“I told them.”
“What about the ex-boyfriend?”
“Ty? I know they’ve talked to him.” Grace had never particularly warmed to Ty Cross, but she couldn’t imagine him hurting Caitlin. In fact, she had trouble imagining anyone who knew Caitlin causing her harm.
Except maybe for one person.
“Did Starr take the polygraph test?” Grace asked.
“Why should she take it?”
“The police asked her to, didn’t they? Shouldn’t she be doing everything possible to help them?”
“She’s been busy.”
Starr ran her own personal shopping business. Grace found it hard to believe she couldn’t free up a few hours to help the police.
“Don’t forget that Starr was the one who was supposed to pick Caitlin up,” Grace pointed out. “She was here in town. That’s opportunity, isn’t it?”
“You’ve been watching too many bad television shows,” Jake said angrily. “Besides, I was supposed to pick up Caitlin. Starr was just helping out because I was in a bind.”
“But she doesn’t like Caitlin.” Grace had started down this road and she wasn’t turning back now. “That gives her motive.”
“What are you talking about? They get along fine.”
“Then why is Starr so critical of Caitlin? Why does she resent the time you spend with her?” Grace decided not to raise the money issue, although she knew Starr must resent that too.
“You’re being ridiculous, Grace. If we’re going to start pointing fingers, maybe you should take a closer look at your own household.”
“Carl? He and I were three hours away when she disappeared.”
“I was talking about that boy of his.” Jake leaned back and crossed his arms, a contemptuous posture Grace was familiar with from six years of marriage. “I’ve told you before, it’s not right for Caitlin to be living in the same house with some boy her age she’s not related to. That’s asking for trouble.”
“They are related. Adam is her stepbrother.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it. It’s not like they grew up in the same house. He was a complete stranger until you married his father. And he’s an odd one. You’ve admitted that much to me.”
Grace bristled. It was one thing for her to think that Adam was odd, another for Jake to throw it in her face. “Adam is not the kind of odd you’re insinuating. Both of Carl’s children welcomed Caitlin. They all get along really well.”
Grace realized, too late, that she’d more or less parroted what Jake had said about Starr and Caitlin. In any case, she now regretted having turned what was a comfortable meeting into a session of finger-pointing. “I’m sorry for raising the issue, Jake. I wasn’t implying that Starr had anything to do with Caitlin’s disappearance. I just wish she’d cooperate with the police. Now that you’ve taken the polygraph, can’t you convince her to do it?”
“Starr doesn’t answer to me.” He checked his watch. “I have to run.”
“It was good seeing you,” Grace said truthfully.
Jake grabbed his coat from the back of the chair, and brushed her cheek with a kiss. “We have to stay hopeful. If the worst happens, we’ll deal with it then.”
The worst. Grace didn’t want to even imagine what that might be.
~~~~
A few blocks from home, Grace’s cell phone rang. She retrieved it from the pocket on her purse, slowed to check the readout, then quickly pulled to the curb and flipped the phone open. Her hand was shaking. A call from the police could mean the best of news or the worst. No, not the worst, she told herself. Surely if Caitlin was dead they’d send someone out in person.
“Hello. This is Grace Whittington.”
“Rayna Godwin here. I was hoping I could come by and talk to you. I tried your home number and got the machine.”
Grace’s heart skipped a beat and then turned to stone. “You have news?”
“No, not that kind. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. Just a few things I’d like to go over with you.”
It took Grace a moment to breathe again. “Sure, I’m on my way home right now.”
“I’ll come by in about half an hour.”
Grace disconnected. Her skin was clammy and she felt light-headed, but she needed to follow Jake’s advice. Stay hopeful. Think positive. She rested her head on the steering wheel, took a deep breath, and tried to picture Caitlin happy and safe.
~~~~
Half an hour later, almost to the minute, Detective Godwin sat at the farmhouse table in Grace’s kitchen. Grace had put a kettle of water on the stove and she now busied herself with mugs and tea bags.
“Herbal, decaf, or full punch?” she asked.
“Anything is fine.”
She filled two mugs with boiling water and set an array of tea bags in front of Detective Godwin. How could the woman find her daughter if she couldn’t even decide what kind of tea she wanted?
“I understand my ex-husband finally took the lie detector test,” Grace said.
“That’s right.” Godwin chose a peppermint tea, one of Caitlin’s favorites.
Grace waited, hoping the detective would elaborate, but she didn’t. Instead, she took a minute to open the tea packet and dip it into her cup. Then she said, “We found Caitlin’s backpack today.”
“Where?” Grace’s heart kicked into overdrive. Was finding the backpack a good or bad sign?
“In a Dumpster at the mall. A couple of drifters going through the trash found her wallet, took the twenty-three dollars inside, and tried to use her credit card to buy some CDs. The store clerk recognized Caitlin’s name and contacted us.”
“Do you believe them? How do you know they aren’t the ones who have Caitlin?”
“From what we know, that’s unlikely.”
Grace felt unsteady and dropped into a chair across from the detective, her own cup of tea still on the counter. “So what does it mean? Will this help you find Caitlin?”
“We’re hoping there will be something with the backpack that will provide a clue. But I have to be honest, it’s a long shot. Since it was near the top of the Dumpster, we’re assuming the backpack was disposed of in the last couple of days.”
“That would mean the kidnapper is still in town. Or was until recently. That’s a good sign, isn’t it? It would mean he didn’t take off with Caitlin and that you can concentrate your search efforts locally. And if someone saw him at the mall—”
Grace gripped her stomach. The mall.
Oh God, the same place they’d found Karen Holiday’s purse. Beth Holiday had said the police found her daughter’s purse in a Dumpster at the mall.
With the swift, cold force of an unexpected ocean wave, heartbreaking certainty crashed down on Grace, paralyzing her. Caitlin was dead. Along with Karen Holiday.
Some horrible monster was preying on young girls right here in Paradise Falls. And he had taken Caitlin from her forever.
When Grace could breathe again, she said, “Isn’t the mall where Karen Holiday’s purse was found?”
The detective gave her a curious look. “How did you hear that? The information wasn’t made public.”
“Her mother told me. And there was money in Karen’s wallet, too. Whoever took her wasn’t interested in money or credit cards.”
“I thought you didn’t know Beth Holiday.”
“I don’t. But I went to see her the other day. I thought meeting her might help me, you know, get through this.” Grace felt her throat grow tight and her eyes sting with tears. “I thought it would help to talk to someone who’s been there.”
Detective Godwin’s eyes softened. “Did it?”
“Not really.” Grace rose from her chair. She wanted the detective to leave. She needed to be alone. She wanted to process what she’d just learned in private.
“I have one more question,” the detective said, still in her seat. “I searched Caitlin’s school locker today. It seemed odd she’d leave her iPod there. Especially o
n a Friday. Was that something she usually did? Or do you think she forgot it because she was in a hurry or distracted?”
“What are you talking about? Caitlin doesn’t own an iPod.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure. She must have borrowed it.”
“Aren’t most kids glued to their iPods?”
“I guess so. I don’t know. Like I said, Caitlin didn’t own one.” When the detective showed no sign of leaving, Grace said, “Was there something else?” She knew her tone was curt but she didn’t care.
“You’re upset,” Godwin said, rising at last. “What is it?”
Grace shook her head. The dam was ready to burst and there was nothing she could do to stop it. She felt her chest shudder. She grabbed the kitchen counter as the tears came, then quickly grew to a flood. “I’m sorry,” she said between sobs. “I’m having a meltdown moment.”
“You’re entitled. Is it something we talked about?”
Grace grabbed a fistful of tissues from the box on the counter, and blew her nose. “It’s the backpack. Caitlin’s wallet. Her things. And at the mall. Just like Karen Holiday. I think it just hit me that Caitlin won’t ever be coming home. She’s really gone.”
“Grace.” Detective Godwin touched Grace’s arm lightly. “I know it’s hard to hold out hope. Close to impossible sometimes, but there is a chance we’ll find your daughter alive.”
Grace pulled her arm away. “What do you know?” she snapped, tired of well-meaning outsiders telling her to remain hopeful. People who couldn’t begin to understand her pain. Hollow words easily delivered. “You never found Karen Holiday, and you aren’t going to find Caitlin, either.”
“We’re working very hard to—”
“Stop the crap! I don’t want to hear how hard you’re looking for her and how I have to hold out hope. She’s my daughter. Do you understand what that means? Do you have any idea?”
The detective stared at her like she’d been slapped in the face. In a way, she had, Grace conceded silently. But Grace’s anger hadn’t ebbed.
“Granted, it will be a disappointment for you,” Grace went on. “But bottom line, it’s just a job. When the day is over you go home to your husband or boyfriend or dog, take off your shoes and sip a little wine. Maybe you even rock your own child to sleep. For all your so-called knowledge, do you really think you have any idea how horrible it is to be in my position? How can you think for even a minute you’re in any position to tell me to stay positive?”
Grace’s voice had risen along with the heat in her cheeks. She took a breath to calm herself.
Silence echoed in the space between them. An eerie, electric silence.
“Just go,” Grace said when the silence grew unbearable. “Please, give me time alone.”
“You don’t know how tempted I am.”
“Do it then. You know where the door is.”
Detective Godwin ran a hand through her hair, feathering it at odd angles. She sat down again in the chair she’d vacated earlier, and leaned forward, arms on the table, head in her hands. Then she looked up and fixed her gaze on Grace.
“I do understand some of what you’re going through. My own daughter disappeared when she was eleven. She was missing for one year, ten months, and twenty-seven days.”
“But you found her again? Safe?”
The detective’s eyes half closed and the surrounding muscles tensed, as though she stared into a bright light. “Her body, what was left of it, was found at the bottom of an old well. If she’d lived, she’d be Caitlin’s age.”
“Oh, my God!” Grace’s lungs burned with the venom of her earlier outburst. “My God, I’m so sorry.” She gripped the table as she sank into her chair. “I never thought—”
“That’s why I do what I do. Why I go after the bad guys. It is personal for me.”
“Did they ever find her killer?”
“No. A lot of people worked on it. I was a cop, after all. At first we thought her disappearance was tied to the abductions of four other girls in Northern California. But that man was ultimately caught. He was miles away, in jail on other charges, the day Kimberly disappeared.”
“Kimberly. That’s a lovely name,”
“She was a lovely girl.” A faint smile touched the detective’s lips. “Parents always say that, I know. But she was. Funny and caring and full of life.”
Memories of Caitlin at age eleven flashed in Grace’s mind. The mother-daughter trip they’d taken to a dude ranch in Montana. The scarf Caitlin had knitted for her grandmother, an oddly irregular shape in bright orange. Grace’s throat constricted. She’d had four more years with Caitlin than the detective had had with her daughter. If Caitlin had disappeared at eleven, Grace would never have known the spirited teenager she’d become. Just as she would now never know the woman Caitlin could have grown to be. Caitlin would now be forever fixed in Grace’s mind at fifteen, just as Kimberly was for her mother at eleven.
“So your daughter’s killer is still out there?” Grace asked.
“As far as I know.”
“And there were no clues? No leads?”
“Nothing meaningful. The lead detective on the case retired last year, but the guy who inherited it is someone I used to work with. He and I both keep an eye out for more recent cases that might be a link. And someone I know in the FBI was involved early on. He says he hasn’t given up either.”
The detective had lovely green eyes, but there were dark circles under them, the kind that never really went away. Grace hadn’t noticed that before. Nor had she noticed the set of the mouth that rarely smiled. Or the deep frown lines in her forehead.
“Is your husband in law enforcement, too?” Grace asked.
“He was a veterinarian. He died a year before Kimberly disappeared. Cancer.”
Grace stayed quiet. Of all the things she thought to say, none felt right. She couldn’t imagine how she’d cope without Carl. Even when she turned on him, he was there to support her. Jake, too. He shared her fears and heartache.
Finally, she managed, “How awful for you. How do you go on?”
“Some days I wonder that myself. There are times, less frequent now, when I’m not sure I can. But until I find my daughter’s killer, I don’t have a choice. I owe it to Kimberly not to give up.”
“I’m really sorry for what I said earlier. I didn’t know. Didn’t have any idea.”
“No one here does. That’s part of why I came to Paradise Falls. I don’t really know why I told you, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t repeat it.”
“Of course. Thanks for telling me, though.” She wasn’t sure why, but her conversation with Detective Godwin left her feeling calmer. In some ways she felt the detective was more an ally than either Carl or Jake. She was a mother who’d lost her daughter, and a mother’s loss was like no other.
Chapter 18
Rayna slammed the door to the car shut. What had she been thinking? What in God’s name had possessed her to tell Grace about Kimberly? She gave her head a symbolic knock on the steering wheel.
Grace had her own problems, she didn’t need to hear about Rayna’s. It was unprofessional and besides, Rayna made it a practice not to talk about her daughter in casual conversation. Talking about what happened leveled her own personal tragedy to the mundane. Ho-hum, another murdered child.
Nobody but Rayna could ever understand the agonizing loss she’d suffered. It wasn’t that people were indifferent. Rayna had endured months of pitiful stares, avowed expressions of condolence, and sympathetic whispers behind her back. People agreed that a murdered child was about the worst thing imaginable, but then in the next breath they were discussing recipes for peach cobbler or how to get oil stains out of cotton clothing.
Talking about Kimberly drained life from Rayna’s memories, and the memories were all she had.
She’d been so careful up till now. Chief Stoval knew, of course—he’d hired her—but he’d agreed to respect her wish for privacy. No
one else, not even Hank, knew that she’d had a husband and daughter in another life. So why had she felt the need to blurt it out to Grace?
It wasn’t that Caitlin was missing. Rayna hadn’t confided in Beth Holiday. God forbid. The woman scared her. No, saddened her. Beth Holiday grieved for her lost daughter, of course, but as far as Rayna could tell, Beth accepted it on some level. God’s will and all that bunk. Grace’s grief was so raw, it reminded Rayna of her own.
Or maybe it had something to do with the fact that Caitlin touched a nerve with Rayna in a way Karen Holiday hadn’t. Caitlin looked nothing like Kimberly, who had blue eyes and fine blond hair to Caitlin’s darker, richer coloring. But Caitlin seemed possessed of spiritedness that reminded Rayna of her own daughter. Caitlin was the sort of girl Kimberly might have become.
Rayna took a deep breath. Get a grip, she told herself. She had a job to do.
~~~~
Back at the station she found a message that Paul Nesbitt had called and she remembered that she hadn’t returned his phone call from the night before.
She dialed his number in the prosecutor’s office, hoping he’d be unavailable. That way she could leave a message and be off the hook. Paul was a decent man and a good companion for those times she was in the mood. Now wasn’t one of those times.
His secretary put the call through and Paul picked up on the second ring. “Hey, good to hear your voice,” he said. “It’s been a while.”
“What’s up?”
“I’ve got tickets for that new musical in Portland this weekend. I was hoping you would join me.”
“I’d love to, but this missing girl investigation has me spinning a thousand different directions.” Had the circumstances been different, Rayna might have accepted—she loved the theater and Paul knew how to dine well, a winning combination in her book
“How’s the investigation going? You making any headway?”
“You know what it’s like. Lots of threads to follow, most of which go nowhere.”
“Yeah. At least by the time my office gets involved, we’ve got a suspect and a theory. Listen, take care, Rayna. And we’ll get together soon.”
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