Page 29 of Retribution

He put the brakes on that line of thinking. It would get him nowhere.

On the outskirts of Bend, still two hours from the Jacoby property, he found a twenty-four-hour gas station/ minimart. The refuel light was already glowing on the dash, so he pulled off to fill his tank, grab a prewrapped deli sandwich, and a cup of coffee and stretched his legs in the snow-covered parking lot before climbing behind the wheel again.

The coffee was bitter but hot, the ham-and-cheese sandwich flavorless, but he kept driving, his fingers tight on the wheel, his thoughts on his wife. He’d known she was damaged when he’d married her, had read about her, but had fallen in love with her quick smile, sharp wit, and deep, if slightly dark sense of humor. There had been quirks, of course, little jagged edges, an overly curious interest in all murder mysteries, no matter how grisly. Ian had been a cop. An assistant DA. He, too, was intrigued by the inner workings of the criminal mind, of the puzzling out of bizarre mysteries, but with Lucy it had been deeper, almost as if she thought she could understand what made the deviant mind tick.

Ian drove into the mountains. The road narrowed. Snow piled high on the sides of the road that had once been plowed but now was covered in white again. The beams of his headlights reflected off patches of ice, his wipers struggled to keep up with the blizzardlike conditions.

Headlights bore down upon him, nearly blinding him in the rearview. A pickup roared past, spraying up road sludge, his wipers struggling with the dirt, ice, and grit.

His phone rang, the screen lighting up the interior of his SUV.

Zhou’s name and picture flashed on the screen. Why would she be calling at 4:17 in the morning?

It had to be bad news.

He answered, his dread mounting. “What’s up?”

“Just want you to know,” Zhou said, her voice stern. “The cell phone that Ray Watkins purchased when he got out hasn’t moved. It’s still at his sister’s house.”

“That’s good, right?” he said slowly.

“Not sure. The men’s group session he was leading last night was canceled; I double-checked. Basically because Watkins was a no-show.”

Ian’s dread spiked. “Have you talked with his sister?”

“No,” Jun admitted. “She’s not answering. I had Gonzales drive over there and look around. He couldn’t see in the upper-story windows, but no one answered the door. He saw a cat inside, wandering, but that’s it.”

Ian’s guts tightened. “Keep looking.”

“Will do. I’ve got a call in to his parole officer. Waiting to hear back.”

Ian’s fingers tightened over the wheel. He thought of Lucy. Of Renee.

“When’s the last time anyone saw him?”

“Don’t know. Maybe two days ago. Like I said, I’m waiting to talk to his PO.”

“Hell.”

“I have the license plate and make of the car. But the police won’t be interested, because there’s no hint of foul play. Just so you know, though, be on the lookout for a five-year-old Ford Explorer. White. California plates,” and she rattled off the series of letters and numbers for the vehicle. Then she said, “It could be nothing. Brother and sister out for a drive.”

“Or?” he said, the acid in his stomach crawling up his throat.

“Or,” she admitted. “It could be trouble. Big trouble.”

Cascade Mountains, Oregon

Now

What was it about that night?

Lucy closed her eyes in the darkness, trying to force the memory of the attack to the surface. As always, it only teased her with dark, disjointed, and blurry memories. She’d sliced Ray’s cheek; she knew that because he’d been strangling her mother . . . right? And Marilyn and Clark had rushed in, trying to separate Ray from Tina. Someone—Mama?—had reached into the open drawer of the night table and pulled out the gun.

As it had fired, Lucy had caught a glimpse of the scissors being plunged into Mama’s neck. Fingers clenched around the handle, a ring with a dark, red stone encircling one finger.

Marilyn.

Marilyn? She couldn’t believe it. Marilyn had plunged the blades into Mama’s neck? But that couldn’t be . . . Ray had been choking their mother. Had Marilyn meant to stab him and in the dark been confused and—

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