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  Salty got up from the bed Dan had placed in his office for the dog and wagged his tail when Chloe walked in.

  “Hey dog,” she said, ruffling his collar. “Chief, you told me to remind you when it was six. Well it’s six and I’m outta here. I got a date with my husband tonight. Margie just came in. Are you going to try and get outta this place on time for a change?” she asked.

  “What’s on time, Chloe?” He closed the file and stood up.

  “Well, for you, I guess that would be any time before midnight. There is nothing more you can do for that poor woman, Dan. You and dog face there need to go home.”

  “Actually, Chloe, I’m taking Frannie to dinner tonight. I owe her for standing her up twice last week,” he said as he took his jacket from a coat tree in the corner.

  “Anything ever gonna come from that?”

  He grinned. “Go home, Chloe.”

  “You know, I don’t know what you see in that woman. She just doesn’t seem your type.”

  “Chloe, I don’t have a type,” he said and waved as she turned on her purple spiked pumps and told him goodnight.

  He thought about her question. He had not intended to string Frannie along. He knew she wanted more from him, but he was sure he wasn’t ever going to feel anything more than friendship for her. He wanted to tell her that. He thought perhaps he’d tell her at dinner.

  “Come on, Salty. You get to spend the night with grandma tonight. Then tomorrow we have to go see that new veterinarian for a checkup.”

  He walked out of the station wondering why he was having such a hard time ending the charade with Frannie. It would be much kinder to do so. On the way to Tully’s, he thought about all the years he’d spent alone and tried to justify it.

  “It wouldn’t be fair to a woman, leaving her at home alone so much,” he said, either to the dog or himself.

  Salty sat in the passenger seat and looked at him like he understood what Dan was saying.

  “I’ve been a bachelor for so long, I think I’m too set in my ways to live with anyone.”

  As he pulled into the parking lot at the pub, he turned off the ignition and sat there for a few moments. He knew exactly why he couldn’t ever commit to a relationship. He’d done so once. He’d only been in love once in his life, and it didn’t end well. He didn’t want to go through that again.

  He started to get out of the car and his phone beeped. He looked at the display. It was Frannie.

  “Hi Frannie. I’m just dropping Salty off at the pub. I’ll be there in about a half hour. I just have to run home and change.”

  “Yeah, uh, Dan. I have to cancel tonight. Sorry for the late notice,” she said.

  “Oh, well alright. You want to make it tomorrow night?” he asked.

  “Uh, no. Dan, listen, I’ve been hoping for years that you’d pay attention to me. It’s obvious you’re not that interested and I’m tired of being the one you turn to if something better doesn’t come along.”

  “Frannie, if I’ve been…”

  She interrupted him. “No, Dan, it’s okay. I think there’s someone out there somewhere that will appreciate what I can give. So, let’s just stay friends and let it be. Okay?”

  He didn’t say anything.

  “Dan?”

  “Frannie, you’re probably right.”

  “I am right, Dan.”

  She hung up. It didn’t sound like the Frannie he knew. He had taken advantage of the fact that she was always willing, always there when he got lonely or bored. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever gotten the gumption to end it that night, and he felt guilty about being relieved that she had.

  When Frannie hung up the phone, her mother was standing behind her. “You’re never going to find another husband, Frances Gorman. You better take what you can get and be thankful for it.”

  Frannie turned around and glared at her mother. “Mama, I settled once because of you. I won’t do it again. There was a man in the bakery today that said I had beautiful eyes. There are other men out there that will think I’m a catch, Mama.”

  Louise Murphy laughed. “Right. Some catch.”

  “You’re hateful, Mama, just like Ida Mae says.”

  Chapter 21

  “You’re awake.”

  Etta was huddled on the bed with her knees up to her chest, holding the robe around her like a shield.

  “Where am I?” she asked when she looked up and saw him standing in the doorway with a tray in his hands.

  He cleared his throat and set the tray on the bed. He picked up a cup with steam rising off the liquid and held it out to her.

  “This is broth, and there’s a piece of toast here, too.” When she didn’t take the cup, he set it back down and went to the rocking chair and sat.

  She watched him as he leaned forward, his arms resting on his knees and his hands clasped together. The gold ring that he wore on his right hand was unusual. It didn’t seem to fit the rest of his appearance. He was wearing khaki pants and a green plaid shirt. There was a straw hat that hung down his back with a brown cord around his neck and his leather boots were dull with age.

  He cleared his throat again and waited for her to speak.

  “Where am I?” she asked again.

  “This is my house. I found you in a field. You were unconscious. Do you remember that?”

  “No.”

  He pointed to the dresser. “There are some clothes in that drawer. I don’t know if they’ll fit you good, but it’s all I have. You were wearing some kind of nightshirt when I found you, and there wasn’t much left of it. It was wet, so I…”

  She blushed.

  “You want to tell me what happened?”

  When she didn’t answer, he got up and walked to the door. “You ought to eat. You’re skin and bone. I’ll leave you to it.”

  He opened the door to walk out, and without looking at her, he said, “My name’s Brian.” Then he shut the door and left her alone again.

  After a moment, she stood up and turned off the fan. When she did, she could hear some kind of machine running outside in the distance, but other than that, there was no sound except for his footsteps.

  She opened the curtain and looked out. A wheelbarrow stood near the garden where she had first seen him. The hoe leaning up against it had mud packed on its blade. There was a small barn on the other side of the garden and a black and white dog rested in the sunlight in front of the open barn door.

  Salty, she remembered. Poor Salty.

  She walked back to the bed, sat down and looked at the tray. She picked up a half piece of toast and brought it to her lips. She could smell the butter, and it caused her mouth to water.

  The clothes that she found in the dresser were old, but they were clean and neatly folded. She took out a pair of cotton pants and a faded black tee shirt that had an image of Bon Jovi on it. The words “i’ll sleep when i’m dead 1993” were barely legible. The only color was the name in what was once bright yellow.

  1993. Almost thirty years ago. She and Ella had gone to that concert in Charlotte. Their aunt had given them the tickets for their fifteenth birthday.

  “What day is it?” she asked herself, but she had no idea.

  She tried to remember what day they had taken her. She thought she had spent three agonizing nights in the cave, but she had no idea how long it had been since she got out? Suddenly, she had to know. She took out the pants and tee shirt and put them on. The pants were too big, so she held them up with her hand and walked out of the room.

  She wandered down the hallway, past a room where a fire blazed in a stone fireplace. The warmth drew her in. All of the furniture looked to be handmade. Bulky pillows lined a small wooden couch and two chairs that faced the fireplace that had bookshelves on either side. There was a large window that had no curtains. It looked out into a meadow with tall evergreens surrounding it. In the center of the room surrounded by the heavy furniture was a braid run in bright colors. On a wide mantle over the fireplace, there were four oil lamps
. It looked like she had stepped back a century.

  She found him in the kitchen sitting at a rough-hewn table writing in a notebook with a pencil. He looked up at her and closed the notebook.

  “What day is it?” she asked.

  He looked at a wall where a calendar from a propane company hung. The dates were marked off with check marks.

  “It’s the twelfth, why?”

  “It’s my birthday,” she said.

  ****

  “Chief, they’re here,” Chloe said over the intercom.

  “Send them in, Chloe.”

  As they walked toward Dan’s office in the back of the station, David said to his wife, “Not a very good way to spend your birthday.”

  “Not a very good way to spend any day,” Ella said.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Smithson. I’m Sheriff Dan Baker. Please sit down,” Dan said.

  They each took a seat in one of the polished oak chairs. It was amazing how much Ella looked like her sister. Of course, they were identical twins. Except for the fact that Etta’s hair had been dark brown and short, no one would have been able to tell them apart. He noticed Ella also had the little mole on the inside of her eyebrow, but it was on the opposite side.

  Mirror images, he thought.

  “It must be awful for you. I’m sorry we couldn’t find her,” he said.

  Ella didn’t say anything—she simply nodded. She was afraid if she tried, she would break down again. She had cried so much already.

  “Is there anything you can tell me about Carl Schemke?” he asked.

  “Who?”

  He realized they didn’t know Mike Summers’ real name. “Your sister’s husband. That was his real name.”

  He saw Ella physically deflate and she shook her head and silent tears began to spill onto her cheeks. Dan passed a box of tissue to her. She took several.

  “We didn’t know him, Sheriff,” David said. “We only met him a couple of times—once before they were married and then at the wedding.”

  “I knew he was a creep. I didn’t trust him from the moment I met him, but Etta was so much in love with him, she couldn’t see,” Ella said as she wiped her eyes and blew her nose.

  Dan then explained who Carl Schemke really was, his history, the other wives and his involvement in drug and human trafficking.

  Ella shook her head and said, “I guess we can be thankful he kept her for himself rather than make her one of them. Either way she would have ended up dead, wouldn’t she?”

  Dan said it was most likely. Victims of that crime didn’t usually live very long. They would get them hooked on drugs, usually heroine or something worse, and eventually many of them OD’d or were killed trying to get the drugs. Many of them found ways to kill themselves.

  “Very few ever escape. The ones that do still have their problems for the most part.”

  He thought about Tully and was thankful that things had turned out different for her. However, he knew that she, too, had residual pain and emotional issues from that experience. It had usually been the cause of her and his dad fighting. She could never quite trust anyone.

  “Do you think there’s any chance that she’s still alive?” Ella asked.

  Dan sighed and leaned back in his chair. “There’s always a chance, but honestly, it’s unlikely.

  ****

  She sat across from Brian at the kitchen table. He had finally gotten her to eat a bowl of soup, but she hadn’t yet told him what had happened to her. He had put a candle on a saucer next to a plate of shortbread.

  “It’s not a cake and that’s not really a birthday candle, but it’ll have to do. I guess you can blow it out and make a wish,” Brian said. “Happy Birthday, uh…”

  “Etta,” she said. “My name is Etta.”

  Chapter 22

  “Their egos are always their downfall,” Ethan Levi said smiling, looking at the photos. “I’m looking at photos of all of Schemke’s trophies—photos of his victims after he’d chained them up. The last pictures of them alive. He’s written their names and dates on the back of each photo.”

  “How did you get them?” Dan asked.

  “The genius kept them in his desk drawer. Same place Etta found the two she showed to you. When we get him, these photos give us bargaining power.”

  “You mean if you get him, and what do you mean by bargaining power?” Dan asked.

  “Carl can lead us to the honcho. We’ll offer him a plea bargain… his life for the ringleader. Of course. it’ll be life without parole.”

  Dan sat at his desk with his phone on speaker as he went over every detail in the file, trying to find some clue to where that lunatic may have taken Etta before he killed her.

  “How many are we talking about?”

  “There were eleven. Four wives besides Etta and seven girlfriends,” Levi said.

  “That you know about. Etta makes an even dozen. Damn. Any chance you can email me copies of those photos?” Dan asked.

  “They weren’t from around there. Most of them were from Virginia, Maryland, one from Jersey,” Levi said.

  “But all on the eastern seaboard, right?”

  “Yes. A few of them were never found. I’ll scan them in and shoot them over to you.”

  “Thanks. Keep me posted, alright?”

  After the call he left the station and told Chloe that Salty had a follow-up appointment with the vet. He also wanted to go by and see if Lester Gutierrez had come back into Frannie’s bakery. He was dreading it. He hadn’t talked to her since the night they were supposed to have dinner.

  ****

  Etta sat in Brian’s house in front of the fire that he’d built before he went out to work in his garden. His border collie, Toby, was lying on the floor resting his head on her feet. Except for the sound from the generator, it was totally quiet.

  There was no television, no phone, no computer. Brian lived off the grid. The only entertainment in the house were the books that lined the many shelves on either side of the fireplace. She wondered how anyone could live with so few conveniences, but she had to admit it was peaceful. After what she’d been through, it was comforting.

  He had asked her once again about how she came to be in the field where he found her. She told him she didn’t know. That was partly true. She only remembered trying to get out of the cave, and there was that man… that awful man. Nothing after that was clear.

  Mike was still out there somewhere. If he knew she was still alive, he’d come for her. He’d find her no matter where she was. She felt safe in the cabin with Brian. He hadn’t pressured her about what had happened. There was no television or radio. He wouldn’t know anything about her. It gave her time to get her thoughts together and figure out what she was going to do.

  When Brian found her in the field, he said she had been unconscious and on the verge of hypothermia. He’d cut the lock on the ankle iron with bolt cutters, cleaned her wounds as best he could and put her to bed. She looked at the palms of her hands. They were still bruised, but the cuts were healing. Her ankle was still badly bruised, but she’d been able to walk without much pain for the past couple of days. Brian had fed her and given her clothes to wear. Then he left her alone in the daytime while he worked outside. She was feeling stronger now. She also felt like she owed him an explanation, but she trusted no one anymore.

  She looked at the open book in her lap. She didn’t even know what she was reading—she couldn’t concentrate. She got up and went into the kitchen. The least she could do was to make him some food.

  When he came in, he looked in the kitchen and saw her standing at the stove, stirring something in a cast iron Dutch oven. She looked over her shoulder and saw him watching her.

  “It’s a vegetable stew. I didn’t see any meat in the refrigerator. I hope it’s okay,” she said.

  “I mostly don’t eat meat. I don’t like the smell of it cooking. My mother used to cook it every day and it made the house smell awful. Vegetable stew sounds good.”

  He went
to clean up, and when he returned, he was wearing a clean chambray shirt and jeans. He’d shaved. Etta watched him as he sat down at the table. She thought he had a nice face. The wrinkles by his eyes were white against his tanned skin, and he was tall and lean, but muscular. She would have guessed him to be in his late forties. His sun-streaked hair showed no grey.

  She set a bowl of stew in front of him and a plate of biscuits that she’d made. “They didn’t rise much. I haven’t made them in a long time.”

  “It looks good,” he said, watching her as she sat down and began to eat.

  They didn’t talk while they ate, but when he was finished, he put his arms on the table and said, “You can trust me, Etta. I’ll help you if you’ll let me. Do you want to tell me what happened to you?”

  She took a deep breath and thought for a moment. Then she got up and said, “Let me make us some coffee, then I’ll tell you.”

  He smiled and went to the cabinet and pulled out a pink box.

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  “It’s apple fritters I got when I was in town a few days ago. The day I found you. They might be a little stale, but they’ll be good with the coffee.”

  Chapter 23

  “Salty’s fine, Dan,” Doc Sam said as she walked him out. “Any news on his owner?”

  Dan shook his head. “No. We don’t even know if he took her to some place around here. Given his history, it’s not likely she’s alive anymore. We keep hoping for more clues.”

  “Well, good luck,” she said, petting Salty.

  “Thanks, Samantha. What brought you back here?”

  She shrugged. “It’s home.”

  He watched her with the dog. She’d made the right decision becoming a veterinarian. She was really good with animals. When she went away to college, he didn’t think he’d ever see her again. She was destined for the big city. Just as he had expected, she didn’t come back. She went to work for a university animal hospital, married a professor and had two kids. Not too long ago, she showed up again, without the husband. He didn’t know what had happened, and he didn’t have the right to pry. Their relationship had been over much too long for him to ask any personal questions.