He went through the gate now, drawn by a mix of anticipation and dread, following the path made by his flashlight. The wind sighed; the chirr of crickets rose and fell. He stopped once, certain he heard the fall of other footsteps, and he waited, hardly daring to breathe. The hair on his scalp, the warning voice in his brain—every sense was on alert. But no one appeared. No one stepped onto the path. He was almost a quarter of a mile beyond the gate before he spotted it. The pink tricycle was turned on its side at the edge of the path, as if someone intent on concealing it under the trees had been interrupted. That was Jake’s initial impression before a rush of fear-fueled adrenaline kicked his emotions into gear, got his feet moving toward it. Kneeling beside it, he ran his hand over the front fender, following the movement with the beam of his flashlight. The trike was painted two shades of pink, colors that were repeated in the tassels hanging from the handlebars. He stood the trike upright, and set his hand on the tiny seat. Zoe had a tricycle like this one. She’d gone with his mom to pick it out for her birthday last year.
But it was at home, wasn’t it? Hadn’t he seen it there yesterday, in the garage? This one couldn’t be hers. There had to be dozens of little girls who had this same trike. Heidi Buchanan, who lived two doors down, had one. She was a year older, and Zoe copied everything Heidi did. Jake was almost certain that was why Zoe had insisted on having this exact—
His phone sounded, and he pulled it from his pocket, eyeing the screen. Seeing Clint’s name amped his alarm. His heart was a jackhammer. He stabbed the phone’s face, opening the connection, but then he couldn’t utter a word, not a sound.
“Jake?” the police captain said. “You there? Did I wake you?”
“Hell no. I’m out here at the school. The gate’s open. That new girl—Mary, Misty, whatever—she said she closed it, remember? But it’s open, Clint. It’s open, and there’s no sign of the padlock anywhere. It’s the last place Zoe was seen—”
“Jake! Slow down. Are you talking about the gate behind the school? Because we looked around back there yesterday—”
“Yes. There’s a trike—a pink trike here down the trail a ways—” Jake interrupted himself. “Did you—are you calling because you found them?”
“No. No, I’m sorry. But I did get information on the boyfriend.” Clint sounded grim. “His name’s Andy Duchene. He’s twenty-eight, ex-army. Did his basic at Fort Hood. Served in Afghanistan. Lifelong resident of Houston.”
Jake snorted. “A younger guy, a party boy.” Jake had never been a party boy.
“Yeah, well, I imagine he does like to party if his track record of drug arrests and DUIs is any indication. But there’s something else on his record that’s a bit more concerning—other than his less than honorable discharge for dealing drugs, that is.”
Jake waited.
“He was married when he enlisted, and by the time he was discharged, he had two kids by the ex-wife. She got custody when they were divorced.” Clint stopped.
“Yeah, okay. So?” Jake prompted.
“So he took them, the kids. This was around a year and a half ago. He was supposed to have them for a regularly scheduled weekend, but he didn’t bring them back. The ex reported them missing. A BOLO was issued and an Amber Alert.”
Jake knew where this was going, and his chest squeezed.
“When law enforcement caught up with him, he was boarding a flight out of Oklahoma City for New York. He had fake passports for him and the kids and had booked tickets for a flight to Amsterdam. Turns out, he had a buddy there, someone he knew from his army days, who was going to help them get lost, so to speak.”
“Duchene’s got connections then, a way to do this. He and Steph . . . they could have been planning to take Zoe for weeks.” Jake sat back on his heels.
“Like I said earlier, we’ve got eyes on the airports. We’re doing our best to find them, Jake.”
“Yeah.” What if your best isn’t good enough? What if they get out of the country with my kid?
“Tell me about the gate,” Clint said. “It was shut, and the padlock was on it when we were back there.”
Jake got to his feet. “It’s not now, and this—the playground back here—it’s the last place Zoe was seen, Clint.”
“I talked to Mrs. Dunhill, Katie’s mom. She’s pretty sure she saw Zoe get into a blue sedan out front—”
“Yeah, well, what’s her name—tattoo girl, the assistant—was dead certain Zoe was on the playground when Steph came to the school. And it’s for damn sure from her own mouth she never saw where, or how, or in what direction Zoe and Steph left.”
“Okay, but when I spoke to her, Marley was pretty clear she had locked the gate before speaking to Stephanie, which would indicate—”
“After the way she screwed up, how can we trust anything she says, Clint? Maybe the airhead was on her way to lock the gate when the boys got into a fight and distracted her. Steph could have gotten Zoe through the gate then, and Zoe would have gone right with her. She would have been thrilled, showing her mom the trail.”
“You say you found a trike back there. How does that fit—”
“I don’t know.” Jake rubbed his eyes, fighting an urge to lie down. Clint asked for a description of the tricycle, and Jake gave it to him. “Zoe has one like it,” he said.
“It doesn’t make sense,” Clint said. “Why would her trike be there? How would it get there?”
“No idea,” Jake said. “Maybe it’s not Zoe’s. Maybe none of this has anything to do with her or Steph. You’ve got to admit, it’s pretty damn strange, though.”
“Well, leave it as it is, will you? The gate and the trike—like you found them. I’d like to have a look at the area again, talk to Marley and Kenna about it.”
Jake said he would and started to end the call when Clint’s voice caught him, dishing out some final advice. “We need to keep an open mind as to what went down here,” the police captain said.
“I know what went down, Clint.” Jake retraced his steps to the school. “Steph and her boy toy have got Zoe. They could be out of the country by now, way to hell and gone.” He got into his truck, slamming the door. “You find Steph and Duchene, you’ll find Zoe. I’m telling you that’s a fact,” he added, because he was that convinced now that it was the truth. And part of him was relieved.
Relieved!
What a joke.
Clint said, “I’ve touched base with Madrone County, the sheriff’s department there in Greeley, asked them for support. We just don’t have the resources they have.”
“Good,” Jake said. “I’m glad for whatever help we can get.”
“Yeah, well, here’s the thing—they want you to take a lie detector test.”
“What? Why?”
“It’s standard in cases like this. They look at family members—”
“C’mon, Clint. It’s bullshit, and you know it.”
“It’s out of my hands at this point, son. Your best bet is to cooperate. Go in, get it over. They want to conduct a search of your property, too. The house, garage, and so forth.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Wish I was. I did manage to talk them into letting me do it.”
“You’ve got to have a warrant, right?”
“Yeah. They’re working on it. Probably have it later today. You might want to let your mama know.”
“Are they going to give her the third degree, too?”
Clint didn’t answer, which was answer enough.
9
Gilly was in the car but parked in her driveway on Friday morning when her cell rang, making her heart race. She was supposed to be on her way to work; it was still early. The sun was lingering a few feet above the horizon, shooting brilliant rays of light between houses, sending gleaming daggers through the tree canopy. She was only marginally reassured to see Liz’s name flash on the caller ID.
“You heard, I guess,” Gilly said instead of hello. She couldn’t think of any other reason Liz would call at th
is hour other than to talk about Zoe Halstead’s disappearance.
“No, what?” Liz was immediately concerned.
“I thought everyone in this town would know by now. Zoe Halstead is missing.”
“Zoe Halstead, Jake Halstead’s daughter? That adorable little girl? Are you kidding? I haven’t heard anything—has it been on the news?”
“I don’t know.”
“How did you find out? When did it happen?”
“We were closing up at the café yesterday when the captain—you know the Wyatt police captain is Cricket’s husband, right?”
Liz said she did.
“He came to tell Cricket.” Gilly explained all that she knew of the details. “Evidently the Mackies looked out for Jake’s ex before the divorce. They seem to think she’s the one who took Zoe.”
“Wow. That’s awful. Parents taking their own kids—I’ve heard sometimes they take them out of the country, and it’s years before they’re reunited with their mom or dad. Sometimes never—poor Jake.”
Gilly ran a fingertip along the lower arc of the steering wheel. She couldn’t decide whether to say it, that she didn’t think Jake’s ex had a thing to do with it, that the whole situation was much more dire than anyone imagined—if anyone could, or would, believe Gilly’s dream. It sounded so stupid, too ridiculous to even talk about—at least on the phone. “Are we still on for dinner tonight?” she asked.
“Yep. That’s why I’m calling so early. I’m going to be on the road all day, visiting with area doctors. I wanted to check and see what time and what I could bring. Wine? Dessert?”
“Either,” said Gilly after a troubled moment’s hesitation. But wasn’t it a good thing if Liz brought wine? It would provide the opening Gilly had been waiting for to explain. Liz would either be bothered by Gilly’s sobriety or not. It was a chance Gilly had to take, if she was going to be true to herself, the person she was now.
“I’m so glad for you,” Liz said. “For your friendship, do you know that?”
There was an odd quaver in her voice, one Gilly picked up on even as she agreed, saying, “Me too.” She waited a moment. “Are you okay? Did something happen?”
“No. Oh, I’m not sure. I think someone was outside my RV last night, that it might have been my ex. I heard noises, like someone was walking around on the little deck in back, and when I looked out, I swear someone was there just beyond the porch light in the shadows. Scared the shit out of me.”
“Did you call the police?”
“No. A couple minutes later when I worked up the guts to look again, they were gone—if they were ever there.”
“You think it was your ex?”
“He’s done it before, followed me. It’s part of the reason why I want to move. Listen, we can talk more tonight, okay? I need to get going.”
“Me too,” Gilly said. “We’ll eat around seven, if that’s good for you.”
“It’s perfect,” Liz said. “Bad things happen in this world, don’t they?” she asked after a pause.
Gilly straightened. “Liz, are you worried about your ex? That he might try something? Maybe you should call the police now, this morning.”
“No, it’s fine. I’ll see you soon.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” Gilly said, and Liz agreed she was, too, but on ending the call, Gilly’s worry lingered. Sharing an evening with Liz . . . who knew what might get said? Maybe they wouldn’t even be friends tomorrow.
Bad things happen in this world. Liz’s caution followed Gilly into the café.
April and Nick were already there. Cricket came in soon after Gilly. No one said much. It wasn’t long before people began to gather on the sidewalk. Cricket opened the door earlier than usual, and soon every seat was filled. Maybe Liz hadn’t heard about Zoe, but the rest of the town certainly had, and they were up in arms. Waiting on them, hearing their talk, Gilly knew if the worst happened—if it was discovered she was involved, and she needed to make a run for it—California wouldn’t be far enough. The moon might not be far enough away if she was somehow implicated. It could happen. Folks were subdued, but that only made their talk seem more intense, more adamant, and the gist was the same, regardless whose coffee and eggs Gilly was serving. They were ready to lynch the monster who had taken Zoe, and from what Gilly was picking up, not many of them believed it was Stephanie.
“She abandoned that child not two years ago,” Izzy Belle said when Gilly set her plate of french toast in front of her. “She couldn’t handle the responsibility. So what now? She’s changed her mind? Had some kind of epiphany? A come-to-Jesus moment?”
“She’s a drug addict,” said Charlotte, Izzy’s breakfast companion. “She’s desperate for money.”
“What are you saying?” Izzy asked, appalled. “She took Zoe for ransom? Her own child?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. Stephanie knows better than all of us Jake Halstead will do anything, pay any amount, to get his daughter back. Look at everything he’s done for that woman already—the way he’s supported her even though they’re divorced. But I heard a while back she asked for money to make her car payment, and he said, no, finally.”
“So she took that poor little girl,” Izzy murmured.
“I never thought of it, Charlotte, but it makes sense.” Pete Waltrip, sitting in the adjacent booth, spoke over his shoulder.
Gilly set the coffee carafe on the burner behind the counter.
Augie Bright tossed aside his napkin. “I don’t know that I can buy it. Last time I saw Steph, she was pretty strung out.”
“But if it wasn’t her, where does that leave us?” Hamp Echols spoke from his perch on a stool at the counter.
“It’s got to be a stranger,” Augie said and paused.
“Or someone right here in town,” Hamp said. “Someone we know, who’s new, an outsider—”
Gilly froze. Did he mean her? If she were to turn, would she find him, find everyone, looking at her? The silence pooled around her, prescient, waiting. She had to face them, to see what was on their faces, and when she did, she found they were looking at each other, exchanging alarmed, half-panicked glances. She shifted her gaze from Hamp and the others seated at the counter to Augie and the rest of the folks, who occupied the tables and the row of booths along the windowed wall. Morning sunshine slanted across their plates of mostly untouched food. It was almost nine. On any other morning, the majority of these people would have left by now to go to work, run errands, get on with their day. But this was not any other morning.
The bell rang above the café door when it opened, making everyone jump. It was as if a spell had been broken. All eyes turned to the person on the threshold, who hovered there as if arrested in midstep. The light made identification impossible, but when she spoke, calling her husband’s name, “Augie?” Gilly recognized Mandy Bright’s voice.
Cricket came through the swinging door from the kitchen, and Gilly heard the clatter of dishes, the slosh of water. Cricket didn’t, or wouldn’t, meet Gilly’s glance. April would have had time by now to have told her about Gilly’s absence yesterday—the thirty or forty minutes when her whereabouts were, allegedly, unaccounted for. The very window of time in which Zoe Halstead was snatched from school by a woman wearing a hoodie and dark glasses.
It wasn’t me. Gilly wanted to say it to Cricket, but she knew how it would sound if she were to defend herself. How would she word it anyway? April is mistaken? I wasn’t in the restroom that long? Blaming April wouldn’t win Cricket’s confidence. The truth was, even Gilly didn’t know what she’d been doing all that time. Trying to hold herself together? That was her main focus these days.
“I just ran down here for a minute.” Mandy was addressing the room even as she slid into the booth where Augie was sitting. “Janie was just at the school.”
Like Mandy, Janie was a hair stylist at A Cut Above.
“She was going to drop Tina off, but she brought her to work instead.”
Tina must be
Janie’s daughter, Gilly guessed.
“They found something—a trike.” Mandy sounded breathless.
“A trike?” Augie asked.
“A little girl’s pink trike. Evidently Jake went to the school last night, and the gate at the back of the playground where Zoe was playing—the one that goes into the woods—was open, and he found the trike pushed over on the path. He said it was Zoe’s trike, or that’s what Janie heard—”
Voices erupted, a frightened chorus of denial, protest.
Augie’s voice rose above the others. “How does he know it’s Zoe’s?”
“It’s pink,” Mandy said, and Gilly’s heart slammed the wall of her chest. She saw it, the dream image took shape in her mind, the pink tricycle turned on its side.
“C’mon, folks, let’s not go off the deep end here.” Augie spoke firmly. “A lot of little girls have that same pink trike. Our Amy had one before she outgrew it. Anybody—a mom or dad—could have left it there by accident—”
“The thing is, Augie,” Mandy interrupted him, “Jake keeps Zoe’s trike in the garage, but Janie heard when he looked, it wasn’t there.”
“Did she hear that from Jake?” Augie asked.
“No,” Mandy admitted. “But you know—everyone must know Stephanie isn’t the one who took Zoe. It’s someone else.”
“You’re still losing me on the significance of finding that trike,” Augie said.
“I can’t put it together.” Mandy spoke sharply to her husband. “If Zoe was kidnapped by a stranger, though, maybe he lured her with it. Maybe he came out of the woods with it, and that’s how he got her to go with him.”
“But I thought she was seen getting into a car with a woman at the school entrance.” Someone, Gilly didn’t see who it was, spoke up.
“Corinne Dunhill thinks she saw Zoe get into the car, but she’s not sure,” Mandy answered. “And the new teaching assistant was distracted by some boys who got into a scuffle. She can’t say one way or another what happened. She didn’t actually see Zoe leave. She just assumed she got into a car out front. But what if Zoe didn’t?”
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