“What are you going to do?” he asks as I take out my phone.
“It’s about time the public sees Ashley’s parents again,” I say.
Eighteen
He sat in the recliner, watching the televised statement.
It was the first time in years he had seen Thirteen’s mother like this. She hadn’t made a statement since a year after that summer.
Now, there she was, begging for her child’s return.
He knew her face. He knew her voice.
No one, not even she, knew how many times their paths had crossed.
He wondered what she knew.
And why the two people behind her were there. He’d seen them before.
The blond woman with quiet authority and eyes that cut like honed steel.
The man beside her with the imposing presence of a lion and a sharp, piercing stare.
They showed no emotion as the broken mother gripped the edge of the podium and pleaded for her daughter to come home. They were watching for something. Waiting.
What did they know?
Nineteen
“And never forget what we always said to you, baby. Remember who you are. Remember where you came from. Nothing will ever matter more. We love you.”
Misty steps back from the podium and takes a brief pause, almost as though she’s going to say something else. But then she turns and hurries away under the frantic shouting of questions from the reporters who came to watch her statement. They can sense the building tension. It’s like blood in the water for them.
Dean and I go after her and I wrap my arm around her shoulder.
“You did a great job,” I say. “That was perfect.”
“You really think so?” Misty asks.
“Yes,” I nod. “It was everything you needed to say and nothing you didn’t.”
“You were so much stronger than I could have been,” John says. “Thank you for being able to be the one who did that.”
“I just hope it does something,” Misty says. “I told you that when I heard about the murders at the campground, it gave me some hope. Just because it would be an answer, and I might finally know where Ashley has been for the last five years. But the truth is, I never wanted to really believe it. I want her to be out there. Somewhere. I know that means she could be going through something horrible, and I hate myself for even wanting that for a second.”
“It’s not that you want her to be going through something horrible,” I assure her. “You just want her to be alive. You want her to be able to come back to you.”
“It’s what I wanted for five years,” she says. “And maybe making this statement will make a difference to somebody.”
“I know it wasn’t easy to do, but you’re right. It might make a difference. There have been plenty of times when a parent’s making a statement about a missing child has jogged the memory of somebody who saw something and didn’t realize it. Or unlocked a guilty conscience,” I tell her.
“Maybe Ashley heard me,” she says. “I want her to know how much I love her.”
I nod and rub her back to comfort and reassure her. I want to seem as optimistic about Ashley as I can, but it’s hard to with the statistics hanging over me. I know that’s exactly what Allison was talking about. I hate any investigator or police officer who would immediately jump on the idea of numbers and likelihoods to dismiss a grieving mother.
But it’s impossible to ignore. I can’t pretend that I think this will have a happy ending. I will keep a smile on my face as much as I can for her parents, but there’s a dark feeling inside me that Ashley met her end a long time ago. It’s just a matter of finding out what happened to her and why.
This public statement about Ashley, reminding people about her and her case, didn’t have the goal of bringing her home. That’s not the point. I’m hoping hearing about her will be enough to make people talk. Someone knows something. Something more than he or she is telling. And there might be far more people involved than we think. A mother’s words can be powerful. Often in ways she could never have imagined.
While Dean goes back to the campground with Xavier and Ava, I go to the Stevenson house. We sit down in the living room to talk over the statement and how we’re going to move forward with the investigation. Misty brings out tea and cookies, but the tray is more or less a centerpiece. None of us reaches for either one.
“There’s something somewhat sensitive I need to speak with you about,” I say after a few seconds.
John and Misty look at each other and John stands up.
“I need to do some work in my office, anyway. Let me know if I can be of any help,” he says.
I wasn’t expecting him to leave, but I realize it does lessen some of the tension surrounding the conversation. While I would have been interested to hear what he has to say about it, just having Misty here might let her open up more than she would have if her husband was here.
“Dean and I have been talking with Allison and Vivian about the day Ashley went missing,” I start. “We know Vivian’s family wasn’t there with them at the campground. But they revealed to us that they weren’t alone, and someone else might have been involved in her disappearance.”
Misty’s face goes pale. She reaches for one of the cups of tea, but her fingers brush against the handle and fall rather than picking it up.
“What do you mean?” she asks, her voice soft and shallow. “What happened to her?”
“I don’t know the details,” I say. “But I need to ask you… was Ashley involved with any guys?”
“Boys?” Misty asks, her voice now rising in shock. “No. Absolutely not. She was only thirteen.”
“I understand that,” I say. “But there are plenty of girls that age who
