Still Waters (20 page)

J
ake traded shifts with Henry so he could spend Thursday with Tiffany. Unfortunately, judging by the way she’d avoided him, she didn’t appreciate the effort. Watching her now as she moved across the lawn, a tray balanced in her good hand, he couldn’t help wondering what had happened to change things. The companionship and laughter they’d shared had all but disappeared. Jake wanted it back.

He stepped close as Tiffany deposited the tray on the gazebo floor. “I brought some lunch for you. You’ve been out here for hours.”

There was one sandwich and one glass. Apparently she didn’t plan to join him for lunch. Giving in to temptation, Jake placed a finger under her chin and tilted her face up toward his. “What’s wrong?”

Tiffany looked at him, her eyes dark and troubled. “Nothing. I’m just tired today, and not very good company.”

Jake didn’t believe her, but he let it go, motioning toward the swing. “Sit down for a while and rest. I’ll even share my tea with you.”

Tiffany’s smile seemed forced. “No, I’d better not. I’ve got to finish some last minute details for the quilt fair.”

“Is there a lot of work to do?”

“Not for me. Not really, anyway. I just have to make sure everyone else is prepared to do their jobs.”

Jake poured tea from the pitcher and held the glass out to Tiffany, smiling as she took it. Grabbing the sandwich, he sat down and waited for her to do the same. She didn’t disappoint him.

“I really am tired. I wish I hadn’t agreed to help with the fair.”

“So, why did you?”

Tiffany sipped from the glass and then turned to look at Jake, a glimmer of the old amusement in her eyes. “The woman who volunteered for the job before I got it had three sons and was eight months pregnant. I figured compared to that, a broken arm and concussion were nothing.”

“What happened to supermom?”

“She had the baby.”

“Oh. So, if you sprout another arm will they let you off the hook, too?”

Tiffany’s eyes widened and she laughed, tension easing from her face. “I guess that would solve the problem.”

Jake watched as she leaned back in the swing, her head falling against the old wood. Her unclipped hair hung over the edge in a shimmering mass of curls. Unable to resist, he ran his hand along its length. “You have beautiful hair.”

Tiffany turned toward him, a half smile on her face. “Thanks. It was the bane of my existence all through high school.”

“Why?” Jake twisted a curl around one finger, then let it go, watching as it sprang and bounced.

“Straight hair was in. Nice, smoothed-behind-the-ears styles.” She flicked her hair self-consciously. “Mine wouldn’t cooperate. Then there was the color. It was a lot more orange when I was a teenager. I really stood out in a crowd.”

“You still do.”

Jake could tell from the blush on Tiffany’s cheeks that she understood the comment for the compliment it was. He reached over and cupped his hand on the curve of her jaw, urging her to face him. “Tell me what’s bothering you, Tiffany.”

“I…was talking to Henry yesterday and…”

“Anybody back there?”

Perfect timing again, Jake thought as he and Tiffany turned to see Patti Anderson walk through the gate.

“Oops. My timing stinks again. Sorry.”

Jake couldn’t help smiling. “The more the merrier.”

“Sure.” Her eyes twinkled with the same amusement he’d seen so often in Tiffany’s. “I tried to call but no one picked up. Jenna’s kids are sick. I promised I’d run by with some medicine and comfort food. Tiffany, I should be back to take you to your appointment, but if I’m running late, don’t worry. I haven’t forgotten.”

“No problem, Mom. I can actually drive myself.”

“No. You can’t. The doctor said no driving for a week.”

“I’m fine. And I don’t want you to rush. Jenna might need you to stay a while.”

“I already promised you—”

“I’d be happy to drive Tiffany to her appointment.”

Both women looked at Jake as if they’d forgotten he was there. “That would be perfect.”

“I’ll drive myself.”

“Tiffany, you’re having stitches taken out and a cast put on. What if you start feeling sick? If you won’t take a ride with Jake, I’ll have to skip seeing Jenna.”

Jake saw Tiffany hesitate, and decided to help her make the choice. He slid an arm across her shoulder, and pulled her close. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Anderson. I’ll make sure she gets there and back.”

“All right. I guess I’ll go get the medicine for Jenna. See you later, Tiffany. Sheriff Reed.”

As soon as Patti Anderson cleared the gate, Jake turned to Tiffany. “Where are we going and what time do we need to leave?”

“Jake, I really can drive myself.”

“Maybe so, but I promised your mom I’d get you there safely and that’s what I plan to do.”

“The appointment’s at one. Dr. Hartland is in the new professional building off of Main Street.”

“We better get moving then.”

“Jake, I—”

“Get what you need and let’s go. I’m not above hog-tying you and carrying you out to the truck.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Wouldn’t I?” Jake stepped close and satisfied the urge to press a kiss to Tiffany’s lips. Then he slipped an arm behind her back, one under her knees and swept her off her feet.

He had the satisfaction of seeing her mouth drop open and her eyes go wide, before she squealed and squirmed against his hold. “Put me down! I’m too heavy! You’ll break your back! What are you doing?!”

Jake pushed open the gate and strode to the truck. “Sweeping you off your feet.”

Tiffany went still. Then laughed, the sound tickling against
Jake’s chest. “You really are too much. Now put me down. Mr. Fitzsimmons is watching us from his window.”

Jake complied, lowering Tiffany to her feet, and unlocking the truck door. “Good fodder for the gossip mills. Get in. I’ll run in the house and get your purse.”

That she didn’t argue spoke volumes. “It’s hanging on the coatrack near the front door.”

Jake found the purse and returned to the truck within minutes. During his time away, Tiffany had transformed, turning from the happy, laughing woman he’d carried to the truck, into a somber, sad-eyed stranger.

He wanted to press for answers. Find out what was bothering her. But she leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes.

“You okay?”

“Yes.”

Jake reached over and cupped his hand against the warmth of her neck, kneading the tight muscles there. “Anything I can do to help?”

She turned toward him, her eyes open again and vivid with something that looked like dreams. “Jake.” She paused, then shook her head, the shadowy dreams in her eyes disappearing behind a veil of indifference. “You’ve already helped me. Besides, I’m just tired. A concussion will do that to a person.”

Though she tried to joke, Tiffany knew the words fell flat. She closed her eyes against Jake’s questioning look and tried to relax as they drove to the doctor’s office.

She couldn’t. There were too many questions clamoring in her mind. Too many thoughts spilling along her nerves. She grabbed her purse and rifled through the contents, grabbing out the comb and a hair clip. With the clip between her lips, she twisted her hair with her good hand, then tried to
finesse the clip into the mass of curls before it all dropped back to her shoulders.

Jake reached over while she struggled, and flipped open the vanity mirror.

“Thanks.” Tiffany’s reflection did little to improve her mood. Though she’d managed to contain most of her hair, loose tendrils tumbled against her cheeks and neck. Lack of sleep showed in the dark circles that rimmed her eyes and in the pallor of her skin. With the huge bruise on her forehead turning various shades of green and purple, Tiffany figured she was the last woman in the world to entice a man to stay.

Which was fine, because she had accepted that she couldn’t keep Jake from leaving, and that she shouldn’t even try. God had a plan for each of their lives. It had been nice to fantasize that somehow those plans involved each other, but Tiffany knew fantasies seldom mimicked reality. Her situation with Jake was just one more example of that truth.

Giving her mirrored image one last glance, Tiffany closed the vanity mirror and turned to gaze out the window.

Thankfully, the drive to the medical building was short and Jake didn’t push for answers to Tiffany’s silence. She was glad. Her answers made little sense even to herself. Her mood, half irritation, half depression, refused to lift no matter how much she lectured herself.

“This is it, right?” Jake gestured to a two-story brick building that housed the doctor’s office.

“Yes. Thanks. You can drop me off. I’ll call Mom and have her come pick me up when I’m finished.”

The look Jake shot her way told Tiffany exactly what he thought about her suggestion. She didn’t argue further. Just allowed him to escort her into the office, his hand resting
on her waist as she checked in. She liked having him at her side. Enjoyed the warmth of his presence and the comfort of knowing he was there.

The thought of him leaving brought a fresh wave of sadness, and tears pricked her eyes. Luckily the doctor who was removing her stitches thought the tears were due to pain. He wrote her out a prescription, applied the hard cast and sent her on her way.

When Jake offered to stop for ice cream on the way home, Tiffany politely refused and was proud of her response. It was better to put distance between them now than to be devastated when he went back to D.C. At least that’s what Tiffany told herself as she faced another evening alone.

When the phone rang at a little after six, Tiffany rushed to answer it, her heart racing with anticipation. Maybe Jake was calling to check on her. Maybe he was on patrol and wanted to stop by. Maybe
she
should be committed for delusional thinking.

“Hello, Tiffany?” Gracie Sheridan’s voice was a splash of cold reality, and Tiffany forced away her disappointment.

“Hi, Mrs. Sheridan, what can I do for you?”

“I hate to bother you, dear, but Lilith Parker was supposed to pick the quilts up at the church yesterday and bring them over to the elementary school so we can hang them in the auditorium.”

“Right, I saw her name on the list.”

“Well, she’s down with food poisoning. She went to a family reunion over the weekend, and says she’s been sick as a dog ever since.”

“That’s terrible.”

“Yes, I feel so sorry for her.”

“What can I do to help?”

“Lilith volunteered to drop off the quilts and to make copies of the quilting pamphlet we’ve put together. She got permission from the school’s principal to use the copy machine. I know it’s a lot to ask but the setup crew will be at the school tonight, setting up tables and booths. We’d really like to hang the quilts tomorrow….”

Tiffany almost groaned aloud. She hated photocopying. Then again, she hated the idea of spending the evening at loose ends. “Do you have a copy of the pamphlet?”

“I’ll leave it at the church with the quilts. We don’t need many copies. Maybe three hundred. Thanks so much, Tiffany.”

Tiffany said goodbye and hung up the phone, calculating in her mind the amount of time it would take to run several hundred copies of the pamphlet. At the rate the school’s old copier worked, she figured she’d finish sometime before her birthday in the spring.

“Oh, well, Bandit.” Tiffany leaned down and scratched the dog on his head. “It’s not like I had anything more exciting to do.”

And who knew? Maybe she’d run into some friends while she was out and about. It would be fun to catch up on the town gossip. It seemed forever since she’d had a nice long chat with anyone but Jake.

When she arrived at the elementary school, it was teeming with eager quilters and crafters all setting up for the weekend fair. Tiffany glanced around, looking for a familiar face, but was disappointed. Shrugging away self-pity, she found the school office and began copying the multipage pamphlet.

By the time she finished, the school had grown silent and her footsteps echoed eerily as she crossed the empty lobby. Darkness hung heavy and silent outside the door and Tiffany
hesitated on the threshold, wondering if she should call for an escort.

She felt silly for the thought. Weak in a way she’d never been before. Forcing back the fear, Tiffany stepped out into the night and moved briskly toward the side of the building. She’d parked on the side lot, away from the back area where tables and booths had been set up, but too far away from the front door for her own comfort.

She should have planned better.

Tiffany scanned the shadows as she walked, her nerves on edge. Despite the stars that sprinkled the sky with light, and the moon adding its own bright display, the night felt sinister and Tiffany hurried toward the Cadillac, anxious to be safe inside its doors.

She’d rounded the corner, had the Caddy in sight, when the sound of breaking glass shattered the stillness. Tiffany didn’t wait to hear more. She ran.

A dark figure lurched from the shadows beside the car and Tiffany veered away, her feet sliding on pavement as she tried to switch direction. A hand grabbed the edge of her shirt, tugging her sideways, and Tiffany screamed, jerking away, her feet tangling with one another as she turned too quickly.

She fell in slow motion. Her arms and legs flailing for purchase. Her body twisting as she tried to cushion her fall. She landed hard on her broken arm, felt something give as white hot pain slashed through her.

And the world went black.

J
ake sat at his desk, plowing through paperwork and wondering why things had been so quiet in town lately. He liked to think his talk with Greg Banning had convinced the kid to lie low.

His gut said there was another explanation. Like maybe Greg had decided to pull something big before his departure from Lakeview. With summer quickly drawing to an end, there were several craft fairs and celebrations planned. Any one of them provided an opportunity for Greg and his gang to cause trouble.

Jake was prepared, paying overtime for officers to patrol the most likely targets. Unfortunately, nobody could be in two places at one time. Eventually, there’d be a lag in the patrol, and then the trouble would start.

He thought of the craft and quilt show being held at the elementary school. Several thousand people had attended
the previous year, and there was no reason to believe this year would be any different. If Greg wanted to cause trouble, that would be a good place to do it.

Jake pushed aside his paperwork and grabbed a pen, quickly jotting down the names of men he could count on to keep an eye out for trouble during the fair. When he was done, he glanced at the clock and wondered if Tiffany was still awake.

He needed to talk to her, find out exactly what had put the sadness in her eyes. Unfortunately, eleven o’clock at night didn’t seem like the time to do it.

He stood, stretched and was ready to get back to the paperwork when the call came in.

Jake’s blood ran cold as he heard the details—the sound of shattering glass and a woman’s scream heard by a man walking his dog near the elementary school.

Jake’s first thought was Tiffany, and though he tried to tell himself she was home safe in bed, he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was in trouble.

The drive to the school seemed to take longer than the five minutes Jake knew it to be. As he pulled around to the back of the building, the headlights of the cruiser highlighted broken glass and scattered pieces of paper. Tables and booths that had been set up for the craft fair were overturned, but the amount of damage was minimal.

Jake wasn’t reassured. Heart pounding frantically, he jumped from the cruiser and began searching for signs that Tiffany had been there. It didn’t take long for his worst suspicions to be confirmed. Lying on the ground, just a few yards from the front door, was Tiffany’s purse.

He lifted it, his mind going blank with fear and rage. He’d find Tiffany and then he’d make whoever had taken her pay.

Tiffany woke in pitch-black darkness. At first she thought she might be blind. Then she noticed faint pinpricks of light and the oily smell of exhaust. She was worse than blind, she was in the trunk of a car.

The hum of the motor and the gentle bounce of tires reassured her for a moment. At least she hadn’t been abandoned in some desolate area. Then the car jerked to a stop and the trunk popped open. Before Tiffany could think of a plan she was dragged from her prison and yanked to her feet.

They were near the lake. Tiffany could see the water and hear the gentle swish as it touched the shore. That gave her little comfort. Not when five young men surrounded her. One much taller than the others, his cold eyes fixed on Tiffany with a look that made her shudder.

She thought about running, but she felt dizzy with pain, her arm throbbing with every movement. She stood still instead, straightening her spine and forcing authority into her voice. “What’s going on?”

The tallest of the five stepped forward, the sneer on his face apparent even in the dim moonlight. “You just don’t know how to give up, do you? Everywhere I go this summer, I gotta deal with you.”

He grabbed Tiffany by the arm and dragged her to the water’s edge where a motorboat waited. “Get in.”

Tiffany dug her feet in and pulled back. “I’ve never even seen you before.”

“I’ve seen you. And I’m sick of it. Come on, guys. Help me get her in the boat.”

The others boys surged forward but didn’t touch Tiffany. One of them shifted uncomfortably and spoke. “Why do you want her in the boat?”

“I told you, we’re gonna stash her somewhere. Keep her quiet until I leave tomorrow. By the time anyone finds her, I’ll be back in Chicago. My boys’ll hide me until things blow over. You come when you can. You’ve earned your place in the brotherhood.”

“You’re gonna stash her on the lake?”

“You just worry about getting her in the boat, and let me worry about the rest.”

“I don’t know, Slade. This doesn’t seem right.”

“Coward! Go home. All of you. I’ll take care of this problem.”

Before Tiffany realized what he was about, Slade grabbed her broken arm and yanked hard. She screamed, falling into the boat, and swallowing back the bile that rose in her throat. He didn’t give her a chance to right herself, just pushed off shore, and started the motor.

Tiffany forced herself to her knees, then eased onto the seat. She could jump overboard, swim to shore. It was her best chance, but still not a good one. Pain throbbed deep in her arm, stealing her breath and threatening to do the same with her consciousness.

She forced her mind to calm. Forced herself not to panic. “Where are you taking me?”

“You’ll find out soon enough. But you try to move again and I’ll bash you over the head with this.” He picked up an oar and thrust it toward her. “And knock you into the water.”

“That would be murder.”

“Only if you die.” He grinned, the expression skeletal in the moonlight.

Fear. Panic. Pain. Tiffany fought against them all, struggling to think of a way to stop what she knew was about to happen. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I can.”

Tiffany shuddered at the words, the cold, hardness of them a stark reminder that she was at his mercy. She glanced around, hoping for escape, but saw only the inky blackness of the lake. In desperation she screamed for help.

Slade laughed, prodding her with the paddle he still held. “You think anyone can hear you way out here?”

Tiffany straightened her spine and looked him in the eye. If she couldn’t escape, maybe she could scare some sense into him. “God does.”

“Yeah. And so does the moon, and it’s a lot more likely to help.” Slade grinned at his joke.

“You don’t believe in God?” Now didn’t seem the time for evangelism, but at least if they were talking she had time to plan an escape.

“God? Yeah. I believe in God. He’s me.”

With that he swung the paddle hard, his movements quick. Too quick for Tiffany to jump out of the way. She ducked instead, taking the force of the blow on her shoulder instead of her head.

She rolled with the pain, slid into the water, and dove low, praying all the while that God would give her strength she knew she didn’t have.

They’d been searching for half an hour with no luck. Jake banged his hand against the steering wheel, and thought through what he knew. Tiffany had been at the school. Now she was gone and so was her car. Greg Banning was missing, too. His parents unable to account for his whereabouts.

Jake didn’t like where his thoughts were leading him. He liked even less that they hadn’t found Tiffany yet. He had every available officer searching, but trying to find the Cadil
lac was like searching for a needle in a haystack. Almost impossible. There were too many back roads. Too many places a car could disappear.

He’d been promised a helicopter by the state police. God alone knew when it would arrive.

For now they were reduced to rudimentary search and rescue. He prayed as he sped through town. If Tiffany was to be found, Jake needed help to do it.

He’d just passed the town limits when a figure appeared, running hard and waving frantically. Jake pulled to a stop and jumped out, nearly colliding with the hurtling form. “Whoa. Slow down.”

“There’s no time. We’ve got to get to the lake. Jon Murray called me. He said something weird just went down. Slade took Tiffany out on the lake. Jon doesn’t think he’s bringing her back.” Tom Bishop spoke rapidly, the words spilling out one on top of the other.

“You know where they are?”

“Down Jasper Road. Where it dead ends. There’s a little dock there. I was on the way, but the truck stalled. I couldn’t get it running again.”

“Get in.” Jake didn’t wait for Tom to close the door. He sped down side roads, rounding curves at a dangerous speed, his mind conjuring images that made his blood run cold. “You call for help?”

“Yeah, but I was afraid they wouldn’t get there fast enough.”

“Did Jon call 911, or just you?”

“He called me. He’s afraid. He said Slade went crazy and he doesn’t want any part of it.”

It was too late for that. Every one of the kids involved was going to pay. And Greg Banning, aka Slade, would pay the most.

Jake slammed on the brakes as he neared the end of the road. His high beams illuminated the Cadillac, its trunk and doors open. Several boys bolted for the shadows as Jake jumped from the cruiser. He didn’t bother to stop them. He knew who they were.

Sirens blared and a cruiser screeched to a halt beside Jake, several cars sliding to a stop beside it. Henry Simmons leaped from the cruiser, his expression strained. “That her car?”

Jake nodded; it was hard to speak past the lump in his throat. He’d watched Will die. Would the same happen with Tiffany?

Not if he could help it. “We need a boat.”

“I think there’s one on the way.”

Henry was right. The sound of a motor echoed across the water, and a shadowy boat moved toward shore. There was one person in it. It wasn’t Tiffany.

Jake splashed into the water as Greg neared the dock and grabbed the kid’s shirt, dragging him from the boat and into the lake. “Where is she?”

“Let me go. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Tiffany Anderson. Where is she?”

“What? Did you lose your girlfriend? Too bad. Maybe she’ll turn up. Sooner or later.”

Jake raised his fist, started swinging, but a hand landed on his arm stopping the motion. “Don’t waste time, friend.”

Ben stood beside him, his hand hard and unyielding. His eyes knowing. “Take the boat and go. She’s out there. She’s alive. Go.”

Jake released Greg and jumped into the boat. Tom slid in after him. “I’m coming.”

Jake nodded, focusing on the darkness of the lake. Was Tiffany out there? Was she alive as Ben believed? Jake refused to think anything else.

Tiffany liked to swim. She really did. But not in the dark with a water-logged cast dragging her left arm down. Her bruised shoulder cramped as she struggled toward shore, her eyes straining to catch a glimpse of the flashing lights she’d spotted in the distance.

They never got any closer, no matter how tirelessly she swam. Tiffany groaned as pain shot through her arm, then coughed against water that seeped into her mouth.

People were searching for her. She knew it. So where were they all?

Was Jake with them? She imagined him, mouth hard with anger, worry lining his face. He’d keep searching, she knew, even if others gave up. If she had the breath, she’d call his name. But all her energy went into staying afloat. And even that was becoming difficult.

“God, you can do anything so I know you can get me back to shore. I’m counting on it ’cause there is no way I can make it back on my own.”

As if in answer to her prayer, the soft chug of a boat engine drifted across the lake. Tiffany treaded water, listening, straining to find the direction of the sound.

“Tiffany? Tiffany, can you hear me?”

The words were whisper-soft, barely penetrating her fatigue-numbed brain.

“Tiffany!” This time the shout was unmistakable, the rumble of the engine growing closer.

“Here, over here.” Her voice sounded weak and frail, and she tried again, shouting for all she was worth and wondering if she could be heard over the sound of the motor.

Jake had been on the boat for twenty minutes, praying fervently and calling Tiffany’s name.

Other boats were beginning to join the search. He could see the bright lights attached to the helms. They were distant, but comforting. More manpower meant more area searched in a shorter period of time. Switching on the boat radio, Jake called in his location.

“Anybody see anything yet?”

“No sign of her, Sheriff. Could be the kid dropped her off on the opposite shore.”

“He’s still not talking?”

“No, he denies any knowledge of Tiffany.”

“How about the others?”

“They say he had her, but don’t know what happened after he put her in the boat.”

“They’re covering their tails. Trying to distance themselves. Keep working on them. They might know more than they’re saying.”

“Right.”

Jake stared out into the darkness. If Tiffany was okay she’d be swimming for shore and someone would see her.

If she was okay.

Without warning, the boat engine sputtered, coughed and purred back to life. In the split second of silence Jake thought he heard something. He turned to Tom who stared into the darkness. “Did you hear something?”

Jake cut the engine, not waiting for Tom’s reply, and tried to listen past the pounding of his own blood.

“Help! Over here!” The voice, strained and distant, was unmistakably Tiffany’s.

“Tiffany, it’s Jake and Tom. We’re coming. Just keep calling.” Jake’s voice shook with emotion, his hands trembling as he handed an oar to Tom. “We’ve got to paddle toward her. We won’t be able to hear if we use the motor.”

Together they turned the boat toward the sound of
Tiffany’s cries. Within moments Jake spotted her in the distance.

“Tiffany, listen to me. I see you. Just lie on your back and float. Don’t waste your energy. If you go under I’ll never find you in this darkness.”

Jake’s fear was palpable, and Tiffany responded, lying on her back and floating in place when every cell in her body demanded that she swim toward the boat.

Within moments, the soft tap of oars against the water reached her ears, and then a strong hand grasped hers.

“Tiffany, thank God.”

She looked up into Jake’s face and tried to smile, but her teeth were chattering and she couldn’t quite manage it. “Can you get me out of here? I’m a little sick of water at the moment.”