Chapter 10

Melender set her grocery bags onto the kitchen counter, then picked up her ringing cell phone. Caller ID displayed a local number, one she didn’t recognize. Probably a telemarketer but maybe it was Brogan calling with an update. “Hello?”

“Digging up the past is never a good idea.” The softly spoken words breathed a chill over her like the wind roaring up the mountain ahead of a storm.

Silence.

She pressed the phone to her ear. “Who is this?”

“A friend who’s concerned that you might be taking on more than you can handle.”

She pushed her fear down enough to respond more calmly. “Friends introduce themselves.”

“You wouldn’t want to meet me.”

Melender recognized the menacing tone, even though she couldn’t say whether the caller was male or female. It was the same tone she’d heard from bullies in prison, those who made promises they had every intention of keeping. But seventeen years behind bars had shown her the only way to handle a bully was to call their bluff. “I’ve met worse.”

The caller chuckled, a sound more sinister than light-hearted. “Ah, so the wildcat has grown claws.” A short pause. “Keep your eyes on the future before someone gets hurt. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to find yourself back in that cell, now would you?”

She snorted. “You think you can scare me with prison? I served my time. Every. Single. Minute.”

A low growl emanated from the phone. Melender had heard a similar sound once from a cornered mountain lion right before the big cat clawed a black bear to pieces.

“Ah, but it’s not just you, now is it?” The hushed voice continued. “There’s Brogan Gilmore, not quite a saint but perhaps useful to your quest? I think you’d really hate to have his handsome face disfigured, now wouldn’t you?”

The ominous warning sucked the anger and bravado out of her.

A mental picture of Brogan with his tousled blond hair and blue eyes flashed in her mind. Just when she thought she might move forward, might find the answers she so desperately sought, another person was threatened. Fear coiled around her like a python. She untangled herself from the dread of anything happening to Brogan and opened her mouth to respond. Too late. The caller had hung up.

Sliding down to her knees on the kitchen floor, she did the only thing she could do that would make a lick of difference.

Dear God, please. Please help me to discover the truth about what happened to Jesse. Please keep Brogan safe. Please let my actions be honoring to you.

Her phone trilled again. She checked the caller ID. Again, a local number. Surely the anonymous caller wouldn’t contact her again so soon.

Right before it rolled to voice mail, she picked up the call. “Hello?”

“Melender? It’s Brogan. Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“No.” She cleared her throat, automatically wiping the inflection from her voice to give the appearance of not being ruffled by the threats. In prison, showing any weakness after the confrontation could be as dangerous. “I just got home from work.” If ever she needed to hear a friendly voice—even from someone who wasn’t sure if she was innocent of a heinous crime or not—it was right now.

“I should let you get some sleep.” Brogan let the silence build between them, making no move to end the call.

Melender found she didn’t want to break contact with him either. Hearing him breathe on the other end of the line brought a measure of comfort to her frazzled nerves. “It’s okay. I have to put away the groceries first.”

“Are you all right?”

“I had a threatening phone call.” She hadn’t intended to say anything, but the concern in his voice had broken through her normal defenses and loosened her tongue.

“What? Who?” Brogan’s sharp question instantly reminded her of the caller’s words about the reporter.

“Probably a wrong number.” The explanation sounded lame as soon as she spoke. “It was nothing.”

“What did the caller say?” Brogan softened his voice, but the firmness undergirding the words told her how serious he took the situation.

Putting away the groceries might distract her from making another mistake. She rose, laying the phone on the counter and hitting the speaker button. “The usual menacing ultimatum.”

“Melender, what exactly did the caller say?”

She reached into one of the reusable shopping bags and pulled out a carton of cream. “It doesn’t matter what was said. It’s merely an attempt to intimidate me.” She opened the fridge. “Have you found out anything?”

“It does matter. Someone deliberately frightened you.”

Melender froze. “How did you know that?”

“It was in your voice and what you didn’t say.” He paused. “I know it’s an easy thing for me to ask, but do you think you can trust me? I promise to be honest with you about what I find out, even if it affirms your guilt.”

She closed her eyes, hugging her arms around her waist. Brogan was offering to partner in the search for the truth. She hadn’t hurt Jesse, but a trial of her peers convicted her of the act. The person who had done those crimes was still out there, hiding in the shadows. She had originally wanted someone on her side completely believing in her innocence, but working with Brogan would be even sweeter. The chance to investigate the crime with an unbiased colleague.

Drawing in a deep breath, she repeated the conversation with the unknown caller as close to word for word as she could. When she finished, Brogan stayed quiet for several seconds.

“Thank you for trusting me. I’m so sorry you had to deal with that.”

His words set her heart fluttering. No one had ever expressed sympathy for her plight. She swallowed a lump in her throat and turned back to putting away the groceries. Better move the conversation back on neutral ground. “I know you didn’t call to chat.”

“I wanted to let you know that I’ve submitted a Freedom of Information Act petition to the FBI for the kidnapping case files. Anyone can file it to see unclassified documents from government agencies.”

The thought of gaining access to the FBI files had occurred to Melender, but she hadn’t considered that would actually happen. “Does that mean I could have filed a petition to see the FBI files?”

“Yes, I suppose you could have.” He paused. “I know someone in the media relations office at the bureau’s Washington, DC, headquarters, and I’m hoping that will expedite the request.”

“I didn’t think it would be possible to see the original files.” Her mind buzzed with what might be contained in the documents. “Would I be able to see them too?”

“I’m going to ask for copies to be made of the entire file.”

“That’s a good idea.” She finished emptying her grocery sacks. The oven clock read 9:34. She stifled a yawn. “Was there anything else? I need to get to sleep. I have to be at work by seven tonight.”

“That was all. Sweet dreams, Melender.” Brogan clicked off, leaving Melender to savor his final words. A handsome man wishing her sweet dreams had never happened. He probably meant nothing by them, but she hugged them close to her heart all the same as she made her way down the hall and into her bedroom.

* * *

Quentin smiledat his wife as she stepped away from the full-length mirror in their bedroom, then smoothed her pencil skirt. Two babies hadn’t spread her hips or thickened her waistline, and he was still smitten with her girlish figure.

“Have you talked to that reporter yet?” She uncapped a tube of lipstick from her dressing table.

“He’s coming by the office tomorrow morning.”

“I’m sure you’ll make him an offer he can’t refuse.” She applied the soft peach color to her mouth, then tossed the tube onto the glass surface of the table.

“Don’t worry. I know what to do to get Gilmore on our side.” Quentin removed his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his dress shirt.

His wife paused in front of him. She laid a cool hand on his five-o-clock shadow. “Thank you, my darling. I’ll see you downstairs for dinner.”

Quentin didn’t move until Ruby’s footsteps grew faint, then he crossed to the adjoining bathroom. After opening the linen closet, he knelt and pushed aside the cleaning supplies on the floor. Pressing a button that had been cleverly designed to blend into the tile, he released the hidden compartment. For a long moment, he stared down at the combination lock. Withdrawing the contents of the safe would mean bringing more pain to his wife, but it could also redirect attention to Melender. Without giving himself any more time to think, Quentin punched in the combination on the electronic keypad. Then he plucked the bag from the safe before closing the fireproof door and concealing it once again. As he shoved the item into his gym bag, a sliver of unease wrapped around his heart. What he was about to do could also rip his family apart.

Downstairs with the others, he didn’t have time to contemplate what his actions might cost him. Quentin paused to rake his gaze across his family seated around the dining room table. Jared slouched in a chair, his eyes glued to the phone in his hand, thumbs flying. Jillian mirrored his posture in the seat opposite. Ruby twirled a wine glass, half empty of its red liquid. As always, a pain shot through his chest at the empty space beside Jillian where Jesse would have sat had he lived. Although Ruby still held out hope that Jesse would one day walk through their front door, Quentin knew better.

“Jillian, Jared.” Quentin pulled out his chair at the head of the table and sat. “It’s so nice to have the family together again.”

Quentin nodded at the maid silently hovering near the serving cart. As she placed covered dishes on the table, Quentin made small talk with Ruby, mostly to gauge her level of intoxication. By her coherent responses, she had only started on her first glass of wine since leaving their bedroom. Good. They had a lot to discuss with Jared and Jillian.

Once the dishes were on the table and Quentin’s wine glass had been filled, he asked the maid to please close the double doors as she left the room. Tonight’s conversation would require privacy.

“Consuela has outdone herself tonight.” Quentin surveyed the prime rib, lemon-parmesan green beans, and mashed potatoes with homemade gravy. He heaped a spoonful of potatoes on his plate and handed the bowl to Jared, who didn’t bother to look up from his phone.

“Son, would you care to join us for dinner this evening?” Quentin hoped the sarcasm in his tone would capture the young man’s attention, but instead Jared kept tapping away on his phone, seemingly oblivious to the question. Opting for a more direct approach, Quentin set the potatoes on the table, then reached over and snatched the phone out of Jared’s hands.

“Hey, Dad, I was in the middle of a text!”

Quentin parried, “And we’re trying to have a family dinner.”

“So? You never complained about phones at the table before. I need that.”

“Not until after dinner.” Quentin eyed his daughter and held out his hand. “Jillian?”

Jillian glared at him but slapped her phone into his outstretched hand. “Since when do we have family dinners?”

“Yeah, it’s not as though we’re some picture-postcard family.” Jared scooped out a serving of mashed potatoes.

“Maybe not, but that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy this meal together.” Quentin threw his wife a look, but she merely raised her eyebrows. No help from that quarter. Not that he had expected any. Ruby hadn’t parented Jared or Jillian since Jesse’s disappearance. As if emotional distance would result in less hurt should either of them go missing. Thank goodness Jared more or less lived on his own, and Jillian at least pretended she was interested in her community college classes.

“Dad, we all know why you called this meeting, ahem, family dinner.” Jillian grabbed the service bowl of green beans and slid a few on her plate before passing it to Quentin. “So why don’t you get on with your agenda?”

The snippiness to his daughter’s tone shouldn’t have hurt, given that was how she nearly always spoke to him, but it still produced an ache in his heart. He served himself from the bowl and smiled at her. “Always so impatient, Jillian. Let’s wait until we’re all served first.”

“Of course, we must at least pretend to be a gracious family, is that it?” Jared speared several green beans. “Heaven forbid we simply dive right into business.” He shoveled the food into his mouth and chewed, still talking. “We must do everything by the Quentin Thompson rule book.”

“Jared, that’s enough. Your mother deserves…” Quentin attempted to bring some semblance of order to the dinner but instantly recognized his mistake.

Jared glared at him. “Ruby is not my mother. You divorced my mother, remember?”

Ruby blotted her lips as though she’d actually eaten a bite when clearly her plate of food sat untouched. “Don’t be vulgar, Jared. And Quentin, don’t tease the children. If you have something to say, please say it, dear. We’re all listening.”

That was one thing he loved about Ruby, her ability to get straight to the point. “You’re absolutely right. I thought it might be good to discuss what could happen now that we know Melender’s in the area.”

He studied his children to gauge their reaction to the topic. Jillian merely toyed with her mashed potatoes while Jared cut his meat into ragged chunks.

“What’s to discuss?” Jared finished cutting his prime rib and set his knife down. “You said she’d never get out of prison, and yet, she’s been out for months. What’s that to us?”

Ruby gripped her now empty wine glass, fingers white with tension. “You’re forgetting that she hasn’t told us where your brother’s body is.”

Quentin started to respond, but Jillian beat him to it. “Mom, we all miss Jesse, but it’s time to move on.”

“I can’t.” Ruby’s voice held a fierceness Quentin had grown to hate. “She knows where Jesse is, and she has to tell me.”

“Why?” Jared’s question exploded across the room like a bullet.

Ruby whipped around toward Jared and glared at him. “How dare you ask such a question. To bring him home, of course. How can we leave him out there, God knows where?”

“You didn’t seem to mind leaving Melender.” Jared took a bite of beef.

Quentin winced at Jared’s caustic tone. His son rarely let an opportunity pass to needle his stepmother. He started to reply but his wife beat him to it.

“That was different. She’s not my child.” Ruby picked up her wine glass, noticed it was empty, and replaced it on the table.

“You’re the only living family she had left.” Jared pushed back a bit from the table. “For all your talk of family, you weren’t interested in helping your dear niece at all.”

“Who made you an expert on family? What about your mother?” Ruby’s eyes glittered.

Quentin wished his son hadn’t opened this particular can of worms. “She…”

Jared tapped his fingers on the table. “She left me with dear old Dad, but at least she calls, and she sends presents for my birthday and Christmas. And in case you’ve forgotten, I spent weeks with my mom during the summer. While you, on the other hand, left your family and never looked back. You didn’t even know that your grandmother had died until social services called about Melender.”

Quentin stepped in before things got any uglier. “That’s enough, Jared.”

“Is it?” Jared stood. “I think it’s more accurate to say I’ve had enough with pretending we’re one big happy family. Melender didn’t destroy this family. It was already rotting on the inside.” He snatched his phone from beside Quentin’s plate and stormed out of the room.

“If he can go, I can too.” Jillian rose, her hand hovering toward her phone, but Quentin pulled it out of reach.

“Not so fast.” His daughter’s expression darkened, but he held her gaze. “A reporter’s on the trail of what happened to your younger brother.”

Jillian huffed. “Mom told me. What has that to do with me?”

“He will likely contact you.” Quentin’s calm voice played counterpoint to his roiling insides.

“So?” Jillian wrinkled her brow. “I don’t have to talk to him.”

“Melender might contact you as well,” he said.

Jillian backed up a step from the table, her expression one of outrage. “Why would she want to talk to me? She knows I want nothing to do with her.”

“Because she’s maintaining her innocence and she has convinced that reporter to look into the case,” Quentin told her in measured tones. He couldn’t afford to believe Melender was anything but guilty.

“She’s guilty.” Ruby’s eyes blazed. “She always was a liar. Some of the things she said to me when she first came to live here were so outlandish. I blame it on Sudie. My grandmother made up more stories than Dr. Seuss.”

“The fact remains that Gilmore is likely to attempt to take a fresh look at the case.” Quentin didn’t bother to mention he would be orchestrating the direction Gilmore would take without the reporter even noticing.

Jillian shrugged. “So what?”

“Be careful if Gilmore does call you,” Quentin warned.

“I don’t know what you’re so worried about. It’s not as if I remember anything from that night. I was only three at the time.” She held out her hand. “Now can I have my phone back?”

Quentin gave her the device, and she flounced out of the room.

“That went superbly well, dear.” Ruby pointed to her wine glass. “I need a refill, but something more potent than a California red.”

Quentin walked to the liquor cabinet. There wasn’t enough booze in the world to dull the pain of losing a child. He only hoped that by the end of this, he wouldn’t lose more than one.