back. That they came to the house and said it was okay if she stayed with me. Forever.”
My throat burned. “No. No, you didn’t.”
“How are we going to make this trade?”
“Is that how you kept her there? You filled her head with lies? Tell me if you want to see her. Did you lock her up? Did you force her?”
He let out a low chuckle. “You wish I did lock her up, don’t you? That’s what you want me to say, isn’t it?”
“I want you to tell me what happened. What really happened.”
“And then?”
“And then we’ll make the switch.”
I heard his breathing through the line. My heart rate slowed. I sat on the couch, letting myself sink deep into the cushions.
“I didn’t really have to lock her up,” he said. “Not really.”
“What does that mean?”
“She stayed at first because. . I don’t know. . I think she thought it was a game. Something different. Something new. Do you remember what it was like to be a kid? Everybody telling you what to do. Your life is never your own. You’re always under somebody’s thumb. Hell, I’m living with my mom now. It doesn’t change.”
“You said, ‘Not really.’ You didn’t really have to lock her up. But that implies you did something to keep her there. What was it?”
“Okay, okay. I guess she. . got nervous. . at the end of the first day, and she started asking if she could go back. Back to your house. Look, I knew at that point I was in trouble, you know? A guy like me can’t just keep a twelve-year-old girl at his house all day and not expect repercussions. I knew the cops would be coming down on me. I know how trouble falls in these situations, and who it falls on. And the cops never understand a deal like this. They don’t see that two people like me and Caitlin can have something special. They want to call it a crime, make an issue out of it. It’s not really that complicated when you get right down to it. It’s love.”
“What did you do?”
“What could I do?” He sounded truly perplexed. “I tried to talk to her, you know, reason with her. She seemed like a smart kid. I just asked her to stay. I told her that she could go home whenever she wanted the next day, but at that moment she needed to stay at my house. I even offered to help her look for the dog again in the morning before I took her back home. She didn’t say anything for a long time. She looked blank. You know, she does that sometimes, just gives that blank look so that you’re not even certain if she’s heard you or not. Do you know what I’m talking about?”
I reluctantly agreed. “I’m familiar with the look.”
“So she did that, just that blank look for a long time-minutes. I swear she could totally wear me down just by doing that. But eventually she said, ‘I prefer not to.’ It was so long, I didn’t know what she was saying no to. Was she saying she preferred to stay with me, or was she saying she preferred to go home? So I asked her, and she said she preferred not to stay with me, that she preferred to go home. What am I supposed to do then, right? Like I said, I’m in too deep as it is. So I did the only thing I could do.”
My throat felt raw, scratchy. “What was that?”
“I locked her in my basement. I took her by the arm-not too rough, because she really didn’t resist or fight against me-but I took her by the arm and I led her to the basement door. I got her down the stairs. I put her in the room, and I told her there was no way out and no way anyone could hear her if she yelled and screamed.”
“And you knew that because you’d done it before?”
“There were other relationships, yes.”
“Tracy Fairlawn? You know what happened to her, right?”
“My lawyer may have mentioned something about that, but she was a girl with a lot of problems.”
“Like the child she leaves behind. Your child.”
He laughed again, a low huffing sound. “You know, it seemed like-To be perfectly honest, it seemed like running into Caitlin in the park that day, with her dog lost and me right there, it seemed like destiny of some kind. Like we were meant to meet on that day and end up together.” Colter laughed some more. “Hell, for all I know, you’re taping this conversation, hoping to use it against me sometime. Is that what you’re doing? Taping this? Look, you can’t put a label on destiny. You can’t explain it all away or call it names. However it happened, even if there was a little resistance at first, it was meant to be. It’s that simple, isn’t it? And if you just let me see her again, let me see the girl, you can know it all. For real. And she can be happy again. Let me guess what’s going on over there-she’s barely speaking to you. She’s moping around, doing that stone-faced routine. I knew she’d be doing that. It’s classic Caitlin behavior.”
“Don’t. Don’t act like you know her better than me.”
“I do. I’ve spent the last four years with her. Where can we meet?” he asked. “We can all have what we want. Where can we meet?”
“Why did you let her go?” I asked. “If you were so happy, why did you make her leave? And why did you burn your house down after she was gone? What were you hiding?”
“You can’t come here because of my mother. And who knows, the cops may be watching me. But I can get out for a little while. Later in the day. Where can I meet you both? You and Caitlin?”
I felt like he’d tied me to a leash and was walking me around the block. He was right. I wanted to know too much. And I needed to dial back, to pull away. I felt like a man tottering on a ledge. I could only windmill my arms for so long before I fell.
“Can I come to your house?” he asked.
“No. My wife. .” I hesitated again. “I think it would be best if we just-”
“Where then?” Colter asked, pushing.
I held the phone tight, felt the pressure in my knuckles.
The meeting spot was so obvious, I shouldn’t have even needed to say it out loud.
“Why don’t we go back to the beginning,” I said. “I’ll meet you in the park, on the cemetery side.”
“When?”
“How soon can you be there?” I asked.
He paused, no doubt calculating in his head.
“An hour after sunset,” he said. “I have things to get together, and the park will be quiet and empty by then.”
“An hour after sunset.”
“And you’ll have Caitlin with you?”
“It doesn’t look like I have much choice, does it?”
Chapter Fifty-two
I went up the stairs. Caitlin had left the bedroom door open.
She was sitting on the floor again, staring into space.
“Let me ask you something,” I said from the doorway.
“What?”
“Did you really believe your mom and I wouldn’t look for you or want you back?”
She nodded, but her face was lacking some of its defiance, its certainty.
I pushed. “Really?”
“Yes.”
“And how long-?”
I stopped myself. I’d wanted to ask her:
