Drown Her Sorrows (Bree Taggert) Page 25

  She lowered the phone.

  “What are you thinking?” Matt asked.

  Bree turned her phone screen to him. “Here’s the photo Mrs. Phelps gave me.” In the picture, two little girls sat across from each other, drawing. “Shannon is the younger, smaller child.” She pointed. “She’s holding her crayon in her left hand.”

  Her phone beeped, and she downloaded the picture of Shannon’s interview that her deputy had sent.

  “She signed with her right hand,” Matt said.

  Bree nodded. “It’s not Holly lying in the morgue. It’s Shannon.”

  Matt drew back, shock widening his eyes. Then he tugged on his beard. “That explains so much.”

  “Holly was going bankrupt. Angela had called the IRS on Paul. She was hoping he’d go to prison. What if Holly was guilty too? She’s the one who transferred the money to the dummy corporations. What if she was also blackmailing Paul and stealing from Beckett Construction?”

  “By killing her sister and switching places with her, she avoids all penalties, financial and criminal. She takes over her sister’s life and starts fresh with a nice bank account and business.” Puzzle pieces fell neatly into place in Bree’s mind. Not all of them, but enough.

  “But her mother would recognize her.”

  “She hasn’t seen her mother since before she killed her sister,” Bree said. “Remember, she said she had a cold. Plus, her mother’s vision is terrible.”

  Matt shook his head. “A mother would still know her own daughter.”

  “But would she turn her in?”

  “What about Owen? He’d recognize his own wife, and wouldn’t he be mad if he knew his wife was abandoning him to their bankruptcy?”

  Bree remembered their original interview with Owen. “He and Shannon hated each other. Maybe she was hoping to avoid him. Or maybe he knew about the plan.”

  Matt frowned. “Did Holly kill Paul, or did Angela do that?”

  “I don’t know. Could have also been Owen.” Bree could see any of those options working. “Angela didn’t have an alibi for Paul’s death. Holly, masquerading as Shannon, was at the vet with the dog. Owen didn’t have an alibi.”

  Matt froze. “I know why Holly took my sister. Shannon adopted her dog through Cady’s rescue. Cady met her just a few months ago.”

  Horror curled inside Bree’s chest, wrapping its fingers around her heart and squeezing. “Your sister would know she wasn’t Shannon. Until now, we haven’t met many people who personally knew Shannon. They look enough alike to fool someone who didn’t know either of them well. Shannon worked for herself from home, so she has no coworkers and no boss. She wasn’t close to her neighbors. She didn’t seem to have many friends either.”

  “Cady said she was very shy.” Matt looked devastated. “We have to find them. Where would she take her?”

  Bree met his eyes. “I can only think of one place. The same place their father died. The same place Holly tried to fake her suicide.”

  “The bridge.” He headed for the front door, Brody at his heels.

  Bree hurried to keep pace with his longer legs. “I hope we’re right.”

  “We don’t have anywhere else to look,” Matt said.

  Outside, they ran for the SUV. Brody didn’t wait for his ramp. He leaped into the back seat.

  Bree fastened her seat belt. “Do I call for backup now, or wait until we confirm they’re at the bridge?”

  “What if we’re wrong? What if Holly took Cady somewhere else?”

  “I’ll call in a BOLO.” Bree used her radio to put out the alert. “Since we’re operating on our guts, it’s better to have the deputies looking for Shannon’s vehicle than sending everyone to the bridge.”

  She set down the radio mic. Her deputies were searching the county for Shannon’s Ford Escape. If she called them all to the bridge, they wouldn’t be actively searching.

  She’d wait. If they found Holly and Cady at the bridge, then she’d call for backup.

  Her belly cramped. Holly had killed her own sister and left her in the trunk of her vehicle until she was ready to dispose of the body. Bree said nothing to Matt. There was no point in driving his anxiety higher with speculation.

  But if Holly was consistent, Cady was already dead.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Pain rocketed through Cady’s head. She blinked, but all she could see was darkness. She moved her legs, and a wave of nausea swept over her. She lay still for a few minutes, breathing.

  Where was she? What time was it?

  One side of her face pressed into a flat napped carpet, and it suddenly lurched under her. The sound of an engine accelerating followed. She was in the back of a vehicle. Something lay across the other half of her face. No. It was draped over her whole body. Underneath, the air was stifling. She lifted a hand to move the canvas from her face and discovered her hands were bound together in front of her body.

  The attack came rushing back. The blow to her head. Her falling to the ground. Being dragged. Darkness.

  Whoever knocked her out had kidnapped her.

  Her breaths quickened, and her stomach spun. She probably had a concussion. On the second attempt, she managed to move the heavy canvas off her head. Fresh air hit her face, and she gulped it down. A minute later, her stomach settled. She turned her head to examine the vehicle. She was in the back of a small SUV. The night sky showed through the back window.

  The vehicle slowed. The tires grated, and the vehicle bumped as it left the smooth surface of a road. The SUV stopped. She heard the driver shift gears. The engine went quiet. Then the door opened.

  Shit.

  No time to plan an escape. She’d have to play dead. She pulled the tarp back over her head and held still.

  The back of the vehicle opened, and the canvas was pulled off her. Raindrops fell on her face. Cady kept her eyes closed and tried to control her breathing, but it felt ragged in her chest.

  She heard her kidnapper’s breaths come closer. Cady opened her eyes to slits. A shadow leaned over her. She rolled to her back, pulled her knees to her chest, and kicked out with both feet. But her movements were slow and clumsy. Her kidnapper ducked and grabbed her legs. A fist struck out and slammed into Cady’s temple.

  Dizziness rolled over her. The cloudy sky spun. She closed her eyes against another bout of nausea. Breathing through her mouth, she opened her eyes. A woman stared down at her. Her face was blurry. Her hair was a fuzzy blonde halo.

  Shannon Phelps?

  Cady squeezed her eyes closed and opened them again. The blurriness cleared, and the face came into focus. It wasn’t Shannon, but someone who looked remarkably like her.

  The woman reached out and grabbed Cady by the ponytail. “Get out.”

  Pain tore across Cady’s scalp. She reached her bound hands toward the base of her ponytail and held it against her head to minimize the force.

  “I said get out.” The woman yanked harder.

  Cady’s head jerked, and her scalp screamed in agony. Tiny lights sparked in front of her eyes. Fighting the dizziness, she sat up. Everything swirled around her. Before her brain could settle, the woman dragged her from the back of the vehicle. Cady untangled her legs and swung them over the raised lip of the cargo area. Her sneakers hit the pavement and she stood. The woman released her. With wobbly knees, she leaned her butt against the back of the vehicle. She pressed her bound hands to the top of her head and the pain that throbbed beneath her skull.

  Rain bathed her face and soaked her hair and clothes. The cool water and fresh air cleared her head. After the world stopped spinning, Cady heard something beyond the beat of her own heart: the rush of water. She glanced around, taking in the road, the surrounding woods, and the iron beams overhead. The car was parked in the middle of the bridge on Dead Horse Road.

  One thought dominated Cady’s mind: this woman was going to kill her. She didn’t have time to figure out who this woman was or why she had kidnapped her. She needed to stall as long as possible
. She needed to get away.

  But how?

  “Who are you?” she asked.

  “None of your fucking business.”

  Cady followed the yellow line painted down the center of the road. The blacktop was a ribbon of darkness, winding up the hill and disappearing into the forest. It wasn’t a busy route, but a car could come along at any moment. Even if no one came to help her, Cady’s balance was improving as she stood upright. Every second she delayed a physical confrontation, her chances of survival increased.

  “You’re not Shannon.”

  “No, and that’s why you have to die.” The woman reached into her pocket and pulled out a gun. She aimed it at Cady. “Move away from the truck.”

  Cady took a tentative side step. Her legs were shaky, but they held.

  “All the way to the railing.” The blonde woman jerked the gun’s barrel toward the river.

  Cady stared at her. Her eyes had adjusted to the dimness, and her brain was finally waking up enough to add two plus two. If this blonde woman wasn’t Shannon, there was only one person she could be. “You’re Shannon’s sister, aren’t you? The one everyone thinks is dead.”

  “Shut up!”

  Cady took that as a yes. “You killed your sister.”

  “She was a pain.” Holly sounded bored. “Now climb up on the railing.”

  “Why?” Cady peered over the side. Thirty feet below, the water churned black in the night.

  “Because you’re going to jump.”

  Cady assessed her chances. The bridge wasn’t high enough that dying in the fall was a sure thing. Once she climbed up on that railing, she was willing to bet Holly was going to shoot her. After all, she needed to make sure Cady was dead.

  Fuck that.

  Cady would not make it so easy.

  “Go on. Climb,” Holly said.

  Cady raised one foot toward the railing, then pivoted on the ball of her other foot and dived at Holly’s feet. The impact with the pavement rang like a giant bell in her head, and Cady’s vision dimmed.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Matt took the turns on two wheels. Panic scrambled for a foothold in his chest. He breathed his way through it. He had to find his sister. Rain pattered on the windshield, and he switched on the wipers.

  In the passenger seat, Bree pulled out her phone when it rang. “It’s Collins.” She answered. The call lasted for twenty seconds. “Thanks.” She lowered her phone. “Collins had no luck with the ERs. No one meeting Cady’s description was brought in today.”

  Matt hadn’t believed that scenario anyway. If Cady had gotten hurt, she would have called a family member.

  “What if they aren’t at the bridge?” Matt would have no idea where else to look for Cady.

  “Then we keep looking until we find them. My deputies are actively looking for Shannon’s vehicle.”

  He didn’t respond. How long would Holly keep Cady alive? The only way to guarantee her silence was to kill her.

  Matt slowed as he navigated the downhill switchbacks of Dead Horse Road that led to the bridge. A half mile from the bridge, he killed the headlights. The combination of dangerous terrain, darkness, and rain forced him to slow the vehicle. Sweat broke out on his palms as he navigated the last few turns in the dark. When they emerged from the woods, he stopped the car at the crest of the hill. The bridge loomed in the dark.

  Bree exhaled hard. She took her binoculars from her glove box and looked through them. “I see a compact SUV.” She adjusted the binoculars. “Looks like Shannon’s Ford Escape is parked in the middle of the bridge.” She used her radio to call for backup, instructing two of the responding deputies to approach from the opposite side of the bridge. “We’ll box her in. She won’t get away.”

  “ETA on backup?” Matt took the binoculars and aimed them on the vehicle.

  “Six minutes. We won’t wait.”

  He squinted through the binoculars, but rain and darkness obscured his view. “I can’t tell if anyone is in the vehicle.”

  “What about on the bridge?”

  “It’s too dark.” He lowered the binoculars. “But where else would they be?” Matt wouldn’t consider the possibility that Cady was already dead and in the river. “I’m going in.”

  Bree extended an upturned palm for the binoculars. “Let’s go.”

  He handed them to her, she turned off the dome light, and they slipped out of the vehicle. Matt lifted Brody from the vehicle and kept him on a short leash. Bree met them at the back of the SUV. She opened the hatch slowly and quietly.

  Rain came down in a steady drizzle. The sound would help cover their movement and approach, but it also reduced visibility. He patted the flashlight in his pocket. The hackles on the back of Brody’s neck stood up, and the dog growled softly in the direction of the bridge.

  Matt handed Bree a black nylon windbreaker with the word SHERIFF printed on the back. Her light-gray T-shirt would stand out in the dark. She slipped into it, setting her jaw as she worked her wounded arm into the sleeve. Then she stuffed the binoculars into a pocket.

  He hated that she was out here, injured, in the rain, but with Cady’s life on the line, he didn’t have a choice, and he trusted Bree to have his back.

  She removed the AR-15 from its gun vault and handed it to him.

  He slung the strap over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

  They jogged down the hill toward the bridge. Bree jogged next to him, her rubber-soled shoes quiet on the blacktop. Brody was quiet, no whining or barking. Matt scanned the darkness ahead.

  Where are they?

  At the base of the bridge, he went down on one knee behind a support beam. He set a hand on his dog. Brody vibrated with focus like a tuning fork.

  Bree pulled out her binoculars. “I see shadows moving. Two people are on the ground on the other side of the SUV. Damn. They’re near the edge.”

  Matt sprinted onto the bridge. He ran past the small SUV. The two bodies rolled on the pavement.

  “Stop!” Holly yelled at him. She knelt near the railing, holding Cady by the ponytail. His sister was on her knees, her head drawn back, the muzzle of a revolver pressed against her temple.

  She’s alive.

  Matt put on the brakes. His feet slid in dirt on the pavement. “Hello, Holly.”

  Brody lunged against the end of the leash. Matt held him back, and the dog planted all four feet and leaned into his harness, waiting, his attention riveted on Holly and Cady.

  “So, you figured it out.” Holly got to her feet, dragging Cady with her and keeping her body behind Cady’s. Her eyes darted nervously to Brody.

  Matt had no shot. Pain and fear radiated in his sister’s eyes. Blood matted her hair and dribbled down her forehead. Anger and fresh fear rose into Matt’s throat.

  Bree came around the other side of the Escape, her Glock aimed at Holly. “Freeze!”

  “You can’t get away,” Matt said.

  Desperation widened Holly’s eyes. She backed toward the railing, pulling Cady with her. “Stay back. All of you. And call off that dog. Or I’ll shoot her. I’ll do it. I’ve killed before.”

  The only thing keeping Cady alive was her ability to shield Holly.

  “Don’t do it, Holly.” Bree leveled the gun.

  Holly’s lip curled, and she pulled on Cady’s hair. Anger stoked high in Matt’s chest. But he couldn’t shoot Holly without risking hitting his sister. If he turned the dog loose, Brody could knock them off the bridge. Or Holly could shoot Cady or Brody on reflex. Holly dragged Cady up onto the railing. They stood on the bottom rung, the top of the railing level with their thighs. Cady was taller and stronger, but she was also wounded.

  Cady grabbed the base of her ponytail and resisted, sinking her butt low and using her body weight to try to pull Holly back onto the bridge. She knew how to use leverage instead of strength.

  “Stop it!” Holly dug the revolver deeper into Cady’s skin. “I’ll blow your fucking head right off.”

  Cady met Matt�
��s gaze. Her chin moved in a tiny nod. She was going to do something. Matt held his breath and raised the AR-15. He didn’t want to shoot a woman, but he would if that’s what it took to save his sister.

  Holly had killed her own sister. Matt had no doubt she would pull the trigger. She was evil.

  At her side, Cady extended three fingers, then two, then one. She spun, brushing her hand along her hair and knocking Holly’s gun away from her head. The gun went off into the air. Cady continued her turn, both hands striking out to shove Holly. The gun flew from Holly’s hand, over the railing, and disappeared.

  Brody bolted, tearing the leash from Matt’s hand.

  Holly teetered. She looked over the side where her gun had disappeared. With a terrified glance at the huge dog racing at her, she grabbed Cady, pushed her over the edge, and ran toward the opposite end of the bridge. A splash followed. Brody didn’t hesitate. He ran straight at the railing and leaped over it, following Cady off the bridge and into the darkness. A second later, Matt heard a second splash as the dog hit the water.

  He sprinted to the railing. His gut hit the top rail just in time to see his dog disappear under the rippling black surface of the river. There was no sign of Cady.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  No!

  Horrified, Bree rushed forward.

  “Call an ambulance.” Matt kicked off his shoes and climbed over the railing. “And get Holly.”

  He jumped.

  Cursing, Bree leaned over the railing. He splashed into the water, then she saw nothing but blackness. Her eyes searched the river downstream, but all she saw were occasional light-colored rocks and spots of white water. The rest of the river was too dark. No Cady. No Matt. No Brody. She turned back toward the road. She couldn’t swim with a bullet hole in her arm. Matt would end up needing to rescue her as well.

  Damn it.

  Holly was racing toward the other end of the bridge. Bree went after her. As she ran, she pulled out her cell phone and called for an ambulance, a water rescue team, and additional backup. “The kidnapping victim and Investigator Flynn went over the edge. I’m in pursuit of the suspect.”