The Missing Twin, page 11
Caleb escorted her inside, the mountain theme continuing with deer, elk heads and fish mounted on the rustic walls. A gun cabinet behind the registration desk was filled with rifles and shotguns and a second cabinet in the corner held various knives.
A grunt indicated someone was behind the counter. Caleb rang the bell, and a mountain of a man suddenly stood.
“Rayland Pedderson?” Caleb called out as they approached.
“That’s me.” The big, burly man leaned across the registration desk, clawing beefy fingers through his thick beard.
Madelyn’s heart pounded. The image Sara had drawn of the monster flashed in her head.
Rayland Pedderson could be their man.
Chapter Eleven
“Would you two like a room?” Pedderson’s gaze skated over Madelyn insinuating he thought their visit was a clandestine love affair.
Caleb flashed his ID. “No, thanks. We’re here for information.”
All friendliness fled from the man’s beefy face. “Oh, hell. You’re that damn P.I. and the chick asking questions about Dr. Emery.”
“You were expecting us?” Caleb asked, senses alert. “Who told we were coming?”
“Don’t matter,” Pedderson muttered. “I can’t help you.”
“Can’t or won’t?” Caleb asked.
“Can’t.” Pedderson retrieved a photo from the mantle and showed them a framed five-by-seven of him, a dyed-blonde woman and a chubby, brown-haired girl with dimples. “This is me and Beatrice and little Bea.”
“You adopted little Bea,” Caleb said. “Through Dr. Emery?”
Pedderson yanked a rifle from below the desk. “Don’t you go spreadin’ rumors like that. Little Bea is ours.” He braced the rifle on his shoulder and aimed at Caleb. “Ours, you hear me? And no one is sayin’ any different and takin’ her away.” He gestured toward the door with the moose’s head mounted above it. “Now git.”
Beside Caleb, Madelyn’s breath hitched. “Mr. Pedderson, please help us…”
“Please git,” Pedderson said with a snarl that showcased tobacco-stained teeth. “And don’t come back or meddle in our lives or you’ll be sorry.”
Caleb held up his hands to indicate they were not a threat, then led Madelyn toward the exit. Outside, she sighed against him.
“He’s a nasty man and he does have a beard, but he didn’t adopt Cissy.”
“No,” Caleb agreed. “But he may be hiding something. I’ll ask Ben to keep these names on file. GAI is receiving other calls from people who claim to have been duped by Emery. If Pedderson is on the list and illegally adopted Bea, someone needs to know.”
Madelyn shivered as they rushed to Caleb’s SUV and headed back toward town. “It’s getting late. I should pick up Sara.”
“We have one more stop,” Caleb said. “Don’t worry. Leah and Gage are taking care of Sara. I know it’s difficult, Madelyn. But trust us to help you.”
He didn’t know why it was important to him that she did, but he wanted her trust. And he wanted to deliver for her more than anything he’d wanted in a long time.
“All right,” she said softly. “At least now I feel like I’m finally doing something, taking action. Hopefully Sara will understand.”
“She will, she’s a tough little girl.” Caleb squeezed her hand. “Cissy must be strong, too, Madelyn. She’s reaching out to Sara. We’ll find her because of that connection.”
Hope filled Madelyn’s haunted eyes. Damn her sorry ex-husband. Obviously she wasn’t accustomed to accepting help or to people believing Sara, and he was going to do both.
Madelyn licked her lips. “Tell me about this last couple on the list.”
He mentally ticked away the few details on the printout. They were, by far, the couple with the least background information, which raised suspicions in itself. “The Smiths. Husband was in the service. Wife was an admin assistant at a lawyer’s office.”
“Could that lawyer have handled the adoption?”
Caleb shrugged. “It’s possible. But there’s not much here to go on. The file is slim, which makes me wonder if Smith is an alias.” Caleb followed that logic. “Hell, now that I think about it, your accident could have been a set-up. Maybe the driver sideswiped you hoping you’d go into labor, then followed you to the hospital and set the adoption in place with Emery.”
Madelyn grew silent as if she’d collapsed within herself, making him desperately want to erase her pain. But they’d both known digging for answers might lead to painful truths. And there was no turning back now.
“If someone orchestrated that attack and took Cissy, he deserves to rot in jail,” Madelyn said, her voice strained.
“He will pay,” Caleb assured her. Although, hell, he’d like to kill the bastard himself.
Finally Madelyn closed her eyes and dozed while he wound around the mountain and crossed into Tennessee. But even in her sleep, Madelyn didn’t relax. She twitched and moaned and a tear trickled down her cheek.
Caleb gently wiped it away with the pad of his thumb, then covered her hand with his. “It’s going to be okay, Madelyn. You’re not alone now.”
Slowly she opened her eyes and looked at him. Her lost look twisted him inside out. Made him want to step up and be the man she needed.
To hold her, forget his own problems and assuage her pain.
The thought terrified him. Yet at the same time, he ached to do it, anyway. To jump in without caution.
“Are we almost there?” she asked in a low voice.
Thank God she was oblivious to his thoughts. Dangerous ones for a man who’d failed one family and didn’t deserve to dream about another one.
“Yeah.” He swung the SUV up the graveled road, and they bounced over the ruts, spitting dust and rocks as they barreled up the drive to the remote cabin at the top of the ridge. The wind hurled leaves and broken branches from a recent storm across the patchwork drive as he pulled to a stop. Storm clouds gathered above, rumbling and threatening sleet, and the sun disappeared, night descending.
He scanned the property, the clapboard house, the woods beyond. A stray dog barked from the woods somewhere, but there were no cars in sight.
Madelyn leaned forward, surveying the property. “This is where the Smiths live?”
“It’s the latest address Ben found.” But Caleb sensed Madelyn’s train of thought. Any family who’d bought a child would have money. They wouldn’t live in a broken-down shack like this.
Unless they were on the run. Maybe they hadn’t adopted Cissy at all. Maybe they had stolen her from the hospital, and Emery had covered it up.
And if Pedderson had been warned, someone might have tipped off this couple and they’d disappeared.
Checking his gun to make sure it was still tucked into his pants, he climbed out. But his sixth sense hinted that something was wrong. So far, the body count had been piling up. He hoped to hell he wasn’t about to stumble on another corpse.
Especially a woman’s. Or worse, a child’s. Madelyn’s child.
“Caleb?” Madelyn reached for the door handle.
“Wait here, Madelyn.”
She dropped her hand to her lap and looked warily around. He locked the car doors and inched forward, senses honed as he scanned left and right.
His pulse pounded as he made his way up to the cabin. The steps to the front stoop squeaked, brittle wood sagging beneath the weight of his boots, and he paused on each step, scanning all directions, braced for an attack.
But when he reached the front, a sense of desolation overwhelmed him. An emptiness. The scent of dust and mold and decay.
Wielding his gun, he peered inside the window to the right and saw no movement inside. Jaw clenched, he pushed open the door and inched inside just to make sure. Cissy had supposedly seen the mother killed in the kitchen.
The wood floor creaked as he crossed the foyer. The living area was small, a faded green sofa and plaid chair left behind, but no other furniture or signs of life. To the right he spotted a small hallway which led to the bedrooms but the kitchen adjoined the living area, separated by swinging doors. He elbowed through them and scanned the room. Worn, yellowed linoleum. Beat up cabinets. The scent of cigarette smoke and stale beer.
Empty otherwise.
Removing a penlight from his pocket, he shined it across the floor in search of blood, but detected none. Just mud stains, dust and spilled beer. Obviously Mrs. Smith wasn’t a housekeeper. And there was no sign or hint of bleach used to remove blood.
Instincts sharpened, he strode to the bedrooms, expecting the worst.
But he found no body there, either.
Determined to know if they’d been here, he searched for clues as to the couple’s whereabouts—mail, a note left behind, an address of a friend—but barring the metal beds in the rooms, the space had been cleaned out completely.
The Smiths had left without a trace.
THE ISOLATED LOCATION of this place made Madelyn’s skin crawl. Were the couple simply outdoors people, hermits, or were they hiding from someone?
She scanned the deep, dark pockets of the forests. If Cissy lived here and had run from this madman, she could be anywhere, lost in those woods. Alone. Scared.
Maybe hurt.
Wild animals, bears, coyotes, snakes, the elements… Any one of them could be lethal to a small child. And if she hadn’t escaped…
No, she couldn’t allow herself to think the worst. Couldn’t let herself believe that her precious little girl was in the hands of a killer.
But she might be. Sara had seen the man murder Cissy’s adopted mother.
Caleb stalked down the front steps of the porch, and she released a pained breath. His chiseled jaw was set firmly as if he had bad news, making her stomach pitch.
He flung open the car door and settled inside, reaching for his cell phone.
“What did you find?” she asked, anxiety knotting her shoulders.
He sighed warily. “Good and bad news. No one was there. No body. But no Cissy, either.”
She clung to hope. “Did you see anything? Photos maybe?”
“No. There was no sign of them, nothing personal. No clothes, dishes, toys, food.” He clasped her hand. “No blood, either. So if this couple is the one who adopted Cissy, they moved on.”
“And if the mother was killed?”
“It didn’t happen in this house,” Caleb said. “There was no evidence of blood or indication that someone had cleaned up after a crime. In fact, the house was dusty, as though no one has lived here for a while.”
Her optimism deflated. She hadn’t wanted to find a dead woman, but she needed to know they were making progress, that they were on the right track.
“Let me phone GAI and check in.” Caleb started the engine and headed down the mountain. “Maybe Ben will have some information.”
She looked out the window again, the forest growing more ominous as night swallowed the horizon. She tried to wrangle her thoughts out of despair while she listened to Caleb confer with his colleague.
“Looks like this couple left a while back. Smith could be an alias, so see what else you can dig up.” He paused. “Any word on Nadine’s or Mansfield’s phones, or a murder victim fitting our profile?” He made a low sound in his throat. “Okay, we’re headed back to Sanctuary. Keep us posted.”
“Any news?” Madelyn asked as soon as he ended the call.
“Nadine’s phone records indicate she called this address last month shortly after Emery was arrested. Mansfield also made phone calls around the same time.”
Madelyn twined her fingers in her lap. “Meaning Nadine and Mansfield both covered for Emery?”
“It looks that way.”
Madelyn glanced back at the deserted house. “Where is this couple now?” And did they have Cissy?
Caleb covered her hand with his again. “We’re working on it, Madelyn. Hang in there, okay?”
Her throat closed. “I will. I just hope Cissy can.”
Madelyn felt herself shutting down, physically and mentally. Caleb lapsed into silence, as well, and seemed to focus on driving. She studied his face wondering about his Native American roots.
Anything to take her mind off the fact that they might not find Cissy in time.
CALEB STEWED OVER THE last few hours, trying to piece together the truth.
“What tribe are you from?” Madelyn asked, interrupting his thoughts. “Cherokee? Apache?”
Caleb whipped his head toward her, surprised at the question. He’d thought prejudices would die with time but still occasionally encountered them. “Does it matter?”
“No, not at all,” Madelyn said. “I was just curious. Trying to distract myself from worrying.”
At the quiver in her voice, Caleb relaxed his steely grip on the steering wheel. So she was just making conversation. Madelyn didn’t have a mean bone in her body.
But she had no idea she’d hit one of his hot buttons. “My mother was white, my father Cherokee,” he said, battling bitterness. “But my mother’s parents never accepted my father.”
“What happened?”
Did he really want to revisit his past? “It’s not important,” Caleb said.
“You know everything about me, Caleb,” Madelyn said softly. “I’d really like to know more about you. I think of you as a friend.”
A bead of perspiration trickled down his temple. He itched to touch her but tightened his fingers around the steering wheel instead. A friend? Unfortunately he was starting to want more than that.
Starting to want Madelyn in his arms, in his life.
But friendship was all they could have.
Besides, better the subject of his cultural heritage than Mara. “My mother’s parents accused my father of taking advantage of my mother. Eventually they pressured her into giving me up. My red skin embarrassed them.”
“That’s awful,” Madelyn said. “How could your mother have given in to that pressure, though? How could she give up her child?”
Caleb glanced at her, moved that she was incensed over his mother’s abandonment. “Her family was prestigious, she was young.” Excuses, excuses, excuses. “I don’t think she really wanted to be saddled with a child anyway.”
“I can’t imagine ever feeling like that,” Madelyn said. “Children are a blessing and should be treasured.”
He chuckled at her vehement tone. She was a barracuda when it came to kids. A trait that stirred his admiration.
He wished his own mother had been as nurturing and protective as Madelyn.
But not all women were as unselfish.
“Where’s your father?” Madelyn asked.
“He died about ten years ago. A couple of bikers jumped him in an alley and beat him to death. That’s when I decided to be a cop.” And the reason he’d decided to marry a Native American. He didn’t want his own family to endure the prejudice he’d encountered. Prejudices that had no place in modern times, but nonetheless seeped through like poison.
“He must have been very special for you to honor him that way,” Madelyn said.
He simply gave a clipped nod. Let her think what she wanted. Truth was, his old man had been bitter after the way Caleb’s mother had treated him, and he’d carried a chip on his shoulder that had attracted trouble.
But he’d said enough. Talking about his family and past wasn’t something he intended to dwell on.
His cell phone buzzed, thankfully ending Madelyn’s questions. He grabbed the phone from his belt and punched Connect. “Walker here.”
“Caleb, it’s Gage. I just talked to Ben. Mansfield has disappeared.”
“What?”
“Don’t worry, I’m with Leah and the girls and they’re safe. But Ben said he heard him talking about needing a new passport.”
“Under a different name?”
“That’s right. Ben tried to trace the call but it was a throwaway cell. I sent Colt Mason over but Mansfield was gone. Looks like he packed up and skipped town.”
“Does the sheriff know?”
“Yes. He’s already issued an APB on Mansfield, but I wanted to give you a heads-up.”
Caleb sighed. Dammit. Mansfield knew they were closing in on him, linking him to Cissy’s kidnapping and the sketchy adoptions. And he was probably afraid whoever killed Nadine would come after him, too.
Unless he was more involved than they’d thought. Maybe he was the mastermind behind the adoption ring and he had ordered the hit on Nadine.
Either way, they had to track him down and make him talk.
THE LIGHTS WERE TURNED off at Sanctuary Seniors at ten. Just like little kids, the old folks had a bedtime. The nurses checked in. Made sure the residents took their blood pressure medicines and countless other pills. Helped them to the bathroom if they needed it. Changed their diapers if that was the case. Then tucked them in for the night.
Madelyn’s mother, Cora Barker—the old bag—was probably sleeping. Snoring away like some pampered princess in her little garden suite.
Well, her peaceful sleep was about to come to an end.
Pulling the janitor’s hat low on his forehead, he leaned the broom against the concrete wall, careful to keep his face averted from the security cameras as he ducked behind the red-tips flanking the back windows of Cora’s unit. Using his handy tool kit, he jiggled open a window in seconds and slipped inside.
Just as he’d expected, the place was dark. Silent. It didn’t smell of old people like he expected, not like that nursing home where his grandpa had been shoved for the last ten years of his sorry life.
Instead, the kitchen smelled like chocolate chip cookies as if the old broad had been baking. He thought she was in a wheelchair now, half crippled in her body and mind.
Inching past the oven, sure enough, he spotted the batch of cookies and snagged one, then wolfed it down, and grabbed another one and jammed it in his pocket.
Then moving slowly, he scanned the tiny apartment and tiptoed into the living room. The single bedroom was to the right. Inhaling a deep breath, he darted through the doorway as quiet as a mouse.
Cora was curled in bed, her white hair fanned across the pillow like Snow White. He stared at her for a moment, his Grandma Giselle’s face flashing in his mind.
