Page 52 of Crossing Lines

Bridget came in as Sam hung up.

“Hi, how are you, Chief Mason?” Bridget asked.

“Good. You?” Bridget looked relaxed today. The lines of stress he’d seen on her face the other night were gone. Living with Jo must be good for her. Hopefully looking at photos of her friend’s abductor wouldn’t set her back.

“Great.” She turned to Jo, who had come out from behind her desk. “You wanted me to look at a picture of someone to see if I recognize him?”

“Yes, two people actually.” Jo grabbed the pictures they’d printed earlier then turned back to Bridget, concern on her face. “If you’re sure you’re up to this.”

“Yes, definitely.” Bridget nodded.

“Okay.” Jo placed the pictures on her desk, and Bridget bent over to look at them. “No. Neither of these are the guy. Not unless he’s changed a lot.”

“Are you sure?” Sam tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice. He was hoping an eyewitness would go a long way to placing either of the men with the victims.

“Yes. Very sure.” Bridget didn’t waffle, so Sam felt she was confident about neither Thorne nor Robert being the man Amber was seen with. If she had identified Thorne, that would have been good for the case against him, but just because she hadn’t didn’t mean that Thorne wasn’t the killer. Amber could have gone off with a different man and ended up as one of Thorne’s victims.

Sam’s phone rang. Wyatt.

“I’ve located Vicky’s phone. It’s on Route 73, along the river. Probably one of those picnic areas. Looks like it’s stationary, so you might want to try her again.”

“Okay, thanks.” Sam hung up and turned to Jo. “Still no answer or call back from Vicky?”

“Nope.”

“Wyatt located her phone near one of the picnic areas on Route 73. Those places are pretty isolated. I think we need to head out there. If she’s not answering, she could be in trouble.”

* * *

Robert Summers smiled as he watched the colorful goldfinches and house wrens flock around the feeder. He was feeling much better. His medicine was starting to work, and he was coming out of the fog. That promised bright days, and maybe he could even go back to work at the family business.

But with his new clarity came a niggling sensation, a drive to do something. Something he had little control of.

His sister’s visit and the talk about golfing had triggered it. What was that about? Come to think of it, he hadn’t golfed in ages... maybe he should take it up again. But where was his golfing stuff anyway?

He went upstairs, taking the wide curving staircase easily where just a few days ago it had taken all of his energy to climb.

His mother was on a trip to Europe, and she’d let him use one of the many bedroom suites on the second floor of the mansion while he recovered. The blue suite, they called it. He stored his off-season things in this room. His golf attire would be in the closet.

The closet was a spacious walk-in, neatly arranged. Robert liked things to be organized just so. His quirk for neatness had driven his ex-wife crazy, among other things. His golf bag sat in the corner, a little dusty but all the clubs cleaned and in good condition. A basket of golf balls lay next to it. But where were his golf shoes?

He rummaged around in the shoe rack but couldn’t find them. The longer he looked, the worse the sinking sensation in his stomach became. Memories and urges started to bubble up. None of them good.

The cabin....

He rushed down to the library. His father had kept all the information about the cabin there. The deed, family pictures, and even a few of the taxidermy fish they’d caught hung on the walls. And, of course, the video feed so they could check on it from the house.

He tapped on the laptop that sat on the desk. Though his father was gone now, they kept the laptop here with the surveillance system feeds from the front of the house, their business, and other properties.

Funny thing, the video feeds for the cabin were black, as if something had happened to the cameras. Maybe a tree had fallen? When was the last time they’d checked the cabin? But hadn’t someone mentioned the cabin recently? Beryl?

He glanced at the hook partially hidden inside the deep bottom drawer where the key hung. It was empty.

Was someone at the cabin?

Memories flooded his brain. Horrible memories. Suddenly, he knew what he had to do.

He ran for the car.

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