“No one spoke up, objected at all?”
“To what Ardeth told me?” he asked, and I nodded. “Nah. Everything seemed good. Before I left, Sariah got me a piece of apple crumb cake she’d baked that day, and she said she was looking forward to Delilah coming home in a few weeks. She misses her.”
I wasn’t sure what to say, except, “So you’re sure about this?”
“I’m sure.” He lowered his voice. “I’m sorry that your mother turned you away, Clara. In Alber, the people here, they’re not always forgiving. You know how apostates are considered.”
“As the worst of the outsiders,” I said. “Yes, I know.”
Gerard stopped smiling and gave me kind of a deadpan look. “You know, I’m surprised Max bothered you with this, when there was a good chance nothing was wrong.”
“He was worried about Delilah. The note and all.”
“The note?” He dismissed it with a wave of his heavy hand. “It looked to me like it was written by a kid.”
The simple language, the short sentences. It made sense that Lily wrote it. But she would only have done that if my instincts were right and Delilah was missing.
As if he heard my thoughts, Gerard speculated, “Maybe whoever wrote the note didn’t know Delilah had the trip planned. Or the kid played a prank. Not sure, but the bottom line is everything’s fine.”
I looked over at Hannah, who’d gotten out of the car and stood a few feet behind Barstow. She shrugged, as if uncertain.
“I’m having a hard time believing this, Chief,” I said. “The reaction I got from Lily today at the trailer, the note. I wouldn’t be candid if I didn’t say I’m still worried about Delilah.”
“You can stop now. She’s most likely enjoying Salt Lake, seeing the big city,” Gerard said. “You know what it’s like growing up in this Podunk town. You get outside it, and there’s a big world out there.”
“There is,” I said.
Everything Gerard Barstow said made sense, but as eager as I was to get back to Dallas, I couldn’t shake the belief that Delilah was in danger. Chief Barstow’s vague assurances weren’t cutting it. I needed to be absolutely sure nothing was amiss. To do that, I had to talk to the Heatons, Jayme Coombs’ family, and eventually my family, whether my mother wanted to see me or not. I thought again about the locked gate.
“Gerard, I appreciate all you’ve done. I understand that my mother’s not happy that I’m here, but I don’t know when I’ll be in Alber again. I’d like to see if I can patch things up with her before I leave in the morning,” I said. I reached over and pulled on the handle, rattling the gate in its frame. “I would appreciate it if you’d unlock this for me.”
The police chief glanced at his watch and his smile faded. His voice dropped an octave. “It’s nearly ten, Clara. Everybody inside there’s dreaming dreams by now. You know how our folk go to bed early. Up at dawn to greet the day.”
“Surely you can—”
His smile melted into the slightest frown. “I’m sorry, but I can’t do that. I’d advise you to stay away, Clara. Like I said, your family doesn’t want to see you. Ardeth and the others were crystal about that. If you knock on their door, they’ll send you away.”
I stared at him for a minute. Too much seemed odd. I wasn’t ready to chalk it all up to a mistake and leave town. “I don’t understand why this gate is locked.”
Gerard shrugged. “It’s only at night. There have been some problems in town after dark. One assault and a few burglaries.”
“Isn’t this a bit drastic?”
“I agree. It’s not something I was in favor of. But the folks in the trailer park came up with the idea. They have keys to get in and out if they need to. This way no one bothers them.”
I thought of the trailer park behind us with its run-down homes, no indoor plumbing. Little to steal. “Seems strange to lock things up all the way out here,” I said. “So you had one assault in town? A few burglaries? And they locked the gate?”
“That’s pretty much it.” He turned off the flashlight that had been dangling in his hand, throwing a spot of light onto the barren, rocky ground.
“Gerard, what would it hurt to let me in?” I tried again. “It would mean a lot to me.”
The police chief’s lips curled up into a smile, but the rest of his face looked cold, wooden. “Clara, I know you’re a cop and all, a detective I hear, but I’m gonna say no. Those folks in there, they put that lock on that gate to keep out strangers. I respect their wishes.”
“I’m not a stranger,” I started, and then I saw the look on his face. He didn’t have to answer. In Alber, in my family, that was what I’d become. “You’re convinced Delilah’s safe? You’re not planning to look for her? To follow up on this?”
Gerard Barstow looked me square in the eyes. “Your mother and the rest of your family tell me that Delilah is fine. I believe them. You should too.”
Eleven
The phone woke Max a few minutes after eleven. For the sixth night in a row, he’d fallen asleep on the living room lounge chair. Ever since Miriam died, he didn’t like sleeping in a bed. Too many memories.
If he was honest, the whole house made him sad. A different house in a different city than the one they’d shared, but Miriam had picked out everything they owned, from the furniture to the potholders. Max had never been one for domestic concerns, and that suited Miriam. She thrived on it. Of course, the way he grew up, six mothers in the house, there’d never been a need for him to worry about making beds, washing dirty laundry or cooking dinner. This past week, he’d thought often of the
