8th Day Read online

  "Hey, look at this," Jo said. Grade and I turned around and saw Jo bent over the fallen saddle. She motioned for us to come closer, out of Belinda's hearing range.

  "Someone cut the cinch," she whispered.

  Sure enough it appeared to have been cut about two-thirds of the way across. The last part had torn on its own.

  "Now what?" Jo asked.

  "First, we figure out a way to get Belinda back to camp. Let's just keep this saddle business to ourselves for now," I said.

  "Who do you think would've done this?" Grade asked, her voice low.

  "From what I've seen, she makes a habit of pissing people off. Dean Dobberteen comes to mind," I said.

  Grade nodded. "I don't think Ida Evans likes her much, either. I saw her watching Belinda earlier this afternoon while Clutch was helping Belinda adjust the stirrups. Ida didn't look amused. The truth is, Belinda should be able to adjust her own stirrups by now."

  Jo said, "Come to think of it, Maddie's not real fond of Belinda either. Belinda's the one who got her sent to Isolation."

  Grade and I stared at her for what seemed a full minute, then suddenly both spoke at once. "Maddie was in Isolation?"

  "I thought you knew that," Jo said, brow furrowed.

  "Because of running away?" I asked. My heart had momentarily stopped. The thought of a little thirteen-year-old girl trapped alone in that mine made my blood boil. It was bad enough that he did that to eighteen-year-old thugs. But Maddie? It was all I could do to contain my anger at the asshole. But it was more than anger I felt. Once again I was gripped with an all-encompassing dread. And then it occurred to me for the first time. Maybe it wasn't my fear I was feeling. Maybe it was Maddie's. Maybe it wasn't my death I'd been dreaming about at all.

  Jo's voice interrupted my thoughts. "No. This was before she ran away. That's what made it so odd. Usually, once a kid spends a couple of days in Isolation, they tow the line pretty good."

  "Let's get her back," I said, fighting my own emotions. "We can use the blanket as a litter."

  Chapter Eighteen

  Madeline

  Twenty Days Earlier

  Once she was back in camp, Maddie could hardly contain her excitement. She had a plan! Every waking hour was spent either perfecting it or acting on it. She no longer thought of this as her twenty-fifth day in camp. She thought of it as just over a week before she could make her dream come true, and escape. But she knew there was a lot to accomplish before then. For one thing, she decided, she'd need a lot more baggies. She would keep stashing the goods in her mattress until she had enough stockpiled to make her escape.

  Working in the cafeteria was a boon, though she only had a few more days before the shifts changed and she began her stint in the machine shop. She decided to take full advantage of it while she could. The kitchen was loaded with valuable goods. The danger was in getting too greedy. She couldn't afford to be caught, even once. So she became a master of patience, always watching for the windows of opportunity that inevitably presented themselves.

  She couldn't count on always having access to the kitchen, but quite often Pat, the cook, would send her on errands. "Fetch me another spatula, would you, honey?" Pat would say, patting Maddie on the shoulder. When this happened, Maddie went to work quickly, helping herself to a few baggies, a few matches, a can of food — whatever she could easily get her hands on. Sometimes she took things she didn't really need, but couldn't resist. Like the time she'd nicked her finger washing knives and had been sent off to Nurse Beckett for a bandage. The nurse had left her alone in the infirmary and Maddie had swiped a rolled-up Ace bandage and a handful of plastic-wrapped antiseptic wipes just lying in the cupboard. It wasn't until later that she realized all the uses to which she could put that bandage. For one thing, it would make an excellent rope from which to crawl out of her dormitory window. She could use it to bundle her goods and then tie them around her waist, leaving her hands free when she traveled. She lay awake at night and thought about these things. And each night, her bed grew a little lumpier as she continued to stuff her pilfered goods inside the mattress.

  Chapter Nineteen

  By the time we got Belinda back to camp it was dark and she was writhing in pain, mumbling incoherently. I'd asked her a few times if she knew what had happened, but Belinda was in no shape to answer questions.

  It seemed the ranch hands were all at dinner, so we were forced to heft Belinda all the way to the infirmary ourselves. Where was Coach's ATV with the wagon when you needed it? My arms ached with the effort of keeping from jarring Belinda's makeshift litter as we carried her. Despite the fact that she was utterly unlikable, with each painful step, I felt more and more sorry for the girl.

  One look at Belinda's leg and Nurse Beckett summoned Doc who immediately radioed Coach to bring a van. The nurse gave Belinda something to calm her down and treated her for shock, but it was clear that setting the fractured leg was not something she cared to attempt.

  "I'd go with her myself, but I shouldn't leave the camp," the nurse said looking at the three of us as Doc and Coach eased Belinda into the back of the van. "If one of the other children were to fall ill, I'd be negligent." Nurse Beckett was the only one who ever called the kids children.

  "I'll go," Gracie said. Nurse Beckett looked at my friend dubiously.

  "She's a trained E.M.T.," I said, realizing too late that I might have just blown my cover. But Nurse Beckett was still fussing over Belinda, and Doc and Coach were busy inside the van.

  "That's perfect, then," Nurse Beckett said, obviously relieved.

  Coach didn't look too happy about having to drive the van, I thought. Which was interesting. In fact, he didn't seem to be showing much concern at all for Belinda's condition. Was his apparent indifference an intentional cover up for their affair? Or was he just an asshole? Maybe there never had been an affair. Maybe it wasn't Coach whom Belinda had sneaked out to see that night, after all.

  "Keep an eye on my, uh, horse, will you guys?" Gracie said, climbing into the back of the van. Jo and I both knew who she was really talking about.

  "Sure thing," Jo said, folding her arms over her chest. The top button had come undone again and she seemed suddenly self-conscious.

  "How'd this happen?" Doc asked Jo.

  "No idea. I'm just glad we noticed her horse when we did."

  Doc walked Nurse Beckett back to the infirmary, leaving Jo and me to watch the van until its taillights disappeared around the bend. Jo's arm brushed against mine and neither of us pulled away.

  "Looks like we missed dinner," she said. "You hungry?"

  Actually I was starved. But her arm against mine sent shivers through me that had nothing to do with the evening chill and all I could do was nod. Warnings were going off in my head but my damned body didn't seem to be paying the slightest attention.

  "Maybe we can get Pat to let us fool around in her kitchen. I'm sure we can put something together."

  She moved away and my skin tingled where she'd made contact. Goosebumps raised on my flesh as we walked side by side, our arms lightly touching, our legs keeping pace with each other.

  We had to go to the back door to finally get Pat's attention. It was clear she was through cooking for the night. The dishes were already put away, though the aroma of lasagna lingered in the room. Pat had a legal-sized yellow pad in one hand, a calculator in the other.

  "What happened to you?" she asked when she saw Jo's arms. Jo gave her a quick summary of the barbed wire incident, then recapped the last few hours, skipping over the cut cinch.

  "You must be famished!"

  "We are. I thought maybe if you let us look in the fridge, we could fix ourselves a quick bite."

  "There's a tiny bit of lasagna left. I put it in the fridge already, but I could nuke it for you. Or we could make an omelette. There's some cheddar and onions, maybe some red bell peppers in the crisper." She'd moved to the commercial-sized refrigerator and begun rummaging through it. Jo stopped her.

  "Pat,
please. We didn't come here to make you work. Just let us help ourselves. We'll clean up, promise. I know you're dog-tired."

  "Actually, I am working on my inventory. Are you sure you don't mind?"

  "Positive. We like to cook."

  Pat looked from Jo to me and back again, her kind brown eyes seeming to assess the situation. She smiled. "Okay, then. Holler if you need anything." She turned on her heel and headed for the back office.

  "You do like to cook, don't you?" she whispered, turning to face me. We were standing only a few feet apart but Jo stepped closer, backing me against the still warm oven.

  "I do. How did you know?" I ignored the fluttering in my chest. I also ignored the voice in my head that told me to run.

  "I caught you checking out my pots and pans the other day. When you thought I wasn't looking."

  "Hmmm."

  "That's not all you were checking out, was it, Cassidy James?" She took my hands in hers and brought them up between us. Her gaze was locked with mine as she drew my hands to her lips and kissed my fingers. I felt my insides tumble.

  "I'd like to kiss you," she said, her voice going husky.

  "I... I..." There was still time to get out of this gracefully, I thought. I cleared my throat, planned my words carefully. But despite these good intentions, different words altogether came tumbling out. "I'd like to kiss you, too," I said, not daring to move. Jo leaned forward and pulled me to her. Her lips were soft and yielding, then suddenly insistent. I felt those graceful hands slide up and brush against my breasts and I heard myself moan. My own hands moved across her stiffened nipples and the sound she made came from deep within her.

  "You gals finding everything you need?" Pat called out, moments before her footsteps could be heard in the hallway.

  Jo stepped back, her calm-sea eyes glistening, her cheeks flushed. We were both a little breathless.

  "We sure are," Jo said, opening the refrigerator door and hurriedly pulling things out. I grabbed a skillet and turned on the burner, wondering if the feelings showed on my face as transparently as they did on Jo's.

  "Decided you might enjoy a little vino with your meal. I keep a hidden stash in my desk drawer for emergencies. It ain't fancy, but it's cheap." She hefted out a half-empty jug of something called Table Red. "Tell you the truth, I think I'll join you, if you don't mind. Here, let me get that for you. You two just sit on down there at the counter and let me whomp this up. It won't take but a minute and I can see you two have hardly made any headway at all. Jo, you wanna pour us some wine, honey?"

  "What happened to the inventory?" Jo asked, looking at me with a mixture of exasperation and longing.

  "Oh, well. I can do paperwork any old time. It's not every day I get to sit down with adults and sip a little wine. So tell me, Cassidy. What do you think of our camp, so far?"

  And so it went. Jo and I sat side by side on stools at the counter watching Pat cook. She pulled up a stool on the opposite side of the counter and occasionally came over to sip wine, but she couldn't sit still for more than a second before jumping up to check on things. Every time Pat jumped up for something, Jo's hand reached out and touched mine, sometimes resting on my thigh, sometimes brushing against the zipper of my jeans, sending electric jolts straight through me. Just before Pat served us, Jo leaned over and whispered in my ear.

  "I want you so bad, it hurts." She gently bit my ear lobe and before I knew what was happening, her fingers deftly worked the zipper of my jeans open. I suppressed a gasp as she slid her hand in farther and pressed her fingers against the thin cotton fabric beneath my jeans. I'm afraid the moan I made got Pat's attention. My cheeks were burning, both with mortification and desire.

  "Here it is," she said, setting two plates in front of us, looking at us closely for our reaction.

  "Oh, God," I said. I wasn't talking about the food and Jo knew it. She stifled a sigh, easing her hand out of my pants so she could pick up a fork. My breath caught in my throat and my heart was beating so hard I was afraid it would explode.

  "This looks delicious," Jo said, taking a bite of her omelette.

  "Just leftovers, really," Pat said modestly. "Aren't you hungry, Cassidy?"

  The truth was, my whole body was throbbing with desire and I was afraid if Jo so much as brushed her arm against me one more time, I was going to lose control completely.

  "Famished," I said. With a trembling hand, I picked up my fork and dug into the golden omelette. "Delicious," I mumbled, my mouth full. It was. The eggs were light and fluffy, folded over spears of asparagus with a hint of tarragon and chopped ham and sharp cheddar.

  "You are a genius," Jo said, her mouth full.

  "A life-saver," I said.

  Pat beamed and poured us all more wine.

  As much as one part of me longed to leave with Jo, another part was scared to death. What in the world was I getting myself into? I'd barely gotten over the last disaster and here I was letting myself fall into another one. I wasn't ready for this and I knew it. I had no business even thinking about it. As tortured as I felt right then sexually, I was actually relieved when Pat settled in for a good long gossip. When I got the chance, I didn't hesitate to steer her toward the night Annie Sisson disappeared. A couple of times, Jo's hand slid over onto my leg, but I brushed it away and kept Pat talking. Once, Jo actually groaned and got up to do the dishes.

  "So what's your theory for why she left?" I asked.

  "Oh, honey, that poor child had more on her plate than people realized. She kept her social life private, but being right next door, I saw things. I think she was heart-broke, plain and simple."

  "Because of Coach?" I asked.

  Pat looked surprised. "You know about that?"

  "I don't think it was as much of a secret as they thought. Word is, he was seeing someone else."

  "Well, if he was, he was still seeing her plenty at the same time. He even came by that night."

  "Coach came to see Annie the night she disappeared?"

  "He sure did. Had to be two, maybe three in the morning. I got up to pee, like I always do about that time, and noticed the light on in her cabin. See, my window looks right out on hers, though I can't see much on account of the trees. But I can see when the light's on, and it was on that night. Which I thought was kind of odd, so I just stood there a minute and watched until the light went out. That's when I saw Coach step down off the porch. I couldn't really tell it was him in the dark, except he was wearing that baseball cap he always wears which I could see the shape of in the moonlight. I just figured they'd had a little midnight delight and I went back to bed. It wasn't until we found out Annie was gone that I wondered whether she'd left after Coach came to see her, or whether she was already gone when he got there. Guess it doesn't matter, either way."

  Oh, but it did, I thought. "Was he carrying anything with him when you saw him on the porch?"

  Pat put her glass down and peered at me with narrowed eyes. "What? You think he carried her off somewhere? You suspect foul play?"

  "No, I was just curious, I guess. She left her grandmother's quilt out back. Seems a strange thing to leave behind."

  "Humph," she intoned, taking another swallow of the cheap wine. Jo, who was standing at the sink, gave me a look over Pat's shoulder, like Come on!

  "Does kinda make you ponder, doesn't it?" Pat said. "But to answer your question, I couldn't tell if he had anything in his hands or not. I just caught the back of his head for a second. If it weren't for the baseball cap, I wouldn't have even known who it was."

  Jo made a huge show of yawning and Pat finally got the hint.

  "My goodness, I've kept you gals here far too long. After your ordeal today, you're probably exhausted."

  "Well, I do have to get up early," Jo said.

  "And I've got papers to grade," I added. "But it sure was nice of you to share your food and wine with us."

  "It was my pleasure," Pat said, walking us to the door. "Stop by again, anytime."

  Outside, the night
was dark and cool, the sky littered with sparkling dots of gold.

  "Almost a full moon," Jo said, slipping her arm in mine as we walked toward the cabins. The camp was quiet. The bunkhouses were all dark, as were most of the staff cabins.

  "This may surprise you, but I'd like you to come over," I said, surprising myself even as I said it. So much for inner strength and resolve.

  She laughed — a lovely sound. "I was kinda hoping you'd say that."

  "The problem is, there's something I think we need to do first."

  Jo groaned. "Why am I afraid to ask?"

  "It shouldn't take long. But we'll never have a better opportunity. With Coach gone, this is the perfect time to look through his cabin. You heard what Pat said. Maybe there's something there that could tie him to Annie's disappearance. You game for doing look-out?"

  "If I told you what I was really game for, Cassidy, we wouldn't be going to someone else's cabin. But, yeah. I'm game."

  I ignored the feelings that continued to well up as I led her past the darkened path toward Coach's cabin.

  "Wait here. Just keep in the shadows. If someone approaches, act like you're looking for Coach to see how Belinda's doing. Play dumb, do whatever you have to do."

  "Cass. I can handle this. Go, already."

  I tried the front door, which was locked, then walked around the perimeter of the cabin, hoping we wouldn't have to go back for my lock picks. There were four windows in all, and it wasn't until I reached the tiny bathroom window, that I caught a break. The little window was propped open. It would be a tight fit, and I'd have to figure out a way to boost myself up, but it was definitely doable.

  I called for Jo to join me, then let her boost me up so that I could shimmy through the open window. Even though I knew Coach was gone, my heart was pounding. Something about breaking and entering, I supposed. I had probably been a burglar in my last life.

  I dropped down into the cabin, a near-mirror image of my own, and set about searching, wishing I didn't have to turn on a light, but knowing that without it, I'd never see a thing.