“Just a quick story?” she asked. “We’re safe up here. No one can hear us.”
Joy looked down at Hunter. He started to whistle.
“Then tomorrow when we do our drawing, we can draw about today,” she continued. She couldn’t push too hard. Or be too obvious.
And yet, if the little girl knew anything about her mother, if she could tell them anything at all about the day her battered aunt had taken Joy and run with her...
If only Julie could find a way to help her divulge whatever secrets she held so deeply inside. Hunter’s whistling grew louder.
While his nonchalance took her aback, it also eased some of her tension.
He began to circle the tree, walking in beat with his tune. One she didn’t recognize.
She would’ve felt utterly ridiculous out in public, circling a tree while whistling, but Hunter made it look natural. And enough fun that she almost wanted to join him.
At least fun was the reason she gave for her sudden desire to be down on the ground with him.
Joy moved, and the weight of her little body brought Julie completely back to the moment, up in that tree.
“There was a monster in the house.” Joy’s unexpected whisper, complete with the lisp and r’s that sounded like w’s, spoken close to Julie’s ear, spread chills down her spine.
Joy had a speech impediment. Sara would want to know that. And she’d probably draw some conclusions from it, too. Like...could it be a sign of long-term insecurity? A hint of the life Joy had been living?
Was Joy telling her a made-up story? Or something real? Either way, a monster in the house wasn’t good.
Hunter didn’t miss a beat, either with his walking or his accompanying whistle. Julie wasn’t sure if he knew Joy had spoken again.
Mentally she was back in her studio. Seeking Amy’s help.
Does this monster have a name? she wondered.
“He hurt Mommy and Aunt Mary.”
The babyish r’s broke her heart. No, it was the story that was doing that. The r’s just emphasized the sweet innocence that had been so horribly violated.
Did he hurt you, too? she wanted to ask, but was afraid to interject.
Whenever Julie told her stories, Joy listened intently, looking at her the whole time. So now she looked at the little girl. And waited to see if there’d be more.
“Mommy told Aunt Mary to take me and run and she did ’cept we didn’t ’cause we hid ’cause Aunt Mary didn’t want to leave Mommy with the monster in the house.”
Joy was speaking as though she was reading from a book. There was emotion there. Yet, Joy seemed removed, too.
Julie’s palms were sweaty. She wanted help.
But she was the help.
And so far, Joy hadn’t given them much more than they already had.
Hunter stilled beneath them, no longer whistling. The air grew quiet. And so did Joy.
Tense, feeling she had to control every nuance of the situation so as not to shut Joy down, she started to panic. They couldn’t stop here.
Because Joy had more to say. Even if it was just a need to express the fear the monster must have left within her.
“Amy hid in the closet,” she said. Joy carried that book almost constantly when she was at the Stand. Amy, afraid of her shadow, thinking she was escaping it, only to have it suddenly appear again, someplace it hadn’t been before.
Hunter started in on another tune. Changing his course but walking once again. His hands in his pockets, it was as though he didn’t have a care in the world.
But he did care. Julie was certain of that now.
He cared about Joy. And Edward. About doing what he could to help a frightened little girl.
And maybe about the causes that were his clients?
“Aunt Mary hid me by the dog wall that doesn’t have dogs no more and maked me put my hands over my ears.”
Julie’s thighs were going numb. She wondered how much longer Joy would be content to sit on the limb with her. How long Lila would leave them up there before she had to get back to work.
“Amy did that sometimes,” she said. “You know, put her hands over her ears. It was so she wouldn’t hear things that scared her.” Thank God for Amy. That was another book, not the one Joy carried around. But there were copies of it at the Stand. Chances were that someone had read it to Joy over the past week. Particularly since she was so fond of Amy’s shadow book.
“I heared,” Joy said softly, in her almost-whisper while Hunter changed tunes yet again. “Mommy screamed.” It came out “sqweamed.” And the words made Julie squirm inside.
All the Amy books were at the Stand, So why was the shadow book the one Joy carried around with her? What was it about that particular story?
Joy had heard Cara scream.
That wasn’t good, to say the least.
Neither would it be good for Edward to know what his granddaughter was telling her. The older man was watching the tree; Lila was, too. They were conversing, and Julie hoped that Lila could give the doctor words of comfort. She had a feeling he was going to need it.
The whistling stopped again. All was quiet, and Julie’s tension grew. Lila could stand up at any minute. How could she signal the director not to interrupt, without distracting Joy? And possibly ending this “story” time?
She heard humming from directly below her. Hunter was on to another tune, but he’d switched from whistling to a quiet hum.
“I seed a shadow.”
That was when she knew.
Why that book, the shadow book. Amy was afraid of shadows.
So was Joy.
“Amy sees shadows,” she said with growing conviction. And confidence. “She talks about them, huh?”
“She hides.”
“Yes, but she tells us about them and that’s what makes them not so scary to her.” Experience was talking now. Speaking through Amy had been the means by which Julie had begun to heal.
“Mommy telled me ‘be quiet, Joy.’”
She watched the girl, tried to determine from that mostly expressionless face what was going on. Had her mother spoken to her when she’d been in hiding with her aunt? Or before? That day? Or another day?
“Ssshhh,” Joy continued, putting her finger to her lips. She leaned forward, and Julie grabbed her waist, holding her in place. When Joy didn’t flinch, she left her hand on the little girl’s side.
“Be quiet so the monster can’t find you,” Joy said.
“Amy was always quiet when she was hiding,” Julie told her.
“‘Good girl,’ Mommy said.”
Because Joy had been quiet?
While she was hiding by what she called the dog wall? As she pictured this sweet child who’d locked herself away in silence, hiding by a wall, another thought occurred to her.
A woman who was screaming couldn’t tell her daughter “Good girl.”
Joy was talking about something that had happened before that last day when Mary Amos had taken her niece and run. Cara telling her to be quiet so the monster wouldn’t get her? Had Shawn beaten Cara on a regular basis?
Like Amy’s shadow. Always showing up.
Joy had been a “good girl,” so did that mean the monster didn’t find her? Had the little girl been saved from the monster’s wrath?
The photo she’d been shown of Cara Amos sprang to mind. The woman had been screaming that last day she was seen.
And there’d been that shadow.
“Maybe it would help Amy if you talked about the shadow in your story,” she said now. “If you tell me, I could tell her.”
Joy knew that Amy lived inside Julie’s mind. Kids accepted things like imaginary friends. It was only when you grew older that analyzing your feelings robbed you of the comforts
that were meant to see you through hard times.
Joy looked down at Hunter, who was humming quite steadily, but again, Julie didn’t detect an actual tune.
“It was Mommy’s,” Joy said. “Mommy’s shadow. The monster was pulling her hair so she goed with him. But ‘shh.’” The small finger went to those rosy lips one more time. “You can’t tell because the monster will hurt her more.”
Where’d they go, Joy? Someone had to find Cara Amos before it was too late.
Unless it was already too late.
She gave herself a mental shake. Negative thinking served no purpose. Helped no one.
“Amy wants to know what you did after the shadow was gone.” Amy’s shadow always left when she hid.
“Aunt Mary taked me next door and then we goed to the hospital.”
Joy’s face grew sad, but she didn’t cry. Instead, she quietly laid her head against Julie’s shoulder.
And fell silent once again.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
HUNTER HAD A late-afternoon/early-evening fund-raiser on a yacht scheduled for Sunday. The change from breakfast jeans to off-white pants and blue blazer had been rushed, but he got to the dock with the half hour to spare he’d allotted himself. Time to shoot the breeze with the man who’d captain the boat for the three-hour dinner cruise. Time to chat up the caterer while her crew finished last-minute arrangements and set tables. And to greet the two of his three employees who were scheduled to oversee every minute detail of the event, one on each deck.
As he did his job, his mind constantly wanted to take him back to Julie Fairbanks. To Joy Amos. To a morning that had been way more intense than his life supported.
There’d been a voice mail from Mandy—his long-time, no strings attached “girlfriend” to hang out with on occasion. He’d listened to it after dropping off Edward. She had something going that night and wanted him to be her date. A perfect solution to how the day had left him feeling.
He hadn’t called her back yet.
Not a big deal. Last minute was typical for them.
She could look on his website and see that he had a function that afternoon.
“Tablets are all checked and operational upstairs.” Trina Matthews, the employee who’d been with him the longest, came up behind him as he stood by the rail on the ship’s top deck, staring out at the ocean.
When did Hunter Rafferty ever just stand and stare at the ocean?
He turned to the fortysomething divorcée. “Have you talked to Kyle?” Kyle had the main deck because he was the one who handled things like Hunter would. And because the “good old boys” who were guests at the political fund-raiser tended to get a bit rowdy the more they drank, and all of them were seated on the main deck.
“I just texted him,” Trina said. “Haven’t heard back.”
The tablets were relatively new for him, an investment that he’d debated making for a good six months. But the payoff had already been phenomenal. Donations were made using credit cards and bank accounts while people sat at the tables. Much more efficient than pledges or checks.
Much more lucrative, too.
“Opening the gate to the dock in ten,” Trina said. It wasn’t until he actually noticed the oddly assessing look on her face, the concern in her green eyes, that he realized he wasn’t behaving like himself. Being in place to meet guests was a priority from which he never strayed.
“I’m heading down now.” He gave Trina a killer smile and started acting like the Hunter Rafferty she knew.
He was definitely going to call and accept Mandy’s invitation.
He needed a night out.
* * *
JULIE WAS UP in her studio Sunday night, working on storyboards for a new Amy book or for various Amy books to come, when her phone rang. She wasn’t going to answer it. The emotions battering her would conquer her if she didn’t get them out. Deal with them. And her stories were how she did that.
After the park, she’d gone with Lila to The Lemonade Stand. Sara had met them and asked her to sit in on a session with Joy. Now that they had confirmation that Cara had been forced to leave with her husband—being pulled out by the hair made that pretty clear—the sense of urgency had ramped up even more. Lila had immediately advised the local police, who’d called their Ventura counterparts.
Her phone rang again. As though the caller had hung up and was trying a second time. Colin and Chantel were downstairs, enjoying a quiet evening watching television. Now that Chantel was pregnant, Colin was more protective than ever of his energetic and sometimes-too-daring-and-determined wife. They were all safe. Joy was safe and with professionals trained to care for her. Julie didn’t have to worry about the phone.
She didn’t need to worry, period. Worry served no purpose. Except to drain energy that could be better spent elsewhere.
Amy had both hands over her mouth. She’d been yelled at by a bully at school. Julie had no idea where she was going with this one. She hadn’t planned to write a book about bullying—although the idea made a lot of sense.
It was just that, so far, the Amy books were all about living with the demons inside, in a very upbeat, cute, little-kid way. About the doubts and uncertainties, the fears, that plagued most kids in some fashion.
Her phone rang a third time. A vision of Joy popped into her head, a Joy who would speak only to her, and with fear slicing her heart, she pulled her cell out of the back pocket of her jeans.
Hunter. Not The Lemonade Stand.
“Hello?”
“Thank God! I’ve been trying to get hold of someone, and no one’s answering.” He sounded...unlike Hunter.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, instantly tuning in. He’d been so effective with Joy over the past few days. He had a way of sensing when people were starting to go downhill and then bringing them back up. He wasn’t friend material for her, but if he was in trouble...
“Nothing,” he said, his voice still curt. “I just... Edward wasn’t answering his phone and—”
“I think he’s at the Stand,” she told him.
“Is something wrong?”
“Not that I know of.”
“But when I left... What about Joy?”
Right. They’d ended up playing musical cars that afternoon. When she’d had to ride back with Joy, Edward had driven Julie’s car to The Lemonade Stand, so she’d have it later. Hunter had gone on to work.
“That’s why you were calling Edward,” she said now. Because he’d been worried about Joy. You wouldn’t know it, the way he’d walked around whistling and humming, acting as if the afternoon had been nothing more than a Sunday stroll in the park.
But she’d sensed that he was aware of everything going on.
“You knew she was talking to me,” Julie said, taking her phone to the couch in her studio and curling her legs beneath her. “You started whistling so she’d talk to me.”
“I didn’t know she’d talk to you,” he said. “I just figured that if the idea was for her to feel she couldn’t be overheard, I shouldn’t be down there listening in.”
“Could you hear what she was saying?”
It wasn’t as though they could talk about Julie’s time in the tree with Joy while the little girl was standing there with them. Edward hadn’t been told about Joy’s speaking until they were all back at The Lemonade Stand and Joy was in a private session with Sara.
Lila had taken Joy to use the restroom as soon as they got back, which had given Julie time to fill Sara in. It wasn’t until Joy was with Sara that Julie had a chance to tell the director why she’d asked her to call Sara and have the counselor meet them at the Stand.
“I could hear her lisp. I couldn’t make out words,” Hunter said.
Julie told him what Joy had revealed during their time in the tree. “Lila told Edwa
rd about it later, while I was in with Sara and Joy. Sara tried to talk to her alone, but Joy just kept looking at the door. Sara decided Joy wanted me with her and called me in to join them. She relaxed a little, but didn’t speak again. I even took her in to draw. She stayed close to me, held my hand as we walked, which is a new thing. But she hasn’t said a word since I handed her out of the tree to you.”
“What time did you leave the Stand?”
“Around five.” Joy had fallen asleep with her head on Julie’s shoulder, and her house mother had carried her in to bed.
“So we’re back at square one.”
We’re. He wasn’t on this journey just because Edward had asked for moral support. Maybe it had started out that way, but...
“The police went back to the Amos home this afternoon.” Julie told Hunter the rest of what she knew. When he wasn’t coming on to her, or being the charming host, he was actually an easy person to talk to. “They found a dog pen with a cement wall and another cement wall behind it. There was about a foot between the two walls. They’re pretty sure that’s the hiding spot Joy referred to.”
She was sitting in her studio, talking on the phone as though she had a close friend. Speaking with a man she couldn’t get out of her mind.
So much was happening. Her quiet life of charity work, their little family, was imploding on her. First Hunter, the charmer, not leaving her alone. Then Chantel’s pregnancy. Joy reacting to Amy so strongly. And consequently needing Julie.
“They know what time Mary and Joy showed up at the neighbor’s—it was late morning—so they’re going back tomorrow morning, to re-create the scene and see where Cara would’ve had to be for Joy to see her shadow. They’re hoping to determine which direction they went.”
“What would it matter? We know they’re gone.”
“They can pull surveillance footage from surrounding areas, which they’ve already done to some extent. But if they can determine which direction Amos took, they’ll know better where to search.”
“Maybe they could tell whether or not he took her through the yard or out to a vehicle,” Hunter added.
“He might’ve had a friend who lived close by who helped him out, too. If so, there’s someone who knows something, someone the police haven’t found yet. Someone who lent him a car.”
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