“Henry, right? Four-years-old, dark curls, big round eyes, sucks his thumb?”
Sonia’s stomach dropped. “How …. how do you know all this?”
“I knew his mother.” Finn twisted one corner of his lips into a cruel smile, watching her reaction—as if waiting for something to click. And then it hit her like a thunderbolt. No wonder Henry had looked vaguely familiar. He had Katie Lambert’s eyes. But that wasn’t the only resemblance she’d picked up on.
Her gaze traveled slowly over Finn’s thick, dark wavy hair as she finally connected the dots.
Finn was Henry’s father.
30
Reeling from everything Buck had told him, Ray stumbled back down the slick mountainside in the direction of the Deep Creek Campground parking lot where he’d left Sonia. Henry was Tom’s son. It all made perfect sense now. It explained why he and Henry had always felt like strangers to one another, and why, after his accident, he hadn’t even remembered he had a son. No wonder Henry acted so traumatized around him, so bereft of words—he barely knew him. He’d been confused by a man who looked like his father, pretending to be him.
The only question left in Ray’s mind was who Henry’s mother was. But, deep down, he was pretty sure he already knew the answer to that. The driver’s license he’d found in Tom’s pocket was a cry for justice from beyond the grave. If he was right that Katie Lambert was Henry’s mother, then Tom was even more of a sadistic monster than he’d thought him to be. He’d abducted a young girl and imprisoned her for his own evil purposes, either in his cabin or in some shack nearby—a girl who might still be alive. Henry talked about her as though he remembered her. He’d mentioned playing ball with her in his room. Just like he remembered being locked up and deprived of food, and all the other terrible things Tom had done to him.
Sickened to the core, Ray quickened his pace through the thick drizzle, relieved when the campground parking lot finally came into view. As soon as he got back to the main road, he would call 911. He would keep Henry out of it—for now. He jogged over to Sonia’s car, groaning in frustration when he saw she wasn’t there. He desperately needed to get off this mountain to process everything whirling around in his head. More than anything, he needed to figure out how he was going to move forward shackled by what he had done, and the lies he had bound himself to. He cast an uneasy glance at his surroundings, confirming that Sonia was nowhere in sight.
“Sonia!” he called out, walking over to the outhouse. “Are you in here?” He nudged the swing door gingerly inward, recoiling from the stench and the flies buzzing around. Maybe she’d got bored and decided to stretch her legs and take a walk. After all, he’d been gone for several hours. Returning to the car, he tried the door, surprised to find it unlocked. Perhaps she’d left him a note. He slid into the passenger seat and rummaged around. The keys were lying in the console so she couldn’t have gone too far. There was nothing else for it but to hunker down and wait for her to return.
His head throbbed every time he thought about Tom lying beneath the dirt on the mountain somewhere, without so much as a headstone to mark his grave. Buck had helped jog his memory of that awful day. He remembered bits and pieces—fetching the shovel, agreeing to bury Tom in an unmarked grave. Accident or not, it was too horrific to dwell on what had happened, and too painful to think about what might have been if they could only have kept their anger in check.
Searching for a distraction, Ray reached into the backseat for Sonia’s black portfolio and flipped through it curiously. Her eye for detail was extraordinary. He couldn’t help but admire her artistic skills, as well as her generous nature. She’d sacrificed an entire day to drive him out here, purportedly to allow him to heal in nature. A stab of guilt assailed him. He’d lied to her and used her, and now he would be forced to keep lying to her. There was nothing she hated more. She deserved better.
He drummed his fingers on the dashboard wondering what time she had to be back in Booneville to pick up Jessica. Maybe if he started the engine, it would alert her to the fact that he’d returned. He stuck the key in the ignition and twisted it, his stomach sinking at the unmistakable metallic clicking sound that followed. Somehow, she’d let the battery run down.
Maybe she’d decided to walk down to the main road to get help. Or maybe she’d gone looking for him. Ray slapped a frustrated palm on the dash before climbing back out of the car. What was she thinking heading out alone in this rain? Why couldn’t she just have waited until he got back—hopefully, she hadn’t gone too far.
He set off at a brisk pace down the dirt track, counting on the fact that she would most likely head to the main road first to call for roadside assistance. Every few minutes, he stopped and called out her name, listening for even the faintest response. He had to consider the possibility that she might have slipped in the mud and twisted an ankle or something. Fifteen minutes later, sweating and hurting, he hadn’t found any trace of her. If he reached the main road, and there was still no sign of her, he’d be forced to trek all the way back up to Tom’s cabin in case she’d headed up the mountain to look for him.
Leaning on his thighs, he took a few deep breaths, exhausted from the exertion. As he lifted his head, a familiar figure came trudging into view. Relief
