The redheaded woman met her gaze. “I talked with the two women who went with Jill to karaoke night. They’re both teachers at the elementary school. I’m Marlene Dubois,” she said, her hand to her chest. “We spoke on the phone.”
Devyn nodded, waiting for her to continue.
“They said Jill took her own car and left the sports bar before they did, somewhere just after ten p.m. They recalled her being happy but a little tired.”
“That’s because she doesn’t stay out late. She’s a homebody,” Devyn supplied, and looked to Bertaw to be sure he’d heard.
“I don’t mean to interrupt.” Elizabeth stood and came around the table. She had big green eyes that, in this moment, carried warmth.
Devyn latched onto her, because she needed that warmth.
“I’ve made some calls around town, and folks are meeting in the Circle in half an hour. We’re going to fan out and see if we can’t help aid the search.”
“I appreciate that,” Devyn said. Those food-drive organizational skills were working in Devyn’s favor today, and she was grateful for Elizabeth, someone who was doing something. “How can I help?” she asked the room. “I have a key to the house. Jill and I share ownership.”
“Great.” Bertaw said. “We did a wellness check, and nothing seemed overturned or disheveled. No sign of any kind of struggle, but you might see something substantial that we wouldn’t know to look for.”
Devyn felt a surge of purpose. The idea of proactivity quelled the dread that crawled all over everything like the vines of an untended garden. “I’ll head over there.”
Elizabeth turned to her. “How about I pick you up at the house in an hour, after the volunteers have been organized? We can drive some of the back roads, see if we spot any sign of her car.”
Devyn’s hands shook as the reality of the situation came into focus. They were assembling volunteers. This was really bad. If she wound up alone in this world, what was she going to do? Jill had always been there for her. She felt more than saw ten-year-old Jill’s hand brushing the hair from her eyes that time she skinned her knee while roller-skating in the driveway. How had Jill only been ten then? She’d seemed old and wise to Devyn at the time. “Yes. I’ll be ready.”
“See you soon.” As she passed, Elizabeth gave Devyn’s wrist a supportive squeeze. She wasn’t naturally a tactile person and her instinct would normally have been to bristle against a stranger’s touch. She didn’t. She needed reassurance in that bleak moment and drew strength from it, in fact, fleeting as it was. Devyn would take back every dismissive thought she’d ever had about Elizabeth in high school if she and her volunteer squad could make all of this stop. She fought the urge to fall to her knees and beg for that. She was already bartering with a God she hadn’t spoken to since adolescence, desperate to trade what she had, promising to be a better person. Anything.
On the drive to Jill’s, her mind shifted to how in the hell they’d gotten here. Twenty-four hours ago, she was in a startlingly different reality, going about her fast-paced morning, landing a big deal, and heading home for the night. How could someone be so content in one moment, celebrating a career victory, and so terrified the next with just the push of a button on a cell phone? Everything felt raw and ruined, and it just might stay that way forever. All Devyn wanted was to fast-forward to a moment when it would all be okay again.
Her breath caught when she pulled into the lazy S-shaped driveway that led to the well-cared-for one-story home she’d grown up in. Yep. Right there was the spot in the grass where she’d accidentally started a fire with a magnifying glass when she was eight. She’d been feeling bold and scientific that day after watching Bill Nye do something similar on TV. Her mother, instead of chastising her, had agreed that learning about science could be fun, just maybe not the kind that involved actual flames. Jill had laughed but eventually consoled her with a piece broken off her candy bar. The once burned patch of grass now grew green and vibrant again, the incident just a sepia-tinted blip in Devyn’s memory. She blinked through her windshield up at the house. Pretty blue shutters now adorned the window. The color reminded her of Jill. In fact, all of the new little touches were straight out of Jill’s stylebook. A cheerful gnome with a gray beard on the front step. An arrangement of potted plants with spring flowers already blooming in a cascade of colors. The pair of wooden rocking chairs on the porch. All new. All Jill.
Her hands were a jumble as she attempted to put the key in the door, shaking and causing her to miss the keyhole. She closed her eyes and bit the inside of her lip as she pressed her forehead against the wooden door, gathering her sense of purpose once more. She had a job to do here, a goal, and that meant shoving her own emotions to the side and drawing on the finely honed set of skills that she used in her everyday life. Calm, collected, and in charge. That seemed to work. She exhaled and let herself into the house. Jolted back fifteen years, she could still see the younger version of herself and Jill streaking through the entryway into the living room after school, waiting at the kitchen table with their afterschool snack—prepared by Jill—for their mother to get home from the insurance firm at which she’d been the office manager. Burying her face in her mother’s shoulder, Devyn would inhale her scent when she arrived home, Oil of Olay moisturizer and a little bit of peppermint from the sugarfree gum she often chewed. Devyn could smell the wonderful combination now just by closing her eyes.
She picked up one of the many knickknacks that now decorated most every surface, a mixture of new and old, and smiled at Jill’s homey approach. Devyn, on the other hand, had fallen far from the tree with her own decorating style: open floor plans, hard lines and planes, and clean surfaces. A lump made its way to her throat as she thought about her sister and how much like their mother she’d turned out to be. A surge of love hit. She didn’t get sentimental about much, but her sister was different.
Shifting back to project mode, she shook free of the all-consuming sentimentality and moved about the space, which consisted of a living room, breakfast nook, dining room, and two bedrooms down one small hallway, separated by a bathroom. The master suite was located directly off the living room.
First impression: Jill kept the place neat and well organized. There was a calendar on her refrigerator with the Tuesday she’d gone missing marked with only a K, which she imagined stood for karaoke. In her bathroom, her medicine organizer still held Wednesday’s thyroid medication, which meant Jill hadn’t been there Wednesday morning to take it. Devyn’s stomach dropped and her palms went clammy. She flexed them uncomfortably. Jill’s bed was neatly made. Her car was gone. Her school bag was discarded next to the door, along with a pair of heels she’d likely stepped out of the second she’d arrived home from work. She pictured it happening.
At a loss, Devyn curled up on Jill’s bed, running her hand across the blue and white quilt she used as a bedspread. There was a photo of the two of them, from the weekend Jill had stayed with her in Philadelphia, framed on Jill’s nightstand. Jill smiled at the camera while Devyn smiled at Jill as they stood in front of the Rocky statue, arm in arm. “Where are you?” she mumbled, and touched Jill’s face in the photo.
Tears rolled sideways from her face to the quilt. She didn’t try to stop them.
No, Jill hadn’t made it home Tuesday night. As she cried on her sister’s bed, letting the sobs overtake her, Devyn had never felt more alone. The edges of hope began to fade until she had nothing left.
Chapter Three
“Tony, take your group to the northern corner of the map and check out the park.”
Elizabeth peered over his shoulder as he circled the area on his map.
He chewed his lollipop stick and nodded. “Got it.”
“We have no idea what she might have done that night,” Elizabeth pointed out. “Maybe she took a walk in the park.”
“What about me?” Charlie asked, clearly eager to get started. He rubbed his forehead as he spoke, as if comforting himself. He then gestured to the me
n with him. “I got my guys from the store here and we’d like to help. What do you need?”
Charlie owned the liquor store in town, and that meant he knew lots of folks. Okay, make that everyone, and that was an asset to their cause. “Maybe talk to the local business owners in the Circle. See if anyone saw Jill in town Tuesday night after ten, even driving through.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Charlie said, and placed a backward cap on his head as if newly energized.
Elizabeth met with each and every group in the park, offering a different colored area on the map for them to check out. She moved quickly, spoke in simple terms, and with a grateful smile, headed to the next group. She was on a roll. Yes, this was a job generally handled by someone in an authority position, or at least someone with experience when it came to missing people, but in the absence of either of those resources in the present moment, Elizabeth felt called to act. That had always been her. She was someone who took the initiative when it needed taking and dove into even the most difficult of tasks headfirst, sometimes without knowing what the hell she was doing. She’d figure it out as she went, which was a lot like the position she found herself in now.
With Jill Winters missing for a second day and the police department woefully understaffed, she’d rattled off a quick message on the town’s Facebook page, put On the Spot jobs on hold, and met over a hundred helpful folks ready to see what they could find out about Jill and where she might be. Her heart swelled at the outpouring of support. They might not have been the most professional of search teams, but they were present and willing, and it was so much more productive than just waiting around for Bertaw & Co. to eventually get around to calling in the cavalry.
“Great. You’re all set,” she said to the final group. “You all have my cell phone and a direct line to the detective working the case should you come upon anything helpful. Don’t hesitate to reach out.”
An abundance of overlapping answers floated back.
“Thanks, Lizzie.”
“Will do. Don’t you worry.”
“If anyone can find Jill, it’s us.”
“Thanks for organizing, Liz.”
As the groups headed off in their respective directions, Elizabeth hopped into Shug, her blue Ford F-150, and headed to Jill’s house to retrieve Devyn, who she had to say was the same, yet different than the last time she’d seen her some years back. She now carried herself with a certain level of authority that made people pay attention. She was also just as beautiful as Elizabeth remembered, probably more so. Blond hair just past her shoulders. Hazel eyes, but not the soft kind. No, Devyn’s were more piercing in their beauty, which only added to the melancholy all over her face earlier today. Elizabeth hoped they could change that soon. She’d always been an optimistic person, and she was clinging to that tendency now, willing it to prove beneficial. Yet it was hard. Jill was out there, and time felt like it wasn’t on their side. She pushed past the sudden nausea and rang the bell to Jill’s house. Devyn answered promptly.
“Hi. Are you ready?” Devyn asked, and stepped from the house onto the front porch.
The whites of her eyes were red, the lids swollen, and her hair didn’t fall into place the way it had earlier. She’d been crying, hard. Her skin was pale. Elizabeth felt nauseated again.
“All set. I thought we’d take the most common route to Halper’s Glen and see about any possible turnoffs or detours.”
“Okay. Let’s do it.” Devyn followed her to the truck, pausing briefly as she looked at it.
“What?” Elizabeth asked.
“Just didn’t peg you for a truck person.”
Elizabeth quirked her head. “Didn’t know you pegged me at all.”
They hopped in and rode in silence. Elizabeth stole an occasional glance at Devyn to be sure she was all right. She felt strangely protective of her, given the situation and her role in leading the volunteer search. In many ways, it seemed like it fell to her to shield Devyn from some of the fear that must have been eating away at her. When she saw tears roll down Devyn’s cheeks in the silence of the truck, she handed her the package of pocket tissues she kept in the center console. Devyn accepted them, yet said nothing.
“Do you have enough air?” Elizabeth finally asked. “If not, I can—” She reached forward toward the controls, but Devyn waved her off.
“I’m fine.”
“Would you like some water? I have a case in the back seat.”
“No, thank you.”
“Or maybe—”
“Elizabeth. I’m fine. Really.” A pause. “What’s your last name again?”
“Draper,” she said, placing a hand on her chest. They came from a graduating class of under a hundred and had been in school together for over a decade. How was it that Devyn didn’t even know her last name? Ouch. Was she really that inconsequential? Not the time for it, she reminded herself.
They drove on, stopping on each side street, exploring each turn in the road with hopeful curiosity, pointing out possible glimpses of white, the color of Jill’s Mazda. Each time, the glimpses proved disappointing, dropping the women’s morale more and more as the drive went on. The forty-minute drive had stretched to two hours by the time they reached Mike’s. The freestanding building, painted green with bright yellow lettering, was closed, and not set to open again until the evening. But there was a car in front, and that meant someone was gearing up for tonight’s crowd. When Elizabeth killed the ignition, Devyn didn’t hesitate. She walked like a woman on a desperate mission, leaving Elizabeth to walk double-time in order to catch up.
“Hey there, wait a minute.”
Devyn glanced behind her. The wind lifted her blond hair and blew it across her face in a messy jumble. It was like the weather had shifted to mimic the chaos of the day, scattered and haphazard. Devyn didn’t seem to care or notice. “Sorry.” She paused for Elizabeth to catch up while blinking impatiently.
Elizabeth met her gaze. “Do you know what you want to ask?”
“I want every detail they have and then more details, and I plan to get them. If they have camera footage, I want that, too. I can’t believe the police wouldn’t already have it, but with Podunk Bertaw at the helm, who knows?”
Elizabeth nodded, impressed with the new determination behind Devyn’s eyes. She stood next to her as Devyn banged loudly on the door to the bar. “Excuse me. Can you open up for a moment?” She exchanged a glance with Elizabeth just as an older guy with a gut appeared wearing a stained white apron. Mike. Elizabeth had seen him before on one of her own trips out to the bar. It was a popular place, and a great spot to hit up when the same old Dreamer’s Bay locales felt monotonous.
“Yep. What can I help you with?” Mike asked. His big, bushy eyebrows cast a shadow on his face.
Devyn leapt right in. “I’m looking for my sister. She was here two nights ago. On Tuesday.” She flashed a photo on her phone and handed it to him.
He nodded, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Already talked to the cops. Sorry about your sister, but I can’t say I remember her. We’re packed when there’s karaoke.” He moved to close the door, but Devyn stepped forward.
“Well, we know she was here for sure, because she came with friends.” Devyn paused and offered him a smile, which seemed to slow everything down. It was highly effective, making it clear to Elizabeth that Devyn knew how to handle people and turn it on when it benefited her. “Would you mind taking another look?” she asked softly. Mike fell for it. Who wouldn’t?
He studied the phone. “I don’t know her, but she comes in a lot. Sometimes with other women. They sit together and drink wine, a group of them.” The other teachers. Elizabeth nodded. “And sometimes she comes with a guy.”
“A guy?” Devyn’s ears seemed to prick and Elizabeth passed her a look.
“What did he look like?”
Elizabeth didn’t hear the answer because her phone was ringing. With volunteers out in the field, she couldn’t ignore the call. She clicked the Accept button and
covered one ear in order to hear better. As the news was relayed to her from the very last team she’d sent out, she closed her eyes. Harris, who worked at the mail supply store, was speaking a mile a minute, and though Elizabeth struggled to understand each detail, she absorbed enough to understand what they’d found. No, no, no. She looked to Devyn and attempted to figure out the right words. Her heart sank and her limbs felt like tree trunks.
“What is it?” Devyn asked, noticing her expression. She abandoned her conversation with Mike and moved to Elizabeth, who could only stare at her. “Why aren’t you saying anything? Say something,” Devyn said, squeaking out the words. Her arms wrapped around her body. She was clutching herself, as if braced for a blow.
Elizabeth took a breath. “They found her car about fifty yards from the road, under a branch. That’s why we missed her. She’d hit a tree. Hard. They say it looks pretty bad.”
Devyn took Elizabeth by the shoulders and squeezed, her eyes going wide. She was hanging on by a delicate thread that was likely to snap. “Is she going to be okay, though?” The voice no longer sounded like hers. “What did they say?”
Elizabeth placed her hands on her own shoulders, on top of Devyn’s. Anything to let her know that she wasn’t alone. Devyn’s eyes searched Elizabeth’s for answers, and in that moment, she would have given anything to tell Devyn what she wanted, what she needed to hear.
Unfortunately, those weren’t words Elizabeth could deliver.
Chapter Four
They didn’t know much. The volunteer who’d found the car couldn’t get inside. But Jill was in there, either gone or clinging to life. Two days without food or water, and exposed to the elements. God.
As they sped to the scene, just three and a half miles outside of Halper’s Glen, Devyn braced herself for the worst but in the same breath refused to accept it as a possibility. If Jill was dead, if she had been the past two days, Devyn would have felt it. Wouldn’t she? She stared at Elizabeth’s profile and wondered if this woman, who’d been so unnecessarily kind, would be the last image she’d see before her world turned upside down. She memorized the profile so she could hold on to it, remember it forever. Elizabeth was beautiful, more so than she’d realized. Somehow, if she could anchor herself in that beauty, then surely the worst wouldn’t happen to her. It couldn’t. She released the image and allowed her shoulders to fold onto her chest as she cried, clenching her fists in worried anguish.
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