Twisted by Hannah Jayne(31)

Bex rolled over and sat up, curling her hand around the stair railing in case Detective Lieutenant Schuster made a grab for her again. Her other hand went to her neck, to the hollow at her throat, where the necklace had been all that time ago.

“You were the one who took my necklace.”

“It was a ring, and it belonged to one of your father’s victims. It was little consolation but the Harrises were happy to have it back. You did a good thing. I know it couldn’t have been easy.”

Bex stared at the carpet, her gaze laser focused, jaws clenched. “I was just a kid.”

Schuster bobbed his head and rubbed his hand over his chin. “Still, if it hadn’t been—”

She tore her gaze from the carpet and forced herself to look at the detective. He was much older now. The hair that she had remembered as inky black had gray at the temples, but the slope of his brow and the way he held his mouth were more familiar. His teeth were yellowed, and he bore the faint scent of cigarettes and strong coffee.

“Why are you here? How did you even find me? I… My social worker… No one was supposed to know where I am.” She pulled her knees to her chest. “Who I am.”

“Beth Anne…” Detective Schuster looked away, the confidence and bravado sapped from his body. “We have reason to believe your father might be in the area.”

The air was snatched out of Bex’s lungs. “What?”

She saw the shackles that dragged on the ground as her father shuffled into the courtroom. She heard the sound they made: innocent, like keys rattling in a pocket, then a heavy clank when his foot hit the ground. She heard that sound in her dreams, in her nightmares. She remembered the way the silver handcuffs clenched his wrists, his hands fisted in front of him, and the thin chain that wrapped around his waist. He didn’t have a belt. His sneakers didn’t even have laces. Then, the next day, he was gone.

“If that were true, it would be on every news channel.”

“We’ve been able to keep it quiet, but it’s only a matter of time. He’s here.”

“How do you know that?”

Now it was Schuster’s turn to look disgusted. “The police department has been working on tracking him for a long time. I’ve been working on it for longer. There have been signs…” He let his voice trail off before amping up again. “The more important thing is that I found you. And if I can find you, so can your father.”

An image of Darla, dumped on the beach, flashed in her mind. The scent—the hideous, unforgettable stench of death—flooded Bex’s nostrils as though she were back there.

“If he can find you—Bex, is it?—he can find the people you love too.”

For ten years, Gran had protected Beth Anne. Since her grandmother died, she’d had nothing. Now she had someone and something to protect—her foster parents, her new friends. If her father did the things he was accused of doing and if he was truly back, he could ruin it all. Bex licked her lips.

“What do you want me to do?”





Eighteen


Detective Schuster followed Bex as she rode her bike the three blocks to Kill Devil Coffee. He had offered to drive her, even insisted, but she refused to get in his car, intent on making a quick getaway if the need arose. As she rode, her mind was trilling, dropping pieces into place in her memory—the first time she saw Detective Schuster, how he looked at her father’s arraignment. She trusted him, just not enough to get in the car and ride with him.

Bex rode into Kill Devil Coffee following behind the detective’s car. She locked up her bike and steadied herself with a deep breath before pulling open the coffeehouse door. Her heart started to tick again when she saw the detective at the counter. What am I getting myself into?

“Did you want something, ah—”

Bex could tell he was trying to figure out what to call her. She had no inclination to help him. “I’m good, thanks.”

She sat down and Schuster came over with a steaming cup of black coffee. Bex watched him stir in a handful of sugar packs, her tension and anxiety throbbing until it was all she could think about.

“What do you want me to do?” she said again.

Schuster sucked on the stir stick and raised his eyebrows as if the subject of their conversation hadn’t been gnawing at the back of Bex’s mind every minute of the last ten years. He leaned closer to her, wriggled a manila file folder from his messenger bag, and dropped it on the table, covering it with his hands.

“We’re not entirely sure of the exact date your father appeared back in North Carolina.”

Bex felt herself gape. “Good tracking work.”

Schuster bobbed his head apologetically. “Believe me, I had the same reaction. But, again, he did reappear.”

“You have reason to believe he has reappeared.” Her voice was snide.

“It’s been ten years, Beth Anne.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Sorry. Bex. It’s not that easy to find someone who doesn’t want to be found.”

“I didn’t want to be found.”

Schuster didn’t make eye contact while he raked a hand through his hair.

“Okay, fine,” Bex said, shaking her head. “What does any of this have to do with me?”