“Guess so.”
A BOLO had been issued for Ellen’s daughter, Sylvia Carson. Mr. and Mrs. Carson had last seen her three nights ago when she’d left in her Honda Civic headed to a friend’s house to spend the night. She never showed at the friend’s house but they didn’t know until the next afternoon when she failed to come home from school. Frantic for some sort of explanation of why she’d suddenly run away, Mr. and Mrs. Carson discovered Sylvia had stopped taking her meds at least a month ago and started sampling a number of illegal drugs. On top of that, Ellen had committed suicide.
Jo could almost see how, in Ellen’s mind, she had ruined one child and was on the road to harming two others. No wonder she ended it all.
“She’s seventeen,” Jo said, her chest aching so hard she could barely breathe. “She planned those murders like a pro. Still, I don’t see how she knew who to look for unless Ellen told her.” She dropped her head against the headrest. “The few times we talked about it, Ellen said she never wanted Sylvia to know any of it. But there’s no other way she could have known. No one knew the things that really happened except the two of us.”
LeDoux asked, “What about her husband?”
“No. He had no idea.” She thought about the dismay she’d heard in his voice when he realized his wife had only one friend—not that Jo had been a true friend. She should have been. She dragged in a shaky breath. “Art is one of those hardworking, dedicated husbands who believes all is right and good in the world. He kisses his wife on the cheek every morning and goes off to work his twelve-hour day, assuming that she will take care of their neat little world while he’s gone.”
“Yeah.” LeDoux studied the traffic in front of him. “I know the type, maybe a little too well. He has no clue his personal life is falling apart until one day he comes home and all his clothes are waiting on the porch.”
Jo turned to stare at him. “Your wife did that?”
He nodded. “She liked the home we had built together—she just didn’t want me in it anymore. I was too disconnected from her and our marriage. I only cared about work.”
“That’s what she thought?”
He laughed. “That’s what I was. She was sick of my drinking. And she wanted kids. I couldn’t go there...not after all the sickos I’ve seen.”
“You didn’t try to fix it?” Wasn’t that what normal people did? Maybe former Special Agent LeDoux was broken, too.
He shook his head. “I waited too late. She’d already turned to someone else. My fault. Not hers.”
That was a first. How often did you hear a guy claim responsibility? Maybe he really was the nice guy she’d pegged him for the first time they met. Jo closed her eyes. Distraction was not going to help her get to the person responsible for what happened to her and Ellen and all the others.
Another unimaginable thought occurred to her. “How could Sylvia do...what she did to Conway if Ellen told her everything?”
“She may not have told her that she suspected Conway was her father,” he suggested.
Jo hoped he was right about that part. The idea that she’d lured the man with sex made that option seriously sick. But then, desperate people did desperate things. Jo knew that all too well. And Sylvia was ill. Without her medication, her mind wasn’t working right. Besides, Jo had done her share of sick shit. Maybe the whole world was broken.
“I don’t know,” she admitted.
“Eat,” LeDoux urged as he pulled into the parking area behind the inn.
“The fries are cold.” She crumpled the bag as they climbed out of the vehicle. Of course the fact that the food was cold was her fault. “I’ll get something from the snack bar.”
“Jo-Jo.”
Jo felt as if someone had stepped on her grave. She turned toward the male voice—the voice of her brother. No matter that it had been seventeen years since she’d seen him or heard his voice, she would know him anywhere. He rounded the hood of a pickup truck parked on the street and walked toward her.
“Ray?” Was her mind playing tricks on her? He couldn’t be here. Why would he come, after she’d deserted them? “What’re you doing here?” The only real possibility slammed into her gut. “Is Mom okay?”
Ray nodded. “Mom’s fine. I saw what’s happening on the news. She told me you were here and I...” He shrugged. “I wanted to see you. The chief of police told me where you were staying.”
Jo wasn’t surprised by that last part. LeDoux had said Phelps was watching them. Didn’t matter. But this—this was surreal. Ray was standing right in front of her. Her knees started to shake. Her eyes burned. Her big brother was here.
As Ray walked toward her, Jo couldn’t move. She told herself to move, to meet him halfway, but her legs wouldn’t cooperate. Told herself to say something but she couldn’t. Her brother walked all the way up to her and hugged her. So many emotions whirled inside her, spinning out of control. Somehow she managed to put her arms around his broad shoulders.
When he drew back, he said, “You look good.”
She swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, hoping he wouldn’t notice. “You, too.”
“Why don’t we go inside?” LeDoux suggested.
Jo tried to pull herself together; it didn’t work as well as she’d hoped. She stepped away from Ray, wrapped her arms around her waist to prevent anyone from seeing how her hands were shaking. “Good idea.” She gestured to Tony. “This is Tony LeDoux. He’s—” Her gaze collided with his. “He’s a friend of mine with the FBI. We’re working together to find the people behind the abductions.”
Ray looked from one to the other and nodded, then thrust out his hand. “Ray Guthrie. Nice to meet you, LeDoux.”
LeDoux gave his hand a shake. “Same here.”
They all stood around and stared at each other for a moment before LeDoux gestured toward the cottage and Jo headed that way.
Once they were inside, she indicated the sofa. “Sit. How’s Mom?”
Should she have asked about his children first? God, she was so bad at this. What kind of aunt ignored her niece and nephew their whole lives? Jesus! She collapsed into a chair before her knees gave out completely and she embarrassed herself further.
Ray just kept looking at her. Maybe he didn’t know what to say either.
“How about I make some coffee,” LeDoux offered.
“I’d like coffee, thank you,” Ray said.
While LeDoux readied the coffee maker, Ray said, “She’s good. She officially retired last year. She’s involved in all these community activities.” He laughed wearily. “She takes the kids to Disney World every summer.”
“That’s nice. She always talked about grandkids.”
Ray nodded. “They’re good kids, too. David Colton—we named him after Dad—wants to play football. If he can keep his grades up, I’ll probably let him. Heather Frances is a straight-A student. She doesn’t care about anything except books.”
“Frances?” Jo managed to push a smile into place. Her middle name was Frances. Someone on his wife’s side of the family must be named Frances. Why would he name his child after the sister who had abandoned them?
He nodded. “We named her after you.”
Her lips started to tremble and holding her smile in place proved impossible. She blinked a couple of times to stem the burn of emotion. “Wow. That’s...that’s really nice.”
The conversation lulled with nothing more than the sound of cups landing on the counter and water bubbling from the coffee maker to fill the lull.
Ray broke the silence first. “Mom really misses you.”
LeDoux placed a cup of coffee on the table in front of Jo. To Ray he said, “Cream? Sugar?”
“Black is fine.”
Before going for the next cup of coffee, he sent Jo a reassuring smile. Her lips struggled to return the gesture. This visit from her brother was unexpected, to say the least. Unwanted, not so much. And yet she wasn’t sure how to feel or to proceed without dissolving into a blubbering mass of emotion.