Nowhere to Run

didn’t have much time to talk because he had to catch a flight for a race in Hawaii. It was like, ‘By the way, I’m not sure where Diane is. I haven’t seen her since Tuesday. Gotta go, wish me luck.’ ”

“Man,” Joe said, sitting back.

“That’s how he was. That’s how he still is. Cold as a fish.”

“How did he explain it?”

“He didn’t, really. He said she’d left him a note Tuesday morning saying she was going to drive north of Steamboat Springs and go for a run in the mountains. This in itself wasn’t unusual. Her car was gone, of course. Later, much later, he said he figured she decided to get a room in Steamboat and use it as her base to train from for a few days. He said they’d been fighting and she probably needed a little time away, that it had happened before and it was no big deal. Can you imagine that?”

“No,” Joe said, deciding if he ever met Justin LeForge he’d smack him in the mouth.

“That’s when Brent contacted the authorities. We didn’t have much to go on, and you can imagine how angry and scared we were. At the time, we didn’t even know which mountains or in which state. On Monday, the sheriff in Walden, Colorado, got a report that her Subaru was reported at a trailhead across the border in Wyoming. That’s when things finally started to happen. Search-and- rescue teams, helicopters, news alerts, all of it.”

Joe nodded. “I was on the search team.”

“Thank you,” she said sincerely. “A lot of good men and women spent days trying to find her. But by that time, she’d been gone over a week. All I could think about was that she’d fallen and broken her leg and was waiting for help that never came. I was terrified she was suffering up there somewhere. I was horrified that she wouldn’t be found at all or that her body would be found. I can’t even tell you how awful that week was. Or how everything is coming back now.”

Joe said, “About Justin . . .”

She waved her hand. “I know what you’re probably thinking—that maybe he had something to do with it. We did, too, eventually. Especially when he just stopped caring and calling. But according to the police, his alibi was airtight. He was training all Tuesday and Wednesday with his coaches. The note she left him was in her handwriting. When my husband hired Bobby to investigate, the first thing we asked him to do was to check out Justin’s alibi. But Bobby said there was no doubt Justin’s story held. In fact, Justin found a girl—another runner— who testified Justin was with her from Tuesday through Thursday. He was cheating on my daughter, Mr. Pickett.”

She looked at her hands. “I no longer suspect Justin, even though I despise him. He just didn’t care. And as tough as it was for me to accept, I realized he didn’t care enough about Diane to hurt her. She really meant nothing to him. He’s got a new girlfriend now, and he’s moved from Colorado. We haven’t heard anything from him in months, although I still follow his races on the Internet. When Bobby told us about your statement, Brent called him on his cell phone and left a message that there might be some new information. Justin hasn’t returned the call.”

Joe sighed. Her pain gave him a knot in his stomach. That his report had given her a glimmer of hope made his palms cold.

She looked up. “I hope you can forgive my husband for the way he acted earlier. If there is such a thing as being obsessed to the point of insanity, that pretty much describes Brent now. I’m watching him fall apart in front of my eyes. Sometimes, I think it would be better if some hunter found her bones. At least then it would be over. If the news didn’t kill him, he might finally be able to recover. But this not knowing . . .” She let the sentence trail off.

“It’s been so hard on Brent,” she said suddenly. “He worshipped his daughter, even though she distanced herself from him in the end.”

Joe thought about that.

Suddenly, the front door burst open and Sheridan flew inside the house, running straight for her bedroom. Joe looked outside and saw her pickup truck in the driveway with the door open and the motor running.

“Crap!” Sheridan said, seeing Joe and Jenna Shober. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were there.”

“What’s up?” Joe asked.

“I forgot my basketball shoes,” she said. “I’ve got to get them and go. Practice starts in ten minutes. Sorry.”

With that, she ran into her room and ran out with the shoes. “Sorry to interrupt,” she called out over her shoulder. “See you later, Dad.”

“See you later,” Joe said, even though Sheridan had shut the door and jumped back into her truck.

“She’s pretty,” Jenna said.

“Thank you,” Joe said, distracted.

Jenna reached out and squeezed Joe’s hand. “Hold on to her tight,” she said. “Don’t let her go.”

Joe knew what she was thinking. The same thing he was thinking.

SHE TOOK out a large envelope from her purse. “We meant to show you these things earlier,” she said. “But things got heated and Brent forgot. These days, he gets so wrapped up in the how that he forgets about the why. He just assumed you’d jump up and go find our daughter. When you didn’t, he lost it and forgot about the envelope. When we got to the motel, I slipped it into my purse and lied about going shopping. Brent would never have approved of me coming here myself to talk with you.”

Joe nodded, still dumbstruck from seeing Sheridan and imagining what it would be like if she left one day and never came back. He paid polite attention to a postcard she handed to him.

“This was sent to our Michigan address a year ago,” she said.

The card was a generic COLORFUL COLORADO postcard with faded images of Pikes Peak, the Maroon Bells, a skier turning down a slope, and the Denver skyline. He flipped it over. It was postmarked from Walden, Colorado, but over the border.