Alaska Mountain Rescue Page 4

  “Are you sure?”

  The reporter’s voice cut through her memories and Alanna realized she’d frozen in the parking lot while the woman stared at her quizzically.

  As Alanna’s gaze refocused, the woman rushed on, “No one’s ever really told your side of the story. What it was like to say goodbye to four kids you’d considered your brothers and sisters. What it was like to go home to a family you hadn’t seen since you were five. I can do that for you.”

  Alanna’s gut clenched at the reporter’s insight, but she shook her head and turned away, rushing for the store with Chance keeping pace. She didn’t take a full breath again until she was inside with the door closed behind her.

  Here, at least, things looked the same. She’d been inside Jasper’s General Store only a few times over the years they’d lived in Desparre. The Altiers had feared someone would recognize her, even years later and so many thousands of miles from where she’d been kidnapped. But as time went on, she’d eventually been given more freedom.

  Trailing her hands over the rusting metal shelves filled with household staples, Alanna walked slowly toward the counter where an old man sat. The owner, Jasper. The man Julian had asked her to hand over the money to for their groceries. The man who’d unknowingly taken the note within her stack of cash.

  He stood as she approached, recognition in his deep brown eyes. His gaze flicked once to Chance, walking happily along beside her, then returned to her. “Alanna Morgan.”

  “Hi.” She stuffed her gloved hands into the pockets in her coat. “I was wondering—you knew my... Julian Altier once. Did you know Darcy?”

  Jasper had a reputation for being cranky and unapproachable, and as he came around the counter, his pace was slow but determined. But when he stopped in front of her, there was compassion in his gaze and sadness in his voice. “I didn’t really know either of them. I’d only seen Julian a few times over the years. I’m sorry I never noticed anything wrong. I wasn’t even sure how that note got into my stack of cash.”

  Alanna shook her head, squeezed the hand he’d reached toward her. “It’s not your fault. Even when I handed over the money and the note, I didn’t act like anything was wrong.” In some ways, nothing had been wrong. In others, everything had been.

  “So you wouldn’t recognize Darcy if she came through here?”

  His eyes narrowed, making more lines crease his weather-worn skin. “I’d recognize her now, of course, with all the media coverage. But back then? I don’t know. She might have come through here with Julian before, once or twice over the years. Hard to say.”

  “But not recently?” Alanna pressed, trying not to get discouraged.

  “No way. People around here would know her now. We’d turn her in.”

  He said it like it was exactly what Alanna would want to hear, but her shoulders dropped. Maybe the police were right. The people in Desparre felt betrayed by Julian and Darcy, were angry with all the negative attention the couple had brought them. If there was any place Darcy would be recognized quickly, it was an insular town that promised anonymity but recognized and distrusted anyone who didn’t live here.

  “Thanks,” Alanna said, her voice coming out in a squeak. She saw Jasper’s lips twist in sympathy as she spun toward the door.

  “Come on, Chance,” she said as her St. Bernard lagged slightly behind, probably wondering what they were doing.

  She’d been a fool to come here, to think she could make a difference. A fool to think that Darcy would return to the place that had once made her most happy, instead of doing what she’d been truly doing all along: running.

  Alanna had been a fool to risk the bonds she’d spent five years rebuilding with her family to chase after her kidnapper.

  Shame and anger filled her as she pushed the door open a little too hard, almost slamming into someone.

  The “sorry” died on her lips as the person on the other side caught the door and flung it the rest of the way open.

  Then he was filling the doorway with his scowl, the gaze of his too-blue eyes drilling into her. Peter Robak. The cop who thought she was in cahoots with Darcy.

  Only after she’d slipped away from the SUV following her yesterday—making a quick turn onto a wide path not meant as a road—had she realized who was chasing her. Not a threat like she’d imagined, a pair of men who’d spotted a woman all by herself in an isolated area. But police officers who thought she was little better than a criminal.

  “You can stop following me around now,” she snapped at him, taking an aggressive step forward despite knowing it was a bad idea to get inside a cop’s personal space. But the fear she’d felt yesterday shifted into fury now. The shame and guilt and frustration felt better channeling outward than inward. “I’m finished here, okay? You can leave me alone.”

  From the corner of her eye, she saw Peter’s partner—the other man in the SUV yesterday. Surprise was on his face, his hand dropping away from his weapon as if he’d reached for it when he saw someone rush toward Peter, then changed his mind when he saw it was just her. Just a foolish woman chasing a past that was better left alone.

  “You’re leaving?” he asked.

  But it was Peter’s words that drew all of her attention: “You were right.”

  Dread dropped into her stomach. “Right about what?” Was Darcy here after all? Had someone spotted her?

  People here were often armed, ready to protect their own when help could be far away. The residents understood that Desparre usually attracted people who just wanted solitude, but that it could also attract those trying to escape something they’d done, something that had the law chasing them. Had one of those people seen Darcy and taken aim? Had the police arrested her? “What happened?”

  Peter frowned at her, studying her like he was trying to unravel all of her secrets, all of the years she had spent happily living with a pair of kidnappers, then turning them in one day. “Darcy’s not in Desparre. Not yet. But I think she’s on her way.”

  “What? Why?”

  A slight smile twisted one side of his lips, but there was nothing happy about it. “We know she’s headed in this direction from Oregon.”

  “Why?” Alanna pressed, every second she stood there waiting to understand adding to her anxiety, making her stomach churn and her breathing turn shallow.

  Chance let out a low whine and nudged her with his nose.

  She put a hand on his head, stroking his fur to assure him she was okay, even if it wasn’t true.

  “She was spotted in Canada today. They didn’t catch her, but now this has become an international chase, Alanna.”

  Alanna sensed Peter’s partner stepping closer, as if he planned to intervene in whatever Peter was going to say next, but she couldn’t take her gaze off Peter.

  He stared back at her, his uncompromising expression only cracking as he said, “Darcy kidnapped another kid today.”

  Chapter Four

  “What’s Darcy’s endgame?”

  Peter’s words were angry and suddenly he was the one getting into her personal space.

  Alanna backed up a step and Chance pushed his way between her and the police officer, using his size and St. Bernard strength as a warning.

  “Chance,” Alanna said, tugging his collar just enough to let him know he should back up, too. But her mind was still trying to get a grip on the words Peter had spoken a moment ago.

  Darcy was partway between where she’d escaped custody and Desparre. Now she had two kidnapped kids with her instead of one.

  “It makes no sense.”

  She didn’t realize she’d spoken the words out loud until Peter asked, “What? How many kids does this woman have to kidnap before you see her as a threat, as a criminal?”

  Anger made her heat up underneath her winter gear and she could feel the flush rising to her cheeks.

  “Peter,�
� his partner said, his voice quiet but firm. “Go easy.”

  Then he stuck a hand toward her. “I’m Officer Tate Emory. I was in the police station yesterday when you came in to offer your help. We’d like to take you up on that.”

  He was the officer she’d noticed watching her exchange with the chief from the bullpen yesterday. Her eyes narrowed as she looked from him to Peter. “Why? Because now you know I can lose you when you follow me around?”

  Tate’s lips twitched, like he was holding back amusement.

  Peter took a step closer. “Because it’s the right thing to do.” His tone was less raw anger now, more accusatory, as if daring her to say she wouldn’t help the police.

  The police had scoffed at her offer before. Then they had two officers follow her around like she was a criminal. And now?

  She wasn’t sure how Darcy would feel seeing her again. But she figured the woman was way more likely to let her get close if she was alone than if she had a pair of police officers trailing her every move. Especially police officers Alanna didn’t trust.

  Peter might say helping them was the right thing to do, but how could she believe they’d do what was right when the time came? Would they trust her to talk Darcy into turning herself in, into turning over the kids she’d kidnapped, rather than run or fight? She doubted it.

  “I think you ought to leave her alone.”

  The voice came from behind her. When Alanna glanced over her shoulder, she saw Jasper scowling at the cops, his arms crossed over his chest.

  She gave him a thankful, shaky smile before Tate drew her attention again.

  “Look, we should have been up front with you,” he said, giving Peter a glare that clearly said go easy. “We didn’t have any reason to believe Darcy was coming here before. Now we do. And you have insight into the places she knows in and around Desparre. You have insight into her as a person. You can help us bring those kids home to their families.”

  She stared back at him, at the guileless look on his face, and saw something else there. Not the distrust Peter broadcasted whenever he spoke to her, but pity.

  Averting her gaze, she felt a familiar discomfort well up. The feel of too many eyes on her, all evaluating, all judging. Not just reporters, but also all the people who read or watched their stories. To this day, she still got mail from some of them, letters of encouragement or morbid curiosity or misplaced anger.

  She was sick of all of it.

  Forcing her gaze back up, she told both officers, “I was wrong. I don’t think I can help you. But if I find anything, I’ll let you know.”

  She wasn’t sure if the last words were a lie or not.

  “Alanna—”

  Peter stepped closer still, despite Chance angled protectively in front of her.

  Chance let out another low warning growl, but Peter only glanced at him, seemingly unconcerned. Apparently he recognized that the St. Bernard wouldn’t hurt anyone unless they were a real threat to her.

  “This isn’t like Darcy,” Alanna admitted, the words breaking free before she’d even realized she thought them.

  It was true. The Altiers had gone years between grabbing kids. Abducting two within a few days, while on the run from the law, was reckless.

  Was Darcy trying to create a brand-new, ready-made family? Did she want to re-create what she’d had with Alanna and her “siblings”? Had she simply snapped from the grief of her husband’s death, after years being locked away, after losing the kids she’d raised?

  It was possible. And yet, something didn’t seem right. It didn’t seem like Darcy at all.

  “Are we sure she’s the one who took those kids?” Alanna looked from Peter to Tate, trying to read the truth in their eyes because she wasn’t sure she’d hear it from their lips.

  The pity intensified on Tate’s face, in the way his lips crumpled, in the tilt of his head.

  Peter just looked exasperated. “What do you think? That someone else is following her—an escaped fugitive—and they just happen to be doing what she did for eighteen years? Really?”

  “No,” Alanna said softly, because it sounded ridiculous. Obviously it was Darcy. But if she was acting this out of character, even if Alanna could find her, would she be able to get through to her? Would she be able to change anything? Or was coming here a total waste of time?

  * * *

  THE DOOR TO their old home had been left unlocked. It opened with a hard shove, groaning in a way that told Alanna no one had been through in a long time. She slipped underneath the faded yellow tape that had probably once read Do Not Cross but had become illegible over five Alaskan winters.

  Her heart began to pound as she stepped over the threshold and a thousand memories hit her at once. Darcy and Julian sitting side by side, holding hands on the blue couch Darcy had upholstered herself. Alanna’s older “brother” Johnny staring at the chessboard in the corner, contemplating his next move in a long-running game with Julian. Her younger “siblings” Sydney and Drew sitting cross-legged on the floor, teaching their youngest “sister” Valerie to make a pair of snowshoes.

  After Darcy and Julian had been arrested, Johnny had stared at her with disbelief and confusion. In all the years since, he’d refused to speak to her. Five years of Alanna’s letters had been returned unopened. Yet at least once a year, Alanna still tried.

  Sydney, three years younger than Alanna and the “sibling” she’d always felt closest to, had tried to keep in touch. In the beginning, she and Alanna had spoken on the phone almost nightly. Slowly, though, the frequency of those calls had decreased, until now Alanna only heard from her every few weeks.

  Alanna stomped her feet on the heavy rug still lining the entryway as Chance pushed his way in beside her, knocking free one end of the police tape. The broken tape immediately blew outward, dancing in the wind. Alanna shut the door behind it, closing out the frigid wind and falling snow.

  Beside her, Chance did a full-body shake, sending melted snow everywhere. Then he walked into the main room as if he’d been there a hundred times and settled in front of the dark fireplace. It was as if he knew this place had once been her home and he felt at home here, too.

  She followed more slowly, each step farther into the house feeling as if she was stepping backward in time. As she ran her hand over the soft, worn blanket on the corner of the sofa, she could picture Drew and Valerie curled underneath it, one on each end of the couch, their toes meeting in the middle.

  She’d tried to keep in touch with them, too, but their parents had cut off all contact when they’d gone home. Drew would turn eighteen next year, which meant Alanna could try again. But Valerie was only eleven. By the time she was an adult, how much of her time with Alanna would she remember? Valerie had been six when the Altier “family” had been broken apart—only a year older than Alanna when she’d been kidnapped. Had her memories of Alanna already blurred around the edges, the same way Alanna’s had of the Morgans over the years?

  The “siblings” she’d spent the majority of her childhood with were now scattered across the country, no two in the same state. Her video chats with Sydney were the closest she’d come to seeing any of them since that day when police had stopped their car and screamed at her “parents” to get out.

  Alanna blinked back tears that suddenly flooded her vision. She wasn’t here to wallow in regrets or wonder if she’d made the right choice five years ago. She was here for clues.

  It had been two days since Darcy was spotted in northern Canada, since she’d grabbed another young child, this time a two-year-old girl. According to news reports, there had been no confirmed sightings of her since.

  Two days ago, after talking to Peter and Tate, Alanna had been ready to head home. Yesterday, she’d even packed her small suitcase and looked for flights. She’d finally picked up one of the calls from her sister Kensie, promising she’d be heading home on Saturday
. Instead, today, she’d texted Kensie that she was staying a little longer. She might not be able to talk Darcy down as she’d planned, but she could still help. If anyone could find Darcy now, it was Alanna.

  The problem was, if Darcy was speeding back to Alaska, kidnapping more kids along the way, it meant five years in prison had definitely changed her. But not in the way Alanna had expected.

  Throughout her childhood, Alanna had always seen Darcy as the “parent” who was the dreamer. Easily distracted, always lost in her own thoughts, she had a million ideas but rarely the initiative to see them all through. It was Julian who took her ideas and made them reality.

  All through the house were examples of the way her “parents” had fit together, worked together. The fireplace, for instance, with its border of colorful tiles, had started as an idea Darcy had sketched out to resemble the aurora borealis at night. But it was Julian who’d purchased those tiles, taught all of them to affix them to the fireplace. Darcy had envisioned the extra room toward the back of the house as a place to homeschool and Julian had found schoolbooks for all of them. Then, of course, there were the kidnappings.

  Alanna hugged her arms around herself, cold despite being out of the wind and snow. But the heat was off in the house, her breath making cloud puffs in the air.

  One of the clearest memories she had—the memory that still woke her in the middle of the night—was that moment when Julian had reached out from his car and yanked her inside. Darcy had been at the wheel, speeding away dangerously as Alanna yelped in surprise and fright, squirming to look out the rear window. She had watched Kensie get smaller in the distance, even as her sister ran after their vehicle, screaming for help.

  When Alanna was taken, the Altiers had already had Johnny for four years. Even then, Johnny had barely remembered his birth family and he’d already adjusted to living with the Altiers. The four of them had moved constantly in those early years, never staying in one place too long.