Shelter
Chapter 7
THIRTY-SEVEN HOURS MISSING 9:30 p.m.
The two agents stepped out of the Social Services Building into a cold, black-and-white world. Snow had continued to fall from the dark sky, and now everything - dark buildings and wet black streets, iron railings and grey stone steps - was covered inches deep in what looked like a thick layer of white cotton candy. Cold, wet cotton candy.
Looking down at her shoes, Samantha asked: "Think we could stop to pick up my boots before we go? If we've got this much snow here, it's sure to be worse farther north."
Jack agreed. "Makes sense to me." He paused and looked up. Large flakes of snow twirled down out of the darkness. His eyes singled one out and followed its course to the ground, where it gently piled up upon its kin. Turning his attention back to her, he said, "From the directions Danny gave us, I'd say once we reach the highway, it'll take at least an hour and a half to get there. If this keeps up, and if the wind they're forecasting happens, we may not be able to drive back tonight. You'd better pack something for overnight, too, just in case. I keep a bag in the car, so I'm okay. While you're inside getting your stuff, I'll book a couple of rooms, just in case we need them."
They returned to the car and, after Jack followed her directions to her building, Samantha quickly entered her apartment. Conscious that he was waiting for her, she gathered her boots and, as he'd suggested, threw some things into an overnight bag. Going to her closet, she exchanged her overcoat for a warmer, hooded parka. As she zipped up the front of it, the thought crossed her mind that though this wasn't their first overnight trip together, she felt a sense of anticipation, not just about the case, but about spending time alone with Jack. The idea warmed her in ways she didn't like to think about. Setting her errant thoughts aside firmly, she took one last look around the apartment, locked her door, and returned to the car.
* * * * *
Traffic was sparse, and three-quarters of an hour later they were already well out of the city. Finally travelling roads even less busy and more snow- covered, the winter-white world held them in a silent, protective cocoon. Twice, their shared quiet was interrupted by the ringing of a cell phone. Both times, they comfortably lapsed back into silence after a brief discussion.
Jack drove carefully. In spite of his concentration on road conditions, however, he found himself unusually aware of the person seated quietly beside him. He enjoyed working with women, and had never had the concerns working with them some of his cohorts did. Indeed, he felt as safe with a woman at his back as he did a man. Working with Samantha, however, had become something different. Over the past year, without his knowing quite when or how it had happened, she had broken out of the mould of being simply an appreciated work partner and grown into something else entirely. What he felt for her now, he had to admit, was far more than just trust. He enjoyed her presence too much, sought it out too much... wanted it too much.
Unconsciously, he tightened his grip on the steering wheel. His growing attraction to her concerned him. All the dirty in-jokes he'd ever heard about men partnered with attractive, younger female agents rose up in his mind, mocking him. But he was sure this (whatever 'this' was) wasn't like that. And, on a deep, instinctive level, he was certain she returned his feelings and was every bit as reluctant and unsure as he. Neither of them was the sort to seek only a good time or a quick romp. What was growing between them was totally different. And it was that total difference which caused him so much concern.
He grimaced and slowed as the taillights of the lone car in front of them shone brake-red through a veil of steadily falling snow. He watched as the car made a right-handed turn and left them to forge ahead alone. Mentally bidding the car goodbye, he resumed his previous thoughts about Samantha. He had not gone looking for this, and he found it frightening. And exciting. It was something he didn't want to think about and something he couldn't keep his mind off. It was something he wanted to happen for the sheer joy of it happening - and in spite of the sheer terror he felt at the thought of it happening. He felt the way he had as a kid, standing on the high diving board: terrified of jumping, but knowing that the rush of the fall made it worth overcoming his fear. He-
"Jack, could we stop at the next gas station for a minute? I'd like to use the washroom."
Samantha's prosaic request jarred him abruptly from his thoughts. Turning to look at her, he said, "Sure. There should be one coming up in a few minutes. The next town can't be far away. I'm sorry. I should have asked you the last town back."
She smiled. "I kept thinking you'd suggest we stop somewhere to eat."
"I thought about it," he lied, "but figured there'd be a better place the next town up. So far, I haven't seen much."
He was right: there hadn't been much. Off the major routes and the city left behind, she was surprised at how remote everything had felt for the past half hour or so. They were also taking more time than expected. In spite of the few cars on the road, they'd had to take it slower than they'd have liked. Driving was slippery and potentially treacherous and the road they now travelled had yet to see a plow.
"The next place will be fine, no matter what it looks like," Samantha promised.
"Not that I don't believe you, but it'll be interesting to see what you say if it looks like your diner on Cuthrow," Jack said in a dry tone.
Samantha made a snorting sound. "I only need to use the washroom. If the place looks like Cuthrow, you go right ahead and eat what you want. I'll use the rest room and wait for a decent place for my food!"
Jack smiled and turned his attention back to the road, wishing a plow would go by so that he knew for sure where, on the vast expanse of white before him, he was supposed to be driving.
A few moments later, a faint glow over the rise of the road ahead promised they were approaching civilisation. A few more minutes of driving and they turned a corner and came upon an enclave of houses and businesses that made up the small town of what a sign they'd just passed identified as Smithton Falls. Flashing lights and a barrier were placed across the road. Jack stopped the car once he reached the barrier and got out to inquire about what was going on.
After a brief conversation with an orange-jacketed officer, he returned. Brushing snow off his overcoat, he reported: "They won't let us through for any reason. A transport carrying chemicals overturned a few miles ahead, and until it's been cleaned up, we're stuck here. Both lanes are blocked, which is why the roads haven't been cleared - as luck would have it, both of the county plows are on the other side of the accident. There's no convenient way around, so we might as well stop over there," he said, indicating with a nod of his head a small diner off to their left. "I was told someone would come in to announce when everything's clear. The guy figured it'd be at least another hour."
Dismayed, Samantha nodded. Knowing he shared every one of her concerns over the delay, she voiced none of them.
After parking their car, Jack remained where he was and phoned the local authorities nearest to Brenda Hood's cabin. After a brief conversation, he hung up and turned to Samantha. "It's a small force, and they're up to their ears in problems already. They still haven't been able to send anyone up to take a look. Apparently the cabin is in an out-of-the way spot, and since there's only a private road leading to it, it won't be plowed. The sergeant I spoke to figured they might be able to have someone there by about the time we arrive."
Samantha shrugged. "I'd rather get there first, anyways." Though he didn't respond, she knew Jack felt the same.
In unspoken accord, both got out of the car and paused to stretch and look around. The small, flat-roofed diner boasted a single gas pump that stood far enough from the restaurant to allow cars to stop on either side of it. Hanging near the right front corner of the establishment was a sign saying "As Free as the Air You Breathe". Under it was a compressed air pump for filling up your car's tires.
Hunching her shoulders against a whisper of wind that sent snow flakes brushing against her neck, Samantha turned to look at the building itself. Three worn, wooden steps led to a door painted forest green, the top half of which sported a gleaming window with the words "Deedee's Diner" painted in large letters in the same colour. To either side of the door was a large picture window. On the outside, the windows were neatly outlined with multi- coloured Christmas lights. Crisply pleated red and white gingham curtains hung on the inside. They were opened to reveal people sitting at tables and booths, basking in warm, yellow lighting. The place looked clean, and Samantha breathed a sigh of relief as she walked up the steps to the door.
"I think this will suit us both." She smiled and turned the handle to enter. "You find us a table. I'm heading straight to the washroom," she said as they stepped inside and the warmth and smells of the small establishment enveloped them. The place was crowded, no doubt because they were not the only travellers caught with nothing to do until the road was opened. Looking around to see what direction to take, she spotted a sign and headed to her right. Jack, left alone, stood for a few minutes scanning the premises. When the occupants of a booth moved to leave, he quickly claimed it.
He was examining the menu when Samantha slid into the chocolate brown vinyl seat opposite him with a happy sigh, "I feel much better now." Looking around, she commented, "You were lucky to get a seat so quickly." Turning back to Jack, she asked, "See anything interesting on the menu?" She placed her coat on the seat beside her and looked at him expectantly. There being only one copy at the table, Jack turned the menu so that she could also see it. She twisted her neck, then slid out of her seat. "Give me your coat and move over. We can look at it together," she said. Taking the coat he obediently passed to her, she placed it on top of hers and then slid smoothly into the booth beside him.
The menu contained all the things diners all over the country offered. After deciding on her choice, Samantha resumed her seat on the other side of the table. It was a little thing, but she missed having his warmth next to her. There had been a small excuse to lean slightly against his shoulder as she read the offerings, and she had recognised that he, too, enjoyed the contact. A busy waitress had taken their order- they'd both decided upon the chicken pot pie- and then left them alone.
She looked across at him as he examined the room. She had picked up a difference in the air between them days ago. Something was changing. There was a sense of anticipation that made her heart beat faster, a sense that they were on the edge of something so deeply personal it would change things forever. It frightened her. And made her pulse throb with excitement. She was falling, and for the first time in her adult life she found within herself no desire to stop her headlong descent.
Jack's cell phone rang. He answered and quickly held it away from his ear, grimacing at how loud the other side came through. Listening, Samantha knew before Jack said goodbye that Brenda's neighbour, Charlene, had finally contacted them. She had told Vivian that Brenda sometimes had children come to stay with her on weekends. The last two times she'd had a little girl.
"So Emma stayed with her the last two times she was supposed to be at a foster home," Samantha said when Jack hung up.
Jack nodded. "Looks that way. I've got Vivian and Pete working to see if there's a chance that could have been a pattern she had with the other kids who've gone missing. She could be taking them, getting them used to her, getting them to trust her, and then going off to kill them somewhere."
Samantha frowned. "But why?"
Jack shrugged. "Why does anyone hurt a kid? Who knows?" Samantha lapsed into silence, hoping very hard that there was a more benign explanation for Brenda's actions and for the children's disappearances.
"Perhaps you should call the police station there again and suggest they should try a little harder to get to the cabin," she said, worried.
"Vivian is doing that as we speak," Jack said. "I had a few words with her while you were in the ladies' room."
Nodding, Samantha lapsed back into silence. Staring across the room at the window, part of her mind registered that the snow was now falling at an angle. The wind must have picked up. She frowned, worrying about Emma and how long it would take to get to her.
Opposite her, Jack took his turn to watch her. Resisting the urge to reach over and touch her hand, he said, "We'll get there as soon as we can. There's nothing we can do until we get back on the road. It's not their fault that the police is blocked from getting through on the other end."
She lifted dark eyes to meet his. "I know," she said softly. Shifting her gaze, she looked through the windows into the snowy darkness outside. "Earlier, I was worried about her being outside in the cold. Now I'm just worried."
This time, he followed his impulse. Drawing her attention away from the cold silence outside, he lightly ran his fingers over the top of her hand. "We'll be there soon," he said, enjoying the softness of her skin beneath his fingertips.
"And if they're not even there?" she asked, trying to distract herself from the sensations his touch created within her.
"Danny hasn't found any transactions to indicate she's gone anywhere else, but if that's the case, then we'll just keep looking."
He drew his hand back reluctantly when the waitress arrived with their meals.
* * *
They were just finishing their coffee when Samantha's phone rang. Saying hello, she listened, her face growing more concerned as the other person's conversation lengthened.
"Nothing?" she asked. "No footprints? Perhaps she left the vehicle. Did they say anything about a suitcase?"
Samantha felt a shiver of ice water run down her spine when she heard Vivian's answer. Reaching into her pocket for her notebook, she got her pen and wrote a phone number down. "I'll tell Jack," she said before hanging up.
"That was Viv. She thinks you should call the police yourself, but wants you to know they called to tell us that one of the car accidents that have been keeping them so busy involved a small beige Mazda. It's registered to a Brenda Hood. The woman in the car has been taken to the hospital and is still unconscious." She paused. "Jack, there was no evidence that there was a child with her."
"Did they check for luggage?"
She shook her head. "Viv says that the officer she spoke to said that she was alone in the vehicle, and he had no knowledge of there being luggage in the car."
They looked at each other in silence. If the woman in the car was indeed Brenda Hood, where the hell was Emma?
The End Chapter 7 Shelter
THIRTY-SEVEN HOURS MISSING 9:30 p.m.
The two agents stepped out of the Social Services Building into a cold, black-and-white world. Snow had continued to fall from the dark sky, and now everything - dark buildings and wet black streets, iron railings and grey stone steps - was covered inches deep in what looked like a thick layer of white cotton candy. Cold, wet cotton candy.
Looking down at her shoes, Samantha asked: "Think we could stop to pick up my boots before we go? If we've got this much snow here, it's sure to be worse farther north."
Jack agreed. "Makes sense to me." He paused and looked up. Large flakes of snow twirled down out of the darkness. His eyes singled one out and followed its course to the ground, where it gently piled up upon its kin. Turning his attention back to her, he said, "From the directions Danny gave us, I'd say once we reach the highway, it'll take at least an hour and a half to get there. If this keeps up, and if the wind they're forecasting happens, we may not be able to drive back tonight. You'd better pack something for overnight, too, just in case. I keep a bag in the car, so I'm okay. While you're inside getting your stuff, I'll book a couple of rooms, just in case we need them."
They returned to the car and, after Jack followed her directions to her building, Samantha quickly entered her apartment. Conscious that he was waiting for her, she gathered her boots and, as he'd suggested, threw some things into an overnight bag. Going to her closet, she exchanged her overcoat for a warmer, hooded parka. As she zipped up the front of it, the thought crossed her mind that though this wasn't their first overnight trip together, she felt a sense of anticipation, not just about the case, but about spending time alone with Jack. The idea warmed her in ways she didn't like to think about. Setting her errant thoughts aside firmly, she took one last look around the apartment, locked her door, and returned to the car.
* * * * *
Traffic was sparse, and three-quarters of an hour later they were already well out of the city. Finally travelling roads even less busy and more snow- covered, the winter-white world held them in a silent, protective cocoon. Twice, their shared quiet was interrupted by the ringing of a cell phone. Both times, they comfortably lapsed back into silence after a brief discussion.
Jack drove carefully. In spite of his concentration on road conditions, however, he found himself unusually aware of the person seated quietly beside him. He enjoyed working with women, and had never had the concerns working with them some of his cohorts did. Indeed, he felt as safe with a woman at his back as he did a man. Working with Samantha, however, had become something different. Over the past year, without his knowing quite when or how it had happened, she had broken out of the mould of being simply an appreciated work partner and grown into something else entirely. What he felt for her now, he had to admit, was far more than just trust. He enjoyed her presence too much, sought it out too much... wanted it too much.
Unconsciously, he tightened his grip on the steering wheel. His growing attraction to her concerned him. All the dirty in-jokes he'd ever heard about men partnered with attractive, younger female agents rose up in his mind, mocking him. But he was sure this (whatever 'this' was) wasn't like that. And, on a deep, instinctive level, he was certain she returned his feelings and was every bit as reluctant and unsure as he. Neither of them was the sort to seek only a good time or a quick romp. What was growing between them was totally different. And it was that total difference which caused him so much concern.
He grimaced and slowed as the taillights of the lone car in front of them shone brake-red through a veil of steadily falling snow. He watched as the car made a right-handed turn and left them to forge ahead alone. Mentally bidding the car goodbye, he resumed his previous thoughts about Samantha. He had not gone looking for this, and he found it frightening. And exciting. It was something he didn't want to think about and something he couldn't keep his mind off. It was something he wanted to happen for the sheer joy of it happening - and in spite of the sheer terror he felt at the thought of it happening. He felt the way he had as a kid, standing on the high diving board: terrified of jumping, but knowing that the rush of the fall made it worth overcoming his fear. He-
"Jack, could we stop at the next gas station for a minute? I'd like to use the washroom."
Samantha's prosaic request jarred him abruptly from his thoughts. Turning to look at her, he said, "Sure. There should be one coming up in a few minutes. The next town can't be far away. I'm sorry. I should have asked you the last town back."
She smiled. "I kept thinking you'd suggest we stop somewhere to eat."
"I thought about it," he lied, "but figured there'd be a better place the next town up. So far, I haven't seen much."
He was right: there hadn't been much. Off the major routes and the city left behind, she was surprised at how remote everything had felt for the past half hour or so. They were also taking more time than expected. In spite of the few cars on the road, they'd had to take it slower than they'd have liked. Driving was slippery and potentially treacherous and the road they now travelled had yet to see a plow.
"The next place will be fine, no matter what it looks like," Samantha promised.
"Not that I don't believe you, but it'll be interesting to see what you say if it looks like your diner on Cuthrow," Jack said in a dry tone.
Samantha made a snorting sound. "I only need to use the washroom. If the place looks like Cuthrow, you go right ahead and eat what you want. I'll use the rest room and wait for a decent place for my food!"
Jack smiled and turned his attention back to the road, wishing a plow would go by so that he knew for sure where, on the vast expanse of white before him, he was supposed to be driving.
A few moments later, a faint glow over the rise of the road ahead promised they were approaching civilisation. A few more minutes of driving and they turned a corner and came upon an enclave of houses and businesses that made up the small town of what a sign they'd just passed identified as Smithton Falls. Flashing lights and a barrier were placed across the road. Jack stopped the car once he reached the barrier and got out to inquire about what was going on.
After a brief conversation with an orange-jacketed officer, he returned. Brushing snow off his overcoat, he reported: "They won't let us through for any reason. A transport carrying chemicals overturned a few miles ahead, and until it's been cleaned up, we're stuck here. Both lanes are blocked, which is why the roads haven't been cleared - as luck would have it, both of the county plows are on the other side of the accident. There's no convenient way around, so we might as well stop over there," he said, indicating with a nod of his head a small diner off to their left. "I was told someone would come in to announce when everything's clear. The guy figured it'd be at least another hour."
Dismayed, Samantha nodded. Knowing he shared every one of her concerns over the delay, she voiced none of them.
After parking their car, Jack remained where he was and phoned the local authorities nearest to Brenda Hood's cabin. After a brief conversation, he hung up and turned to Samantha. "It's a small force, and they're up to their ears in problems already. They still haven't been able to send anyone up to take a look. Apparently the cabin is in an out-of-the way spot, and since there's only a private road leading to it, it won't be plowed. The sergeant I spoke to figured they might be able to have someone there by about the time we arrive."
Samantha shrugged. "I'd rather get there first, anyways." Though he didn't respond, she knew Jack felt the same.
In unspoken accord, both got out of the car and paused to stretch and look around. The small, flat-roofed diner boasted a single gas pump that stood far enough from the restaurant to allow cars to stop on either side of it. Hanging near the right front corner of the establishment was a sign saying "As Free as the Air You Breathe". Under it was a compressed air pump for filling up your car's tires.
Hunching her shoulders against a whisper of wind that sent snow flakes brushing against her neck, Samantha turned to look at the building itself. Three worn, wooden steps led to a door painted forest green, the top half of which sported a gleaming window with the words "Deedee's Diner" painted in large letters in the same colour. To either side of the door was a large picture window. On the outside, the windows were neatly outlined with multi- coloured Christmas lights. Crisply pleated red and white gingham curtains hung on the inside. They were opened to reveal people sitting at tables and booths, basking in warm, yellow lighting. The place looked clean, and Samantha breathed a sigh of relief as she walked up the steps to the door.
"I think this will suit us both." She smiled and turned the handle to enter. "You find us a table. I'm heading straight to the washroom," she said as they stepped inside and the warmth and smells of the small establishment enveloped them. The place was crowded, no doubt because they were not the only travellers caught with nothing to do until the road was opened. Looking around to see what direction to take, she spotted a sign and headed to her right. Jack, left alone, stood for a few minutes scanning the premises. When the occupants of a booth moved to leave, he quickly claimed it.
He was examining the menu when Samantha slid into the chocolate brown vinyl seat opposite him with a happy sigh, "I feel much better now." Looking around, she commented, "You were lucky to get a seat so quickly." Turning back to Jack, she asked, "See anything interesting on the menu?" She placed her coat on the seat beside her and looked at him expectantly. There being only one copy at the table, Jack turned the menu so that she could also see it. She twisted her neck, then slid out of her seat. "Give me your coat and move over. We can look at it together," she said. Taking the coat he obediently passed to her, she placed it on top of hers and then slid smoothly into the booth beside him.
The menu contained all the things diners all over the country offered. After deciding on her choice, Samantha resumed her seat on the other side of the table. It was a little thing, but she missed having his warmth next to her. There had been a small excuse to lean slightly against his shoulder as she read the offerings, and she had recognised that he, too, enjoyed the contact. A busy waitress had taken their order- they'd both decided upon the chicken pot pie- and then left them alone.
She looked across at him as he examined the room. She had picked up a difference in the air between them days ago. Something was changing. There was a sense of anticipation that made her heart beat faster, a sense that they were on the edge of something so deeply personal it would change things forever. It frightened her. And made her pulse throb with excitement. She was falling, and for the first time in her adult life she found within herself no desire to stop her headlong descent.
Jack's cell phone rang. He answered and quickly held it away from his ear, grimacing at how loud the other side came through. Listening, Samantha knew before Jack said goodbye that Brenda's neighbour, Charlene, had finally contacted them. She had told Vivian that Brenda sometimes had children come to stay with her on weekends. The last two times she'd had a little girl.
"So Emma stayed with her the last two times she was supposed to be at a foster home," Samantha said when Jack hung up.
Jack nodded. "Looks that way. I've got Vivian and Pete working to see if there's a chance that could have been a pattern she had with the other kids who've gone missing. She could be taking them, getting them used to her, getting them to trust her, and then going off to kill them somewhere."
Samantha frowned. "But why?"
Jack shrugged. "Why does anyone hurt a kid? Who knows?" Samantha lapsed into silence, hoping very hard that there was a more benign explanation for Brenda's actions and for the children's disappearances.
"Perhaps you should call the police station there again and suggest they should try a little harder to get to the cabin," she said, worried.
"Vivian is doing that as we speak," Jack said. "I had a few words with her while you were in the ladies' room."
Nodding, Samantha lapsed back into silence. Staring across the room at the window, part of her mind registered that the snow was now falling at an angle. The wind must have picked up. She frowned, worrying about Emma and how long it would take to get to her.
Opposite her, Jack took his turn to watch her. Resisting the urge to reach over and touch her hand, he said, "We'll get there as soon as we can. There's nothing we can do until we get back on the road. It's not their fault that the police is blocked from getting through on the other end."
She lifted dark eyes to meet his. "I know," she said softly. Shifting her gaze, she looked through the windows into the snowy darkness outside. "Earlier, I was worried about her being outside in the cold. Now I'm just worried."
This time, he followed his impulse. Drawing her attention away from the cold silence outside, he lightly ran his fingers over the top of her hand. "We'll be there soon," he said, enjoying the softness of her skin beneath his fingertips.
"And if they're not even there?" she asked, trying to distract herself from the sensations his touch created within her.
"Danny hasn't found any transactions to indicate she's gone anywhere else, but if that's the case, then we'll just keep looking."
He drew his hand back reluctantly when the waitress arrived with their meals.
* * *
They were just finishing their coffee when Samantha's phone rang. Saying hello, she listened, her face growing more concerned as the other person's conversation lengthened.
"Nothing?" she asked. "No footprints? Perhaps she left the vehicle. Did they say anything about a suitcase?"
Samantha felt a shiver of ice water run down her spine when she heard Vivian's answer. Reaching into her pocket for her notebook, she got her pen and wrote a phone number down. "I'll tell Jack," she said before hanging up.
"That was Viv. She thinks you should call the police yourself, but wants you to know they called to tell us that one of the car accidents that have been keeping them so busy involved a small beige Mazda. It's registered to a Brenda Hood. The woman in the car has been taken to the hospital and is still unconscious." She paused. "Jack, there was no evidence that there was a child with her."
"Did they check for luggage?"
She shook her head. "Viv says that the officer she spoke to said that she was alone in the vehicle, and he had no knowledge of there being luggage in the car."
They looked at each other in silence. If the woman in the car was indeed Brenda Hood, where the hell was Emma?
The End Chapter 7 Shelter