I did a quick scan of the entryway and dining room before us. Both were nearly bare and scrubbed clean, each with its own stack of carefully labeled cardboard boxes in the center.
Julia came back with two glasses, handed us each one, and looked around as though she had just noticed her surroundings.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said. “The place is a mess. I’m moving, so . . .” Both her words and her eyes trailed off, her eyes scanning the walls, our clothes, looking anywhere except directly at Will or me. “We can sit in the kitchen.”
A thick fog of uncomfortable silence set over us as we sat at the kitchen table. I sipped at my lemonade and wished that I were anywhere else on the planet, Will took in his surroundings, and Julia stared into her cup.
“Nice place here,” Will said. “Had you been here long?”
“Sixteen years,” Julia said without looking up. “It’s too big now without Cathy. And Peter and I”—her shoulders slumped—“we’re divorcing.”
I shot Will a murderous look when Julia’s voice cracked.
“I’m sorry,” I said soothingly. “I’m sorry we have to be here and bring all this up again.”
“You’re not bringing anything up. It’s not like ‘it’ has gone anywhere.” She laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Do you want to know about the day she went missing?”
I was taken back at the abruptness of Julia’s question. This woman who moved slowly, looked about questioningly, suddenly sounded like she was asking us if we wanted to see her Avon catalog. The lemonade I had been sipping burned at the pit of my stomach. “Yes. Please.”
Julia cleared her throat and set down her glass. “There was nothing special about that day. Not a single thing. Cathy got up, got dressed, came downstairs. She probably poured herself a bowl of cereal and we probably glared at each other across the table as she ate it.”
“You two had problems?” Will asked.
“What mom and her teenage daughter don’t? It was nothing really terrible—I would ask her to do things and she would tell me I was ruining her life.” Julia smiled, her eyes becoming glassy. “I drove her to school, she got out of the car and—and”—she looked down at her hands, sniffling—“that was the last time I saw her.”
“Again, Ms. Foley—”
“Julia, please.”
“Julia, I’m sorry,” I said, licking my lips. “I am sorry to have to—”
Julia waved her hand. “The cops have been over this a hundred times, but if anything helps save—save another little girl . . .”
“Did Cathy have any problems at school?”
“Her grades were exceptional.”
I edged forward. “Was Cathy in any clubs on campus?”
Julia’s smile was genuine. “What club was that girl not in? She cheered, she sang, she was president of the French club—she even did animal rescue on the weekends. Ran bake sales and things at school to pay adoption fees. When it came to extracurricular activities, there was nothing she didn’t do. She was interested in so many things.”
Julia’s eyes teared up and she pressed a napkin to them, then coughed. “Sorry.”
I put my hand on her arm, my heart in my throat, my gut reaction demanding that I find Cathy’s killer and Alyssa’s kidnapper right now, today, and skin him alive. Every muscle in my body was taut, alert, and the anger pricked under my skin.
“How about with other students?” Will asked. “Was she ever bullied, or, did she ever mention anything about having a hard time with some of her schoolmates?”
“No, no. Cathy got along with everyone. I mean, there were always little tiffs or ‘drama’ as the girls say— said—within her social circle, but nothing out of the ordinary.”
I perked up. “Her social circle? Do you remember the girls she hung out with?”
Julia nodded. “Kristy Thomas. Kelly Peck. It was mainly the three of them. Kristy and Kelly have both gone off to college now. Oh, there was a new girl, a younger girl that used to tag along, too. She had a different name.”
“Kayleigh?” I asked, my breath catching in my throat.
“No. Uh, Faith. No, that’s not right. It was—Fallon—that’s right, Fallon. Real pretty girl. Pretty standoffish, though. Didn’t seem very friendly. Cathy said she was just shy. She was like that—would take girls under her wing who were new or she thought were having a hard time.”
It was hard for me to imagine Fallon ever having a hard time at anything.
“She and this Fallon girl got very close.” Julia’s lips pressed against her gritted teeth and I could tell she was fighting not to cry. “Fallon came over once after—after. She brought flowers—Stargazer lilies, Cathy’s favorites. She was very upset. I remember she went up to Cathy’s room and curled up on her bed, crying. Then she fell asleep. I didn’t have the heart to wake her. She was gone the following morning. She left a nice note, though.”
I straightened. “A note? What did it say? Did you keep it?”
Julia nodded and stood, staring at the stacked boxes with her hands on hips. She skirted them all and pulled open a drawer of a curio cabinet.
“I don’t know why I kept it,” she said as she sat back down. “It’s silly, I guess.”
“No, not at all. May I see it?”
She put the folded piece of binder paper—one edge frayed from the spiral binding—into my hand. I unfolded it, my heart pounding, the blood pulsing in my ears. Will slid his chair closer to me; I could feel his shoulder brush mine.
The breath that caught in my throat was now sucked out of my body along with all the air in the room. I shot Will a knowing glance, but he was too busy pushing the ice around in his cup to register my silent
I refolded the note carefully, blinking hard to hold back the tears.
“I don’t think I can tell you much more, unless you want to know about the—the day she was fou—”
“No, no, that’s okay, we don’t need to—”
“Have you packed up Cathy’s room as well?” Will asked, his accent ricocheting around the room—and knocking through my head. I tried to shoot him my most demonic look, but, as usual, he was focused on something else.
“No, Julia, we don’t mean to—”
Julia set down her cup and wrung her hands in her lap. “Actually, I haven’t touched Cathy’s room since— since it happened. I keep telling myself I’ll get around to it.”
“Do you mind if we take a look?” Will wanted to know.
“No, of course not. Top of the stairs. You’ll know the one. I hope you don’t mind if I stay down here.”
I pushed the note into her hands and Will and I trudged up the stairs.
“Did you read that?” I whispered, my lips against Will’s ear.
“Yeah.”
“I don’t think we should be looking through Cathy’s room. I think we need to be looking through Fallon’s.”
“Why’s that now?”
“Why?” I gaped. “Were we not reading the same note? ‘I’m sorry.’ ‘I wish I could bring Cathy back’? If those aren’t the words of a guilty conscience, I don’t know what is.”
Will and I stopped on the landing. He looked down at me, the sympathy in his eyes quickly chased out by steadying logic.
“I thought the note sounded very much like a grieving, guilt-ridden survivor.”
“‘I wish I could have done more’? ‘I should have’? That’s not admitting anything?”
“No, love, it’s not. Maybe Fallon wishes she could have done more to help find Cathy. Maybe she wishes she could have done more to help the Ledwiths grieve.”
