Page 80 of Glimmer in the Darkness

“Move along, people.” Vince grabbed James’s upper arm and led him to his SUV.

They were halfway to James’s house before Vince spoke. “You ticked I didn’t arrest him for assault?”

“I’d be ticked if you had,” James said.

“Everybody who knows anything about this case thinks your girlfriend did it, James. You’re the lone holdout.”

“She didn’t—”

“And it’s possible”—Vince continued as if James hadn’t spoken—“that you’re biased in her favor. I’m not saying you’re wrong and I’m right, but I want you to consider something.”

James watched the familiar landscape slide past the windows and waited.

“Isn’t it possible that those old feelings you had for Cassidy and the guilt I know you felt after Hallie’s body was found—guilt because somebody you’d trusted had killed her—have deceived you? Isn’t it possible you don’t see what the rest of us see because you don’t want to?”

“Thank you, Dr. Phil, for that insightful analysis. I feel much healthier now.”

“I’m just trying to help, man.”

“Isn’t it possible that you guys all decided Cassidy was guilty not based on any real evidence but based on the fact that her mother was in prison for murdering her little sister? Isn’t it possible that this town’s bias against her has clouded everyone else’s judgment?”

“Could be, if she hadn’t run away.”

“Seems to me, based on how everybody is behaving, that she was smart to run. There’s no evidence linking her to Addison’s disappearance or Ella’s, only the fact that the crimes are similar, and yet she’s suspect numero uno. But you accuse me of bias?”

When Vince parked in James’s driveway, James yanked open his door. He started to slam it, but paused to say, “Thanks for bailing me out.”

“Don’t you wanna know what we found on the mountain?”

“You went up there?”

“Believe it or not, I want to find Ella as much as you do.”

James glanced at his front door. He wanted a shower, a cup of coffee, and a meal.

Vince climbed from his car, and James walked toward its rear, not eager to invite Vince inside. When he passed the SUV’s cargo area, he glimpsed a rifle sticking out from beneath a tarp-covered mound.

Vince saw him looking. “Unfortunately, we didn’t find anybody up there, though I went prepared.”

“What’d you find?” James leaned on the back of the truck. Birds sang overhead, celebrating what seemed would turn out to be another beautiful day. Sunshine, puffy white clouds. Tourists would enjoy the lake and mountains, fill the restaurants, spend money in the tourist traps as if all were well.

Vince perched beside him. “The cave, right where you said it would be. Empty, just as you claimed. Recent footprints, but nothing usable, and they were probably yours and Cassidy’s.” James didn’t miss the quick look of censure before Vince faced forward again. “Outside the passageway you said Cassidy squeezed through, though I can’t imagine how—”

“She’s pretty slim.”

“We found a spot a bullet might’ve hit. A hole, a little blood. We got samples of everything. Shooter must’ve retrieved the bullet. We also found blood on the ground nearby.”

The memory of that moment filled James’s empty stomach with acid. Where was Cassidy now? Was she safe? Was she well?

Vince continued. “We looked but never found where the guy took the shot from. I mean, I think I know where it was, but there were no casings or footprints. Whoever he is, this guy’s smart.”

“But you know she was shot.”

“I know somebody was shot.”

“You think I’m lying?”

Vince said nothing.