Bad Girls (An Eden Mystery): Eden Mysteries, #2

By Laurel Heidtman

Only eighteen years old, Marnie Becker has an unknown and absent father, an alcoholic mother, and drinking problems of her own. Her uncle, Cal Becker, a former Chicago police officer, has been the only responsible adult in her life, but now that she's legally an adult, he worries that he won't be able to keep her on the straight and narrow. So he's pleasantly surprised when she accepts his offer to pay her way through Raven University and move to Eden, Kentucky, with her.

 

But on the day of their arrival, she disappears. It wouldn't be the first time she ran away when the going got tough. Has she done so again rather than face the challenges of her new life or has something happened to her?

Cal has hopes for a new life for himself in Eden, and when Marnie goes missing, he doesn't know whether to be worried or angry. But when the beaten body of a young girl is found in Daniel Boone National Forest, he fears his worst nightmares have become reality—or has his worst nightmare only begun?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Laurel Heidtman
• Release date: Jul 18, 2015
• ISBN: 9798215196380

Book preview

PROLOGUE

He felt like a kid on Christmas morning.

Orientation Week, Welcome Week, or in Raven University’s case, Welcome Weekend, was his favorite time of the year regardless of the campus hosting it. The excitement among the incoming freshmen moving into the dorms was palpable and catching. Leaving home for the first time was a heady experience for these young men and women who, in their naïve optimism, saw the world as theirs for the taking. Eager to begin their glorious adventure, they saw only a future ripe with tantalizing promise.

He saw only a future ripe with profit and pleasure.

Sometimes he felt like a god; other times, he simply felt like a businessman. In a very real sense, he and others like him—and they were legion—were gods culling the human herd for their own pleasure. But some were also businessmen who were smart enough to turn that pleasure into profit.

He turned slowly, allowing his god eyes to linger on the young laughing humans. His eyes passed over the young men and moved on. Although the businessman side of him knew there was profit to be had there, they were safe from him. He had considered it at one time, but he knew he wouldn’t enjoy it, and if you couldn’t enjoy what you did for a living—well, then it was just work.

Like the connoisseur that he was, his eyes evaluated each of the bright-eyed and laughing young women with their long tan legs and tight asses and pert breasts, all of which they displayed for his consideration in shorts and tight tee-shirts. The blond, blue-eyed girl-next-door types were not for him. No matter how attractive they were, he ignored the freckle-faced tomboys and the intellectuals with their wire-rimmed glasses. Some in his profession didn’t discriminate. They simply plucked what was there and made them available, much like a big box store buying cheap and readily available items in bulk. While there was profit to be had from being a generalist, he preferred to think of himself as a specialist catering to a particular taste. Over the years he had developed a following of those with that upscale taste, and the money had followed. Some men just preferred punishing the bad girls, and that was fine with him since he enjoyed breaking them.

He didn’t discount the practical benefit to specializing in the type he did. The lost ones, the bad ones, were less likely to be missed. Even when they had family who cared, that family could never be sure if they had been taken or had simply run away like they had so many times before. The police took the obligatory report and assured the family they would look into it. And maybe they did for a day or two, but the report was quickly shoved to the bottom of the pile of other more immediate concerns. Limited resources dictated that missing nice, well-behaved teens, as well as the small children, the senile grandmas, and the hardworking father and husband, all took precedence over the dope-using misfit who’d run away a half dozen times before and probably had again.

The authorities usually had stopped looking for them by the time he delivered them to his clients. It was safer for everyone involved—except, of course, the girl. He chuckled.

Specializing as he did had worked for him so far. While it was more difficult finding his type on a college campus than it would have been in an inner city neighborhood, the ones he did find were smarter and healthier and cleaner. They rebelled from homes that had provided food and access to health care even when that home was short on love and attention. They were still lost and still bad, but they were a higher quality product. And his clients appreciated that quality and were willing to pay for it.

No, he thought, as he searched for his type in the parade of youth flowing back and forth between the vehicles parked in the dorms’ unloading zone. He’d stick with what he knew. He’d find what he was looking for eventually.

CHAPTER 1

Marnie stared at the girl standing—no, looming —in the doorway of her dorm room and thought, You’ve got to be kidding me!

Even though the girl was hunched, the top of her head was only a couple of inches from the top of the doorframe and the sides of her body were only inches from the sides. Greasy-looking brown hair hung to her shoulders. The coke-bottle-bottom glasses were the only thing keeping the few stray strands hanging over her face from poking her in her pale blue eyes. Her skin was scarred and pitted from acne, although Marnie couldn't see any active zits. She was wearing old-lady jeans—probably with an elastic waist to accommodate her girth, although the stretched-out-of-shape brown tee kept Marnie from being sure. She had a faded backpack slung over one shoulder and was pulling two equally faded wheeled suitcases behind her.

This is my room? What should have been a statement came out as a question. 205?

This is 205.

Oh. I guess I'm your roommate then. The girl giggled nervously as she came into the room.

Her bulk seemed to make the room shrink in size. Marnie took a tentative sniff. Her new roommate didn't stink, so that, at least, was something to put in the plus column. Good thing, since the girl didn't seem to have much else going for her.

This shit just keeps getting better and better, Marnie thought.

I'm Emma Johansen, the girl said.

She looked at Marnie, obviously waiting for Marnie to introduce herself. Marnie stared back for a second. What the hell, she thought.

Marnie Becker. Marnie turned back to the open suitcase on her bed and continued removing the stacks of black jeans and black tees imprinted with band logos. I've got this side of the room.

That's fine. Emma moved to the bed furthest from the window and slid her backpack off her shoulder. This one looks comfy.

Yeah, until your fat ass breaks it down, Marnie thought. If beds could think, hers was probably giving thanks that the skinny chick had picked it.

Are you Goth? Emma asked. Her voice had a note of awe in it and maybe just a hint of fear.

What do you think? Marnie didn't bother to look up from her unpacking. If Fat Emma couldn't figure it out based on her spiked black hair streaked with purple, the black and purple nail polish, the black clothes on the bed, and her purple lipstick, then she was as dumb as she looked.

I think you are.

Good for you, Sherlock.

Emma sighed, but she didn't speak again.

What do you have in these boxes? Cal Becker's face was red from the effort of carrying the two boxes in his arms, a film of sweat on his forehead. They weigh a ton!

Books, Marnie said. And records.

She crossed the room and took the top one from him. She was only five feet six inches and skinny as a rail, but she hefted the box from his arms to the top of the dresser as if it were full of feathers. He gaped at her as she took the other one from him and set it next to its companion.

You been eating your Wheaties or something? he said.

I'm not old.

Gee, thanks a lot. He turned to Emma and extended his hand. Hi. I'm Marnie's uncle. Cal Becker.

Emma Johansen.

Marnie watched while the fat girl shook her uncle's hand, blushing the entire time. She acted like old Uncle Cal was hot. Maybe she was into the father-daughter—or in Uncle Cal's case, more like grandfather-granddaughter—scene. Marnie hoped her uncle wasn't that desperate. He might be a norm, but he was her norm.

So is that what's in the rest of the boxes in the car? Cal turned back to Marnie. Books and records?

She nodded.

Haven't you heard of e-books and MP3 players? Cal shook his head. I thought all young people liked technology, but not you, I guess.

I like paper and vinyl, Marnie said. And one of those boxes has my stereo in it. You'd better not drop it.

Well, since you're Wonder Woman and I'm a weak old man, maybe you'd like to help me lug the rest of those boxes in, Cal said. That way you can be sure it's done right.

Marnie tossed the cigar box of costume jewelry on the bed and turned to the door. Without speaking, she started down the hall. Cal hurried to catch up with her, but didn't speak until they'd reached his car parked in the lot on the other side of two trucks, one belonging to a plumber and the other to an electrician if the signs on the sides could be believed. That's just great, she thought. The building she was moving into looked old; with her luck, the toilets wouldn't flush and the lights would go out every time someone plugged in a hair dryer. It would be just like home.

She was raising the trunk lid when Cal took her arm and turned her to him.

Hey, he said, his voice stern. Remember what we talked about on the way down here?

Which part? Marnie refused to meet his eyes.

About you giving Raven a try, he said. I saw how you were back there with your roommate. Cold as a Chicago morning in February. Not a good way to start off your college experience.

She's a fat hog with bad skin. Marnie glared at him.

Yeah, and you're an anorexic brat with black and purple hair and more metal than what's found in the average junkyard hanging from holes all over your pasty-white skin. Nobody's perfect.

I'm not anorexic!

Well, you're still skinny. Plus you've got some of the ugliest tatts I've ever seen. Especially that damn dragon!

They glared at one another for a few seconds. Marnie broke first. She grinned, then started laughing. A second later, Cal joined her.

Bastard! she muttered.

Yeah, that's me. But I'm the bastard who loves you.

He pulled her to him and hugged her. She looked around to be sure no one was paying attention to them before she hugged him back. They stood like that for several seconds, then he held her away from him at arm's length. His eyes were serious and maybe a little sad as he looked at her.

I love you, girl, he said. You know that, right?

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She did know he loved her—knew, in fact, that he was the only person on this planet who loved her.

You promised me you'd try here, Cal said. No pot, no booze, no smart-mouthing the profs, no run-ins with the law. I guess we didn't talk about being friendly to roommates, but maybe we should have. I know she's not your type, but could you try to at least be civil to her?

She shrugged. I guess so. No promises, but I'll try.

Good. This is a good town and a good school. A friend of mine assured me that Raven has one of the best art programs in the country, and since you're one of the best artists in the country, you and this school should get along just fine.

As long as I don't fuck it up, right?

As long as, Cal said. And watch your mouth.

Your friend is the one with the bed and breakfast, right? Marnie said. The one that paints fairies?

She paints other things, too, but, yeah, that's Ann. In a couple of days, after you get settled, I'll introduce you.

I'm glad you're staying for a while, Uncle Cal. Marnie smiled at him.

Me, too, he said. Now let's get the rest of these boxes upstairs before I stiffen up from carrying the first two.

Cal lifted a heavy box out of the trunk and put it in Marnie's arms. Can you handle that?

Give me another one, she said.

He rolled his eyes. Show-off.

As Cal prodded each box until he found a light one to give to his niece, he didn't notice the man watching them from the shadow of a large pine at the corner of the building. The man had a predatory expression on his face and his eyes were focused on Marnie. As she and Cal turned toward the dorm, the man turned and walked the other direction, a feeling of satisfaction coursing through him. He'd found his next one.

CHAPTER 2

After they'd finished unloading the boxes, Marnie walked her uncle to his car. They hugged again and he kissed her cheek.

Remember what I said, kid, he said, letting her go. I want you to be happy, but the way things have been going with you, that's not gonna happen. I don't want to be visiting you in prison one day—or sticking flowers on your grave every Memorial Day. You hear me?

You are such a downer! Marnie frowned at him.

Just calling it like I see it, he said. I'm smarter than you, remember?

So you say.

Well, I am. One of the perks of being on this planet as long as I've been. He turned and walked around to the driver's side. Now, go on in there and play nice. I'll call you tomorrow and we'll set up a time for you to come by and meet Ann.

Marnie watched as he pulled away from the curb. She didn't turn back to the dorm until he'd turned the corner and was out of sight. Then she sighed and turned to look up at the building that would be her home for at least her freshman year. This was it, she thought. Her last chance. She would never admit it to him, but she knew her uncle was right. The path she'd been on in Chicago had been leading nowhere—or at least nowhere good. She'd make promises to herself to stay away from dope and booze and losers, and she would for a while. Then something would happen—she'd get in some shit at school or her poor excuse for a mother would pull some of her usual crap and Marnie would run right back to her loser friends with their ever ready supply of cheap wine, weed, and coke. If it hadn't been for Uncle Cal—well, he was her lifeline and she was smart enough to know it. It was only because of him that she'd stayed in school long enough to graduate. When he suggested she come to Kentucky to go to college, then sweetened the deal by offering to pay for it, she'd jumped at the chance. She'd been surprised she'd got in—her grades were just average except in art, but she supposed the reference letters he'd finagled from his local friends had a lot to do with it.

He was always in her corner and had been for as long as she could remember. He'd smoothed over her brushes with the law, welcomed her into his home whenever Lucy-Screw-Loose went on one of her binges and brought her latest walking dildo home, talked her teachers and principals into giving her another chance every time she needed one, and now he was paying for her to go to a college with a good art program. She straightened her shoulders, pulled herself up tall, and walked back into the dorm.

She would not let him down. She wouldn't.

Back upstairs in the room, she saw Emma sitting on the bed staring at her hands. When Marnie entered the room, the girl looked up at her. Her expression was that of a dog that expects to be beaten. Marnie felt a sudden compassion for the girl—and something more. Recognition. The feeling surprised her. Looking at Emma was like looking in the mirror. The faces might be different, but Marnie had seen that look on her own face many times.

Hey, she said to Emma. I want to apologize. I was kind of rude earlier. It's been one of those days, you know?

Emma nodded and smiled. Her face lit up, and for just a second, she looked almost pretty. Yeah, sure, I understand. I have them myself.

She looked so grateful that Marnie began to wish she hadn't said anything. Being polite to the girl was one thing, but she didn't want her getting too friendly. She had a pretty good idea that if she showed too much kindness to Emma, the girl would begin to think they were besties.

Okay. Well, I've got some stuff to do.

Marnie turned and hurried out of the room. Shit, she thought, I need to be in there getting my stuff unpacked and put away. I should never have said anything. I'm just encouraging her. She sighed. Oh, well, she thought. Might as well take a walk around campus and the town and see what she’d gotten herself into.

The hall had grown more crowded with students and their families hauling suitcases and boxes into the rooms. They all looked like norms and Marnie pushed through them, ignoring the stares. Guess they've never seen black and purple hair and tattoos of dragons before, she thought. At the end of the hall, near the head of the stairs, a maintenance man was working on a door to a room. She guessed him to be in his late thirties, not bad-looking for an old dude what with his muscles and thick blond hair, but when he turned to smile at her, she could tell he wasn't right. Retarded, maybe, she thought, or autistic. He stared at her, probably categorizing her as a weirdo like the other norms in the hall were doing, but unlike them he showed no reaction to what he was seeing. She moved past him and down the stairs, two at a time.

As she burst through the door, she nearly ran head on into a campus police officer. He frowned at her and stood his ground, forcing her to stop.

Excuse me? she said, her tone belying the request in her words.

You need to watch where you're going. The officer didn't move.

Yeah, you're right. I'm sorry.

They glared at one another for several seconds, then the officer stepped to his right and Marnie moved past him and started toward the sidewalk. She was a few feet past him when she heard him mutter, Bad to the bone.

Yeah, and don't you forget it, she thought, then reminded herself that she'd promised her uncle she'd be good. She planned to live up to that promise, but it didn't look like it was going to be easy.

CHAPTER 3

M r. Becker! Welcome back!

Edna Hill threw her arms around him and gave him a squeeze that caused the breath to rush out of him with a whoosh. Ginger had told him Edna's eightieth birthday was coming up in a couple of weeks, but age hadn't sapped the woman's strength. At six feet and in flat shoes, she could look him in the eye. The intelligence and humor visible in her blue eyes were proof that her mind and spirit were as strong as her body. She needed to dial the hugs back a bit, though, before she hurt somebody.

Whoa, lady! Cal said. You got some grip there!

He kissed her cheek.

It's really good to see you, Edna. And drop the 'mister.' It's 'Cal' to my friends and I consider you one.

And I'm honored to be one. She stood back and frowned as she looked him over. You've lost some weight.

Twenty pounds. He patted the paunch visible under his plaid shirt. Got another twenty to go, though. Go easy on me at breakfast, okay?

Oh, hush! You looked fine the way you were. We don't want you getting too skinny. She took his arm and led him into the dining room. Have a seat. I'll tell Ann and Ginger you're here. They're cleaning over at the guesthouse. Coffee? Tea?

I wouldn't mind a cup of coffee, if you've already got some made.

Nope, but I'll put a fresh pot on.

Edna hurried through the door to the kitchen before he could object. Cal leaned back in the chair, stretched his legs, and looked around. Everything about the Holly House looked the same, and he suddenly realized how much he'd missed it. Funny, but it felt like he had just come home. He hadn't felt that way when he'd gotten back to his Chicago apartment nearly three months before after spending only a couple of weeks in Eden. Now that Marnie was here and he was retired for the second time—well, it was time to leave the Windy City. The place was going to hell, people getting shot just about every night. Sure, things happened in small towns like Eden, Kentucky, too, but at least it wasn't an every day thing. Although he had to admit when something did happen, it was the kind of story that stayed on the news for a while.

Cal had first laid eyes on Eden when he followed a lead on a suspect involved in a Chicago museum heist. At the time, he'd been an investigator for Gallagher Holdings, the insurance company for the museum where the heist had occurred. After retiring from the Chicago P.D., he'd been talked into taking the job by another retired cop who'd gone to work for Gallagher. Cal would have preferred spending his retirement on a beach somewhere drinking Mai Tais and ogling girls in bikinis, but Virginia had cleaned him out in the divorce. It was either work for another few years or not work and spend his retirement ogling the brick wall across the alley from his dingy two-room apartment. So he'd taken the job, and while the pay was good, the work was a little on the dull side. Then, he was assigned to the Star case and discovered Eden, Kentucky.

He'd liked Eden from the start. The people were friendly, the air smelled good, and the pace was slower. He stayed at a motel at first, but moved into Holly House to keep an eye on a woman named Katherine Rawlings. She was a professor and mystery novelist who'd been the college sweetheart of the suspect in the heist. So the reason for his move to Holly House had been all business, but it didn’t take him long to fall in love with the place and the three women who kept it going.

They'd kept in touch after he'd gone back to Chicago. Ann and Edna sent him the occasional postcard and twice sent him a box of Edna's amazing sugar cookies, but Ginger had emailed nearly every day. Sometimes she just sent a joke or a funny cartoon; other times she wrote a lengthy narrative of the goings-on in Eden. A month after he'd left, he got up the courage to call Holly House when he knew Ginger would be working. She'd sounded thrilled to hear from him. Before hanging up, they exchanged phone numbers and talked at least once a week after that.

He'd wanted to ask her to come to Chicago for a visit, but hadn't been able to work up the nerve. She seemed to like him, but maybe she was just being friendly and would take it the wrong way if he invited her up. He wanted to know her as more than a friend, but at the same time, he didn't want to screw up the friendship if that's all she wanted. He wasn't much good at reading women when he was face-to-face with them, much less reading them over the phone. He knew he'd be going back to Eden to testify in the trials coming up in the fall. It was a long time to wait, but he decided to keep his mouth shut until then rather than take the chance of screwing up their friendship. If Ginger looked like she was interested in being more than a friend, he'd invite her to come to Chicago sometime and see what she said.

Then, one night Marnie came to his apartment in tears after another of Lucy's boyfriends had made a pass at her and Lucy had accused her of lying about it. They sat on the couch and talked until she fell asleep in his arms. It wasn't the first time. He'd held her like that from the time she was a toddler, trying his best to insulate her from the crappy situation she'd been born into. He'd given up on his baby sister a long time ago, and maybe that was on him, but he wasn't going to give up on his little girl.

That's how he thought of her—his little girl. Lucy couldn't have named Marnie's daddy if she tried, but Cal had been glad to step into the role of father. More than once, he'd considered suing for custody, but Virginia hadn't been the nurturing type. She tolerated the kid, as she called Marnie, showing up and spending a night or two, but she refused to consider taking over the job of raising her. He had acquiesced for the sake of his marriage, soothing his conscience by telling himself that maybe his sister would get her act together, that taking her child from her might be the straw that would break her completely. But Marnie had grown to adulthood without her mother ever doing the same, and Virginia had left him for someone else. Boy, if I'd had a crystal ball, he'd thought.

He'd sat there in his crappy little apartment, thinking morose thoughts while holding the only good thing in his life, when suddenly he thought of Eden and Raven University. Marnie had graduated from high school two weeks before—it had been touch-and-go since she was sixteen, but it was now official—and he knew she had no plans for what she would do next. He'd saved most of his paycheck since starting at Gallagher and he'd gotten a hefty bonus after the Star was recovered. In December, he'd turn sixty years old. What am I saving the money for, he'd thought—a fancy casket? He eased her onto the couch, covered her