“And now?” Her mom slid the small pack from her back, zipped it open, and handed Lauren a bottle of water. “Does it offer you any comfort now?”
She frowned at the shed. Was the giant crate still in there—her cage? Or had the police removed it. The cabin . . . it was bound to be dark inside and smelling of mold and echoing with terrifying memories. “There’s no comfort here. And it’s not safe.” Kevin had tricked her into believing he’d made everything right for her, but it had all been an illusion. A string of lies. “It was never safe at all. But I think we need to check inside. I know the police were here, but I just need to know that Mac didn’t come back here.” A crazy thought, but then Wynonna had taught her that sometimes you had to float crazy thoughts out there to find out if they had any merit.
A noise at the gate told them that Dad was there with his friends from the firehouse, who had volunteered to help them take any artwork that was removable. Sully had a big truck for hauling, and Tuna did construction work on the side. Among the three of them, Dad figured they would know what could be removed and how to do it. As the three men paused inside the gate, Lauren felt a stab of embarrassment. What if these men took one look inside and laughed out loud at her creations?
She need not have worried. Inside the cabin, both men were awestruck.
“This is amazing,” Tuna said, staring up at the painting of a woman arching through a starry sky, anchored by the tail of a purple dragon coiled around her ankles.
“You really got some talent, Lauren,” Sully pressed on the edges of a wall, which shifted back. “Oh, yeah, this will come right out, no problem. So Lauren, have you ever thought about art school?”
“I used to think about it,” she said, glad her voice sounded steady. She still wasn’t used to talking to strangers, but over the past few weeks she had seen enough of Dad’s friends to gain some ease around them. “I still love to draw and paint, but the idea of being inside a classroom makes me feel too closed in. I need to be outside.”
“I hear ya,” Sully said. “I could never work in an office. I need to see the sky, even when it’s gray and rainy.”
Tuna moved over to one of the beams, which was textured with crayon that Lauren had melted. “As far as these go, I’m not sure.” He removed his hat and scratched at the fringe of hair behind one ear. “If the structure is coming down, we could slice through the joints.”
“Vera Hawkins has told us to take anything we want, just as long as no one gets hurt dismantling the cabin,” Mom said. “These buildings are going to be torn down next week. That’s why we wanted to get in here and save Lauren’s art.”
“Yeah.” Dad swiped away some cobwebs with an old broom that had been left there. “Vera wants to be done with all this. Done with us, too.”
Lauren sensed that her parents were angry with Vera Hawkins for letting her nephew live back here, but Lauren didn’t hold a grudge. Having never met the woman, she believed Vera’s story. The woman had been trying to help Kevin, and she had no idea Lauren was being held in the back acres of Green Spring Farm.
Tuna turned to Lauren. “I don’t know if you’d ever want to do this, but I bet some museum would love to make an exhibit out of this art. It would appeal to young people, and old guys like us, too.”
“Speak for yourself, Tuna,” Sully said. “I’m not old.”
“You’re older than me,” Tuna countered.
“Still, I’m not old. Old is when you lose your hair.”
“Come on, brother,” Tuna teased, his blue eyes twinkling. “Old is gray hair.”
Sully ran a hand over his thick, silver crew cut. “Listen, buddy, I’d rather have snow on the roof than no roof at all.”
Dad shook his head, but Lauren could see a hint of a smile. “You guys should take that act to a comedy club.”
“You can see us at the firehouse, Saturday night,” Tuna mimicked a drum roll. “Ba-dum-bum.”
Mom chuckled. “You guys are too much.”
A small laugh bubbled up inside Lauren as the guys chuckled. This was something she had missed: the easy camaraderie of friends. Granted, she hadn’t been that social when she was eleven and wrapped up in her art. But she enjoyed the easy chatter Dad had with his friends. It made her heart feel light, even in this dark cabin, oozing with some painful memories.
Did she have any possibilities for friends now? There was Jazz. She could be herself around him, and she loved watching him care for the horses. Horses could bring out the true nature of a person, and inside Jazz was golden, kind and strong and responsible. Sometimes she wondered if she might be more than a friend to him. Sure, he had a girlfriend at college, a girl named Dallas, but he hadn’t seen her for weeks, and he never talked about her. Well, even if he didn’t like her that way, she was grateful for his friendship. That part felt real.
Nora was in a different mind-set, a world with priorities and a language Lauren did not understand. The talk of boys and college, clothes and drunken parties didn’t strike anything authentic inside her. She felt more at ease with Paula, who was probably sixty years old, or Sierra, who was only twelve. Maybe being a dinosaur wasn’t so bad.
Before anything was removed from the compound, Dan organized the guys to search in nooks and crannies, looking for any sign that Mac might have returned here after the police left. The men did discover some drug paraphernalia in the shed, probably from some kids who’d found their way in. Otherwise, there was no sign of Mac.
It took most of the afternoon, but the men managed to extract almost two dozen different panels and beams from the cabin. Everything was loaded into the truck, except for the panels with the mother and angel baby, which would go to the garage at home for now. Sully had brought special padded blankets to wrap things in, and Mom had rented a space at a storage facility in Mirror Lake. They managed to salvage a lot of Lauren’s art, and though Lauren wasn’t sure what they would do with the pieces, she was glad it had been saved. The paintings documented a terrible part of her life, but her own emotions were mixed into the swirls of color and texture, and that part was good.
She had learned that certain pieces from the past held intrinsic value, even if the emotion they represented was dark or sad. In therapy, she had learned about yin and yang, the two opposing sides in human nature.
Male and female, darkness and light, cold and hot, evil and good. At first she had told Wynonna that she wanted to be only yang, the sunny side of the slope. But Wynonna pointed out that the sun always moves across the slope, obscuring what was revealed and revealing what was hidden. “You want to be eternal sunshine? Endless day. Relentless heat?” Wynonna had asked.
“Well, not exactly.”
“The nurturing instinct is strong inside you,” the therapist had told her. “That’s yin. There’s a little bit of yin and yang in all of us,” Wynonna had explained. “Yin and yang don’t exist separately, and there’s always interplay between them. That contrast makes for many of the juicier moments in life. The serenity of night is sometimes what we need. And at times we appreciate the sunlight more when we’ve been living in darkness.”
That is why I need to be out in the sunlight, Lauren thought as she stood back while the guys loaded up the last of the pieces. She understood what Wynonna meant about balance, but she was ready for the light now. After six years in this prison, she was ready for the sunlight of the soul. It was time to breathe in some yang.
Chapter 46
Lauren looked around the office and wondered why no one put colorful paintings or decorations on the walls. There was so much gray, a person could die in here, just from lack of contrast and definition.
“Here are some more cuties,” Rachel said as she scrolled through files on the computer at Mirror Lake’s Board of Education.
From the sound of Mom’s voice, Lauren knew it was not a photo of Mac, but she gazed up at the computer and focused on the picture of the smiling first-grader. Freckles were sprinkled across her nose, and she was missing two teeth. Lauren bit her bo
ttom lip. The kid was cute, and she looked at the camera with such trusting eyes. Eyes that said: My world is a happy place!
If someone captured Mac in a photo, would her eyes sparkle with that childlike bliss? Lauren wasn’t sure. But the more photos of schoolchildren they screened, the more convinced she was becoming that they were not going to find Mac this way.
“Is that a no?” Rachel asked.
“It’s not her. First grade would be too old for Mac, anyway.”
“True, but we finished screening the kindergartners last week, and the pre-K kids were done in the beginning of July. This is a long shot, I know, but sometimes those big gambles pay off.”
“What happened with those little kids who didn’t have photos or birth certificates?” They had come across three files that were incomplete, which Rachel had flagged.
“I pointed them out to Hank, and he took the information. Last night I looked up the addresses on MapQuest. Two of them are in that development on the other side of Mirror Lake, and one is right on the lake—a big piece of property, but I can’t tell which house. Google Maps wouldn’t give me a picture.”
“Can we go to those houses?” Lauren asked.
“Maybe. We’ll keep an eye on them as more information comes in. How about this one, just registered? Carrie Scott.”
Lauren frowned. “Too old. Mom, Mac is way too young for first grade.”
“But it sounds like Mac has an excellent vocabulary, and you never know. If the kidnapper is making up a fake birth certificate anyway, he or she might have decided to lie about Mac’s age to throw off a search like this.”
Lauren shook her head slowly, hating the chill of the air conditioner. She wanted to be outside in the sunshine, brushing down Yoda or taking the kayaks out with Sierra on the lake. One thing she’d learned about herself in therapy: indoor work put her in a bad mood.
Still, this was important. She watched the screen as her mother scrolled through more files, each with a child’s image embedded in the upper-right corner. Mom was good at moving around on the computer, and she knew she could rule out boys or children who did not come close to matching the portrait Lauren had drawn of her daughter. Besides, part of the deal was having Mom and only Mom—a teacher in the Mirror Lake School District—actually use the computer. The superintendent’s argument that these were confidential files had been countered by the police chief’s assurance that this was an ongoing criminal investigation and that an employee would be handling the confidential information.
They were so secretive, so protective of these children, Lauren thought as she shook off another photo, a sweet girl with a Dutch boy haircut. She was glad for the security they had in place, though she wasn’t sure that what had happened to her could have been avoided. Kevin had told her that he’d been watching her walk home from school, clocking her afternoon route, for weeks.
“Lauren?” Mom cocked her head to one side to study her. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t think we’re going to find her this way, Mom. If the person who kidnapped Mac has her in Mirror Lake or one of the nearby towns, they’re probably not going to let her go to school at all.”
Rachel sighed. “That’s probably true, but we can’t stop trying.”
“No. I didn’t mean that we should stop. I just—”
“Lauren.” Rachel swiveled around in the chair and put her hands on Lauren’s shoulders. “We are not going to stop until we find her.” She frowned at the computer. “It looks like we’re done here for the day, but this isn’t our only resource.” She checked her watch. “You’re supposed to be at Wynonna’s by three, but I guess we have time.”
“Time for what?”
Rachel logged off the computer and stood up. “I got an address for Gabby Haggart.”
Gabby . . . “Kevin’s girlfriend.” The one who’d been smoking outside in the compound.
“That’s the one. I couldn’t get a phone number, so I figured we might have to drop by and hope to catch her.”
“Okay.” Lauren rose from the chair, a mixture of surprise and wariness churning inside her. She did not like walking into unfamiliar settings, but with Mom guiding her, she thought she could handle it. “Do you think she’ll want to talk to us?” she asked as she followed Mom out the door.
“Probably not,” Mom said. “But we’ll persist. If you haven’t noticed, I can come on pretty strong when I need to.”
Lauren laughed as they pushed open the double doors and stepped into the sunshine.
Chapter 47
What was she dragging her daughter into? Rachel began to have second thoughts about this adventure as she faced the middle-aged woman with painfully short hair and a mouth pinched tight in disapproval.
The woman didn’t spare a smile as she leaned into the shadow behind the door. “I got no time to talk about Jesus. Let’s leave it at that.”
Rachel looked back at Lauren. In their skirts and blouses, they’d been mistaken for door-to-door missionaries.
“Oh, no, we’re not trying to convert you. We’re looking for Gabby Haggart.” The girl with the teardrop tattoo. Was this woman her mother? Did she approve of the tat? “Is she home?”
“Who are you?”
“Rachel and Lauren.” Rachel knew that if she explained, this woman would slam the door in her face. “Gabby knows Lauren. They met. A few times.” It wasn’t a lie, but it didn’t endear the woman to them.
“I’ll tell her.” And the woman disappeared, slamming the door behind her.
Rachel stepped down from the porch, joining her daughter in the packed-dirt driveway. “I can’t tell if that meant she was home or not.” She turned toward the house, an ill-kept ranch with a trailer home parked in the driveway. The bottom of the front door was scuffed from so much kicking or the scratching of a dog. The windows were covered with yellowed newspaper that had been taped up inside. “Should we come back another time?”
“We’re here.” Lauren kept her eyes on the front door. “We might as well wait. I need to feel like I’m doing something, anything, to get closer to Mac.”
Rachel could understand that, but perhaps trespassing on the Haggarts’ property was not the best approach.
A minute later, the door opened and a round young woman emerged from the house and descended the steps. Ignoring them, the woman walked to the shiny car on the dirt lawn.
Was that her? Rachel didn’t see the teardrop tattoo. “Gabby Haggart?” she asked.
The young woman shook her head. When she smiled, a gap in her front teeth was evident. “I’m her cousin Eleanor. Gabby’ll be right out, but we have to go.” Eleanor got into the car and turned on the radio. A country pop song. She sat there waiting for three minutes, then cut the engine, got out, and yelled into the front door of the house. “I told you, I’m not gonna let you make me late for work. If you’re not here in ten seconds, you’re taking the bus.”
“Wait!” someone called from inside the dark crack of the door.
“I already did!” Eleanor yelled. She began to give the door of the house a slam, then caught herself when she noticed Rachel and Lauren watching. She flashed them that odd, gap-toothed smile, then let the door close softly and got back in the car. With the radio blasting once again, she checked herself in the mirror, frowned at the dashboard, and put the car into gear. The cute little Kia crunched over the dirt driveway, then sped onto the road with a gust of red dust.
Lauren’s eyes widened. “That’s not very nice, leaving her cousin behind.”
“It’s not,” Rachel agreed. “Though we don’t know the whole story. It can be frustrating to always be waiting for someone who’s chronically late.” She knew firsthand. Sierra was in that stage where she couldn’t pull herself away from the mirror.
Thirty seconds later, the front door opened and a young woman scowled out at the driveway. Gems sparked on her fingers and ears, which were prominent due to the short, wild haircut that was moussed to bright orange spikes. “Dammit, Eleanor!” She hitched a bat
ik print tote bag on one shoulder, then hurried down the steps, right past Rachel and Lauren.
The telltale tattoo dripped down her cheek.
“Gabby?” Rachel called. “You got a minute?”
“Not really.” Gabby’s gray eyes, flashing inside dark circles of eyeliner, were piercing. “I have to get to school, and now I’m going to have to take the bus.”
“We wanted to ask you some questions about your boyfriend, Kevin.” Lauren stepped up, her voice engaging and kind.
Her sincerity and poise surprised Rachel. Apparently, it disarmed Gabby, too, because the young woman paused.
“Kevin used to be my boyfriend.” She looked back at the house. “I don’t date prisoners.”
“My name is Lauren, but he used to call me Sis.” Lauren’s amber eyes were open and friendly, nonjudgmental. “We met at the compound behind Green Spring Farm when you were visiting.”
Gabby’s eyes grew wide. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never been to that old farm, and right now I gotta go or I’ll be late for cosmetology school. So, yeah. . . . see ya.” She cut between Rachel and Lauren and strode down the driveway to the street.
“She’s lying,” Lauren said quietly. “She came to the compound with Kevin. More than once.”
“Yup. You hit a nerve.” Rachel had an idea. “Let’s follow her. Maybe if we offer her a ride to school, she’ll open up a little more.”
As Rachel slowed the car along the sidewalk, Lauren stepped up once again with an earnest offer of a ride into Portland.
Pausing on the sidewalk to squint down at the car, Gabby seemed perplexed, but interested. “It’s over on Hawthorne,” she said. “Do you know how to get to Hawthorne?”
When Rachel assured her she could figure it out, the young woman hopped into the car. In the rearview mirror, Rachel saw her staring sullenly out the window. She figured it would be best to let the girl warm to them. She asked questions about beauty school and listened as Gabby talked about not being sure where she wanted to end up.
And Then She Was Gone Page 24