It sounded like the best we could do. “Okay, but one more thing.”
“Sure,” she said. “What?”
“While you’re doing this, check on a couple more girls for me. They’re all from Alber. The first one is Eliza Heaton, age seventeen.”
I looked at Hannah.
“She’s taller,” Hannah said. “Maybe five foot six or seven. Green eyes. Long dark hair. Pretty girl.”
“Got it. And the third?”
“We’re also concerned about the whereabouts of a twelve-year-old.”
Samantha let out a soft whistle. “That’s pretty young for us. I don’t remember seeing anyone that young in a while. But I’ll give it a try. What’s her name?”
“Delilah Jefferies,” I said.
“Description?” she asked.
“Auburn hair, turned-up nose, freckles. Cute kid,” I said based on old memories.
“Height? Weight?” Samantha queried.
I felt a pang of regret and even shame that I couldn’t better describe my own sibling. Thankfully, Hannah jumped in to answer. “Delilah is just under five foot tall, maybe ninety, something less than a hundred pounds.”
Samantha paused, and I assumed she was writing it all down. “Jefferies? Isn’t that your last name, Detective?”
“Delilah is my half-sister,” I said.
“Oh. I’m sorry,” Samantha said. Her voice dropped an octave. “Tough.”
“Take a look and get back to me as soon as possible?”
“You’ve got it,” she said. “And detective…”
“Yes?”
“Try not to worry. Most times, these kids show up.”
I wanted to, but I didn’t believe her.
Eighteen
After the meeting at the Alber police department, Max headed back toward the highway. At the stop sign before he turned onto the main road, he reread the text from the sheriff:
Heard from Chief Barstow early this a.m. about NCIC report. That woman is off base. You brought her here. You need to get rid of her. Report to headquarters, ASAP. We need to talk!
“Shit,” he said, shaking his head. “Damn it, Clara.”
Rather than setting a course straight back to the office, Max drove around for half an hour, eventually making a left off the highway and heading toward the river. He turned onto a dirt road he hadn’t taken in years, not since his return to Alber. Minutes later, he arrived at a path that wound into the trees. He parked the car and trekked through the woods, stopped along the riverbank and looked out at the scenery.
This is it, he thought. This is where we were standing when Clara kissed me.
How many years had it been? Half his life ago, a bit more. That one kiss changed everything. He was on a path, planning to stay in Alber, near family. Then Clara kissed him. He didn’t pull back, sure, but she was the one who suggested they skip school that day and go to the river. He’d been attracted to her for a couple of years, and dreamed of being alone with her. He remembered the excitement deep in his soul as they planned their escape. His first crush. His first love.
To Max, it had seemed predestined that one day they’d be together. He didn’t object when she took his face in her hands and moved closer until their lips met. He’d never been kissed like that before, but he’d fantasized about what it would feel like to be so close to her, to meld into her, to touch her.
As their lips met, Clara’s father had broken the spell.
“Stop!” Abraham Jefferies had shouted, as he stalked toward them with the determination of a man on a mission. Max saw outrage burning in the older man’s eyes.
That day changed his life, but not in the way he’d hoped it would; because of that kiss, the church hierarchy sent him away.
When his father drove off and left him standing alone on the street, Max had nowhere to go. No one to rely on. For the first time in his life, he was truly frightened. He’d faced difficult, dangerous years when he feared he’d lose his way. Then he’d found Miriam. They had Brooke. Life was perfect.
The accident ended all that.
The grief nearly killed him, sent him reeling to the bottle while Brooke fought for her life. When she’d needed him most, he was barely rational. Overcome with guilt and regret, he’d almost lost her. She’d pulled through but never to be the same. By the time he’d fought through the pain enough to see what he was doing to his daughter, by the time he’d walked away from the booze and tried to reclaim his life, he’d lost his job, their security, and their health insurance, the very thing Brooke needed most.
His phone rang, his sister Alice calling. Max let it ring four times before he picked up. “Sheriff Holmes called. He’s looking for you,” she said. Alice knew about the booze and the depression. She sounded worried. “Are you okay?”
“Sure, no problem,” he said. “What did the sheriff want?”
“Said he was waiting on you.”
Max thought about the text:
Report to headquarters, ASAP. We need to talk!
“How’s Brooke today?”
“Like every day, working hard. The therapist is here. She has Brooke on the floor exercising,” Alice said. She lowered her voice and whispered into the phone, “Sometimes it makes me want to cry. You can see the pain in her eyes. The girl’s got grit going for her.”
“That she has,” Max agreed.
“I think you’d better check in with the sheriff,” Alice said. “I wouldn’t say he sounded mad, but he didn’t sound happy.”
“I’ll head over to the office. Don’t worry.”
Back in the car, Max thought about Delilah. His gut hadn’t settled down about the girl. He still worried about her safety, but Ardeth and the others had told Gerard Barstow that Delilah was safe. And the sheriff had given an order. This wasn’t Max’s case any longer. I can’t lose this job. I failed Brooke before. I can’t fail her again.
When Max considered their history, Clara Jefferies had sent his life tumbling into a free fall once before, and he’d paid a stiff price. As much as he’d yearned to see her, he wouldn’t let her do it again. As he turned
