Kiss Me, Kill Me Page 13

  “I know,” Sam said softly. “Mrs. Becker told me when I stopped to pick up the pictures she wanted in the collage.”

  “I brought some, too,” Sadie said. “Remind me to leave them with you before I go.”

  They ate Rose’s delicious meal but barely tasted it, and even Sadie’s and Gabe’s attempts to inject lighter topics into the conversation fell flat. It was just a sad night. There was nothing to be done about that.

  When the meal was over, Gabe carried the remnants of the pot roast into the kitchen, where Sam had taken the dirty plates. He set the roast on the counter as Sam handed the plates to Carrie, who was running water into the sink.

  “My guitar is out in the bus,” Gabe told Sam. “You want to jam for a while tonight?”

  “I don’t think I’m really up to it.”

  “Your call. No pressure. I don’t know, but for me it’s a release. I pour all my angst into my music.”

  “Yeah, but I’ll bet you do it alone.”

  “I have to admit, I usually do.”

  Sam nodded as if he’d already known that and said, “Thanks for the offer, Gabe. Rain check, okay?”

  “Sure.”

  Sam left the kitchen. Carrie watched him go with worry in her eyes. “I don’t like it when he’s this morose,” she said.

  “You can’t blame him. He’s lost his best friend.”

  “I didn’t say I didn’t understand it. I just don’t like it.”

  Gabe moved up behind her at the sink, slid his hands over her shoulders, squeezed them gently and spoke a little closer to her ear. “And how about you? Are you okay?”

  She turned to face him, curled her arms around his neck and stepped closer. And as he held her, she felt more of the day’s tension fading away. “I did something I probably shouldn’t have done today.”

  “What?” he asked, looking down into her face.

  “I snuck down to the morgue after the state’s pathologist finished up, and I took extra blood and tissue samples from Kyle’s body. I’m planning to take them to a private lab owned by a friend of mine for analysis. Tox screening, mainly.”

  “Is that legal?” Gabe was looking at her as if he’d never seen her before.

  She’d managed to surprise him, she guessed.

  “I’m sure it’s not. And I know any results I get won’t hold up in court. But it might tell the police something they need to know a little bit sooner. And it would give his parents answers they’re on pins and needles waiting for.”

  Gabe stepped back a little, almost as if he needed to get a better angle to stare at her in disbelief. “It’s not like you to buck the system, is it?”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “I mean, I’ve been thinking you’re mostly a rule follower. Not a rogue.”

  She shrugged. “You sound just like my son.”

  “And he knows you better than anyone. We couldn’t both be reading you wrong, could we?”

  “Depends on the situation, I guess.”

  “Couldn’t you be risking your medical license by doing something like this?”

  “If it’s necessary, should that really matter?” She pursed her lips. “It’s the right thing to do, Gabe. Besides, it won’t be the first thing I’ve done that could get me booted out of medicine forever.”

  “Really?” His brows rose, and he seemed deeply interested. “Now you’ve got my attention. Not that you didn’t already.”

  “Never mind,” she told him. “Forget I said it.”

  “Not likely. Will you tell me about it, this deep dark sin you committed somewhere in your shadowy past?”

  Her heart quickened in her chest, because she found herself really wanting to tell him the secret she had never told another soul. And that scared her. “I don’t know yet,” she said. “I’ve never told anyone, so—”

  “So you’ll have to trust me first.”

  “I’ll have to trust you completely first.”

  “It’s that big?”

  “The biggest.”

  He sighed, searching her face. “You just had to whet my curiosity, didn’t you?”

  She shrugged. “Figured it would give you a reason to keep coming around.”

  “I already have a reason to keep coming around.” His smile faded, and his eyes intensified. “And it feels like a pretty powerful one, to be honest.”

  She averted her gaze. “Really?”

  “I don’t lie, Carrie.”

  Inhaling deeply, she said, “This is feeling pretty powerful to me. too.” And then she lifted her head to read his reaction to that.

  But instead of giving her the chance to glimpse whatever was happening in the depths of his eyes, he closed the distance between them and kissed her. It was a long, tender kiss that grew quickly deep and passionate, the kind of a kiss that should have been a preamble to something more. She dug her fingers into his hair, wishing she could tug the band away and see it loose and wild. She might have, if not for the circumstances. But as it was, the kiss ended with both of them craving more, needing more, wanting more, and with both of them knowing it wasn’t the right time. Not tonight.

  Eventually they pulled apart, but only slightly. He rested his forehead against hers, and she wondered if his heart was pounding as rapidly as hers.

  “I’m gonna go,” he told her.

  “Already?”

  “I think we both know it’s…necessary.”

  She sighed, but nodded against his forehead.

  “Besides, I’m working on something new, and I think it’s going to be good.”

  “A new song?”

  He nodded, then ran a hand over her hair. “You’re a great muse.”

  She rolled her eyes, secretly touched to the core. “I’ll bet that line works every time you use it.”

  “I’ll let you know, since this is the first and only time I’ve tried it out.” He kissed her again, briefly this time.

  “I’ll walk you out,” she said.

  On the way they passed Sam, who was sitting on the sofa looking through a box of photos. He’d started a stack of them beside the box, and Carrie saw that the one on top was a shot of him and Kyle, arm in arm, at the age of nine, wearing their baseball uniforms.

  Her heart twisted tight at the memory. She caught Gabe looking, too, and thought he was choking up a bit, as well.

  “Sadie said to say goodbye for her,” Sam said, barely looking up from his job. “She had that dress rehearsal tonight. It’s only an hour, but she’ll head home after that.”

  “She went on her bike?” Carrie asked. “Alone?”

  “She wouldn’t take no for an answer,” he said. “Said it was good exercise and got pissed when I got pushy about it. She’s as stubborn as you are, Mom.”

  “Still…”

  “It’s only a couple of miles. It wasn’t even dark yet.”

  Kids. One minute insisting Kyle’s death was the result of some big bad boogeyman, as unlikely as that theory seemed—especially given those needle tracks in his arms. The next minute, taking off alone on a twisting country road.

  “I’ll look for her on my way down,” Gabe said.

  “Oh, she’ll be there by now. It’s a ten-minute ride, and she’s been gone twenty already.”

  Gabe nodded and sent Carrie a reassuring look in exchange for her worried one.

  “If this is the dress rehearsal, when is the competition?” Gabe asked, probably just to change the subject. “Tomorrow?”

  “A week from Saturday. She’s already informed the coach that technically, a dress rehearsal is the last one before the real performance. But the coach sees it differently.”

  “As in, it’s any rehearsal where they’re dressed?” Carrie asked.

  Sam smiled, but not with his eyes, and shot Gabe an apologetic look. “It’s a small town. Not every job opening has a dozen applicants. Sometimes you just take what you can get, and the cheerleading coach’s main qualification is that she was a cheerleader herself.”

  “He
y, I’d be the last guy to judge.” Gabe continued on to the door, and Carrie walked with him, then held it open as he said goodbye. She wished he would kiss her again, then wished he wouldn’t. Not with Sam watching. Gabe took her hand, squeezed it and walked backward until distance forced him to let go. He waved once more halfway down the steps, and Carrie ached inside. She watched him get into the bus and saw it rolling away moments later, its perfectly round headlights painting a path ahead of it. As he left, she noticed that Rose’s old station wagon was no longer in the driveway and wondered where the little old lady had gone.

  Sighing, she turned and sat down beside her son. “Can I help?”

  He smiled a little, and held up a recent photo of him and Kyle mugging for the camera in their soccer uniforms. They were muddy, wet and smiling broadly. “Remember Coach Walsh and the year of the horrible soccer weather?”

  “That’s a great one,” Carrie said. “That’s frame-worthy.”

  “Yeah, I know. Do you remember that game? It was last season, near the end.”

  “I remember it, all right. I was freezing my butt off in the bleachers. Had a blanket around me and spent five bucks at the hot cocoa stand. It rained. It snowed. And you scored the only goal of the game, saving us from heading into a 0-0 overtime. A feat for which I was immensely grateful.”

  He smiled sadly and set the photo on the pile he’d started. Then he and Carrie continued sorting. Nearly two hours later the box was empty and they were arranging their favorite photos on a large poster board when the phone rang.

  Carrie picked it up. “Hello?”

  “Hi, is this Dr. Overton, Sam’s mom?”

  “Yes, it is.” Carrie frowned a little, glancing toward Sam.

  “Carrie, this is Donna Damien, the cheerleading coach. Is Sam there with you?”

  “Yes. Is anything wrong?” As she asked the question, Sam’s eyes focused on her with a frown.

  “Well, I don’t know,” the coach said. “That’s the thing.”

  “What is it, Mom?” Sam asked, frowning harder.

  “It’s Sadie’s coach. Pick up the extension.”

  Sam was off the sofa and had the other phone within seconds. “This is Sam. What’s going on?”

  “I just wondered if you might know where Sadie is? I’ve tried her mother, but that woman is about as useless as—I’m sorry. That wasn’t nice, but—”

  “Screw nice!” Sam burst out. “What do you mean, where’s Sadie?”

  “Sam!” Carrie warned, but she didn’t blame him. Alarm bells were going off in her own head, as well.

  “That’s just it,” the woman on the phone said. “She didn’t show up for practice, and this was really important. The first of our final four dress rehearsals, and—”

  “She didn’t show up?” Sam sent his mother a helpless look. “She didn’t show up?”

  “All right, okay, don’t panic,” Carrie said. “Donna, listen to me. Sadie left our house two hours ago. She was on her bike. It’s only a couple of miles to school. You’re saying she never made it there?”

  “No. God, you don’t think…?”

  “No. No I don’t think that at all. Have you called the police, Donna?”

  “I thought I’d check with you first.”

  “Call them right now, all right?”

  “I’m driving to school,” Sam said.

  “Wait for me!”

  “I’m not waiting for anything.” Sam slammed out of the house.

  Carrie choked down the bile she felt rising in her throat, but she couldn’t quell the chills racing up and down her spine, or the panic taking root in her heart. “I’ve gotta run, Donna. Call the police. I’ll be in touch.”

  She hung up without waiting for the other woman to answer and ran in search of her purse.

  9

  Carrie raced outside and dove into the passenger side of Sam’s SUV, her cell phone already in her hand. She dialed as he drove, but they were moving in and out of range, and she had to stop and start over three times before she finally got Gabe on the other end.

  The sound of his voice made her close her eyes in the tiniest bit of relief. “Gabe, thank God you answered.”

  “Carrie? What’s wrong? Is Sam all right?”

  “Fine. He’s with me. Gabe, we can’t find Sadie.”

  “What do you mean, you can’t find her?”

  She drew a breath, forced herself to say the words she wished to God she didn’t have to. “Her coach called. She said Sadie never made it to practice. She’s not at home, either.” She moved the phone slightly away from her mouth. “Sammy, slow down, hon. We won’t see a thing going this fast.”

  He slowed down measurably, but the SUV still raised a cloud of dust in its wake as he steered it down the winding dirt road toward the village and the school.

  Gabe said, “You’re driving the route she took, I gather.”

  “Yes, but so far, nothing.”

  “God, I never should have let her ride her bike,” Sam muttered under his breath. “If anything’s happened to her—”

  “Nothing’s happened to her,” Carrie said.

  “If she made it this far, someone would have seen her,” Sam said. “Look, there’s the diner, the general store, the barber shop. Someone would have seen her.”

  “Maybe not. It was almost dark when she left.”

  “She said she’d make it before dark. That’s why she left when she did. Damn, why didn’t I make her let me drive her?” Sam shoved a hand through his hair.

  “Someone should walk the route,” Gabe said into the phone. “I’m on my way right now. We’ll walk it together, all right?”

  “Sam’s not going to wait, Gabe.”

  “I don’t blame him. Fine, you’ll be starting in town and heading back toward your place, then?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll catch up with you. Has someone called the police?”

  “Yes, the coach.”

  “I’m on my way, Carrie. Hang in there. Look in the ditches and over any drop-offs. Maybe she had an accident and needs help.”

  “God, I hope she’s all right.”

  “Me, too,” Gabe said. “Me, too.”

  She disconnected and dropped the cell phone into her pocket. “Park right there—by the school. We should walk back to the house. We can do a better job searching on foot.”

  “I was thinking the same thing. God.”

  “She’s okay. She’s okay, Sam. This is just us panicking because of all that’s happened. There’s some simple, logical reason for all this.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, there has to be.”

  “You have any flashlights in here?”

  He nodded, pulling the car into an empty spot in front of the school building. Then he got out and walked around to the back, where he opened the rear hatch to retrieve a pair of flashlights from one of the storage compartments.

  He flipped one on and handed her the other. “Let’s go.”

  They started up the main road, one of them on each side, walking quickly and shining their lights into the bushes and ditches along the way, calling Sadie’s name over and over into the empty silence of the night.

  As they left the village behind and started up the twisting, narrow road out of town, Carrie looked into the thick woods on either side of the road, and a deeper dread built up inside her. The leaves hadn’t yet fallen, or even changed much so far, but the smell was that of decay, rich and ripe and damp. It was a cool night, not yet cold. She couldn’t see her breath. If Sadie were outside, injured or stranded, she wouldn’t be freezing.

  God, they had to find her.

  She walked along one side of the road, while Sam took the other. He’d leaped the ditch and was walking along the very edge of the tree line, swinging his flashlight from side to side, and the sound of his voice calling Sadie’s name brought tears to Carrie’s eyes. Please, she thought, please, not Sadie. What if they’d been wrong? What if Kyle’s death hadn’t been a self-inflicted accident? What if someone…


  Flashing lights approached slowly from behind, cutting off her terrifying thoughts. Carrie turned, shielding her eyes to see the police issue SUV moving slowly closer. There was a spotlight mounted to its roof, turning slowly to probe the brush just as Carrie and Sam were doing with their flashlights.

  It pulled up between them and stopped. The window was already down, and Bryan Kendall was behind the wheel, looking as worried as Carrie felt. “Have you found anything yet?” he asked.

  “No,” Carrie said. “God, Bryan, where could she be?”

  “I wish I knew. But we’ll find her. We will, dammit.”

  She nodded emphatically. “Did you go out to her place?”

  “Yeah, for what good it did. Her mother was so drunk she still doesn’t get what’s happening. Couldn’t say a thing about Sadie except that the girl has no respect for her own mother and ought to be shipped off to reform school.”

  “She’s the one who ought to be shipped off, and to someplace a lot worse,” Carrie said, feeling guilty for saying it, but not guilty enough to stop herself.

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Bryan, do you think—”

  “It’s too soon to think anything. Let’s try not to jump to any—”

  His words were cut off by Sam’s heartbreaking shout. It was nothing but a single word. “No!” And yet it held all the pain and anguish a sixteen-year-old heart could possibly contain, and it brought fresh tears to Carrie’s eyes.

  “Sam!” She ran to her son, only vaguely aware of headlights approaching, another vehicle pulling over, a door slamming, footsteps running closer.

  “Sam?”

  She saw him kneeling a few feet off the dirt road, the flashlight on the ground beside him, its beam aimed at nothing. As she moved closer, shining her light around him to illuminate the weeds and brush, something gleamed.

  Sadie’s bicycle, lying on its side without a rider.