“After Marlea insulted Joss, what happened?” I said, when I could keep my voice level.
“Joss said she might be gay, but we were bitches, and she’d rather be gay than be like us.”
I made a “go on” gesture when Kesha stopped dead.
“Well, then that new guy, Phillip, and Josh pulled up. They were there to pick up Joss. But Liza was scared to be alone with us,” Kesha said with some pleasure and some scorn. “She begged them to take her with them.”
“Was anyone else there besides the people you’ve told me?”
She looked surprised. She actually gave it some thought. “I saw Coach Smith walked by,” she said. “But he didn’t talk to them. I think he was making sure the equipment shed was locked up.”
“No one else? While you were in the parking lot?”
Kesha looked confused. “Marlea called her mom to come pick us up.”
“So you were waiting in the parking lot. And no one else walked by.”
She nodded, giving me a look that showed me how dumb she thought I was for asking.
“Did anyone else drive into the parking lot after Joss left with Liza?”
“Yes,” she said promptly.
“Who?”
“Clayton, Marlea’s brother. He’s so cool. And his girlfriend was with him, that Connie who just killed herself.” For the first time, Kesha looked genuinely unhappy.
“You didn’t tell me that,” her mother said, turning around.
“That FBI lady asked me. You were out of the room,” Kesha said.
“Did Clayton talk to you?” I asked.
“He said hi,” Kesha said with a smile, basking in the remembered coolness of talking to Clayton Harrison. “His car is red. And Connie was driving.”
“Did he talk to you?” I was holding on to my patience with a thread. “Did Clayton say anything else?”
“He talked to Marlea. He wanted to find out where Joss was. Marlea said they’d just left, and told him Josh and Phillip were with Joss. And said Joss had a hair appointment. Then Marlea asked him if their mom had told him to pick us up. He said no, he needed to talk to Joss. And Marlea said…” Kesha abruptly cut off her narrative. After a second, she said, “Well, Clayton told us to keep cool and he’d see us around, we should call someone else.” Kesha smiled a secret sort of smile. “Connie didn’t say a word.”
I cast around trying to think of some way to get Kesha to tell me what she’d just withheld from her narrative. “No one else came after that?”
“Sienna’s mom,” Kesha said. “We called her, and she came quick. She was going to take all of us to Sonic to get a milkshake. She’d already called my mom and Marlea’s. Ms. Tiffany wanted to know why we’d stayed after school and what we were doing at the soccer field, and we told her, and she laughed and told us we really needed to quit teasing Liza.”
“Teasing,” I said.
Kesha shifted. “Well, yeah.”
I tried to think of anything else I could ask her, while I could still stand to speak with her. “Kesha, tell me,” I said, “why did you three decide to target Liza?”
“Because she told on us last year for taking some makeup from Walmart,” Kesha said. “And our parents made us take it back and apologize to the manager. It was so embarrassing. What kind of girl tells on other kids?”
I rubbed my hand over my face. “Well, I guess you showed her,” I said.
“Yeah,” Kesha said, with simple satisfaction. “We did.”
So much for Kesha being contrite and learning from her mistakes. I felt sorry for Sandra and Webster, and sorrier still for the people Kesha would encounter throughout her life. I looked at the girl bleakly. She met my eyes for a minute, but then she looked down. Really, there was nothing to say to her that would put a dent in her armor. I’d never had my own twelve-year-old; I didn’t know whether or not Kesha was retrievable.
I couldn’t bear to look at Sandra’s face. It must be one of the worst things in the world, to see your child revealed as a selfish little sadist.
Being a mother scared me, suddenly, the huge responsibility of making sure your child did not turn out like that. Sandra and Webster had not taught these values to their daughter. Was Kesha bad by nature? Had the other two girls polluted her with this gross selfishness, this lack of empathy?
“Good-bye, Kesha,” I said, trying to sound neutral. I stood up. “Thanks, Sandra, for letting me come over and talk to your daughter.”
I nodded at Sandra without looking at her directly, and went to the front door. She came up behind me in a flurry of steps, and her hand landed on my shoulder. I turned to face her. “I’m so sorry for your troubles,” she said. “If I can help, I will.”
“You’ve already helped,” I said. “I hope … well, I hope that…” I struggled with an ending to the sentence that wouldn’t be overwhelmingly negative. “I hope things get better,” I said, and then I left.
Kesha was a liar. I was willing to bet good money that there had been more conversation between Clayton and the girls. Otherwise, why would Clayton and Connie follow Josh’s car? But at least I knew that Marlea had not been with her brother behind Shear Delight.
I was left wondering why Clayton had wanted to catch up with Josh. I felt I had taken a baby step farther to getting the big picture, but it was still far from clear.
Maybe if I could talk to Clayton’s parents, I would get a better idea. But I was confident that the Harrisons were not in any mood to speak to me. And it made me feel weird to remember that we’d followed Dan. I hoped he never knew about that.
It was making me desperate, knowing that Phillip had gotten the chance to talk to me, and had not been able to let me know where he was. My brother was being held hostage by an armed and dangerous person. Phillip had asked me to help, and I had failed him.
I was so worried it made me sick. Literally. My stomach lurched like a ship in rough waters, and I thought about pulling to the side of the street and trying to vomit discreetly. I made it home, just barely, and sped by Robin on my way to the bathroom.
He gave me privacy for upchucking. I appreciated it.
After I brushed my teeth and scrubbed my face with cold water, I made my way to the living room. I lay down on the couch, and Robin regarded me from one of the armchairs. “Tell me about it,” he said, and I did.
“There’s no way we could have a child like that,” he said immediately.
“I’m sure Sandra and Webster felt that way, too.” I sounded as dismal as I felt.
“Roe, I have a little news. It’s not good.”
My heart actually stopped for a moment. “Tell me,” I said.
“Less than a half mile from where they found Josh’s car, they spotted a shirt in the ditch. It was Josh’s. It was really bloody,” Robin said. “They’re testing the blood to find out whose it is.”
“Phillip said Josh was hurt.”
“Yes, he did. The spots of blood in the car were Joss’s. So maybe this blood is hers, too. But since the shirt is Josh’s…”
“Not so much blood that he might die?”
Robin shook his head. “Not that much. But not a few drops, either.”
“I don’t want to sound like a coward, and I know I don’t have an alternative to handling this,” I said. “But sometimes I don’t believe I can take any more. That’s stupid, I have to.” I sighed. “Where was the shirt found? In relation to Josh’s car?”
“Just out of the first search radius, whatever it was. It was thrown down in a shallow ditch. And since it was a dark-colored shirt, it didn’t stand out until the search widened,” Robin said.
Why not in the car? I shook my head. “Robin, like everything else about this, that doesn’t make sense.”
“I know.”
The doorbell rang. I’d never thought I’d hate that sound. Lately, I had not wanted to see anyone who came in through our door. And today was no exception. Betty Jo Teagarden bustled into our house, with an airplane carry-on bag hanging from one sho
ulder.
“Why didn’t you take better care of your brother?” she demanded, dropping the bag on the floor and stepping toward me, completely ignoring Robin, who was staring at her with his mouth open. I saw the moment when something in him snapped.
He came around to stand between me and Betty Jo, and he said, “You apologize to my wife, or you turn around and leave.” I’d never heard him sound so angry.
Betty Jo’s eyes opened wide and she stared at Robin as though she’d realized he was green. “Who might you be?” she snarled.
“I might be Roe’s husband, and I might be the one who agreed with Roe that we should take Phillip in and support him, because his parents weren’t doing a very good job.”
There was a long moment of silence.
“All right,” Betty Jo said. She straightened up, and her face ironed out. “All right. I’m sorry. I had the whole plane ride to think about Phillip and how scared I am, and I tried to find someone to blame.”
“Okay,” I said wearily. Robin moved aside. “Excuse me for not getting up, but I’m nauseated.”
“Do you have the flu?”
“No, I have a baby.” She looked puzzled. “I’m pregnant,” I said, with none of the joy I’d had initially.
“Oh, that’s wonderful!” she said, but then the weight of the burden of Phillip’s disappearance descended on her shoulders. “Roe, what’s happened to my boy?” She sank down onto the ottoman, her shoulders slumped.
It had been a long time since I’d seen Betty Jo. She’d never been what you would call a pretty woman—she was built for endurance rather than style—but she’d always been healthy and energetic. The woman I was looking at now was haggard and thin.
“You’ve been living at a commune?” Robin said, since there was no way I could answer Betty Jo’s question.
“Yes.” She sighed heavily. “The day after Phillip caught his dad with the whore on our couch, two men showed up at our front door. Phillip was at school—or so I thought, but he was actually on his way over to you. Phil had gone to work, to get away from our epic argument, of course. Why stay and try to talk to me, to patch things up? I was doing laundry and trying to figure out what I would do next.”
“Two men?” I said, to get her back on track.
“It was so scary, Roe. They were really bad men, and they were really determined that Phil repay them.”
“Oh my God,” I said. “They were like Mob men? Really?”
“They were,” Betty Jo said. “And they told me that if Phil didn’t get them what he owed them, they’d come back and rape me and make Phil watch.”
“Good God almighty,” Robin said. “Did you call the police?”
“I did not,” she said. “And I’ve regretted it ever since. Instead, I decided I would just leave, because then I wouldn’t be there and they couldn’t use me to leverage Phil into doing something stupid. Well, stupider. And I sure didn’t want to be at their mercy. But I couldn’t watch out all the time, you know? I have to go out sometimes. So leaving seemed safest. Then I found out that Phillip hadn’t been to school, and I knew he’d run away. I had to stay around so I could find out where he was, if he was safe. When you called, I was so relieved. So I packed my bag and took off, because by that time I was so scared I could hardly stand being in the house.”
“Did you tell Dad what had happened? With the Mob men?”
“I was so angry I didn’t say a word,” she admitted. “I just wanted to get out of town. And if they came back and beat the shit out of him, well, that wouldn’t make me cry. I’d visited the Harmony commune before, when I was a girl, and I’d liked it then. I’d been exchanging e-mails with them about staying there, at least for a month. Like a retreat. A breather. So I could decide what to do with my life.”
Sounded like she, too, had been at the end of her rope.
“Why didn’t you tell Phillip what you were going to do? You could have called him. Or texted him.” I tried not to sound accusatory. I don’t think I succeeded.
“He would have tried to get me to call the police,” Betty Jo said frankly. “I love Phillip. But he has a streak of … righteousness, I guess. I was feeling stifled. I just had to get away or die. The bone busters showing up at the house just made me more determined.”
“You couldn’t have left Dad a note?”
“I did,” she said. “I attached it to Phil’s coffee cup with Scotch tape. But I didn’t tell him where I was going, just that I would get in touch with him when I felt safer. I thought he might pester me, so I left my cell phone and bought a prepaid. I tried to call Phillip, but I guess he didn’t recognize the number and he blocked it.”
“Dad said you had run away with another man.”
“Roe, Phil is quite a liar.” She looked at me as if I’d told her I believed in Santa Claus.
“I’m getting that picture.” I closed my eyes.
You can’t really turn your back on the world. Betty Jo had tried that at the commune, but it hadn’t worked. The world will track you down with bloodhounds baying at the bottom of your tree.
I’d extended that metaphor as far as I could, and I abandoned it.
“I wondered if I could stay with you,” Betty Jo said.
“No,” I said immediately, and caught a flash of relief on Robin’s face. “Dad stayed with me, and it was a disaster. He’s at a hotel now. You can stay with him, or in another hotel, or ask one of your friends here. But I just don’t feel well enough to have a houseguest.”
I could see that she wanted to argue with me, perhaps to tell me she wouldn’t be any trouble. Fortunately for us all, Betty Jo decided to beat a dignified retreat. “I understand,” she said. “I have a rental car. I’ll go to the sheriff’s department to see what I can learn, and then I’ll find a place to stay.”
I nodded, unable to get up, unable to care about her plans. “You do that,” I said. I closed my eyes. I heard a murmur of voices as Robin showed Betty Jo out.
When I heard the door close on her back, I was delighted.
“What do you want to do now?” Robin asked.
That was a good question. I held up a forefinger to let him know I’d heard him. “Thinking,” I said. But I couldn’t come up with a single thing, a clear idea, a direction. Instead, I fell asleep.
Chapter Fourteen
When I woke, I was completely disoriented. I couldn’t understand why I’d been so tired, why I was so upset, and where I was. After a moment, I was sure I was on the couch in my own living room. The room was dark and gloomy with twilight. I couldn’t hear anyone moving around in the house. Where was Robin? Working in his office? Phillip must be over at the Finstermeyers’. I’d have to ask Josh to dinner soon, because Phillip was probably eating Beth out of house and home.
Then I remembered I didn’t know where Phillip was. The situation tightened around me once again. For some reason, I found myself thinking about an incident years ago, just after I’d inherited Jane Engle’s house and property. Jane had left a message for me. She hadn’t wanted it to be available to other people. Taking her cue from Poe, she’d left it in plain sight, in a letter rack. It had looked like a letter and been in the right place, and I’d only thought to check out that it was what it seemed to be after days. Almost too late.
My brain was trying to give me a clue by throwing up the memory of this incident. But what could it be?
Who could hide Phillip in plain sight? Clearly, that wasn’t literally possible. But since Phillip hadn’t been seen since his disappearance, and neither had his friends, there must be a connection. Since I knew my brother, I discarded all the wilder theories floating around Lawrenceton, theories Robin had seen posted on a chat site: that all the kids were drug users and their disappearance was due to a deal gone bad, that Phillip and Josh had owed drug dealers and had traded Joss and Liza for debt forgiveness. That Phillip was in love with Joss and Josh with Liza, and they’d all eloped to Mexico. That the kids had come across a meth lab in the woods and been killed by its
owners. And on and on.
Sure, any of those things could have happened … but I knew the teens involved, and those things hadn’t happened.
I went over the same knowledge again, searching for some insight.
Phillip and Josh had picked up Joss and Liza had asked for a ride. Fact.
Soon after they’d departed, Clayton and Connie had driven up, and after some conversation with his sister, he’d wanted to know where they’d gone. According to Kesha, he’d left Marlea in the parking lot and followed the black Camaro. Fact … maybe. Kesha was withholding something, but it didn’t have to be anything significant.
But almost certainly, Clayton had directed Connie to follow Josh’s car to the hair salon. In response to a text (probably) Tammy Ribble had walked out the back door to see Joss. And then, Connie had seen (or done) something so awful that a few days later, she had taken her own life.
Josh’s car had been found out in the country. A shirt, maybe Josh’s, had been found in another location, with an alarming amount of blood on it. And there was that terrible phone call from Phillip, not from his own cell phone, when he’d told me they were being held prisoner and that Josh was hurt.
Because of the car and the shirt, and the call, I was sure that the missing kids were being held in the country somewhere. God knows, there was still enough farmland around Lawrenceton to conceal a few people. But I’d seen evidence that the police and the sheriff’s deputies were combing the area for remote structures. It seemed reasonable to conclude that if the kids had been hidden in a farmhouse or barn or some kind of shed, the law enforcement people—now including the FBI—would have found them. Or gotten a lead on them. Something.
I thought, Then they’re in town. Or was that an absurd idea? How could four kids be concealed in a relatively close-knit town like Lawrenceton?
Okay, then. How could they?
Garages. Basements. Storm shelters. Toolsheds. Hothouses? (No, that was ridiculous.) Barns. Empty storefronts, which had been plentiful in the past five years; though they were beginning to come back to life now. But I was not thinking about the economic recovery today.