Page 12 of Glimmer in the Darkness

“We don’t have time to wait,” she said. “Ella doesn’t have time—”

“We can’t save her if we don’t know where she is. You said yourself you have no idea where the cave is. It’s a big mountain, Cassidy. There’s no sense wandering around aimlessly.”

“Then when?”

“Do you have a phone number? I’ll do some digging, call you tomorrow night. We’ll make a plan then.”

“It’s a mistake to wait.”

“It’s a mistake to go without a plan.”

Her lips pursed, but she rattled off a New Hampshire number. Did that mean she lived nearby? Or had she bought the phone recently? He snatched his from the table near the door and punched in the numbers.

A phone rang from her backpack.

He ended the call, satisfied he could reach her.

She opened the door and stepped into the dark night.

“Where’s your car? I’ll walk you—”

“I’m okay.”

“I thought somebody was following you. I thought you were afraid.”

The slight lift of her shoulders didn’t tell him anything. “It’s at the lot on the far side of the campground. I should be safe.”

He wasn’t sure about that. “Do you remember Eugene Cage?”

“That learning disabled kid? Barely. Wasn’t he a few years older than us? Always got picked on?”

“Yeah. His dad, Wilson, owns the campground. They were both questioned… back then.”

Her eyebrows hiked. “Really? I never met Mr. Cage. I don’t think I ever spoke to Eugene, though he seemed like a sweet enough guy.”

“It’s possible it was one of them. Back then or following you today.” He snatched his keys from the table near the doorway. “Whoever it was, you’re not walking by yourself.”

He’d trekked the trail enough as a kid that he had no trouble getting to the walkway that circled the campground. Voices and laughter carried in the darkness, along with the scents of grilling burgers and steaks. The sand volleyball court was empty. Most folks congregated outside their campers and tents, though a few people splashed in the lake.

Cassidy kept her head down and said nothing.

Finally, they reached the parking area. A black compact sedan was the only one in the lot. She tossed her backpack onto the passenger seat and turned to face him. “You’ll call tomorrow?”

“Yeah. And you call me if anything happens. Meanwhile, stay out of sight. Everybody’s looking for you. And stay away from the trails. Okay?”

“For one day,” she said. “After that, whether you go with me or not, I’m resuming the search.”

She seemed determined. Was she innocent, as he hoped? Or guilty, as everybody else believed?

Was he a fool to consider going with her onto the mountain? Probably.

He could always turn her in instead. Either way, he needed more information.

Later that evening, James threw the new tire into the trunk of his car and backed out of the parking spot at his mechanic’s, turning away from his home. He wasn’t ready to face the ghosts, not yet.

Five minutes later, he parked in front of Teresa’s. The owner, a sixty-something guy named Ernie, had chosen the name because he thought it sounded exotic. The name was common enough to fit the fare he offered—Mexican food. And Italian food. And a bit of American food to round out the menu.

Odd as the place was, it drew a crowd. At nine-thirty on a Monday night, all the booths along the walls were taken, as were the rectangular tables in the center of the large room. Many of the seats at the bar were filled as well. People munched appetizers and sipped drinks and laughed. The mood was subdued, though, the laughter forced. The news that hovered, the recent murder, the current kidnapping—true joy was gone from the tourist town.