Page 14 of Outlaw Ridge: Jesse
“Playing devil’s advocate here,” Jesse repeated. His hands tightened on the wheel. “Maybe Reardon knew something about her abduction. Or yours,” he added after a heartbeat.
Lauren swallowed hard and stared out the windshield at the empty stretch of road ahead of them. It wouldn’t be long before sunset. The minutes were just ticking away, and every tick felt like a failure. Because Nicky was still missing. Maybe other young women, too.
And, of course, the abductor was out there, too.
When that reminder brought a fresh avalanche of dread, Lauren had to push it away and focus on what Jesse and she were doing now.
“Maybe Reardon called Abilene to try to find out if Abilene knew anything about what happened to me,” Lauren threw out there. “I mean, Reardon has probably kept up any possible updates since I’m technically a cold case for him.”
“You’re a cold case for a lot of people,” he pointed out. “Outlaw Ridge PD. Dr. Graves. And anybody else who worked the investigation at the time.”
True, and that caused her to sigh. “Are you saying Abilene’s abductor, and mine, could be any one of those people?”
The glance he gave her might be a short, but it conveyed a whole of emotions. Including worry for her.
“I’m saying we need more answers. For now, take a few deep breaths,” Jesse suggested. “Try to level out before we get to Reardon’s place.”
Yes, because she couldn’t charge in there half-cocked. She tried those deep breaths and decided that it wasn’t helping when Jesse spoke again.
“Dr. Graves said I was one of the reasons you were able to hang on while in captivity. I guess you mentioned me to him.”
Oh,that.
Yes, lots of mentioning. In fact, Jesse had played a starring role in her attempts to keep her sanity. And, yes, she had relayed that to the doctor.
“I, uh, just fixed our first date in my head,” she admitted. “I mentally acted it out over and over again. You know, as a way of grounding myself.”
“You acted it out?” he asked, and there was both concern and amusement in his voice.
Lauren let out a rough laugh, shaking her head. “Yeah. Over and over again. I pictured you waiting for me at Arlo’s. I imagined sitting across from you, eating a ridiculous amount of pepperoni pizza and arguing about whether pineapple belonged anywhere near it.” She forced a small smile. “It gave me something normal to hold on to when nothing else made sense.”
Jesse was silent for a moment, and he muttered some frustration-laced profanity. “You should’ve been there, Lauren.” His voice was low, rough. “We should’ve had that night.”
Lauren turned her gaze out the window, the landscape blurring past. “We never got the chance.”
“But we could now.”
The quiet words sent a jolt through her. She turned back to him, but before she could respond, the GPS signaled they were approaching Reardon’s house.
Her stomach twisted as they turned onto a narrow road lined with towering oaks that made it feel as if they were driving through a dark tunnel.
Or a bunker.
That brought on a few flashbacks before the cruiser emerged from the darkness and the house came into view. A white limestone and log single-story home with a wide front porch.
Jesse slowed the cruiser, and they both scanned the house and grounds. There was a red pickup parked in the driveway, and a petite sandy-haired woman in the side yard who appeared to be tending some rose bushes. A Golden Retriever was next to her.
Her head whipped up, her gaze zooming to the cruiser, and the dog started barking. Lauren caught just a glimpse of the woman’s worried face before she set down her pruning shears, caught onto the dog’s collar and started leading him toward the back of the house.
“You think that’s Reardon’s wife?” Jesse asked, coming to a stop next to the truck. “Or maybe his daughter.”
Lauren used her phone to run a quick background on Reardon, got the name of his wife, Belinda, and then did a search on her. “His wife,” she said, after seeing the woman’s driver’s license photo.
But Belinda was certainly young enough to be Reardon’s daughter. Reardon was sixty-three, and Belinda was thirty-seven, only three years older than Lauren and Jesse.
“Belinda’s not from Outlaw Ridge, but she was raised only about ten miles away on a ranch outside of Bulverde. Reardon and she have been married for a little over twelve years,” Lauren went on, reading from Reardon’s background. “No children.”
She had just finished giving Jesse that info when the front door opened. Tim Reardon stepped onto the porch, the dimming sunlight casting an orange glow across him. He looked muchthe same as Lauren remembered—tall, lean, his dark hair now threaded with silver, but his sharp blue eyes still missed nothing. He was wearing military cargo pants and a black tee.
