28. The Retired Detective

28

S tartled out of my sleep by a loud pounding on my door, I scrambled out of bed, pulling on the closest thing I could find, the hideous, but thoughtful Christmas sweater Jolene had made for me as a gift before she left for break days earlier.

"I'm coming!" I shouted.

Chance got one look at my sweater and burst out laughing. I let him have his giggle fit while I stood in the doorway and waited with my hands poised on my hips.

"I'm sorry—I can't—" he stuttered through his laughter.

"Just get it all out now." I sighed, looking down at the monstrosity.

Last year, the sweater had been a festive Christmas tree with metallic pom pom ornaments and a star made of sequins, but this year she had outdone herself, with a giant reindeer face taking up the entire front of the sweater, complete with large red sequin nose, and she had attached brown felt horns that started at either side of my clavicle and ran over the shoulders. I had to admit, the literal beady eyes were a bit creepy.

"Done yet?" I drawled, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.

"I think so." Chance attempted to compose himself. "Listen, I need you to get dressed and come with me."

"Chance. It's Christmas Eve. You've already ruined the most important tradition of sleeping in." I pouted.

"I know, but it's important." He took both my hands in his. "Please. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't. We'll be back in time to make mac and cheese, and we can watch the movies we don't fit in today, tomorrow."

I studied his handsome face, blue-grey eyes alight with excitement. "Fine. But you're letting me sleep in tomorrow then," I told him.

"Absolutely, and we'll cuddle on the couch as much as you want."

I narrowed my eyes at him. That was all we'd been doing since Thanksgiving, thanks to me putting the brakes on things, and because of the sheer amount of finals prep we'd had, which had completely derailed our investigation. "And what makes you think I want to cuddle with you?" I teased.

"Oh Violet, what a smart mouth you have." He leaned forward and swiftly pecked me on the lips. "We'll stop for coffee and a quick breakfast, my treat."

"It better be," I sulked.

"I'll be in the car. Meet me downstairs in ten." He turned to leave.

"Fifteen!" I argued.

Chance laughed, glancing over his shoulder at the sweater one last time. "You should keep that on."

I rolled my eyes and slammed the door. We were the only faculty that had stayed behind on campus, so there would be nobody around to complain about the noise.

Wanting to be comfortable and realizing Chance hadn't told me where we were going or what we'd be doing, I threw on my black leggings, the ones that Chance affectionately referred to as my "hot cat burglar pants."

I considered wearing Jolene's handcrafted sweater, but I wasn't sure I could handle the potential stares and attention it would garner if we were going somewhere more public. Instead I opted for my two sizes too large, but coziest hoodie from my college alma mater.

Grabbing my winter coat, a scarf, and mittens, as the temperatures had recently plummeted, I took a wistful glance around my room, my heart sinking as I spotted Chance's Christmas present sitting on the bistro table in the kitchen.

I'd made an online order for a monogrammed stocking that matched the one Lenny and Jolene had gotten me the year before. It wasn't much in itself, but inside were the negatives that Chance had surrendered to me.

The longer I kept them in my possession, the guiltier I felt. I didn't want to take his art from him permanently, so I planned on returning them and had a whole speech planned out. A speech I intended to give over breakfast on Christmas Eve. I hoped I'd still have the courage to tell him later.

The second I slid into the passenger seat of the warm car, Chance smirked and asked, "Did you wear those for me?" referring to the leggings.

"In your dreams."

"Yes, I do dream of them often." He chuckled, giving my knee a gentle squeeze before slowly pulling out of the Montgomery parking lot. It had snowed the first week in December, but not since; however, the cold temperatures had kept it from melting.

"Are you going to tell me what the hell we're doing at"—I glanced down at my phone—"seven thirty-two in the morning?" I groaned.

Why did it have to be on Christmas Eve?

"You remember the police report we snagged from Winston's office?"

I nodded.

"I've been hounding Wayne Davies for weeks, begging him to talk to me about the old case. And I woke up this morning to an email saying if we can make it down today, he'll give us twenty minutes." Chance beamed.

I wasn't sure what exactly I had expected all of this to be about, but that hadn't been it.

Chance mistook my silence for acceptance, rather than confusion. "He's a few hours away, so that's why we had to leave so early. Plus, I didn't want to risk him changing his mind. But I promise we'll be back in time to fit in your traditions." He glanced at me, suddenly unsure of my silence.

"But we're still stopping for coffee, right?" I leaned my head against the chilly windowpane, realizing the last time I'd been in Chance's car had been the night he had driven me home from the bar…the first night we'd met.

"Yeah, I'll get you coffee." He reached out over the console and grabbed my hand, squeezing it lightly. "You can go back to sleep if you want."

I nodded, my eyes already drooping.

"Chance!" I squealed. "Can we get a puppy!?"

"Where would you keep it?" He laughed, shaking his head.

"In the lounge, obviously." I beamed jokingly.

There was a kennel in front of the Davies' home with half a dozen golden retriever puppies yipping at Chance and me the second we got out of his car.

"I hope you're not here for one of the dogs—they're all spoken for." A man, easily in his seventies, came around the side of the house, shovel in hand, trying to clear the driveway of the couple of inches that had fallen in the last hour or so of our trip. I was sure it was Wayne from his military crew cut and how his gait looked almost like a march.

"I'm Chance Harper, sir." Chance outstretched his hand to shake Wayne's. "This is Violet Price. We're both teachers at Montgomery."

Wayne shook my hand next.

The wary look in his eyes was hard to miss.

"We really appreciate you making time to meet with us," Chance added, following Wayne as he turned without a word to head back into the house.

"Not like you or my wife gave me much of a choice," Wayne huffed, holding the door open for both of us as we entered his home, whereupon we were immediately accosted by three gregarious full-sized retrievers, all fighting for our attention.

When Wayne bent to remove his boots in the entryway, we followed suit. He ushered us into a formal front living room, complete with floral frilled couches and matching honey-colored wood furniture pieces.

"The case hasn't been formally closed, so there isn't much I should be discussing," Wayne said stiffly.

Chance politely restated an abbreviated version of his connection to the case. He didn't reveal that he was related to Daniel, only that he and I had become interested in the case, and when we'd discovered the older missing students, we thought there might be a connection.

"All of this is off the record?" Wayne questioned.

"Of course," Chance replied.

"You're not recording some true crime podcast? Because you wouldn't be the first to come sniffing around this case for media coverage and lie about it."

Chance pulled out his wallet and handed Wayne his Montgomery faculty ID badge, giving me a look requesting that I do the same, which I did.

The confirmation seemed to finally satisfy Wayne. "What exactly do you want to know?"

"I was curious as to your lead suspects or theories on the case. I'm trying to rule out the potential for the same person to have been involved in all three disappearances. There are many tenured staff at Montgomery who were present during both incidents," Chance dove right in.

"The commonly accepted theory about the Marshall girls was that it was a kidnapping gone wrong," Wayne stated, but the tone of his voice indicated he wasn't so sure.

"Surely it wouldn't have been out of the realm of possibilities for children from wealthy families to be targets for ransom," Chance argued, likely to goad him into revealing his actual thoughts.

I had to wonder if Chance, being from a wealthy family himself, had ever had experience with something similar. Maybe I'd ask him about it later.

"The problem is that there was no evidence. And not just no evidence for the kidnapping theory, but no evidence period. It was as if the girls disappeared into thin air. And we combed those woods more thoroughly than I'd seen before, or have seen since," Wayne offered.

"What would you have expected to see if it was a botched kidnapping?" I asked, simply out of curiosity.

"Signs of a struggle, witnesses, any kind of trace evidence. But there was nothing."

"So they went with someone they knew?" Chance speculated.

"Or ran away and met their fate somewhere far from Montgomery," Wayne said, but it was clear he didn't believe that.

"Do you think someone at Montgomery was capable of hurting those girls?" Chance asked point-blank.

Wayne took a deep breath, then said, "There were plenty of people who were capable of hurting two naive young girls, but only one that had a reputation for it."

I blanched.

"Winston," Chance said solemnly.

Wayne's jaw clenched, all but confirming Chance's accusation. "If someone like that were involved, I would have to advise you to keep your distance," Wayne began, being very careful with what he said and precisely how he said it. "Someone like that might be slippery, dangerous, have friends in very high places, and would stop at nothing to keep their status. So they wouldn't blink at ruining the lives of two young teachers who were snooping around."

His warning was entirely sobering.

I felt Chance go rigid beside me.

"I'd warn you to stop digging, although I'm not sure it would do much good. It might already be too late, depending on how careful you've been so far." Wayne grimaced.

Chance took a beat, then stood, again extending his hand to Wayne to shake his. "Thank you for your time, sir. I appreciate your insight, and we will take your recommendations under advisement."

"I hope that you do," he said solemnly.

Chance and I silently made our way back to the car. We sat in the stillness of the snow continuing to fall around us as the car warmed up. Absently, Chance reached across the console again, seeking the comfort of my hand in his.

"What are we going to do?" I finally had the nerve to ask.

Chance shook his head, unsure. "Just get back to Montgomery. I need time to think." He sighed, his eyes meeting mine. "I think some Christmas movies and mac and cheese would be a perfect distraction."

I returned the smile. "Don't forget the sparkling cider," I added.

"The bottle has been chilling in my fridge for a week." Chance grinned, turning on the radio to have something to dull the alarm bells that were likely raging in his mind, just as they were in mine, due to the stark warning we'd just received.

We were halfway back to Montgomery when the snow began to intensify, and traffic came to a standstill. As if on cue, a news announcement interrupted the music. The interstate had just been closed, due to a large accident and impending blizzard.

"A blizzard!?" I looked at Chance wide-eyed. "You couldn't have checked the weather report before you abducted me from my bed?" I whined.

Chance slumped back in his seat. "Fuck."