The question caught Adam off-guard and he swallowed so hard he almost choked on his own spit. “I already told her.” Adam gestured toward Detective Godwin. “I was home. At my mom’s house.”
“What time did you leave school?”
“Around two-thirty. I have last period free but I hung around some to check on something in the science lab.”
“Who else was at the house?”
“No one. My mom works until six or six-thirty, and my sister was doing something after school.”
“So you can’t prove you were home?”
Adam’s throat constricted. “What’s this about, anyway?”
Detective Godwin leaned forward, slid her arms across the counter and spoke softly. “Adam, Grace found pictures of Caitlin tucked inside a Playboy magazine today. In your room.”
So he’d been right. Grace had been snooping in his room. Adam could feel his face flush. “They’re just pictures. I don’t see the big—”
“And Caitlin’s emails to her friend Fern Daniels said you made a habit of watching her. Looking at her all the time. She said she found you cuddling her sweater.”
“Why would I do that?” His voice squeaked, embarrassing him.
FBI Man said, “Because you had the hots for Caitlin?”
Adam swallowed then tried to moisten his mouth which had gone very dry. “You’re both nuts.”
“What did you do, finally come on to her? Tell her how you felt? Or did you just go after her plain and simple?”
“No,” Adam said. “It wasn’t like that.”
“Maybe you didn’t mean to harm her,” FBI Man continued. “Maybe she resisted, called you names or said hurtful things. Girls can be such bitches sometimes. Believe me, I know.”
Detective Godwin positioned herself between FBI Man and Adam. “Tell us what happened, Adam. There are lots of ways things can get out of hand. If you didn’t mean to hurt her, then you need to tell us that. Otherwise we might assume it was intentional.”
Adam shook his head. Unfortunately, his whole body was shaking as well. “No, you’ve got it all wrong. I didn’t—”
“Her initials, Adam, scratched into a rock by the river. In a spot you are known to frequent. Along with a ring. When we do a more thorough search, what are we going to find? Evidence that you forced Caitlin there?”
“She wasn’t . . .”
“Wasn’t what?”
He needed to shut up. He understood enough to know that he could easily dig himself into a hole he’d never get out of. They were leaning on him because they didn’t have proof of anything. They were trying to get him to give them the story they wanted to hear.
“I don’t have anything more to say to you,” he said with as much confidence as he could muster.
“We’re going to have plenty to say to you.” FBI Man stepped forward so that his face was only inches from Adam’s. “And the circumstances will be far less pleasant than they are now.”
Detective Godwin put her hand on FBI Man’s arm and he retreated. But the thrust of his message wasn’t lost on Adam.
“If you didn’t do anything wrong, you have nothing to hide,” Detective Godwin said. “Cooperate with us and everyone wins.”
Adam bit his tongue and remained silent.
“Do you know what happened to Caitlin?” she asked softly.
Adam shook his head, afraid to look at them, afraid he might start crying, sure they didn’t believe him.
Chapter 25
As difficult as it had been for Grace to go to Detective Godwin with her suspicions about Adam, telling Carl what she’d done would be much, much harder. The prospect tied her stomach in knots.
It had been her intention to go to the college directly after leaving the police station. Instead, she’d gone home and thrown up. Then she’d taken a long, hot shower and left a little before Adam was due home from school.
She knew she couldn’t back away now, but that didn’t stop her from second-guessing herself. Had she made a mountain out of a molehill? She felt guilty and sad and frightened all at once.
She had to speak to Carl before he arrived home. And she needed to do it in person. Which was why she now stood outside Morrison Hall where Carl taught his afternoon American Lit seminar, with nerves as jumpy as if she were awaiting her own execution.
The air was damp with mist but the heavy rain that had pounded them earlier that day had moved on. Singly and in pairs, students scurried past, eyes forward, faces determined. At the bottom of the steps a young couple exchanged a quick kiss before moving off in opposite directions.
The chimes of the bell tower across campus sounded, marking the top of the hour, and a fresh stream of students poured through the wide doors of Morrison Hall. Several minutes later Carl emerged, accompanied by two male students. One of them said something and Carl looked toward the sky and laughed. He had a wonderful laugh—rich and all-enveloping. The boys laughed also. Then Carl looked over and saw Grace. His expression shifted immediately, and he hurried toward her, anxiety imprinted on every feature.
“Is there news about Caitlin?”
A sharp sense of loss drilled into Grace’s chest, like a screw turning. She loved Carl, and more importantly, he loved her. Yet she knew that nothing would ever be the same between them.
He reached for her hands. “Tell me, Grace. Is it good news or bad?”
“Not news, not really, but we need to talk.”
Confusion mixed with the worry in Carl’s eyes. “What’s this about?”
“Please, can we go somewhere private?”
“My office?”
She nodded and they walked the short distance to Carl’s office in awkward silence. When they were inside and he’d shut the door, he put his hands on Grace’s shoulders. “It must be serious. You’re not usually one for such drama.”
“Oh, Carl.” She leaned against him and pressed her check against his chest. She could hear his heart pounding beneath the rough wool of his sweater. She longed to bury herself in the comfort of his embrace. Instead, she pulled back and looked up at him. “I’m afraid you’re going to hate me.”
“Why? What’s happened?”
Carl’s office wasn’t large, but he’d made the space his own. Comfortable and distinctly academic at the same time. A photo of the five of them on a trip to the coast last summer sat prominently on his desk. The family that no longer existed.
Grace sat in one of the two chairs designated for students. “I’m not sure how best to explain, but I made some discoveries.”
Carl sat on the edge of his desk, facing her. “What is it, Grace?” Alarm underscored each syllable.
“A little background first.” Grace cleared her throat and pressed her thumbs together in her lap. “Last evening, before I came downstairs to help you with dinner, I saw Adam coming out of Caitlin’s room. I know that doesn’t mean anything in itself, but it bothered me. And then later, after you’d gone to bed, I opened the letter Fern Daniels sent. She included printouts from some of Caitlin’s emails. Mostly chatty girl stuff. But at one point Caitlin said Adam was always watching her and it made her uncomfortable. She also said she’d seen him ‘cuddling’ her sweater.”
Grace had been talking to her hands but now she looked at Carl. “Today I found photos of Caitlin in Adam’s room. They were tucked inside a copy of Playboy. One of the photos showed Caitlin in her pajamas, sitting on her bed.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“I don’t know, maybe nothing. But what if . . . I mean it might be possible that he . . .” She couldn’t bring herself to say the words out loud. “It’s something we should at least consider.”
“You think Adam is responsible for whatever happened to Caitlin?” Carl’s voice had none of its usual resonance. The tone was sharp and biting. And etched with disbelief.
“He probably had contact with Karen Holiday, too,” she said, sidestepping the question. “Karen got study help through the Students for Students program where Adam tuto
rs.”
Carl stood up and stepped forward, towering over her. “Have you lost your mind?”
Maybe she had. Grace didn’t know what to say.
“Do you really mean to accuse Adam, my son Adam, of being a murderer? I simply don’t know what to say. This whole conversation is ludicrous.”
“I’m not accusing him of anything, Carl. But his behavior raises questions.”
“Only because you’re looking for them.”
“Caitlin is still missing and Karen Holiday is dead. You can’t expect me to ignore what I’ve learned simply because Adam is your . . . is part of our family.”
“What you’ve learned? And what is that, exactly? That he had a few snapshots of his stepsister? That Caitlin thought Adam was looking at her funny? And so what if he had her sweater. ‘Cuddling’ is a loaded word. For all we know, he could have been moving it from the table or something. You don’t even know what Caitlin says is true. You don’t know anything.”
Carl’s reaction was close to what she’d expected. Denial and rationalization. And certainly hurt, too, although that was less obvious. Grace was glad she’d gone to Detective Godwin this afternoon. If she hadn’t, she felt certain Carl would have talked her out of it. He was right. She didn’t have much to go on.
“If Adam doesn’t have anything to hide, then there’s no problem, is there?”
Carl paced to the window and back, running his hand through his thick brown hair. “I can’t believe you’re even entertaining this ridiculous notion. I know you’re upset and not thinking clearly, but honey, you’ve gone off the deep end.”
Grace studied her hands again. The swell of emotions inside her brought tears to her eyes. She felt as if she were being buffeted about a windswept sky.
“Look,” Carl said with forced civility. “I’ll talk to Adam, okay? We’ll see what he says.”
“There’s one more thing.” Grace swallowed. “I spoke with Detective Godwin this afternoon.”
It must have taken a moment for the meaning of Grace’s words to register because Carl didn’t respond immediately. Or maybe he was simply dumbstruck.
“You told the police that you suspect Adam had something to do with Caitlin’s disappearance?” he said, his voice icy.
Grace looked up at him. “I don’t suspect Adam. I don’t know. I don’t know anything.”
“How could you not come to me first?” The anger in Carl’s voice was honed and hot, and pierced Grace’s heart like a bolt of lightning. “He’s my son, and you didn’t have the decency to talk to me before you ran to the cops?”
“I did what I had to do. You can’t stick your head in the sand and refuse to consider the possibility that Adam might be involved. I’m not saying he was. I don’t know, but you don’t know either.”
“I know my son. I thought I knew you, too.”
~~~~
Reluctant to face the firing squad for the second time that day, and wanting to give Carl and Adam a chance to talk privately, Grace returned home slowly. It was almost six when she pulled her car into the driveway.
She entered the kitchen, where the family sat around the old wood table. Hateful stares and stony silence greeted her. Adam got up and brushed past, clipping her shoulder roughly. Lucy stared at Grace the way she might a particularly repellant bug, then also left the room. Carl, alone, met her eyes, but with such intense displeasure his glare burned, and Grace looked away.
“The police were here this afternoon,” Carl told her. “They talked to Adam.” He rose, scrapping the chair harshly across the plank flooring. “They sure didn’t waste any time acting on your suspicions.”
“What was I supposed to do? Did you want me to ignore what I’d learned?”
“Don’t you realize that with no leads, the cops will take whatever comes their way? They’re eager to arrest someone and be done with it.”
“Just because they talked to Adam, it doesn’t mean they’re going to arrest him. It doesn’t even mean they suspect him.”
“What world do you live in, Grace?”
Adam returned, wearing his jacket. Hitching his backpack onto his shoulders, he said, “I’m going back to Mom’s.”
“Adam, please.” Carl wove his fingers through his hair. “There’s no need to run off.”
“Yeah?” Adam glared pointedly in Grace’s direction.
Carl sighed. “You’d better check with your mother first. Make sure she doesn’t have other plans.”
“It’s my home, too.”
“As is this,” Carl said.
Adam shot Grace another nasty look. “Not so’s you’d notice lately.”
“I’m no happier about what Grace did than you are, Adam. I told you that and I mean it. I know you didn’t hurt Caitlin. I’m sure in her heart, Grace knows that too. But these are anxious times. People under stress sometimes do foolish things.”
“She doesn’t like me,” Adam said. “She never has.” He slammed out the door on his way out.
His words took on weight in the silence that followed. “That’s not true,” Grace protested finally. “And this has nothing to do with liking him or not. If he had nothing to do with Caitlin’s disappearance, there’s no reason for him to be upset.”
“You think he might be involved, Grace. I’d say that’s plenty of reason.”
She had never really considered that her opinion might matter to Adam. He was Carl’s son. Part and parcel of the marriage. Not that she hadn’t tried to build a relationship with him. With both Carl’s children. She’d had slightly better luck with Lucy. Adam hadn’t sought out Grace’s opinion or approval, and she’d assumed Adam had considered her an interloper.
“What did he say about the photo of Caitlin on her bed?” Grace asked, in part because she wanted to know, and in part because she wanted to deflect the spotlight from herself.
Carl sighed wearily. “That Caitlin gave it to him.”
“And you believe that?”
“Grace, it’s just a photo of Caitlin reading, right? She’s not posing in a suggestive way or doing anything provocative, is she?”
“It’s not just that photo,” Grace explained. “It’s everything taken together. And I’m not saying it proves anything, only that it raises questions.”
A lot of what made Grace uneasy defied rational explanation. Maybe it had to do with body language or reading between the lines or plain old intuition. Or maybe she really was going off the deep end, but it didn’t feel that way. “What did Adam say about being in Caitlin’s room the other night?”
“I didn’t ask.”
“I thought you were going to talk to him.”
“We did talk.”
“You don’t want to know, do you? You don’t really want the truth.”
“Enough, Grace! I’ve had it. I’ve tried to be understanding. I know how hard it is for you right now. But that doesn’t give you reason to turn on my family.”
Mine. Yours. Obviously, blended families existed only when times were good.
“I’m going to call Mimi,” Carl said. “I should let her know what’s happening.”
“Especially with Adam on his way there,” Grace agreed. “She might be in the, uh, middle of something.”
Carl crossed his arms. “Haven’t you attacked my family enough for one day?”
What? How had his ex-wife become part of Carl’s family? She was about to lash back when the phone rang.
Carl grabbed the receiver, and Grace could hear Mimi in an uproar on the other end.
“The police are here with a search warrant,” she screamed. “They want to look in Adam’s room. What the hell is going on?”
“Is Adam there?”
“This is one of your nights, Carl.”
“He decided he wanted to be there, instead.”
Without so much as a glance in Grace’s direction, Carl took the phone into the den and shut the door.
Chapter 26
The coffee tasted thick and bitter but Rayna took a second swallow
anyway. And although it left an unpleasant aftertaste in her mouth, she knew she’d finish the entire cup. She’d managed to grab only intermittent sleep over the weekend, and even that had been far from restful. She was counting on the kick of caffeine to clear her head.
“I want this handled correctly,” Chief Stoval said, addressing the three of them gathered in his office. “Absolutely by the book.”
Rayna chafed at his tone. Did he think they usually flew by the seat of their pants? “We’re proceeding carefully,” she replied.
Hank chirped in with, “Right. We’re not rushing into anything.”
Cody remained silent. Rayna could see him out of the corner of her eye, slouched in his chair and frowning at the chief.
“Do we know how Adam obtained those photos?” Stoval asked. Though he didn’t say which photos, Rayna knew he was referring to the dozen or so snapshots they’d found on Adam’s computer at his mother’s house. Grainy digital shots of Caitlin naked in the shower and of Caitlin in her bra and panties.
“We’re assuming he took them himself,” Rayna explained. “From the angle, it looks like he climbed onto the overhang outside the bathroom window. It wouldn’t be difficult to do.”
The chief ran a hand through his thinning hair. “Jesus. His own sister. Okay, stepsister. Why didn’t he just stick to Playboy?”
It wasn’t, thankfully, a question that required an answer.
“Anything more on the necklace?” Stoval asked. They’d found the thin silver and onyx chain in a drawer in the basement of Mimi’s house when they executed the search Friday night.
“Definitely Caitlin’s,” Rayna told him. “I checked with her mother.”
Grace had held the necklace like an injured sparrow, in the palm of her hand, and her eyes had welled with tears. “It’s Caitlin’s,” she’d whispered. “It was a birthday gift from Carl.”
Rayna had found the look on Grace’s face hauntingly familiar. When your child was missing, everything she’d ever touched became sacred.
“Looks like the kid’s obsessed with the girl,” Stoval muttered. “Just the sort of juicy case the public eats up. Anything else at the spot down by the river?”
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