Paranoid(127)

Rachel’s heart sank. They were together? Cade and Kayleigh? She was answering his phone? In an instant Rachel imagined the two of them in bed, laughing and kissing, touching and . . . no, no, no. They were working together. That was all. And she didn’t have time for anything but finding her daughter. Again she glanced at the sinister complex supported by rotting piers.

“I want to speak to Cade.”

“He’s . . . not available.”

“And you have his phone?”

What the hell was going on?

“For the time being, yes. I know that Harper’s missing and I think I might know where she is.”

“She’s at the damned cannery. That’s what I’m trying to tell Cade. I want someone out here ASAP.”

“It’s more than that. She’s with Lucas Ryder and I think he’s the killer.” Kayleigh sounded breathless, worried. And Rachel heard the sound of air rushing past, as if Kayleigh was in a car, driving. Where the hell was Cade?

“Lucas? No. She’s here with Xander. His car is parked at the gate and they’ve broken in.”

“No, you’ve got it wrong. I’ve heard Harper’s voice mail to Cade. She recorded a conversation between her and Lucas Ryder.”

“Why the hell are you reading my husband’s—my ex-husband’s—texts and listening to his voice mail? Wait. Never mind. I don’t care and I don’t have time to talk about it. I’m going to find my daughter.”

“Rachel, wait for me, or for someone from the department to get there. He’s . . . he’s armed. Dangerous. Unhinged. Wait for me. I’m on my way. I’ve called for backup, so just wait. Don’t go into the cannery. I’ve got a deputy who will be there in three maybe four minutes and another one on the way.”

“My daughter’s in there. Cade’s daughter. There’s no waiting.”

Rachel clicked off, then saw the text that had come in while she was on the phone.

From the same anonymous number that had texted before. But this time the message was different and as she read it, Rachel’s heart turned to stone: I lied. I don’t forgive you. And by the way, bitch, I’ve got your daughter.

Along with the chilling message was a picture of a very frightened Harper.

Her knees threatened to buckle. She stared at the picture a second, then gathered her strength. As she did she spied what looked like blood. Dark splotches staining the grass and gravel, catching what little light there was, leading inward to the cannery.

To hell with Kayleigh.

To hell with Cade.

She picked up the bolt cutters.

She was going in.





CHAPTER 39


“Damn it all to hell!” Kayleigh muttered, hitting her emergency lights and driving like a bat out of hell, heading north on 101. On the way to Edgewater, she called for the deputies to converge on the old cannery.

They’d been wrong.

All wrong!

The thinking had been that Bruce Hollander, currently clinging to life at Seaside Mercy Hospital, was the killer. Not only had he stalked Rachel and tagged her house, but he’d also killed Violet Sperry and Annessa Cooper as some kind of revenge for helping Rachel avoid being convicted of Luke Hollander’s murder. But there had been holes in that theory from the get-go. Kayleigh had checked. Though Hollander hadn’t established an alibi for the night when he was supposed to have killed Annessa Cooper, on the night of Violet Sperry’s death, he’d been at home.

But they’d been wrong. She’d heard enough of the recording on Cade’s phone to know that Hollander, now near death, hadn’t killed anyone . . . except possibly Nathan Moretti, as he was still missing.

“Son of a bitch,” she said to the night at large.

She chewed on her lower lip.

Hollander had been armed, but his pistol had been a different caliber from the one stolen from the Sperry house.

Now, she presumed, Violet Sperry’s pistol was in the deadly hands of Lucas Ryder. How had they missed the signals? Lucas had never once come up on her radar as a possible suspect.

She had to slow as she cut through Astoria, merging onto Highway 30 winding along the river’s edge. There was little traffic on this stretch, and the few vehicles she came upon quickly moved aside so that she could blow past.

A deputy called, confirming that he was at the cannery and two cars were parked by the gate that had been opened.

No sign of Rachel Ryder.

Apparently she’d overcome her fears and her paranoia, when it came to saving her child.

*

She slid her phone into a pocket. Then, tightening her grip on the bolt cutters, the image of Harper’s frightened face seared into her brain, Rachel fought her rising panic. She couldn’t go there. Not now. There was time for breaking down later if she had to, but for now, she had to get past a fear that, in the past, had been paralyzing, a fear that had toyed with the edges of her sanity.

Move, Rachel. Find Harper. You can do this. She needs you!

A quarter moon had risen, stars flickering in the night sky, the single security lamp offering weak light. The river, ever moving, stretched dark and wide with only a few lights visible on the other side of the expanse on the southern shore of Washington State.

The land around the old building was as uneven as or worse than it had been twenty years before, and the huge barn door that she’d slipped through on that fateful night was slightly agape, a sliver of an opening visible.