Missing

by Debra Webb

  Melissa flinched. “The key is right where it has always been. And you know Stevie wouldn’t do that. He’s family. We’re the only family he has.”

  Presley’s eyebrows reared up in skepticism. “You sure about that, Miss Goodie-Two-Shoes? They won’t let him play with the kids at the day care center no more cause of what he did. Maybe you’d better get your facts straight.”

  Jonathan exchanged a look with Melissa. Had he missed something?

  Melissa shook her head, weariness and worry heavy in her eyes. “That was a misunderstanding. Stevie was a volunteer. The kids loved him. That one little girl was new. She didn’t understand Stevie was only playing. Chief Talbot cleared Stevie of any wrongdoing. He doesn’t go back to the center because it puts him at risk. Not the children.”

  “Whatever.” Presley slinked out of the room.

  William heaved a weary sigh. “I’m sorry.” He glanced in the direction his wife had disappeared. “She’s not herself.”

  “A missing child is the sort of nightmare no parent ever wants to go through,” Jonathan said, acknowledging the difficulty of the situation. “We all show our pain in different ways.”

  As if he’d said the words about their situation Melissa turned to him, her gaze searching his.

  An old familiar pang ached through Jonathan. He banished the ache and focused on the questions he needed to ask. “The windows are open,” he said to William. “Were they open that night?”

  William shook his head. “That night it was cold for May. One of those dogwood winters the old timers talk about.”

  “May I see her room?” Jonathan couldn’t name what he was looking for but he needed to get a feel for the family life. He’d formed a pretty strong opinion already and it wasn’t good. With William away serving his country most of the time, it didn’t appear that anyone was watching after the child in any significant and consistent manner. He felt confident that Melissa did all she could, but he doubted that Presley allowed her interference often.

  With visible effort, William nodded and pushed to his feet. “It’s, uh, this way.”

  Jonathan waited for Melissa to go ahead of him but she hesitated. “She knows something.” Melissa checked to ensure her brother was well out of hearing. “Something she’s afraid to tell.”

  He didn’t have to ask whom she meant. Her sister-in-law. The pain on Melissa’s face even as she voiced what Jonathan himself sensed with little doubt made his gut clench. “I agree.”

  Melissa turned to lead the way to the child’s bedroom without saying more, but the relief Jonathan had noted on her face at his agreement made him wonder just how bad a mother Presley had been. Maybe not that bad, he amended. Melissa would never overlook abuse or neglect.

  The small house had two bedrooms separated by a bathroom down a short hall from the main living area. The child’s room was a little tidier than the rest of the house he’d seen so far. The bed was unmade, stuffed animals lined shelves and themed curtains dressed the windows. The signs of a forensic tech’s work remained visible. The room had been dusted for prints and the bed linens had been removed for collection of trace evidence. That last part surprised Jonathan. The official report had shown no indication that sexual abuse was suspected.

  Jonathan checked the window. It was closed and locked, presumably the way it was the night the child went missing. The pink paint around the window looked clean and undamaged. The curtains showed no tears.

  There was nothing about the room that appeared out of place to an outside observer. Jonathan turned to William. “Does Presley work outside the home?”

  “Sometimes she helps out at the diner downtown.”

  “Who takes care of Polly when her mother works?”

  “She goes to the day care center at the First Baptist Church.” William’s gaze stayed on the child’s pillow as he spoke. “It’s kind of a mother’s day out program. Polly likes going there.”

  Jonathan wanted to ask about the guy who had harassed Presley, but he would get that information from Melissa later. “Are there any other places Polly goes regularly? Any friends she plays with who live nearby? Any neighbors who were home the night she went missing?” The street was lined on both sides with small homes. Not more than a dozen feet separated them. The police had interviewed neighbors and those who had regular access to the child. He’d read those interviews, as well. Jonathan’s strategy would duplicate a lot of that ground. But sometimes the same question asked twice reaped different answers.

  “She goes to church with me on Sundays,” Melissa said before William could. “The same church where she goes to mother’s day out.”

  Melissa had gone to church when they were together, Jonathan recalled. He wasn’t surprised that she did still. “Any children she plays with regularly? Other parents who are friends of yours, or Presley’s?” he asked William.

  “The kids next door once in a while,” William said, “but not really anyone else outside the kids in the church program.”

  “Was anyone home that night at the neighbors on either side?” According to the police report the neighbors had been home, but no one heard or saw anything.

  William nodded. “Most were already in bed. The police canvassed the entire street. No one remembered hearing anything that night.”

  “Do you remember what time you left?” The time stated in the report was midnight, which provided a reasonable explanation for no one having been in a position to see or hear any comings and goings.

  “A little after midnight.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “It was late. I tried to reason with her, but she insisted I leave.”

  Not midnight. After midnight. “You’re sure about the time?”

  “Maybe. I guess. I was too angry to really notice. But it was around twelve-thirty when I got home.”

  “By home,” Jonathan clarified, “you mean the house where you and Melissa grew up?” Where Melissa lived now.

  William nodded.

  Melissa walked to the window and peered out. This was hard for her, too. She wanted to protect William and Presley, but who was going to protect her?

  Who had protected her when he’d walked out on her?

  Clearing the past from his head yet again, he asked, “Has Polly ever gotten out of the house or unlocked the door for anyone?” Jonathan couldn’t see that being the case at such a late hour, but it wasn’t impossible.

  William shook his head. “Polly doesn’t take to strangers. She’d never leave the house alone or open the door for anyone.”

  “Never,” Melissa confirmed, turning back to the conversation. “She’s a sweet child and plays well with the other kids, but she’s a little shy around adults that she doesn’t know.”

  Under the circumstances, Jonathan felt there could be little doubt that the child’s disappearance was foul play. The only questions were how the person got in and why no one, the mother in particular, heard anything. At least one door had to have been left unlocked.

  “Presley didn’t unlock the door for any reason after you left?” Jonathan pressed. “And no one was allowed in the house?”

  William stared at the floor. “She says she went straight to bed and no one called or came over.”

  That he didn’t meet Jonathan’s gaze as he spoke greatly discredited his words and concurrently alluded to what he wasn’t saying.

  “Does Presley have a habit of hosting company at late hours or leaving the house while Polly is sleeping?”

  William met his gaze then. “I can’t say for sure. She swears not, but,” he shook his head, “she’s lied to me before.”

  “We think she may have left the house that night,” Melissa said, visibly struggling with the fact. “After William was already gone. But it couldn’t have been for long. She loves Polly too much to take chances like that.”

  It was wrong and crazy as hell. But Jonathan knew it happened. “She won’t admit as much?” He knew the answer before he asked but he needed confirmation.

  William shook
his head again. “She’s sticking to her story that she went to bed and didn’t wake up until I came in the next morning.”

  Pounding echoed through the house, waylaying Jonathan’s next question.

  “I should get that…” William gestured toward the door. “I’m pretty sure Presley doesn’t want to talk to anyone else right now.”

  “We have other aspects of the case to look into,” Jonathan offered. “We’ll get out of your way for now.”

  William nodded and went to answer the door.

  Jonathan hung back, letting the others go before him. He took one last lingering look at the child’s room. Afraid of strangers. Possibly left at home alone. No signs of forced entry or struggle.

  Polly was taken by someone she knew. Or she remained asleep during the abduction.

  Jonathan’s money was on the former.

  By the time he reached the living room, William had opened the door to an older man.

  “William, what’s going on here?” The man looked past William to Jonathan. “Who is this?”

  Melissa stepped forward. “Chief, this is Jonathan Foley, a friend of mine.”

  Jonathan knew all about Chief Reed Talbot, having read a lengthy profile on the man. The chief glared at Melissa, then at Jonathan. “Presley called all upset about some stranger interrogating her about Polly’s disappearance.”

  Jonathan thrust out his hand. “Jonathan Foley. I apologize for not making your office my first stop, but I wasn’t sure you’d be available under the circumstances.”

  Talbot’s gaze narrowed with suspicion. “I’ve been heading the search for Polly. That’s where I should be now.” He tossed this statement, chock-full of accusation, at Melissa.

  “I don’t want to get in your way, Chief,” Jonathan insisted. “I’m just here to provide any support I can to a friend.”

  “Then I’m sure you’ll want to hear the news I’ve come to pass along.”

  Melissa’s breath caught. William’s eyes widened with hope.

  “We’ve learned Stevie Price’s whereabouts,” the chief announced in a rather flat tone.

  “Is Polly with him?” Melissa asked, her voice scarcely a whisper.

  The chief shook his head. “No, but at least this latest break clears up that question. An eye witness saw Stevie board a bus for Nashville that left early in the evening. Well before the child went missing.”

  Jonathan recalled reading that a local had gone missing the same day as the child. A local who not only knew Polly but who played with her frequently.

  The confirmation that the child wasn’t with that missing local opened up the possibility that she was with a stranger. But Jonathan’s instincts still leaned toward an intimate—someone the child knew well.

  If she was still alive.

  Chapter Four

  11:20 a.m.

  “I may have gone too far.” Harry Shepherd dropped his face into his hands. His heart ached with agony. “What have I done?”

  Carol Talbot got down on her knees in front of him. “Harry.” She took his face in her hands and drew his gaze to hers. “You did the only thing you could.”

  He wanted to believe she was right. Her eyes shone with the same pain he felt, but also a hope he couldn’t quite feel. They were in this together. She’d made a pact with him to do whatever needed to be done…and no looking back. Dear God. He pulled her into his arms. He’d needed someone for so long.

  So very long.

  This necessary horror had brought them even closer.

  “You’re right.” He kissed her cheek. “It was the only way.” As painful as it was, in the end his actions would make everything all right again. The ends justified the means.

  He’d worried himself sick for all these months. When William had gotten orders to deploy to Afghanistan, Harry had almost lost his mind. He couldn’t watch this happen again. Once in a lifetime was more than enough. He’d had to come up with a plan.

  Carol pulled far enough away to look into his eyes once more. She caressed his jaw with the pad of her thumb. “You don’t have to worry. Stevie will protect her with his life.” The promise of a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “This will all be over soon. William will be safe and, if he ever learns the truth, he’ll be thankful for the intervention once the initial shock has passed.”

  Harry wasn’t so sure about that, but what the boy didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Keeping the awful details secret would be the best way. Harry closed his eyes. He couldn’t love that boy more if he were his own son. Should have been his son. Harry shook off the heart-wrenching feelings. That had been a long time ago.

  Another lifetime ago.

  “As long as it keeps him away from that terrible place,” Harry agreed, “that’s all that matters.” He reminded himself of that fact every hour of every day. Without this intervention William might have perished just as his father had.

  Carol moved up to sit on Harry’s knee. He smiled in spite of the misery twisting his soul…in spite of the terrible reality of what he’d done. Doubt nudged his determination once more. Dear God, please let this be the right decision.

  “Having that no good bum recall seeing Stevie get on that bus was a stroke of genius.” She hugged Harry tightly. “You’re so smart. Reed didn’t suspect a thing. He swallowed the story as easily as he does that homemade cherry pie of mine.”

  Something else Harry wasn’t so sure of. “I would’ve thought the chief would assume Stevie had taken the bus when the salesclerk came forward to say that Stevie had bought a bus ticket to Nashville.” Harry had planned this out very carefully. He’d instructed Stevie to buy that ticket two days in advance of setting this strategy in motion. But Reed Talbot had kept digging until Harry had had to come up with a way to provide confirmation.

  Stevie Price had been fascinated with Nashville and country music since he was a kid. Playing guitar was his passion, and he was pretty damned good at it. No one ever believed the mentally challenged man would actually attempt following that dream. It had made complete sense to Harry to go with that idea. Most of the folks in the community didn’t care one way or the other about Stevie. Plenty of them were glad he was gone, for whatever reason.

  Harry hadn’t expected the chief of police to push for finding a witness who’d actually seen Stevie get on the bus. The driver had insisted he couldn’t recall any specific passengers. Too many faces, he’d said. Harry had had to step in and pay that drunken fool Floyd Harper to say he’d seen Stevie get on the bus after begging him for a few dollars to buy a bottle of the rot-gut he preferred. Considering Harper’s reputation, Harry hadn’t been sure the sham would work. Evidently adding the part about his begging for the booze money did the trick.

  Apparently it had. The chief had called Harry not twenty minutes ago to confirm that Stevie was in the clear for now. The Nashville police had been notified to keep an eye out for him, but the search for Polly couldn’t wait for confirmation of Stevie’s whereabouts. The investigation had to move forward under the assumption that Stevie wasn’t actually missing in a criminal or legal sense and obviously wasn’t involved in Polly’s disappearance. That was the chief’s position unless Nashville PD called with conflicting information.

  After the call, Harry had felt as if a massive boulder had been lifted from his chest. Yet he still couldn’t draw a deep enough breath. No matter that the little ruse had worked, this nightmare was far from over.

  “What about that man?” Carol asked, worry showing through the courageous face she’d no doubt kept in place just for Harry. “Jonathan Foley? Will he be trouble, you think?”

  Harry wished he knew. “Melissa has never said much about him. She’d seemed pretty broken up when their relationship ended a few years back. It’s hard to say.” Harry exhaled a heavy breath. “What I do know is that Foley’s got far-reaching connections in the military, which Melissa believes will help Will.” Harry’s niece had done the one thing she felt she could to help her brother. But Harry’s gut had tied in k
nots this morning when she’d told him about the step she’d taken.

  He was trying hard to give the idea the benefit of the doubt and not to borrow trouble.

  This Jonathan Foley could be a godsend.

  As long as he didn’t sniff around and get a whiff of the truth.

  That would destroy the family. And Harry couldn’t bear that.

  Mercy, what had he done?

  SINNERS!

  Scott Rayburn gritted his teeth as the disgust roiled in his belly. Harry Shepherd and Carol Talbot stood on her porch and hugged.

  Scott shook his head. Did they have no shame? What if the chief arrived to find another man on his porch, hugging his wife?

  Something was going on between these two. Scott had suspected as much for months now. Bay Minette was a small town. Folks had keenly honed eyes and ears and wagging tongues. He wasn’t the only one who’d noticed the looks these two shared whenever they bumped into each other in town.

  “Adulterers,” he muttered. Scott wished the chief would come home right now. That he would put Harry Shepherd in his place. The man had lorded over his family all these years as if no one in Bay Minette was good enough to get close to a Shepherd.

  Fury simmered in Scott’s veins. They weren’t even Harry’s family. But he’d sure as hell stepped in like they were as soon as his little brother was shipped home in a box by the military.

  All these years, old Harry had remained unmarried and completely devoted to his dead brother’s wife and children. Then she had died and Harry had turned his attention to another man’s wife—only the chief wasn’t dead. The missing child had evidently given these two the nerve to flaunt their illicit affair a little more flagrantly.

  Scott rolled his eyes. Either that or they were up to something more than tawdry behavior. He wouldn’t put this whole charade past the two of them to distract folks from their adulterous affair. Could be Harry’s attempt to rescue his nephew from going back to that godforsaken place the military had sent him.