Secrets in a Small Town. Kimberly Meter Van
CHAPTER FIVE
PIPER MANAGED TO AVOID Farley for the rest of the day, a small fact she was immensely grateful for, but there was no escaping her thoughts.
She couldn’t blame Farley entirely for his misplaced affections. At one time, she had thought Farley was cute enough, but really, thirteen-year-old girls have no true appreciation for what makes for an attractive male and that fact shouldn’t be held against her for the rest of her life.
It was safe to say she’d changed in more ways than just her penchant for meat. During the blessing, her thoughts had wandered to Owen and it was a full minute before she realized the route and quickly redirected.
Her gaze drifted covertly over the crowd, taking in the people she’d known her whole life, and while she loved them to pieces, there was the distinct feeling she sat apart from them. At one time she’d felt completely at home eating tofu and sunbathing nude. Now, she didn’t know if that was her path.
Her father caught the unhappy sigh that escaped before she could stop it.
“What’s wrong, peach pit?” he asked.
“I’m just preoccupied,” she answered, which was only slightly untruthful. “I’m sorry I’m not great company today.”
He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Pah. You’re always good company. And you know, don’t worry about that stuff I was saying about grandkids. I’m plenty young enough to wait a while longer. Just not too long,” he teased, eliciting a rueful smile on her part.
“No promises, but I won’t rule it out. How’s that?”
“Sounds like a good compromise.”
“Jasper…I was wondering…the other day I got the impression that you and Coral knew more about the Red Meadows incident than you wanted to let on. What was I picking up on?”
He frowned and pulled away. “Nothing. Why?”
An odd, uncomfortable tingle buzzed the back of her skull. She’d never known her parents to lie to her, about anything. Yet, she couldn’t stop the nagging certainty that her father was lying to her. “Dad?”
She only used the traditional name when she wanted to get their attention. It worked. Jasper shook his head, faint agitation in the movement. “Honey, why are you so curious about the Red Meadows stuff? It’s a terrible shame on the town of Dayton. We all would just like to forget about it.”
“I imagine it’s hard for Owen Garrett to forget,” she murmured, glancing up to meet her father’s troubled gaze.
“We all have crosses to bear,” he said simply.
“Yeah, but some are heavier for others, wouldn’t you say?”
He shrugged. “That’s the way it goes.”
“Why should a son bear the sins of the father?”
Speculation glittered in Jasper’s eyes. “Where is this coming from? This sudden need to know all about Red Meadow? It happened when you were just a baby. It’s ancient history by now and best left there.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“Why?”
“Well, I’ve been doing a little digging and—”
“Stop.”
She stared. “What? Why?”
“Because nothing good will come from dredging up that mess. There were too many people who were hurt, ashamed and broken after that incident. I don’t want you anywhere near it.”
“I don’t understand—”
“Just do as I ask,” he demanded sharply, startling her. He collected himself to add more gently. “Please.”
All her life, she’d known her father as the kindest man on the planet. Yet, with the topic of Red Meadows between them, he seemed to harden. She didn’t know what to make of this version of her father. She glanced at her mother, who was chatting with another community member, and wondered what hid behind the laughter of the two people Piper trusted the most.
The thought scared her as much as the knowledge that she wouldn’t stop until she found out.
OWEN’S CELL PHONE BUZZED on his desk, set in motion by the vibration and he caught it before it danced right off the desk. He frowned when he saw it was Gretchen.
“What’s up, Gretch?” he asked, noting the late hour.
But instead of Gretchen, he heard the frightened quiver of seven-year-old Quinn on the other line. “O-wen,” she said in a tight whisper. “Can you come get me? I’m scared.”
He stood and grabbed his keys. “Sure, honey. Where’s your mama?” he asked, keeping his voice calm even when a bad feeling had started to crawl down his spine. “Everything okay?”
“Nooo,” she wailed, letting loose with a stream of babbling that he couldn’t hope to piece together until she stemmed the tears.
“Hold on, honey, I can’t understand you when you’re crying. Tell me what’s going on. Where’s your mama?” he asked again.
She sniffed back the tears and answered in a watery voice. “He took her.”
“He who?”
“Danny. And he was real mad. They were yelling and mama was crying,” she said, lowering her voice as if she were afraid that Danny might hear her. “And he hit her in her tummy. Mama was hurt real bad I think. And I’m s-scared that he’s going to come back and get me, too. Please hurry, Owen.”
“You got it, sweetheart. But I want you to do something for me until I get there, okay?”
“Uh-huh,” she agreed, listening.
“I want you to walk over to Mr. Peters’s house and wait for me there, okay?”
“But Mama said not to leave the house when she’s gone,” Quinn said, worried.
“That’s a very good rule and I’ll tell your mama that I said it was okay just this once.”
“Okay,” Quinn said, her tone solemn and trusting. She sniffed again. “Do you think Mama is going to be all right?”
“I hope so, sweetheart. Now, hang up and walk to Mr. Peters’s right now. I’m leaving the office and I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
Quinn hung up and he pictured her running through the dark to the elderly neighbor’s house, a man Owen knew would keep her safe until he got there. As he ran to his truck, he dialed 9-1-1 and quickly told the dispatcher the situation.
His mind raced with the bare bits of information Quinn had given him but he tried not to let his imagination paint the worst picture possible. It wasn’t as though a seven-year-old was the best source of information but there was an ominous feeling at the base of his skull that he couldn’t shake.
A punch to the gut when a woman was in her third trimester… He didn’t know much about babies but he had a bad feeling that it spelled tragedy.
Damn it, Gretchen, I told you he was bad news.
IN A LIGHT DOZE AFTER SLUGGING down a half-pint of creamy mint-chocolate-chip ice cream, Piper nearly jumped at the shrill beep of her portable scanner as EMS crews rolled out on a call. She blinked and rubbed the sleep from her eyes to focus on the time. Geesh, nearly eleven o’clock at night. She listened to the call, contemplating just following up in the morning and dragging herself to bed, until she heard “possible kidnapping, scene unsecure” and suddenly all remnants of sleep evaporated. She hopped from the sofa and ran to her bedroom to tug on her jeans and sweatshirt. Within minutes, she was on her cell phone to dispatch getting the location of the incident and then she was in her car, barreling toward what she hoped was something big.
She