“I am?”
“Rodney said so.” Kaycee swallowed. “No, maybe he didn’t. But I thought . . .”
They surged toward each other. Mark pulled her close, so tightly she couldn’t breathe. A silent sob racked from her chest.
“It’s okay, it’s okay.” He smoothed her hair. “It’s over.”
Was it, after twenty-six years? Even now she half expected Rodney’s glaring eyes to pop open, his zombie arm to snatch up the gun . . .
Hannah cried loudly in the SUV. Mark let Kaycee go and stepped over to open the back door. Hannah spilled out into Kaycee’s arms. She pulled Hannah across the rutted driveway into the grass, away from Rodney’s body. There, beyond the glare of headlights from Mark’s police car, they clung to each other and cried.
Mark tucked his chin down and spoke into his radio. A response crackled back. Kaycee’s eyes followed his every move as he walked to the gaping door of his car and closed it. He approached Kaycee and Hannah. Gently, he laid a hand on the girl’s head.
“We’ve been looking all over for you, Hannah. Your daddy’s been so worried.”
“I wanna see him.” Her words muffled into Kaycee’s shirt.
“You will — real soon. An officer’s with your dad at your house. They’re on their way.”
Hannah trembled with chills. Kaycee rubbed her shoulders. Still Kaycee stared at Mark, hardly believing he stood before her. “She’s got a sweatshirt in the cabin. In the bedroom.”
“I’ll get it.” He turned away.
“And Mark. Somewhere in there is a stuffed brown bear.”
“Okay.”
She watched him step into the cabin of horrors and shuddered.
A moment later he returned. Hannah put on the sweatshirt and clutched Belinda to her neck. A memory surged in Kaycee’s mind of herself at four, clinging to that same bear. Sudden, violent longing for her mother washed through her.
Mark put his arms around them both in a three-way hug. “We’ve had officers out this direction for hours, looking for you two.” His voice sounded gruff. “We saw you on film from the camera at South Lexington, Kaycee. Got the license plate of the SUV.”
Her throat tightened. “He made me lie down in the backseat. I sat up on purpose.”
“Smart thinking. We ran the plate. Owner’s name is Rodney List.”
“That’s him.” Kaycee’s eyes roved toward Rodney’s still form. “But his real name’s Joel Nicorelli. They called him Nico.”
Mark made a sound in his throat. “He killed Officer Nelson.”
Kaycee’s chin dropped. She closed her eyes. An officer dead because of her. “How did you know I was gone?”
“Mrs. Foley was watching from her bedroom window upstairs and saw two figures at the opposite corner of your property. Couldn’t tell who it was. I’d never have seen them. Officer Nelson was supposed to cover that side. I checked your house. The side door was unlocked. I couldn’t believe it.” Mark’s arm tightened around Kaycee’s back. “I’d already called the chief. He found Nelson in the barn.” For a moment Mark was silent. “It’s an answer to prayer we found you. For all we knew you could have been taken to High Bridge or beyond. We knocked on doors out on the highway for hours, but nobody had seen anything. Finally some guy down Shanty Hill said he’d seen a big car turning up toward this abandoned place — ”
A car engine revved in the distance. Red lights strobed the forest, the cabin. A police vehicle surged to a stop behind Mark’s car, and Chief Davis jumped out. Hannah broke away from Kaycee, face lit with anticipation, and started toward the car. A second later she slid to a halt. “Where’s my dad?” she wailed.
Chief Davis ran to her and grabbed her shoulders. “Any minute, honey,” he said. “Any minute.”
More blood-red flashed through the night. In quick succession two police cars bumped up the driveway. Ryan Parksley leapt from one before it stopped. “Hannah!”
“Daddyyy!”
They ran to meet each other, arms outstretched. Kaycee watched through blurred eyes, her heart tied in a knot.
Chief Davis strode toward her. “You all right?”
She nodded.
He gave Mark a grim smile. “Good work.” He veered toward Nico’s body, where other officers were already gathering.
Mark turned to join them, then stopped. He looked back to Kaycee. Laid a hand against her cheek.
“This is over now. You’re going to be fine — stronger than before. You’ll see.”
Memories stabbed through Kaycee. Her father, dead and bloodied on a dark yellow floor. Belinda, fallen from her arms onto concrete. Her mother’s nervous glances in a rearview mirror. I tried to give you a better life . . .
Kaycee’s throat convulsed. If she fought her way back to strength it wouldn’t be of her own power.
“Yeah. I will.”
One side of Mark’s mouth crooked upward. “And don’t forget — you promised me a date.”
Kaycee held his gaze until she managed a weary smile. “It’s not going to be on a Kings Island rollercoaster, Mark Burnett.”
PART 4
Feed your faith and your fears will starve to death.
Unknown
FIFTY-FIVE
Kaycee stepped from the white stone police station building, a cold Ale – 8-One in her hand, and gazed up East Main. May in Wilmore. On both sides of the street, cherry trees blazed pink. Another few weeks and the town would hang the large multicolored baskets of flowers from hooks on every lamppost. These would stretch from the railroad tracks up East Main, then to the right on North Lexington, all the way to the outskirts of town.
She tipped the Ale – 8-One to her mouth and drank.
Today was her monthaversary — Mark’s word. One month ago today she’d looked them in the face.
“One man,” Mark had reminded her last night over supper in Lexington. It was their ninth date — but who was counting? “He was just a man.”
Kaycee prickled. “Easy for you to say.”
“Hey, I’m not saying he wasn’t dangerous.” Mark held up both palms — peace, peace. “Downright evil. I’m glad I killed him.”
She thought of Officer Nelson’s wife and two children at his funeral. Hannah’s nightmares. Her own father’s dead face, her mother’s life on the run. “Yeah. Me too.”
Chief Davis had alerted the FBI regarding Rodney’s claim of an Atlantic City bank robbery twenty-six years ago. Over the past four weeks of investigation the story had unfolded. A record heist at the time, unsolved until now, and the inexplicable circumstances of Martin Giordano and his wife and daughter. The families of La Cosa Nostra in Atlantic City had long since lost their power, but in the early 1980s the organization was alive and well. Rodney List — Joel “Nico” Nicorelli — had been a part of the Lucchese family. Like Mark said — just one man. With his own failures and fears.
Mark slid his hand across the table and placed it over Kaycee’s. “You make peace with Mrs. Foley?”
“I’m not screaming at her anymore if that’s what you mean.”
“At least she knows you’re not crazy. You’re vindicated.”
“Like she’d ever admit it.”
Mark’s lips curved. “How’s Hannah?”
“Haven’t talked to her for days now. Her dad’s still mad at me. Can’t blame him.”