“I was. Maybe I still am. I loved Sophie, but the truth is, she was bad news. She taught me how to disengage a car alarm and hot-wire an engine. Then she showed me how to make a living by robbing men who think with their dicks. My parents didn’t like me hanging around her, but Sophie Cole was addicting. I couldn’t let go.”
“What about the pregnancy?” Ben cut in. “How close were you two by then?”
“Close enough. She was raped.”
“Are you sure about that?” He pulled out one last photo from the manila folder and slapped it on the counter. This picture was of Sophie and a good-looking fellow with light hair and a friendly smile. A young Robert Redford look-alike. Sophie was sitting on his lap, her long arms hooked around his neck as she gave him one of her winning smiles and gazed longingly into his eyes.
“She looks pretty happy to me,” Ben said.
Juliette’s face twisted, her anger palpable, making him wonder for the first time whether or not she had something to do with Sophie’s disappearance.
“Where did you find that?” she asked.
“Like I said, I have a buddy who—”
“It’s time for you to go. I never should have agreed to talk to you in the first place.”
“Why did you?”
“Because you aren’t the only one who wants to know what happened to Sophie.”
She didn’t do it, Ben thought. She loved Sophie, and she wanted to know what happened to her. And there was more to it. His gaze roamed over bony shoulders and eyes shadowed with death. “How long do you have?”
“Doctors aren’t sure. Could be three months, could be six.”
“I’m sorry.”
“We all gotta go sometime.”
“If you tell me what you know about this guy, I can track him down, talk to him, see if he knows anything.”
She lit another cigarette. “I know he was a loser,” she said. “He didn’t deserve her. Besides, she didn’t love him. Not like she loved me.”
“I need a name,” he said. “It might take me a few hours, a day at most, but I’ll figure it out with or without your help.”
“Jimmy Rhodes,” she said with a cough. “He meant nothing to Sophie.”
“Are you sure about that?” Ben asked as he glanced at the picture of Sophie and Jimmy. “A picture is worth a thousand words.”
“He dumped her,” she said, her tone spiteful. “Started dating another girl. I remember hearing through the grapevine that he moved out of the country.” Her hand trembled as she brought the cigarette to her mouth and took another drag. “It took Sophie a while to figure it out, but she finally realized it was for the best.”
“What was for the best?”
“Jimmy finding someone else.”
“Why was that for the best?”
“I already told you. She loved me.”
THIRTY-THREE
With raw, bloodied fingers, Erin removed the last of the rotted wood from around the lock. Her shoulders relaxed, and she took a breath before she lifted the lid. It was dark, which meant it was time to make her escape.
Too weak from lack of food and water to push the lid all the way to the other side, she twisted her body in such a way that she could reach both arms out of the box, grab clumps of grass and weeds, and pull herself free. Wood scraped against her head and then her back as she pulled and pushed, grunted and groaned.
She ignored the sharp pain pressing against her skull as her fingers dug into hard clumps of dirt. All her energy was focused on holding tight to the prickly weeds and grass. Finally, she was able to use her legs to push herself from the box.
She lay there for a moment, her chest heaving. The night air was cold. Goose bumps covered her body.
Her gaze darted about, then followed a dirt path to a barn. Staying low, she crawled on her belly in the opposite direction of the barn, cringing at the sight of the box as she passed by. She hadn’t gotten very far when the snap of a branch stopped her cold. Her heart raced. Was he close by? Was he watching her?
Hoping a squirrel or some other creature had caused the noise, minutes passed before she set off again. The moon was bright, forcing her to stay low as she crawled across clods of dirt and grass. Farther along she heard chickens clucking and then the chirping of crickets in the distance.
Adrenaline kept her moving.
She focused on living to see her parents and her siblings again. She wanted to spend an entire morning watching the sun rise, write Grandma a long letter, take piano lessons, and learn to paddleboard. More than anything, she never wanted to end up back in that box.
Up ahead was a fence. Three wooden slats that she could easily climb through. She slithered beneath the lowest board, continued on all fours across grass and thorns until her knees and hands were raw and she couldn’t take it any longer. She pushed herself to her feet and tried to stand perfectly still. Her knees wobbled like a newborn colt’s. In the moonlight straight ahead, she saw nothing but fields and trees. When she finally dared to glance over her shoulder, she saw a farmhouse. There was a light on inside, shedding a yellow glow into one of the rooms.
Panic clogged her throat, and she set off, running as fast as her legs would carry her. She tripped and fell more than once, but she scrambled upward each time and kept on running.
She could hear every breath thrashing inside her ears. She kept looking over her shoulder, making sure nobody had seen her and that she wasn’t being followed. Nobody was there.
Run. Run. Run.
Her body trembled, but she couldn’t slow down. A noise sounded, and when she looked to her left, she found herself falling into a hole. It was only four feet deep, but she fell hard and hit her chin against hard-packed soil. She tasted blood as she dragged herself out. It wasn’t until she was back on her feet that she realized she’d hurt her ankle.
Gritting her teeth, she limped onward, determined to find help.
THIRTY-FOUR
Ten o’clock the next day, Jessie was getting ready to head to the office when a knock at the door prompted Higgins to jump to his feet. The dog was filling out, had some meat on his ribs, and his patchy fur was looking better.
“It’s okay,” Jessie told Higgins as she made her way to the window.
Ben Morrison stood at the front door. He looked up, saw her standing there, and waved.
“It’s Ben,” she told the dog. “You’ve met him before.” But Higgins didn’t care who it was. He stayed close to her heels, growling all the way down the stairs. Holding tight to his collar, she opened the door.
It took Ben only a moment to calm Higgins down. When he finally straightened, he looked at her and frowned. “What happened to you?”
“I was attacked yesterday. Nine stitches. I look worse than I feel.” She gave the dog a pat on the head. “Thanks to Higgins, I was able to use my pepper spray and get away.”
“Good dog.” He stroked the animal’s back. “Where did it happen?”
“A few blocks from here.”
“I’m glad you’re okay. I went to your office first, but I realize now I should have called.”
“No worries. Come on in.” She headed up the stairs, leaving him to shut the door.
“Random attacker or something else?” he asked when they reached the living room.
“Not sure, but there’s a chance it could have something to do with Parker Koontz.”
“Why do you say that?”
“My lawyer, who also happens to be a good friend, lives a few miles from here. She was also attacked yesterday. Tied up inside her home while the place was ransacked. The only thing they took was the device I had used to get a video of Parker Koontz as I followed him across town.”
“Last I heard he was in critical condition.”
She nodded. “Nothing has changed in that regard. But this whole Koontz thing has spiraled out of control. My friends and loved ones are at risk, and yet so far I have found nothing to point me in a particular direction.”
It was quiet as he appeared to mull the news over.
“The police are looking into it.” Gazing at Ben, she noticed the telltale signs of little sleep: frumpy hair, wrinkled shirt, and heavy eyelids. Her gaze fell to the leather case at his side. “I’m assuming you came to talk to me about Sophie?”
“Correct.”