Page 7 of Claws and Feathers

Cooper didn’t know this girl at all.

Still, something sinister was poking at him –gnawingat him. It was the feeling he got when he knew something wasn’t right. It was the feeling that made him a damn good cop.

He shook his head at Faye. “My gut’s telling me no. That means we’ve got a small window, maybe forty-eight hours, to do this right. Every minute counts. Every detail.” Cooper turned his head to Lyle Kravitz and Johnny Holmes, the two other officers at his station. “You two hit the streets – find out anything you can. Someone had to have seen something last night. I’m going to talk to Daphne. She…” He hesitated, searching for his words. “She’s the only one in this town who might have some insight into Abby and her life.”

Cooper had almost said Daphne was the last person to see her before she disappeared. But no,no, she wasn’t.

Hehad been.

Cooper flashed back to the prior evening, his recollection still sharp and fresh in his mind. Abby and Daphne had lingered at the bar for a few more hours, drinking cocktails and playing darts and pool with the Gleasons, along with a few other locals. Cooper and Abby had shared a few stolen glances, which he would admit had given him that familiar zing in the pit of his gut. He hadn’t felt anything like it since Maya, but he recognized the feeling. Instead of trying to make sense of any of it, he had busied himself behind the bar and counted down the hours until last call. It would take more than an attractive new girl in town with mysterious eyes and a charmingly crooked smile to shake him.

But then there was that look she had given him before she’d stepped out of the bar. She had faltered mid-step, hesitating briefly but purposefully. Their eyes had locked together as her hand swept over her hair, twirling it over her shoulder. He’d noticed the faintest smile paint her lips, and he’d returned whatever it was she had offered him. Cooper didn’t know what it was, but it wassomething. And it was all he got before she turned on her heel and disappeared into the night.

Disappeared entirely.

God.A feeling of dread ached inside him, twisting him all up. Crow’s Peak had an average crime rate, but nothing staggering. There were thefts, assaults, vandalism. There had been one murder during his time on the force and it had shaken him to the core. It was a domestic homicide involving a battered wife and a strung-out husband. Cooper thought about that crime scene often – the blood spatter, the blunt force trauma to the woman’s head. The vacant look in her eyes as she’d stared up at the ceiling. He was a rookie cop at the time, and it had almost been enough to prompt him to turn in his badge. But Cooper was resilient. He’d pressed on, determined to keep fighting the good fight. It was in his bones.

Abby’s case had him frazzled. Women didn’t just go missing in The Crow – no, not since 1978, anyway. Not since the notorious Conaghan murders when Michael Conaghan had kidnapped teenaged girls from their bedrooms and butchered them in his basement. Cooper’s Uncle Arty had been witness to those horrific events. In fact, it had been his uncle’s very first case. Arty had plenty of gruesome stories that would keep even the most seasoned lawman up at night.

James Walker approached him then, breaking into his bleak thoughts. “McAllister. I just talked to Reynolds. We have their full support.”

Cooper eyed his partner and friend. James was exceptionally tall and broad, his dark skin a contrast against his light khaki uniform. His eyes were soulful and expressive and had seen far more than Cooper had. James had transferred to Crow’s Peak sixteen months ago after serving the first five years of his career in Green Bay.

Cooper nodded. “I’m going to Daphne Vaughn’s house,” he said. “She’s our only lead at this point.”

“I’ll go with you,” James said, already reaching for his jacket.

“No.” Cooper shook his head, pressing a finger to his chin. “We need to cover as much ground as possible. I want you to start digging. Pull up everything you can find on this girl.”

James looked reluctant. He was more of a contact man. He liked hitting the streets and getting down and dirty. He liked people – not computers and office work. “You know that’s not my forte, McAllister. I can’t stand that techy bullshit.” His tone was light, despite the brittle in his words.

Cooper offered him a half smile in understanding. “I know. But I was with Daphne last night. I saw Abby before she left the bar. I need to be at the forefront of this investigation.”

“As long as you don’t get too close.”

The reference in his partner’s warning did not go unnoticed. The muscles in Cooper’s jaw twitched in response. “I’ll check in soon.”

It was a short drive towards Daphne’s small ranch home off Sullivan Hill. Everything was a short drive in this town. Cooper decided to park in front of The Crow Bar and walk the remainder of the distance to her brick house. It was about three-quarters of a mile up the road, and Cooper wanted to keep his eyes out for any signs of a struggle – for anything atall.

He hesitated when an odd chill washed over him. He stood in front of his father’s bar, the sounds of a mighty spring breeze coasting off the nearby lake. It would have been so peaceful if the hairs on his arms hadn’t decided to stand straight up. Cooper glanced down at the pavement, his boots crunching against the gravelly potholes that were still damp from the rain. He was standing in the one parking space that always remained vacant, as the potholes were deep and craterous. Patrons often complained, but Cooper’s father had been dragging his feet getting them fixed.

But this wasn’t about the potholes. This was about the ominous white van that had been sitting in this spot the night before. This was about The Withered Man who had bailed on his bar bill and had gotten into that white van. Cooper hadn’t seen the man before, but there was something about him – something that made him take pause. If the man hadn’t left in such a hurry, Cooper would have likely kept his eye on him all goddamn night.

He let out a heavy sigh and kept walking. It wasn’t enough just yet, but it was something. It was a starting point.

Cooper rounded the corner until Daphne’s property came into view. She lived just at the top of the hill, and not far from his own two-bedroom bungalow down Crooked Tree Lane. He approached her front porch and knocked against the rickety screen door. He heard her footsteps almost immediately.

Daphne opened the main door and peered out at him through the screen with bloodshot eyes. “Hey, Cooper. I figured you’d be stopping by.”

“Can I come in?” Cooper noted that Daphne was still wearing her previous night’s dress, and she had mascara smudges stained along her cheekbones.

She nodded, pushing open the screen door as it squeaked in resistance. “It’s all my fault, Coop. I shouldn’t have let her walk home alone. I’m such a jerk.”

Cooper could see the guilt etched across her doe-like features. He shook his head while simultaneously glancing around the small house. It was cluttered and lived in. Colorful clothes and an impressive assortment of shoes were littered throughout every room. “It’s not your fault, Daphne. But I intend to find out who’s fault it is. What can you tell me about Abby?” Cooper continued to peruse, poking his head into various rooms. He wavered in front of a tiny guest room furnished with only a twin-size bed, a modest dresser, and a plethora of half-opened boxes.

Daphne followed closely behind. “We met in college. We both went to Columbia. I was kind of a bitch to her at first.”

“Shocking,” Cooper said, squatting down to rummage through one of the boxes.

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