Page 100 of The Fragile Ones
Chad kept trying Katie’s phone without luck. He hoped that she was safe.
Chapter Forty
Wednesday 1530 hours
Katie fought the road conditions and the rain with all the energy and strength she had. Her shoulder blades and neck burned from keeping the steering wheel under control. The weather and road conditions were getting worse, but neither she nor McGaven wanted to admit it. She eased up the accelerator and drove to the side of the road, keeping out of the hazardous deep pools of water that funneled in the middle.
“I don’t know where else to go. The cemetery area is a long shot, but there was a place that Mason and the chief would frequent near it. It’s also where the film crew was headed. The sheriff said one of them was missing.”
“Let’s go. Otherwise the water will be flooding everywhere and we won’t be able to do anything but sit and wait it out at the cabins.”
Again, Katie tried to use her phone and this time wrote a text to Chad, telling him where they were going and where they were staying—just in case. Without knowing if he would receive the message, she sent it.
They neared the old hotel historical building; built in the late 1880s, it had been used as a tourist attraction ever since. It was undergoing some restoration and there were county negotiations about possibly opening shops and a couple of small eateries during the spring and summer months to bring more tourism to the town.
The large building stood ominous, strong, at the top of a hill, nestled in between tall trees, an excellent example of a time gone by. There was still a porch in the front. The land, building, and the old cemetery adjacent to it dominated the vista.
Katie felt uneasy, as if there was something that she wasn’t seeing clearly. Darren Rodriguez’s words still haunted her.
You know all about him. You can reach out and touch him.
Officer Mason wasn’t someone Katie knew, and she had never met him before he came by the Mayfields’ first house—and that was only fleeting.
Was she taking that statement too literally? Was it just a form of expression? Close enough to touch the killer?
Still, it bothered her.
Water rushed down the incline from where the historical building was located. Instinct told Katie to slow down and cut the headlights.
“What’s up?” asked McGaven, looking directly at her.
“Something doesn’t feel right. I know that sounds vague, but there’s something not jiving here…”
McGaven remained quiet and stared up at the building.
As they inched to the top of the drive, they saw the gray truck parked at the main entrance. Katie’s blood went cold. Officer Mason was inside the building—for sanctuary, waiting the storm out, or waiting for them. She turned the Jeep toward the far left side of the parking lot off the pavement, and parked. It was in an area where the trees would act as a natural cover.
“How do you want to do this?” McGaven asked.
“We have to arrest Mason and locate the little girl,” she said. “We can’t wait any longer.”
“Agreed.”
“We don’t have any backup. If Chad doesn’t get my message, no one will know where we are and no one will show up,” she said, hating that she sounded so grim and without hope.
“I understand,” said McGaven, still staring at the building and the gray truck.
“I’ll go in first through the front. Go around the back to make sure he doesn’t escape and…then we’ll meet up.”
Katie and McGaven, soaked and tired, stealthily made their way to their locations, each with their gun drawn but down at their side—for the moment.
After watching McGaven disappear, Katie was at the main entrance where a simple lock had been busted. She felt her adrenalin pumping and a surge of energy pulsating through her body. The low drive she had experienced earlier was replaced with an all-time high.
She pushed the door open slowly and was hit immediately with an old building smell, along with a whiff of mold, that made her wrinkle her nose in disgust. Stepping inside, Katie was on high alert. Any noise or movement could mean instant death. She looked around but there was no sign of anyone. Nothing moved. No sound.
Moving deeper into the old hotel, there were drips spattering on the floor as the storm leaked through cracks and crevices in the ceiling. Over the sound of the rain she tuned into something else—moaning, more like pleading. She stopped to listen, tilting her head and concentrating hard. It was a two-way conversation, with a man’s voice and the high voice of a child.
Shivers went up Katie’s arms and down her spine, making her hands tremble. Her immediate thoughts were of the Mayfield sisters, and what might have happened to them before they were discarded into the canyon. Then she fought the vision of them lying on the medical examiner’s table.
