everything in person. He had some questions for her.
Ethan had seen her and the little girl around Titusville for the past week—summer visitors, he’d been told when Mavis had introduced them in the checkout line in Blinker’s Market a couple of days ago. She hadn’t met his eyes. She’d backed her cart away. For some reason he couldn’t figure, she didn’t want to be anywhere near him. Because he was a man? Or because he was the sheriff? A short vacation, that’s all he’d gotten out of her. He realized he didn’t really know a thing about her, since he’d been so anxious to get on the road and find the child. She’d handed him a photo, not meeting his eyes. “I was taking a nap. Autumn was playing with her dolls—the three princesses, she calls them. I only slept for an hour, not more, I’m sure of that.” He heard fear and soul-rotting guilt in her voice.
“When I woke up and called her, she didn’t answer. She wasn’t here.” Her voice hitched, and she abruptly rose and began pacing the small sitting room. “She simply wasn’t here in the room, she wasn’t playing in the hallway. I ran downstairs to Mrs. Daily, and she hadn’t seen her, but of course she’s in and out all the time. She and I went out to ask everyone, but no one had seen her.” She still didn’t meet his eyes, and why was that? He couldn’t help wondering. “When we couldn’t find her, I came to you.”
“You should have come to me immediately,” Ethan said, angry with her because she’d wasted valuable time. She shook her head, still not looking at him. He thought about black bears and bobcats and the four-thousand-plus acres of wilderness, dense with oak, hickory, maple, and pine trees, all clustered close together. He thought about the ditches and gullies and the Sweet Onion River, deep enough to drown an adult, and he thought of one little girl, alone and lost, and turned it off. It wouldn’t help. She said then, “Autumn’s sick. She hasn’t had her pill today. She’ll be fine, but she does need the medication. Today and tomorrow.” And she shut her mouth, shook her head. He wanted to ask her exactly what was wrong with her daughter, but he saw tears sheen her eyes, her hands clenching and unclenching, and didn’t push it. He asked other questions, but she couldn’t tell him anything useful. Or she wouldn’t; he really didn’t know which it was.
It was time to get serious with her.
Of course the little girl didn’t have to be in the wilderness. She could be anywhere, but he didn’t think so, or someone would have spotted her. They’d searched every building and house in Titusville. No sign of her. And that left the wilderness. She had to have a pill today and one tomorrow. He wished he’d asked Mrs. Backman what was wrong with her.
Had she wandered off? And that brought him back to whether someone had lured her away.
No, he couldn’t, wouldn’t, allow himself to think that yet. Not yet.
It was hot during the day, but now at nearly nine o’clock at night, when summer darkness finally hit, the temperature began its nightly drop to the forties. It was getting colder by the minute. Ethan turned on the Rubicon’s heater, felt the rush of hot air on his face.
When he pulled into the driveway of his 1940s bungalow, tucked into a mess of pine trees a half-mile outside Titusville, the first things he heard were Lula’s and Mackie’s loud, desperate meows punctuated by Big Louie’s ear- piercing bark.
He loaded up the cats’ food bowls while both of them weaved frantically between his legs, talking nonstop. He fed his patient Big Louie, then took him for a quick walk. Then, just eight and a half minutes after he’d arrived, he drove into Titusville to report to Autumn’s mom that they hadn’t found her daughter yet. He had to get more information out of her, like what was wrong with Autumn, and where her damned husband was.
He hated it.
4
EVERY LIGHT AT Gerald’s Loft was on. It had quickly become the search center, where Ox had patiently handed out assignments, gathered reports, and called Ethan periodically.
Inside, Ethan saw Gerald Ransom and Mrs. Daily, brother and sister, refilling the giant coffee urn, laying out heaps of Oreos donated by Mavis at Blinker’s Market. There were still a good two dozen people wandering around the Victorian entry hall with its dark paneled walls and florid red cabbage-rose wallpaper, and in the sitting room across from the reception area, loaded with so many knickknacks that Ethan’s mom always said dancing on water might be easier than dusting that room without breaking anything.
Pete Elders of Elders Outdoor Gear spotted him, and slowly everyone turned to him, many of the faces lived- in, seamed, and weathered, all with the same expression—hope. Conversation died.
Ethan simply shook his head and saw their collective hope dissolve. He thought the air felt suddenly heavier. He searched the group but didn’t see her.
“Where is Mrs. Backman?” he asked Mrs. Daily, a large-boned, buxom woman, formidable in her man’s tie and black suit. She dwarfed her brother Gerald.
“I sent her upstairs, Sheriff, before she passed out on the floor. The girl’s a mess. No wonder. I tried to feed her, but she threw up. She was out searching until Tommy Larkin hauled her back here.”
He turned to the group. “Thank you very much for all your hard work today. Whoever can make it, we’ll begin the search again tomorrow morning.”
“Coffee’s here and free,” Mrs. Daily called out, saw her tightfisted brother start to shake his head, and stared him down.
Ethan turned to walk to the stairs, then said over his shoulder, “We’ll find her.”
He heard Cork Thomas, owner of the Bountiful Wine Shop, say, “To answer your question, Dolly, I haven’t seen Autumn in three, four years. She was just a toddler the last time she visited Tollie, cute as a button. Tollie carted her around everywhere right on his shoulders. She’s gotten big, and so bright she is. Those eyes of hers look right into your soul. She’s smart. Surely she wouldn’t have climbed into Nome stranger’s car. Damnation, where the blazes is she?”
“What a shame Tollie’s out of town until next Tuesday,” said Tuber Willis, owner of the local nursery and a tulip fanatic.
“It wouldn’t have happened if Tollie’d been here, that’s for sure,” Pete Elders said.
Ethan stood stock-still. He couldn’t believe this. Everyone knew Mrs. Backman and her daughter except him? What was Tollie Tolbert to her? Why hadn’t anyone said anything?
He heard low-voiced conversations pick up as he climbed the wooden stairs with its center strip of Berber carpeting.
Her door opened before he got to it. Joanna Backman looked pale as a quarter moon that had finally cleared the mountains, her eyes bruised-looking and swollen from crying, as if she was waiting to hear the worst. Her gaze held not a flicker of hope. Her hands were fists at her sides.
“Mrs. Backman,” he said, walking up to her. “We haven’t found Autumn yet, but we will, you’ve got to believe that. Do you hear me?”
“I hear you,” she said, her voice a dead monotone, and took a step back into her room. She continued to walk backward, away from him. When her knees hit the bed, she sat down, her head lowered. He walked over to her, looked down at the top of her head. Her hair was a dull, dark brown with a thick hank hanging along the side of her cheek, the rest pulled back in a straggly ponytail. She wore old jeans and a wrinkled white shirt, and her long, narrow feet were bare. She was tall and looked thin.
He said, “Listen to me, you’ve got to keep optimistic. I will find her. Now, I know you’ve given this a lot of thought today.” He paused a moment, considered his words. “What more can you tell me that would help us find your daughter, Mrs. Backman?”
“Nothing, Sheriff, nothing. I’ve told you everything I know.”
His cop antennae blasted red at the crackling lie, but he’d been well trained and kept his voice calm. “I see. I
