Her Last Day (Jessie Cole #1)(9)

When he returned, both Abigail and Sean were in the kitchen helping Melony set the table for dinner. Sean would be eight soon, and his face still lit up every evening when Ben arrived home from work. “Dad!” he said. “Can we ride bikes around the lake this weekend? We could skip rocks like last time.”

“No,” Abigail said in a tone that made her sound sixteen instead of nine. “Mom and Dad promised they would both come to my soccer game.”

Sean frowned. “Soccer is boring.”

“That’s enough,” Melony cut in. “Get the napkins, Sean.”

Ben inwardly smiled. Every so often his coworkers asked him to join them for a beer after work, but he rarely said yes. He preferred to be home with his wife and kids. His nickname at the office was “Family Man,” which suited him just fine.

After dinner and homework were finished for the night, Melony put the kids to bed while Ben washed the dishes and then made his way to the family room to wind down and watch a little television. He settled into his favorite recliner. As he clicked through the channels, the image of a young woman flashed across the screen.

He sat up for a better look.

His breath caught in his chest. Dark hair, mesmerizing green eyes, and a full mouth. He knew that face. Not once since his accident had he felt such an intense feeling of recognition. To this day he had no idea why he’d been in a stolen car with Vernon Doherty, a man with a long list of traffic offenses, including two DUIs.

According to the show’s host, she had been twenty when she went missing ten years ago. He hit “Pause” so he could read the description of tonight’s Cold Case TV. This particular episode had originally aired three years ago and was titled “The Runaway Sister.”

He hit “Play” and listened closely as the host interviewed the missing woman’s older sister, Jessie Cole.

Melony entered the room, and he raised his hand to stop her from speaking. She crossed her arms and waited him out. When it was over, he hit “Pause” again. “Sophie Cole,” he said. “Does that name ring any bells?”

“No. Why?”

“I think I used to know her. There’s something familiar about her.”

“It’s a cold case,” Melony reminded him. “Was she from the area?”

He nodded. “Sacramento.”

“Well, that explains it. You probably did a story on her at the time.”

“I don’t know.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve been seeing things lately, Mel.”

She took a seat next to him and rested a hand on his back. “What do you mean?”

“Today as I walked to my car after work, I smelled smoke and I heard screams rising above a crackling fire. When Gavin Whitney appeared and asked me if I was okay, I saw a knife plunged deep into his chest.”

He looked squarely into Mel’s eyes. “I saw every detail of Gavin’s face when it happened. The shock. The horror. There was blood everywhere. It was as real to me as you sitting next to me right now.”

Ben couldn’t bring himself to tell her he was the one who had stabbed Gavin, mostly because the images had worried him—made him feel odd, confused—as if a part of him had actually enjoyed watching his coworker suffer. No, he quickly decided. It wasn’t enjoyment he’d felt, but curiosity mixed with fascination.

“But there was no knife,” Melony stated. “Gavin was fine, right? Is that what you’re telling me?”

“Yes. Gavin is fine. There was no knife in his chest, no fire—no one was screaming. But I saw it all plain as day.” He looked away, feeling suddenly exhausted, the end of the day hitting him hard.

“Your doctor told you this might happen,” Melony said. “Do you remember? She said at any given time you might start to see things, disturbing images that could shock you, including flashbacks from the accident. The sound of the fire. The screams. It all makes sense.”

Ben said nothing. She had no idea about all the random images he’d been seeing, or how often. Gruesome scenes of murder and mayhem, dead bodies, lifeless eyes, too much blood, always blood.

“Ben,” she tried again, “you’ve been a crime reporter for twenty years. That coupled with the head injury has surely messed with your brain. It’s a wonder you haven’t been having flashbacks for years.”

There was a short pause before she added, “I’ve seen what head traumas can do to people. It’s obvious to me why you might be having these dark thoughts, but you should talk to Lori Mitchell and see what she says.”

He nodded. She was right.

The kids called for Mom from upstairs. She pushed herself to her feet.

“I’ll be right up,” Ben told her.

After she kissed his forehead, then left the room, he thought of Sophie Cole. He knew her. He’d met her. But where? He rushed to grab pen and paper and then rewound to the part where they provided a hotline number in case anyone knew anything about what happened to her. He jotted down, “Jessie Cole, sister to Sophie, private investigator living in the Sacramento area.”

And then he got an idea.





FIVE

Erin walked slowly around the inside perimeter of the cell, her fingers trailing across rebar and then the rough cement wall as she searched for a way out. She couldn’t stop shivering.