But Lucas was not some guy. And she still trusted him. Completely.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Joe sat with Paula on the folding chairs outside the trailer. Although the road was shaded, and the June sun had to fight through the trees to reach them, Paula’s nose and cheeks were a vibrant pink, and Joe could feel the sting of the sun on his forehead. A few yards away from them, Frank sat on another folding chair, reading a book about the Civil War, and Donna had gone back to the motel for a nap. Paula had bought paperback books for Joe and herself the day before, but she had read only a few pages of hers, and he had not even opened his. There was no way he could concentrate on a novel when his own life felt so much like fiction.
A buzz of radio communication spit from the trailer every minute or so, and Joe took comfort in the knowledge that the woods were alive with people intent on finding Sophie. Searchers came and went from the trailer, some with dogs, some on their own. Cases of bottled water were stacked at the outside corner of the trailer, and buckets of water stood nearby for the dogs. Joe studied each of the searchers’ faces, hoping for a smile or a sparkle in an eye, anything that might give him reason to hope. But for the most part, their faces remained unreadable, and they avoided direct eye contact with him.
He wasn’t sure how many more days he could tolerate sitting still, helplessly watching while other people tried to find his daughter. He could imagine no more impotent feeling than this. He’d always been in charge of his life; this powerlessness was new and unbearable. And the worst part was that he didn’t even have his ex-wife to share the agony with. Janine was so attached to Lucas that she seemed to have forgotten that Joe was Sophie’s father.
“I don’t understand why Janine went back to Vienna,” Frank said suddenly, as if reading Joe’s mind.
Joe felt Paula’s eyes on him. “To be with Lucas,” he said.
Frank shook his head. “I don’t understand her. She’s putting her own needs above her daughter’s.”
“She wanted to get her car,” Paula said. “To have it here.”
“Do you believe that?” Joe asked her.
Paula rested her novel facedown in her lap. “What I do believe is that it’s Lucas she’s getting comfort from right now. You blame her, Joe, and you and Donna blame her, too, Frank. You barely even talk to her, for heaven’s sake. Lucas is the only person who’s giving her any support. Why wouldn’t she want to be with him?”
Frank was silenced by Paula’s retort, and Joe, although angry with her for it, was stunned by her courage. He was about to respond to her, when there was a sudden bustle of activity on the road to their right. A few of the searchers glanced in their direction as they ran past them into the trailer, and the buzz of the radios was steady and loud.
Joe looked from Paula to Frank and back again. Had someone found Sophie? And had they found her alive?
He got to his feet just as Valerie Boykin came out of the trailer and walked toward them.
Frank got up from his own chair to stand behind Paula’s. “Is there some news?” he asked.
“We think one of the dogs picked up her scent,” Valerie said.
“One of the dogs who finds live people or…?” Joe couldn’t finish the sentence.
“Yes. It’s one of the tracking dogs. He might have picked up her scent yesterday, actually, but we weren’t sure. Today, he’s back on the same trail. So if he’s really got Sophie’s scent, and we think he does, then she was alive when she left it. He picked it up about a half a mile from the road.”
“A half mile!” Frank said.
Joe couldn’t find his voice. It seemed unbelievable. His frail little daughter had walked a half mile, by herself, through the woods!
“So,” he was finally able to say, “is the dog still following her scent?”
“There’s a snag.” The pager on Valerie’s belt beeped, and she looked down at it for a moment, as though memorizing whatever message she saw in its display, before looking up at Joe again. “The dog reached a creek, and he can’t seem to pick up the scent on the other side. We’re calling in some of the dogs from the other areas to see if they pick up the same scent and if they might be able to find it on the other side of the creek.”
“What would it mean if they can’t find it again?” Paula asked.
“Hard to say,” Valerie said. “It may mean that she actually walked in the stream for a while, although I don’t know why she would do that.”
“Maybe she was confused,” Frank suggested.
“Or her feet hurt,” Joe offered. “Remember, she was missing at least one of her shoes.”
“The other probability is that the rain we’ve had has masked her scent,” Valerie informed them. “That’s a very realistic possibility.”
Valerie’s pager beeped again, and this time she excused herself. “I’ll let you know the minute we have any more information,” she added, as she walked back to the trailer.
“I’ve got to call Janine,” Joe said, walking away from Paula and Frank. “She needs to get back here.”
He made the call from the side of the road, away from the activity near the trailer.
“Where are you?” he asked, afraid to hear that she was with Lucas, probably up in his tree house.
“At Ayr Creek,” she said. “In the cottage. Is there…has Sophie been found?”
He knew she was bracing herself for the worst. “It’s good news,” he said quickly. “A little bit of good news, anyhow. One of the tracking dogs—the live tracking dogs—picked up her scent today, about a half mile from here.”
“Oh, my God!” Janine said.
“Can you imagine she walked a half mile through the woods?” Joe asked.
“Poor baby.” Janine’s voice was thick. “And she only had one shoe. Oh, Joe.”
“I know. It’s hard to think about. But it’s good news, Janine.” He told her about Valerie’s plans to bring in the other dogs.
“I’ve got to come back there tonight,” Janine declared.
“Yes,” he said, “I think you should.”
“Lucas can’t come until tomorrow,” she said, “so I’ll drive myself.”
It was fine with Joe if Lucas never returned to the search site, but he didn’t like the idea of Janine driving to West Virginia alone at night. Especially not in the emotional state she was in.
“If you told him what happened, wouldn’t he leave tonight and drive with you?”
“No,” she replied. “He’s got to work. It’s all right, Joe. I’ll be fine.”
“What work?” Joe asked, annoyed.
Janine hesitated. “I don’t know, exactly.”
“If he really cared about you, he wouldn’t let you drive alone.” What the hell did Janine see in this guy?
“Joe. Please. You’re being ridiculous.”
“Look, I’m coming to Vienna to get you,” he said, surprising himself. “I don’t want you making that trip alone.”
“That’s completely unnecessary,” she said. “I think you’re—”
“I should come home to get some clothes, anyway,” he said. “So you just sit tight, and I’ll be at the cottage in a few hours. I should be there around—” He looked at his watch. It was four o’clock. He’d need to allow time to stop at his town house in Reston. And he’d need time for a little sleuthing as well. Janine may not care what Lucas found so important to do in the middle of this crisis, but Joe felt the need to know. Something was not right with that man. “I’ll be there around nine or nine-thirty. Okay?”
“Yes, fine. If you insist.”
He returned to the folding chair next to Paula’s. “I’m going to Vienna,” he said. “I need to get a change of clothes and pick up Janine. The gardener can’t bring her back until tomorrow. He’s got something more important to do.”
“What’s that?”
“I wouldn’t know. And Janine doesn’t, either. It’s another of his big secrets. Doesn’t sound like they have much of a relationship, does it, if he won’
t tell her why he can’t come back here tonight?”
“Maybe she knows and she just doesn’t think it’s any of your business,” Paula said.
Joe stiffened. “Is that what you think?” he asked. “That it’s none of my business?”
“I think you’re obsessed with Lucas Trowell,” she said. “I think you are dying to prove him to be a bad guy, so you can woo Janine back for yourself.”
“Wrong,” he said, annoyed. “I just want to make sure he isn’t a bad guy. I don’t want Janine to get hurt.”
“Uh-huh,” Paula said, and he knew she didn’t believe him. He couldn’t blame her. He didn’t really believe himself.
“Do you want to go with me?” he asked. “You’re missing work, and—”
“I’m not going back to work until Sophie’s found,” she said. “I’ve got loads of vacation time. But I will go with you to get some clothes and things. Unless—” she shrugged “—unless you wanted to drive back with Janine alone.”
“No, no, that’s all right.” That had been his plan, or at least his fantasy. But he could hardly tell Paula she wasn’t welcome to go back to Virginia with him.
They drove in silence through the mountains and onto Route 66. His mind was hard at work, and it wasn’t until he dropped Paula off at her condo in Reston that he finally spoke.
“I’m going to stop at my place and run a few errands,” he said. “Then I’ll pick up Janine and come back for you here around nine-thirty or ten.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “You’ve got something up your sleeve,” she said. “What is it?”
God, this woman could see through him!
“I don’t know, exactly,” he said. “But I think I might pay a little visit to the gardener. Without his knowledge.”
She shook her head in disapproval. “I don’t know what you’re up to, but I have a feeling I can’t talk you out of it, so I won’t even try.”
“Good.” He smiled at her. “I’ll see you later.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Janine had to admit she felt alone. She’d been abandoned by Lucas when she needed him most, and she didn’t understand why he could not be with her tonight.
She lay on Sophie’s bed in the fading daylight, holding the teddy bear to her chest, as she had a few nights earlier. Through the window, she could see fireflies blinking in the half light, moving slowly, as if they were flying through honey.
Lucas has a good reason, she told herself, or else he’d be here with her. But she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d misread their relationship. Had she made more of it than actually existed? Right now, she felt as though she didn’t truly know him. How close could she be to Lucas if he wouldn’t tell her why, on this night of all nights, he couldn’t be with her? She’d thought of calling him with the hopeful news that Sophie’s scent had been detected by one of the dogs, but suddenly worried that her call would not be welcome. He had important work to do tonight, he’d told her. She didn’t dare call.
Just as she began to think of him as dishonest, as someone who had used her, she remembered what he’d been like in Schaefer’s office earlier that day. He’d talked to a few of the kids with genuine interest and concern; he’d questioned the parents—and Schaefer himself—about various aspects of the treatment Sophie and the other children were receiving. He’d been nothing if not sincere. He was a rare man, and she forgave him for deserting her tonight. Whatever his reasons, she knew they were important.
Her mind returned to Sophie. They’d found her scent near a creek, a half mile from the road. That had to mean that her injuries were not all that severe. Otherwise, how could she have walked that far? She must have been afraid, though. She was a stranger to the woods, and by now, she’d endured four nights alone, with the alien noises and unrelenting darkness of the forest.
Baby, hold on. Did Sophie feel deserted? Did she wonder why no one had found her yet? Did she think she’d been forgotten?
Janine rolled onto her side and felt her tears run over her temple onto Sophie’s bedspread. And that’s when she heard the sound. Lifting her head from the pillow, she listened. The keening was low-pitched and anguished. Orla was out there, walking through the woods surrounding Ayr Creek, searching for the daughter who’d been ripped from her heart in the middle of the night.
And for the first time, Janine knew exactly how she felt.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The three of them sat on the flat rocks in the clearing, eating cold baked beans and franks straight from the cans. Marti would not allow a fire in case searchers might be able to see the smoke.
Sophie did not have much of an appetite, and Zoe couldn’t blame her. The little girl was in pain from the wounds on her foot, and she was also very, very frightened. It was probably beginning to dawn on her that she was not getting out of here any time soon.
Zoe had finally decided against walking Sophie to the road. Her reasons for changing her mind were many. First, Sophie had not awakened from her nap until nearly two o’clock, and there was no way Zoe could get all the way to the road and back again before dark. Second, when Sophie did finally wake up, her foot was so inflamed, so obviously infected, that there was no way she could possibly walk on it. Zoe gave her some antibiotics from the stash she’d brought with her, hoping not only that they would help, but that they would have no unforeseen negative effect on Sophie’s kidney problems. Who knew what was going on inside the little girl’s body?
But the third reason for not taking Sophie to the road was the most compelling: she simply could not put Marti’s safety at risk. Yes, Sophie had promised not to give away the identity of the person who’d found her in the woods, and Zoe knew the child was sincere about that. But Marti was right. They would question Sophie until she gave in. She was smart and strong, but she was also sick and scared. No, Zoe could not put Marti in that sort of jeopardy.
When Marti had returned from her angry escape into the forest, Zoe had sat with her on the sofa in the living room, talking quietly, trying to figure out what to do. Both of them had been calmer, then. Both of them ready to reason.
“Please don’t take her to the road, Mom,” Marti had said. Her voice had been soft, yet pleading, and Zoe’d felt torn apart by the fear that lay just beneath the surface of her daughter’s words. “You made this plan for me to get out of prison,” Marti said. “This wonderful, elaborate plan. And if you take her, it’s going to screw everything up.”
“She’s a sick little girl, though,” Zoe had said. “Seriously sick. I’m afraid she might even die if I don’t get her help.”
“But how can you get her help?” Marti asked. “Be realistic. Her foot is so bad, she has to hop rather than walk. I know your intentions are good, Mom, but if she’s not able to walk out of here with you, it’s not your fault. It’s just one of those things. I mean, it’s not like we have a phone or anything so that we can call for help. We’ll just have to try to take care of her ourselves, the best we can.”
“Except…I could go myself up to the road,” Zoe said slowly, thinking the idea through as she spoke. “I could get a ride into the nearest town and let someone know she’s here and that she needs help.”
Marti simply stared at her. “Tell me you’re kidding,” she said. “You’d have to let people see you then. They’d know you’re not dead. And then they’d find me and take me back to Chowchilla. I’d never get out of there. And you’d probably be in there with me for helping me escape.”
“I wouldn’t care for myself,” Zoe said honestly. “I’m really beyond caring. But you’re not going back there. I won’t let that happen.”
“Then you know you can’t go and get her help, don’t you?”
Zoe nodded. “I know,” she said, giving in.
“Thanks, Mom.” Marti smiled. She pulled another cigarette out of the pack in her pocket and lit it. Taking a drag on the cigarette, her eyes suddenly filled with tears.
“What is it, Mart?” Zoe asked her.
“I just felt
…jealous, or something,” she said, staring at the tip of her cigarette. “Watching you with that little kid. You never paid that much attention to me when I was eight.”
“I know that, honey,” Zoe admitted. “You’re right, and I’m sorry.”
“Why did you ever have me in the first place?” Marti asked.
Zoe stared out the window at the forest. “I wanted a child,” she said. “I was thirty-two, and practically every woman I knew had children. I felt like I was missing something. Your dad was forty-three by then, and he really wasn’t interested in becoming a father. He was so attached to his career, and he was also attached to mine, as you know. He never wanted me to get pregnant, because it would take time away from my work.” Although she’d been an entertainer since she was small, it was Max who had truly made her into a superstar. She’d been a little bit of everything. Sex kitten. Singer. Dancer. Actress. The one label that had never fit her well, though, had been Mother.
“I don’t feel like I ever really knew Dad,” Marti said.
“I know,” Zoe said. “He was an absent father for you. Just like I was an absent mother.”
“Didn’t you realize that at the time?” Marti asked. “Didn’t you see that you were never there for me?”
Zoe thought about it. She wanted to answer truthfully. This time with Marti was going to be all about honesty. “Yes, I knew that, and I felt guilty about it,” she said. “But the truth was, even if I’d had the time to give you, I didn’t know how to be a mother to you. I was lousy mother material, and I knew it. That’s why I hired nannies for you.”
“You were never, ever home,” Marti said. Her bitterness was masked, but barely. And she was right. Zoe had been on the road during much of Marti’s childhood, and when she had actually been at home with her daughter, she’d been honestly uncomfortable with her. Marti had seemed like a stranger to her. Zoe truly had not known her at all.