They thanked the chief, jumped straight into Heather’s truck, and headed for the freeway. Country music played on the radio above the road noise. The sky turned progressively whiter as they drove.

  Heather was quiet. Penny wanted to ask if she felt okay but clamped her mouth shut on the question. The woman had already asked her to stop hovering.

  It was midafternoon when they reached the travel center. The lot was crowded with big rigs. They parked on the car side and got out. Snowflakes drifted sideways through the air, and Penny zipped her coat.

  “Lot of late snow this year,” she said.

  Heather grunted in acknowledgment. “There’s more coming tonight. Won’t want to be on the freeway, but unless the Dailys want to sit and chat for the next five hours, we’ll be fine.”

  Penny hoped this place had some decent food, because they’d skipped lunch. Thank goodness for that morning’s omelet, courtesy once again of Lester’s mother at the motel.

  She and Heather joined the flow of people entering the building. The restaurant was on one side, bathrooms on the other, with a shop selling convenience food, camo hats, and fishing-themed tchotchkes in the middle.

  “We’re supposed to look for someone wearing a Cornhuskers cap,” Heather said. “I’m just hoping there’s only one.”

  They spotted a woman in a red University of Nebraska cap in a restaurant booth, drumming her fingers against the tabletop. This woman was too young to be Tabitha Daily’s mother, but she was the only person in the place wearing the right cap, so they went over.

  “Excuse me, I’m—”

  The woman stood up. “Ms. Davenport? I’m Terri Daily.” She held out her hand. “I know you spoke to my mother-in-law on the phone, but I thought it would be better if I came myself.”

  Heather shrugged. “All right. I may need to speak with Mr. and Mrs. Daily at some point, though. This is Penny Wright. She’s been consulting with me on the case.”

  The three of them sat in the booth, Heather and Penny on one side facing Terri.

  “I was too worked up to order anything. But if you’re hungry…” Terri passed over the menu.

  Penny’s stomach let out a noisy rumble. “Sure you don’t mind?”

  “Please, inject a little bit of normalcy into this moment. It’s surreal after all this time. My in-laws wanted to come, but their health isn’t great. With this storm front pushing in, plus the news about Tabitha, I was afraid it would be too much for them to handle.”

  The waitress came over, and Penny ordered a grilled chicken sandwich.

  “Anything for you?” the woman asked the others.

  Heather shook her head. Penny hadn’t seen the woman eat much in the few days she known her.

  Terri sat back, wringing her hands in her lap. “I’ve been taking care of my in-laws for the past ten years. Like I said, their health has deteriorated, and it’s either me or a nursing home. And their savings wouldn’t cover anyplace nice. My ex is their son, but he hasn’t treated his parents any better than he ever treated me. I’m pretty much all they’ve got.”

  “Did you know Tabitha?” Heather asked.

  Terri grabbed a straw from a dispenser and twisted it around in her fingers. “Sure, way back in the day. We grew up together. I remember when she ran away. That was in ’78. She would still call her parents every few months or so, and they knew she was over in Wyoming. She sounded happy. But after a couple years, the calls stopped coming, and they got worried.”

  “Did they know Tabitha had been living in Coldwater specifically?” Heather asked.

  “Not until your call today. Honestly, I’ve never even heard of the place. Tabitha probably didn’t want any of us to try to follow her, make her come home. But we did know she was part of some group out there. Some church? And that’s only because of the woman who came out here looking for Tabitha. She came from that church, too. But she thought had Tabitha left and returned to Nebraska.”

  Penny folded her hands on the table. “A woman from the church? When was this?”

  “Oh, let’s see…I was still married. Say twelve years ago? Her name was Stacey. Said she’d been Tabitha’s friend way back when they were all members of this religious group. I got a little fuzzy on the exact dates.”

  Stacey. Penny exchanged a glance with Heather. Stacey was the woman who’d told Adelaide she was Tabitha’s daughter.

  “Do you think you could get us in touch with this Stacey?” Heather asked.

  Terri blew out a breath. “Gee, I really don’t know. That was so long ago. But I can see if I have that old address book I used to keep. I think I wrote down her name and number, and she took mine, in case either of us heard anything from Tabitha.”

  This all suggested that Stacey hadn’t known Tabitha was dead. But why would she come looking so many years after Tabitha had disappeared? Was it pure nostalgia for an old friendship, or some sort of guilt?

  What if Stacey had known Tabitha was dead, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell the Dailys the truth?

  Terri kept twisting the straw between her fingers, bending the plastic. “We’ve assumed Tabitha was dead for quite a while now, but it’s different hearing for sure.”

  Heather nodded. “I know.”

  “On the phone, you told Mom it was murder. How did she die?”

  “She was hit over the head. Probably lost consciousness very quickly.”

  “You can tell me exactly,” Terri said quietly. “I’m a nurse in the trauma ward at our local hospital. I’ve seen plenty before.”

  The restaurant was crowded, but despite the hum of noise, the three of them leaned together to keep their voices down. This wasn’t the kind of conversation they wanted anyone to overhear over a late lunch.

  “The killer used a blunt object, probably a rock,” murmured Heather. “Bashed her skull in. That was after doing the same to her companion, a man named Wes Crenshaw. Are you familiar with that name?”

  “Not the name, no. But I remember, in her phone calls, Tabitha mentioned she was in love. She—” Terri cleared her throat, obviously holding back tears. “He was somebody she’d met out there in Wyoming.”

  “Another member of the church?”

  “No clue.”

  The waitress arrived with Penny’s food, which brought their conversation to a halt. Terri and Heather both seemed deep in thought as Penny took the first few bites of her sandwich. It was tasty, but she felt awkward being the only one eating, especially given the gruesome subject matter of their discussion.

  Eventually, Heather spoke again. “There’s something else. Tabitha was pregnant. We believe she gave birth shortly before she died.”

  Terri’s hand covered her mouth. “My God. She had a child? Is the child alive?”

  “We believe we’ve found the person. I’m trying to rush a DNA test with my FBI contacts to confirm.”

  Terri was shaking her head. “That’s amazing. Was it a girl? Boy? Where have they been? Can I know the name?”

  “Not just yet. But as soon as I’m able, I’ll put this person in touch with you. You can ask all your questions then.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Davenport.” Terri reached across the table to take Heather’s hand. “You don’t know what this will mean to Tabitha’s parents. And to me.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. I’ll get in touch when I know the DNA results.”

  Terri nodded, though her expression was still overwhelmed. “My in-laws wanted to meet you so badly, but I worried about the shock, you know? If it had been up to them, they’d have driven all the way to Coldwater. That’s where Tabby’s buried, isn’t it?”

  “At the Coldwater Cemetery,” Heather said.

  Terri blinked away tears. “They’ll probably want to rebury her in Nebraska, but if she’s buried next to the man she loved? If her child’s somewhere nearby? I wouldn’t want to disturb her rest.”

  Penny didn’t say anything about Tabitha’s ghost. She didn’t want Terri or the other Dailys to know their relative’s soul was still suffering. But silently, Penny swore that she’d set Tabitha and Wes free. Their families deserved that much.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The snow came early, gusting down from the mountains and across the plains. Heather cursed to herself as she watched the air fill with white. Red taillights glowed up ahead. The drive back to Coldwater was going to take longer than they’d expected.

  “Let me know if you need a break from driving,” Penny said.

  Heather’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “I’m fine,” she insisted, though she wasn’t. That damned headache was creeping in just as quickly as the snow. Not eating probably hadn’t helped, but she had no appetite these days, like her body already knew there was little point.

  Oh, don’t start getting morose, she told herself. Penny apparently couldn’t read “energies” like her partner, but the younger woman was still observant.

  Heather couldn’t believe the progress they’d made in the last two days. They knew the identities of the bride and groom. Tabitha Daily’s family knew what had really happened to her, and soon, they’d be reunited with Adelaide, a niece and granddaughter they’d never known about. She had every reason to be proud.

  So Heather didn’t know why she felt uneasy.

  A better question—why had she thought this moment would bring about a catharsis at all? Answering the questions about those old murders, while important, truly had nothing to do with her. Did it?

  She only felt one step closer to her own last days.

  Maybe she was simply responding to the fact that the job wasn’t finished. They’d come so far. She wasn’t going to stop now until she uncovered the entire truth and those ghosts had finally found peace.

  “Do you think you’ve got what you need?” Heather asked. “To help the ghosts move on?”

  “I hope so. I’ll try again when we’re back in Coldwater. Weather permitting, anyway.”

  They rolled along, windshield wipers squeaking.

  “If we’re going this slowly,” Heather said, “I might as well make some calls. I wanted to touch base with my friend in the Cheyenne Field Office. Could you look up his contact in my phone?”

  “Sure.”

  Heather unlocked the device and handed it over. She recited the name, and Penny set up the call.

  “Hey, Joe,” Heather said when the man answered.

  “Davenport! How the hell are you? I just got a mystery packet in the mail with your name on it. Wondered if you’d finally lost it out there in the boonies and went full conspiracy theorist. Am I about to open an envelope full of anthrax?”

  “I’m driving. You’re on speaker, by the way.”

  “Did I just offend your grandmother?”

  Heather rolled her eyes. Joe was a large guy who blushed easily. Always ready with a joke. He’d retired from the field and worked a desk now. He was an avid gamer, too, a fan of those massive online role-playing games with elves and dragons and knights. Like most of her work friends, Joe knew little about Heather’s personal life or family—which was entirely her fault, not theirs for lack of asking.

  “There’s a swab in the envelope. I need it tested against samples from back in 2014. Unidentified male and female vics. All the info’s on the slip I included.”

  “Of course it is.” They heard the sound of paper ripping. “Got it. I’ll talk to the lab and see what they can do. When do you need this? Hopefully next year?”

  “More like tomorrow?” Even though Heather knew that was next to impossible. The lab work of matching the mitochondrial DNA between Adelaide and Tabitha would only take a few hours, but their lab always had a terrible backlog.

  Joe laughed like she’d been kidding. “Any other wishes upon a star while you’re at it?”

  “How about tracking down a guy named Wes Crenshaw? We think he was murdered around the early eighties, and his body was never identified until recently—unofficially, at this point—but we can’t find anything in NamUs. So he might not have been reported missing. I’m wondering if there could be other records for him. Anything at all that could tie us to family members.”

  “This the same cold case you’ve been working?”

  “Yep. But we don’t know if he was from Wyoming originally.”

  “Let’s hope he was, cause that’s a lot fewer records to sift through. If he’s from California, you’re gonna have to find some other patsy to do your legwork for you.”

  “Thanks, Joe.”

  “Yeah, you’ll owe me one when you get back from your sabbatical or whatever it is. Don’t pretend like you’re retired, ’cause I won’t believe it.”

  Her reply got stuck in her throat.

  “Later,” Joe said.

  The call ended, and Penny set down Heather’s phone to check her own device. “I got a message from Zandra. She’s on her way back to Coldwater. She’s hitting the snow, too.”

  Heather’s forehead pounded. The truck’s air vents blew heat, and she was starting to sweat, though she knew it was from the pain more than the temperature.

  “Why doesn’t your FBI friend know about your illness?” Penny asked.

  “Because it’s not his business. Nor is it really yours.”

  “Chief Novak doesn’t know either, does he?”

  Heather sighed. “Not many people do. Just the doctors…and Zandra and you.”

  Penny turned sharply to look at her. “That’s it? Seriously?”

  “Serious as a brain tumor.” She kept her focus on the road.

  “You have people who care about you. They wouldn’t want you to be alone with this.”

  “Would friends come hold my hand on my deathbed if I asked? Probably. My father came when my grandmother asked for him. But did he want to be there?”

  Heather knew how bitter that sounded. As bitter as her dad used to be. He’d been moody and impossible during that whole trip when she was a kid. But she’d seen how much it tore him up, being forced to come home and act like everything was forgiven and forgotten. Like the fact of someone dying meant the world owed them closure.

  And then, finding the bride and groom—that terrible event was forever linked in Heather’s mind to her grandmother’s death. Rationally, she knew the two things had nothing to do with each other. But try telling her subconscious that. She couldn’t think of her grandmother without remembering the creak of the cabin door’s hinges or the bones in Speckles’s mouth. Or vice versa.

  “I just don’t want anyone I care about to feel obligated. I hate the idea that I’d be a burden on them.”

  Here was a shameful secret: Heather was glad her father hadn’t asked her to come when he was dying. They’d had a fraught relationship, and he’d done her the favor of leaving her out of the hard stuff at the end. He’d even planned his own funeral. The man had been thorough. Heather had inherited her sense of practicality from him.

  “But you’re not your grandmother,” Penny said. “I heard the way your FBI friend talked to you. And I’ve seen the chief with you, too. You’re a kind person.”

  “Which you’ve determined based on two days of knowing me?”

  “Your entire career has been built on giving back to others. I promise you, your friends would want to know. They’d want a chance to show you how much you mean to them. To say goodbye.”

  Heather’s fingers tapped impatiently on the wheel. The car continued to crawl forward as snowflakes drove straight into the windshield. The sky was so dark, it could’ve been midnight instead of nearing five o’clock.

  “How old are you, Penny?”

  “Twenty-four.”

  “Twenty—” Heather barked a laugh. Penny was a baby. No wonder she came across as so innocent, despite her claims of having years of experience with ghosts. “Have you seen someone die? I don’t mean in a vision or some memory transferred into your brain from a ghost. I mean a person who is alive, dying right in front of you.”

  She paused. “In front of me? No.”

  “Then what could you truly know about death? It’s different when it’s not just some movie in your head. I’m talking about the real-life ugliness. Not even violence, which is bad enough. But illness can be worse. Watching somebody waste away into nothing over days, weeks, months, suffering that whole time.”

  Penny didn’t say anything. She’d crossed her arms over her middle.

  “That’s going to be me. So do you honestly think I want to sit in a stupid circle holding hands, singing kumbaya? You think I want a love fest? I don’t. I’m too angry for that.” Heather’s voice was starting to shake. “I’m so angry at this mass of cells in my head. At this ridiculous, unfair world. I hate this pain. I hate being sick. I just…I just…”

  She screamed out a curse. Penny jumped.

  The cabin went silent. Heather could hardly believe that sound had come out of her.

  “I didn’t know I was going to do that,” she whispered. Tears burned in her eyes.

  “That all you’ve got?” Penny asked.

  “Excuse me?” Heather glanced over.

  Sweet, innocent Penny had a smirk on her face. “I said, is that all you’ve got? Because you’re right, it’s not fair. I’d still be screaming if that crap were happening to me. I’d be screaming all the time.”

  Heather opened her mouth and hollered as loudly as she could.

  “Don’t stop there. Keep going. You’re not dead yet, are you?”

  Heather yelled again and added a few honks of her horn. Then suddenly, the absurdity was just too much for her. Here she was, a woman in her forties—an FBI agent—throwing a tantrum and yelling profanity while driving through a blizzard.

  She started laughing. Crying, too, but laughing. Heather wiped her eyes, forcing herself to pay attention to the drive as giggles kept bubbling up in her chest.

  Her passenger was snickering as well.

  “Next time you need to vent,” Penny said, “just let me know. I’ll grab some ear plugs first.”

  Chapter Twenty

  The sewing machine hummed beneath Adelaide’s hands. As she stitched each piece together, she could almost forget the revelations of the night before.

 

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