his retirement that he’d sold his house in town and lived on a few acres not
too far from the Winslows. Pulling up the white pages web site, she searched
for his address and phone number.

“Hello?”
The voice of the woman who answered was slightly breathless, as if she’d run to
pick up the phone.

“My
name is Dana Moretti,” she began. “I wonder if I might speak with Sheriff
Nickels?”

“Whew!
Let me catch my breath a second. I was just out in the yard when I heard the
phone ring.” Pause. “My husband hasn’t been sheriff for a few years now. If you
call the office, they’ll get you to the new one, Cole Landry.”

“I
know he’s retired, Mrs. Nickels. I understand. But he’s the one I’d really like
to speak with. Is he home?”

A
longer pause. When she spoke again, her tone changed. “You’re that woman who’s
wanting to write a book about what happened to those kids all those years ago.
Right?”

“Yes,
that’s correct. I’ve written a number of books about unsolved crimes, and I’ve
had success working with the people involved.”

“You
need to leave this one alone,” the woman snapped.

Dana
sighed. She should have known nothing about this would be easy. “Mrs. Nickels.
I’m going to write the book whether I talk to the folks of High Ridge or not.
But I want it to be as accurate as possible so for that purpose, I need to
interview people who were involved in the situation, like the sheriff. I’d just
like a few minutes of his time. Is he available?”

“No,
he’s not. He won’t be home until this afternoon, but I know he won’t want to
talk to you. Just leave him alone. It was a terrible thing he went through, not
being able to find that killer. It still haunts him.”

“I’m
sure it does,” Dana said smoothly. “And I’ll bet he has a message he’d like to
send to those parents after all these years. This would be a wonderful way for
him to do it.”

“I
don’t know.” The woman’s voice dropped a tone. “This business with Leanne
Pritchard has him upset all over again.”

“Would
you just tell him I called? I’ll try again this afternoon to reach him. If he’s
home, I’d like to come by for a little while.”

The
woman was silent for so long Dana thought she might have hung up on her.
Finally, she said, “I’ll give him your message. Then it’s up to him.”

Dana
ended the call and reached for her tea but found it cold. Making a face at the
bitter taste, she dumped it in the sink and made a fresh cup. Then she sat back
down at the table.

Two
of the reports hadn’t contained any mention of clowns. Was that because there
weren’t any around or because they had been overlooked? Or hadn’t anyone seen
either of those children run after a clown? Dana wrote down the names of the
families and did a search for their telephone numbers. Maybe she could talk to
one of them before speaking with the sheriff.

The
sheriff. That conjured up Cole Landry’s face, and the sensation of his
presence. Her physical reaction to him frightened her. She was such an
emotional cripple that up until now just the thought of a man touching her
between her legs made her stiffen with fear. But Cole stirred unfamiliar
feelings and inspired dreams more erotic than she could imagine. Their very
promise of pleasure confused her even more.

She
wanted a truly loving relationship. She wanted to get married someday. To have
children. Things Kylie would never be able to do. Ever. That’s why she’d
started this journey to hell. She saw finding the pedophile and finally being
able to move on with her life as a responsibility to Kylie’s memory. She should
be living for both of them. Thus far, she’d been doing a really lousy job.

Sighing,
she jotted down the addresses for the Garzas and Escobedos, the two families
whose case reports made no mention of a clown. After stuffing down a peanut
butter sandwich and a glass of milk, she combed her hair and freshened her
makeup. The Garzas lived the closest. She’d try them first.

****

Cole
had been all over the place interviewing the kids who’d been at the park one
more time. Exhausted, he decided to stop at the Bishop ranch and bounce ideas
off Tate. His uncle was just coming from the barn when Cole pulled into the
driveway.

“Decide
to take me up on dinner?”

“Maybe.”
Cole gave him a tired smile. “At least a drink. I think I could use that first.”

A
sympathetic look washed over the older man’s face. “Let’s get to it, then. Come
on.” He led the way into the house.

“Tate?”
a voice floated out from the kitchen. “That you?”

“It’s
me. And with a surprise,” he answered.

Adele
Bishop hurried from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her jeans. When she saw
Cole, her face lit up and she turned her cheek for his kiss.

“What
a nice surprise. We hardly get to see you these days.”

“My
bad.” He pulled out a grin and gave her a hug. “But I’m here now.”

She
looked at Tate. “I didn’t even hear you drive up. Did you get all your errands
finished?”

“Most
all. Cole and I are going to hide in the den and have a drink. Then I’ll twist
his arm to stay for dinner.”

“Wonderful.”
She smiled at him. “Your favorite. Smothered pork chops. I’ll yell when it’s
ready.”

“So
how’s it going?” Tate asked when they were settled in big chairs with aged
bourbon.

“Not
great.” Cole set his Stetson on a small table and ran his fingers through his
hair. “I’ve been out talking to the high school kids again but didn’t get one
more thing out of them. I’m telling you, Tate, this whole thing is making me
sick.”

“I
know, son. I’m just hoping you’ll catch a break.” He took a healthy sip of his
drink. “But if it’s just some transient passing through, you may never get him.”