Her father played the awkward host, setting out a platter of tortilla chips and salsa for her and Joe, as if they were guests in the house. He was a nice man, her father. A good man who, over the years, often found himself caught in the middle between his rebellious daughter and his cool and angry wife.
“I thought both of you did well at the press conference,” he said now, sitting down on the Chippendale sofa.
“What time did you say the police were coming?” Her mother looked at Joe. She hadn’t said a word directly to Janine since their arrival, but that was no surprise to any of them.
Joe looked at his watch. “Any minute,” he said.
Sergeant Loomis had told them he’d be stopping by tonight to meet the Snyders and catch everyone up on police activity.
“Here comes a car up the driveway,” her mother said. “That must be him now.” She got to her feet and smoothed the legs of her plaid slacks.
A moment later, Janine opened the door for the sergeant.
“Hello, Mrs. Donohue,” the big man said to Janine, as he walked into the parlor. Quickly, he took in the details of the room, and Janine saw the appraisal in his eyes. These folks have money, he was thinking. She doubted he knew that her parents were merely the caretakers here, the poor relations of the Campbell clan. They’d had nothing to do with the purchase of the enormous oriental carpet lying on the cherry-and-beech parquet floor or the selection of the veritable gallery of nineteenth-century art on the parlor walls.
Janine introduced him to her parents, then sat on the sofa near her father. “Is there any news?” she asked, knowing very well there was no news and tired of asking the question. If the search had borne fruit, surely the police would have called them.
“No, I’m afraid not.” Loomis sat down on the Queen Anne chair, gently, as though afraid he might damage something in this elegant, handsomely aged parlor. “I didn’t get a chance to talk with you and Mr. Donohue much after the press conference, and I wanted the chance to meet your…uh, extended family. I just came from the Krafts’ house.”
“How many people do you have out looking for Sophie?” Janine’s mother asked from her seat near the window. Her father offered him the tray of chips and salsa, which he declined with a wave of one big hand.
“Everyone in the department is working on it,” he said, pulling a handkerchief from his uniform pocket and mopping his brow. He probably thought their air-conditioning was broken. “And so are the other police departments between here and the camp.”
“I still think you need to do more,” Joe said. “Janine and I drove all over last night and today, asking people if they’d seen Sophie and checking the side roads. And frankly, we didn’t see a lot of cops out. She and I can’t cover every possible route they might have taken.”
“We’re doing everything we can, Mr. Donohue,” the sergeant assured him.
“Maybe you should be up in a plane,” Janine’s father said to Loomis.
“It doesn’t make any sense to do an air search at this point,” Sergeant Loomis informed him. “To begin with, we don’t have any clear idea where to look.”
Joe glanced at Janine, and she spoke up. “I’m going up in a helicopter tomorrow,” she said, directing the information more to the air than to her parents or the officer.
“Why?” her mother asked, apparently forgetting that she was not speaking to her.
“I need to be able to look down on the area myself,” she said. “I have to satisfy myself that I’ve looked everywhere—and in every way—that I can.”
There was silence in the room for a moment. “Are you licensed to fly a helicopter?” Sergeant Loomis asked.
She nodded. “Yes. And I’ve already made the arrangements.” She’d called Omega-Flight from the police station before the press conference, and they’d offered her the use of one of their helicopters. “I’m going up as soon as it’s daylight. If Sophie hasn’t turned up by then, that is.”
“That’s ridiculous,” her mother said. “If the police say they can’t find anything from the air, how do you expect to?”
“I have to try,” she said.
“Will you go with her, Joe?” her father asked.
“No, I want to go alone,” Janine said quickly, saving Joe from the embarrassment of having to admit he still feared flying.
“I really don’t understand you,” her mother said.
“Mrs. Donohue,” Sergeant Loomis said to Janine. “I think it may be a wasted effort on your part. And are you really up to flying right now? This has been a very stressful—”
“I’ll be fine,” she insisted, and the tone of her voice put an end to his comments. She didn’t dare glance at her mother.
Her father had once told her that, in her youth, her mother had been very much like Janine. She’d had a wild streak, he’d said, and that had cost her the respect—and the money—of her family. Now, she was intolerant of any behavior that reminded her of the girl she used to be.
“I know we talked about the possibility that this might be a kidnap case.” Sergeant Loomis looked around at the room once more. “A ransom case. Now that I’m here…I know Joe and Janine don’t have a lot of wealth someone might be after, but I’m wondering if someone might know that you—” he nodded at Janine’s father “—and your wife are well-off. Can you think of anyone who would know that about you and might have taken your granddaughter with the hope of collecting a ransom for her? You haven’t received any calls along that line, have you?” He looked at Joe, then Janine, and they shook their heads. “The kidnappers would most likely tell you not to involve us, but trust me, that would be a mistake.”
“No, no calls,” said Janine’s father. “And we’re not actually well-off.”
Her mother literally winced at his admission.
“My wife is the last in a long line of Campbells,” her father continued, “and we’re allowed to live here, but we don’t own any of the estate. We don’t have any of the Campbell fortune.”
“But someone might not realize that,” Loomis said. “They might know you live in the Ayr Creek mansion and think you have the money to rescue your granddaughter.”
Janine had not considered that. People often thought her parents were wealthy. In reality, they lived on the reduced pensions of two teachers who had taken an early retirement.
“But no one’s called,” Joe said. “Wouldn’t they have called by now?”
“Not if they wanted to get far away before they do.”
“Could they be after money from the other girl’s family?” Janine’s father asked.
“Not likely,” Loomis said. “He’s a grocery clerk with a slew of kids.”
“It sounds like you think Alison might have taken them,” Joe said. “The Scout leader.”
“Well, on the one hand, that would fit, since everyone knows she drove off with them.” Loomis stretched out his long legs, wincing when the chair made a barely perceptible cracking sound. “But we checked her background, and even though people say she’s a little…nutty, I guess the right word would be…she has no record of doing anything outside the law. She was a straight-A student in college. And the really interesting thing is that she’s getting married next Saturday.”
“What?” Janine said.
“Yeah, not a lot of people knew, apparently. But I’ve spoken with her roommate, Charlotte, and her fiancé, Garret, and they said it’s supposed to be a quiet little ceremony at Meadowlark Gardens. Just a few friends and Garret’s family. Alison’s mother is in Ohio, and she has a back injury and can’t make it. The wedding’s been planned for six months or so, and Alison was excited about it. Seems like a funny time to kidnap a couple of kids, doesn’t it?”
“I’m so confused,” Janine said. “None of this makes any sense.”
“I know.” Sergeant Loomis had genuine sympathy in his voice. “But it will in time. These things don’t stay mysteries forever.”
“We don’t have time, though,” Janine said quietly. “Like I told
you…like I said at the press conference…Sophie needs…” She felt the eyes of her family on her. Her mother seemed to hate her, her father was disappointed in her, and although Joe certainly shared her frustration, he did not give a hoot if Sophie ever received another IV of Herbalina. “She was supposed to get a medical treatment today,” Janine finished.
Her mother scoffed. “She needs treatment, all right, but not that one.”
“We know, Mrs. Donohue,” Loomis said to Janine. “We’re all very aware that Sophie has a life-threatening illness.” He turned to her mother. “I know that Joe, here, doesn’t agree with the treatment Sophie’s getting,” he said. “It sounds like you don’t either, am I hearing that right?”
“None of us do,” Janine’s father said. “We think putting Sophie in that study was a mistake. But—”
“You would have rather seen her suffer some more?” Janine said, her voice rising.
“Of course not,” her mother said. “But we wanted to give her a chance to live. All her doctors, every one of them, said that herbal…stuff…would just give her temporary relief. You gave up on Sophie ever getting better. All you cared about was that she died with a smile on her face.”
“Mom,” Joe said. “Now’s the wrong time for this.”
“It’s the perfect time,” Donna said. “Sophie was always—”
Loomis suddenly stood up, silencing her with the sheer mass of his presence. “Joe’s right,” he said. “We need unity here, not a lot of tearing each other apart.” He spoke in a neutral, peace-keeping tone, and Janine wondered if he’d been trained to do that when family tempers flared. “And we know this is an urgent situation, Janine. What you said at the press conference today will help spread the word. That way, if it’s a kidnap situation and the kidnapper gets that information, he or she might decide it’s not worth the risk they’re taking and get the girl back to safety.” He started walking to the door, and everyone else got to their feet.
“I’ll be in touch,” he said, as Joe opened the door for him. “Meantime, I want you all to be good to each other.”
Joe walked with him out the front door, and Janine quickly followed. She didn’t dare stay behind with her parents.
Dusk was settling over Ayr Creek as they stood under the portico and watched Loomis walk down the path to the driveway, where his car was parked. The broad front lawn was dotted with fireflies.
Janine brushed a mosquito away from her face. “I’m going to the cottage,” she said, once the police car had pulled out of the driveway.
“Would you like me to come with you?” There was hope in Joe’s voice.
“No,” she said. “I should try to get some sleep if I’m going to fly tomorrow.”
“Maybe I’ll search from the ground again,” he said. “Although—” he shrugged “—I don’t know where to begin or where to end anymore.”
She leaned forward to hug him, something she hadn’t done in years. “We have to keep trying,” she said.
He seemed reluctant to let go of her, and she was first to draw away, remembering what he’d said in the car about wishing they could get back together. She didn’t want to give him false hope.
“Maybe Paula could go with you tomorrow,” she suggested.
He nodded. “I was thinking the same thing. She’d have to take time off from work, but I know she’d want to.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry you’ve had this misperception of her all these years.”
“I’m glad to know I was wrong.” She turned away from the mansion and headed for the driveway. “Good night,” she called over her shoulder. She would leave her parents to Joe.
Once inside her cottage, she immediately sat down on the sofa and reached for the phone.
“Any news?” Lucas asked, when he picked up on his end. He’d obviously been waiting for her call.
“Nothing.” She heard the remarkable flatness in her voice. How could she sound so calm, so stoic, when her insides were in turmoil?
“You must be going crazy, Jan.”
“I’m leasing a helicopter tomorrow,” she told him. “I wanted to know if you’d go up with me.”
There was silence on his end of the line. “Won’t your parents or Joe know something’s up between us if I did that?”
“I don’t care if anyone knows, Lucas. I’m tired of this, and I’m sorry I insisted on keeping our relationship secret for this long. It’s ridiculous. I’ve been afraid of what my parents and Joe would say for my entire adult life. You’re the person I need at my side right now, and I don’t care who knows it.”
“And that’s where I want to be,” he said quickly. “It’s been hard today and yesterday, not being able to be with you, with all that’s going on.”
“Come over,” she said. “Can you, please?”
“Why don’t you come here?”
She loved the tree house, and he knew it. But not tonight.
“I need to stay here,” she said. “In case…there’s any news.”
“Okay. I’ll be over in a few minutes.”
She hung up the phone and walked into the kitchen, where she opened the refrigerator and stared at its contents. It seemed as though it had been weeks since she’d looked in there, and nothing was appealing. Shutting the door, she wandered down the hall to Sophie’s dark room. The door was closed, and when she opened it, Sophie’s smell, that delicious scent of the balsam shampoo her daughter loved, greeted her, and she felt weak-kneed. Sophie was still alive in this room. God willing, she was still alive wherever she was.
Picking up the teddy bear from the pillow, she lay down on Sophie’s bed and stared at the ceiling. She’d often wondered how parents dealt with the disappearance of their children. How did they survive that period of uncertainty? She was living it, and she still didn’t know the answer to that question.
Hugging the stuffed bear to her chest, she raised her head to look out the window.
Lucas, hurry, please.
She wondered how, just eight short months ago, she had seen him as an enemy.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Mommy, I think I’m going to throw up again,” Sophie said, as she and Janine got out of the car in the turnaround of the Ayr Creek driveway. The weather was growing cold. Thanksgiving was just a week away; the trees were bare and the estate was beginning to take on its gray, wintry look.
“Can you walk fast, honey?” Janine asked her. “Can you make it to the bathroom?”
“I don’t know.” Sophie swallowed hard, her skin pale and damp. She headed down the path toward the cottage, Janine close on her heels.
Lucas was kneeling at the edge of the driveway, wrapping the azaleas in burlap, and Janine put a protective hand on Sophie’s shoulder as she always did around him. He’d been working at Ayr Creek for a little over a month by then, and Janine had taken her parents’ warning about him to heart. Whether they were right or not about his being a pedophile, they were certainly right about his interest in Sophie. Janine had caught him staring at her when they were outside, and she found herself nervous that he might peer through the cottage windows when he was working in the area.
“Hi, Mrs. Donohue.” Lucas stood up from his task. “Hi, Sophie.”
“Hi,” Janine said, almost under her breath. Her eyes were fixed on the knob of her front door, and with a sinking feeling, she suddenly remembered leaving the key inside the cottage when they left early that morning. She’d separated her car keys from the others in preparation for taking the car to be washed, and in her rush to get out of the house, she’d left the house key behind.
Sophie reached for the door knob.
“It’s locked, Sophie,” Janine said. “I just remembered I left the key inside. We’re locked out.”
“Do you have a problem?”
Janine turned to see Lucas leaning on the upright roll of burlap, staring at them. He’d heard her, even though she had been speaking softly and he was a good ten yards away. He had to have been listening very carefully.
“We
’re locked out,” she told him.
“Mommy, I can’t wait,” Sophie said. “I’m going to throw up.”
“Move over here.” Janine guided her toward the mulch at the edge of the boxwood.
Lucas turned over the bucket near his feet, emptying it of weeds, and walked briskly to Sophie. He set the bucket in front of her just as she began to retch. Janine put an arm around her daughter, stroking her red hair back from her damp cheek. When Sophie had finished, she stood up, one hand on her stomach, and closed her eyes, leaning against her mother.
“You two are having a bad day,” Lucas said.
It was the closest Janine had ever been to him. The soft light of the November sun rested in his pale-gray eyes behind the wire-rimmed glasses, and there was so much genuine sympathy in his gaze and such warmth in his voice, that her guard began to crack. She felt tears burn her eyes.
Lucas reached out as though he were going to touch her arm, then seemed to think better of it and dropped his hand to his side. “Where’s the key to the door?” he asked.
“I accidentally locked it inside.”
“Are any of the windows open?” He glanced toward the cottage. “How about the back door?”
“I don’t think so.”
“You and Sophie sit here on the stoop and I’ll check it out,” he said.
He disappeared around the corner of the cottage and Janine sat down with Sophie on the front step. She put her arm around her tremulous daughter again, and Sophie rested her head against her breast.
“Mommy, I’m too sick,” she said.
“I know, sweetie,” Janine soothed, pondering Sophie’s choice of words. Too sick for what? she wondered. Too sick to be able to run and play and go to school like other seven-year-olds? Too sick to stay out here in the cool weather? Too sick to live much longer? That was what the doctor had told Janine that morning. “She doesn’t have much more time,” he’d said. “Make her life as full as you’re able.”