***
The moon was falling into the lake as Claire took a last look at it before she turned the squad car up the bluff. She wound her way past a gravel pit, then came out into cornfields, as the
sky lightened in the east. Crows dotted the fields, picking at the remains of the corn. No one else was on the road.
Claire tried to persuade herself that the girls would be at the Jorgenson’s when she arrived. She would be mad and then she would laugh. Kids would be kids, she would say, waiting until Meg came home to give her a piece of her mind. She debated about whether she would take Meg home with her or let her continue the so-called sleepover. She’d play it by ear. See what they had to say for themselves.
She turned in the driveway. Only the Jorgenson’s pickup truck was parked by the house. Her breath caught in her throat; her heart slammed around inside her chest. Where were they?
Claire knocked on the side door and heard a voice tell her to come in. When she stepped into the kitchen, she found Emily Jorgenson sitting at the table, pulling long pieces of wool through fabric stretched over a frame.
Emily was a thick, squat woman with startlingly blue eyes and beautiful curly hair. The few times Claire had talked to her, she had found her to be reserved, with a sense of humor running underneath, but very quiet and steady.
Emily set the work down on the floor behind her chair. “No news,” she said. It was both a question and an answer.
Claire shook her head. “I haven’t heard anything. Rich knows to call here if he hears from them.”
Emily waved her hand up in the air, then explained. “My husband went up to bed. He has to work tomorrow.” Emily looked at the clock over the kitchen sink. “In a few hours.”
“Did Krista say anything to you about wanting to drive into the cities or visit someone?” As the words came out of Claire’s mouth, she realized she was trying to blame Krista for what had happened. Surely her darling daughter Meg would never
have done anything like this if it wasn’t for the bad influence of Krista. She needed to squash those thoughts. She knew Meg was capable of thinking of a myriad of naughty tricks to pull. However, Krista had always struck her as impulsive—quick to jump onto a new idea and run with it, never happy to sit still.
Emily shook her head. “No. She was just excited to have Meg staying over. She planned on making waffles for breakfast. She’s never driven into the Cities alone, or even with me. I hope that isn’t what they’ve done.” Emily jumped up and pushed a chair toward Claire. “Please sit down. Can I get you something?”
Claire sat at the table. “Thanks, I’m fine. What’re you working on?”
“Oh, that’s just my hooking. My mom taught me how to hook and I’m working on a new rug for Krista’s room. She wanted one that was all roses.” Emily pulled out the rug and showed Claire the first few pink and red roses that she had done in the middle of the piece. “It calms me down.”
“I could use a hobby like that.”
“It’s not hard to learn. I could show you.”
“Thanks, maybe I’ll take you up on that. I’ve done quilting.” Claire asked, “What exactly did the Lunds say when you called over there?”
“I talked to Mr. Lund. He didn’t sound too happy about being woken up. I almost expected him to hang up on me. He said the party was over and everyone was gone. He did say some kids had come to it that hadn’t been invited.”
“I wonder who?” Claire latched on to that comment. “We need to talk to the other kids that were at the party. They might know something. Could you write down a list of the kids you know were there?”
Emily gave her an odd smile. “Sure, but it’s too early to talk to any of them. Look at the time. They’re all still sleeping.”
Claire shook herself. She needed to stop being a deputy. “You’re right. Come to that, we probably won’t need to talk to anyone but our daughters when they finally show up.”
Someone pounded on the door and startled them. The two women looked at each other, but Emily said, “It’s not the kids. They wouldn’t knock.” She stood up and pulled open the door.
A tall, thin woman walked in, wearing a handknit Scandinavian sweater. Claire knew she had seen her before, probably at the grocery store or gas station. She had sandy blonde hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. She looked tired and worried.
“Is Curt here?” the woman asked.
“Nope, none of the kids are here. Come on in, Lynn. This is the lost mothers gathering. Somehow it makes me feel better that Curt’s with the girls.”
Claire introduced herself and the woman smiled and said, “Oh, you’re the deputy. I’ve seen you around.”
“Your son was at the party at Lund’s?”
“Yes, and he and Krista have been hanging out together so I thought he might have come over here. I was looking for his car. When I drove up to your place, I saw the lights on in the kitchen so I decided to knock. I’m not that worried, more mad. He’s stayed out late before, but never this late.”
“Does he have a cell phone?”
“Yes, but he didn’t take it with him. He said it wouldn’t go with his costume. He was Robin Hood.”
“He could have stuffed it in his quiver.”
Lynn looked at Claire. “Well, since you’re the cop, what should we do? Do we report them missing?”
“Not this soon. I still think they’re going to show up any minute. I think it’s time to go over to Lund’s and see what the kids over there know.”
Emily hesitated. “I hate to wake them up again. We just went over there two hours ago.”
Claire was accustomed to barging in on people in the middle of the night and didn’t think that much of it. When she needed information, she would go and get it. Not so with these other mothers. And, wasn’t that all she was right now, simply a worried mother, not a deputy sheriff looking for a bad guy?
C
laire managed to sit still and talk with the two women over a cup of coffee, but then she had to do something. After she called Rich to check if he had heard anything and Lynn called home to check that Curt hadn’t shown up, she set off for the Lund’s, leaving the two women talking at the table.
Three kids missing. Oddly, the larger number did make her more comfortable. When it was only two girls, they could have been abducted, but it seemed less likely with three of them and one a boy. And the car was gone. Chances were they were out driving around. If that was the case, Meg would be grounded for a good long while. But Claire felt more comfortable about this escapade.
Over the rolling farmland, golden light seeped out from the east, a hazy orange-pink glow. She loved how the sky painted complex and ephemeral colors hard to name in this hour before sunrise.
The Lunds lived down a road that was named after them. The county designated dead-ends for the last family that lived at the end of the road, thus
Lund Lane.
She turned down the dirt road and rolled up in front of the red-roofed farm house.
The house looked quiet. An old golden dog raised up on his front legs and gave a low, sleepy bark, then flopped back down again. Claire hated to wake up the family. She hesitated, sat in the car for a few minutes, and then saw the door of the farmhouse open. A young girl stepped out and walked toward the squad car. She was wearing a pink chenille bathrobe with rubber boots on her feet.
As she came closer, Claire recognized Sally Lund. She had grown up over the summer, gone from being a tow-headed tomboy to a lanky teen-aged girl with lovely long blonde hair. Claire was pretty sure Sally was a year younger than Meg, but she looked older and was certainly taller.
“Hi, Mrs. Watkins,” Sally said as she approached the car. “What’re you doing here?”
“I’m looking for Meg, Krista and Curt. You know where they went after the party?”
Sally shivered in her bathrobe. “They left when everyone did. I guess I thought they were all going home.”
“Anything odd happen at the party?”
Sally cocked her head. “Not really, except at the end.”
“What happened then?”
“They had a fight.”
“Who? What kind of fight?”
“I’m not really sure. I think it was about Curt. I think Meg and Krista were fighting over him.”
“I can hardly believe that. They were fighting over Curt?” She had a hard time imaging her daughter fighting, especially over a boy. “Hitting each other?”
“No, just arguing. But loud. I think it was over Curt. I didn’t pay too much attention. It happened right as everyone was leaving. Some other guys showed up and then everyone left.”
“What other guys?”
“I didn’t know them. One was a lot older than us. Not in high school, that’s for sure. I think they were trying to crash the party. But then it was over. My parents made everyone leave.”
“You don’t know where they went?”
Sally shook her head. “I didn’t really watch what happened. I was tired and went back in the house.”
“What’re you doing up so early?”
Sally smiled. “I have to go to work. I work down at the gas station. I gotta be there by six. What’re you going to do to her when you find her?”
“That’s a good question.”
***
The phone hadn’t rung in over an hour, the night nearly over. Amy Schroeder couldn’t hear any noise coming from the jail and hoped all the inmates were asleep. She stared at the clock, because at least the hands moved. It was something to watch. She couldn’t see outside from where she worked and had no idea of the weather.
She was lowest on the totem pole so she had to work the late shift on Halloween, which had been a little more exciting than usual. Friday nights tended to be busy. Someone had called in when a gang of kids toilet-papered the trees around their house in Durand, three people had been hauled in for DWIs, and there was a report of juvenile girls dancing around a vehicle parked in the street in Pepin.
All that had happened earlier. She didn’t expect the phone to ring again before her shift ended.
Amy stood and stretched. Somehow she had expected her job with the sheriff’s department to be more physical. When she trained in law enforcement, they had emphasized physical fitness, but she had been on the job for three months and had gained five pounds. All the guys brought in junk food—Cheetos, candy bars, sunflower seeds. Maybe she’d go for a run this morning before she went to bed.
She started to do jumping jacks. They burned off a lot of calories, which is why you could only do them for a few minutes. If anyone saw her, they would think she was crazy. She was afraid most of the men in the department already were a little leery of her. She had assumed, because they had been working with a woman for a while, that it would be easy to fit into the sheriff’s department, but she had been wrong. It didn’t help any that she was as small as a person could be and still serve in law enforcement.
The discrimination she felt wasn’t anything she could take to the sheriff and file a complaint—it was subtle and patronizing. About once a week, one of the other deputies patted her on the head. She wanted to bite them when they did that, but she held herself in check.
However, she had snapped at Bill when he offered her a hand up over a fence last time they were on duty together. Literally she had snapped at him, teeth showing. She was afraid she had done it because of all the deputies he was her favorite, and so it hurt the most when he was patronizing. That’s how she read his behavior.
Bill wasn’t married and as far as she knew, he wasn’t seeing anyone. He was near thirty and although a little chunky, he
carried his weight well. She knew he worked out, because she saw him at the gym once in a while. He kept his blond hair military-short and she’d been tempted to run a hand across it from time to time.
Amy was afraid that the story of her snapping had made the rounds of the department. The guys had started to call her “Chihuahua.” She hated the nickname and knew that the more she showed her displeasure, the more they would use it.
The other surprise was that much of the work was routine, bordering on boring. Lots of paperwork, lots of driving, lots of checking up on nothing. But it was a good income for this part of the country.
She stopped her jumping jacks and was timing her pulse when the phone rang.
Amy grabbed it, slightly out of breath. “Sheriff’s department.”
“Hey, Amy. It’s Claire.”
Why was Claire calling at this hour? She didn’t usually work weekends. “What’s up?”
“Have you gotten any calls concerning any teenagers tonight?”
She told Claire about the toilet-papering and the dancing around the car.
“What time did the dancing happen?”
“About ten o’clock. I sent a deputy over there, but they were gone by the time he arrived. I don’t know what he would have done. Enforced curfew, I guess.”
“That’s all?”
“Yeah, what’s the matter?”
“My daughter Meg went to a party last night and hasn’t shown up yet. She was staying at a friend’s house and they’re both missing. And a boy.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“I need you to put everyone on the lookout for a car. A bunch of kids are out joy-riding. A Ford Taurus, 1990.” Claire gave her the license number. “Don’t make a big deal about it, but just let the squads know. They might have gone up to the cities.”
“Yeah, I suppose. Kids do that.”
“Call me if you hear anything,” Claire said again.
“I will. I’m not on for much longer, but I’ll pass the info along.”
***
Claire drove home, not knowing what else to do with herself. The worry she had inside her felt as if it was worming its way through her guts. When she walked into the house, Rich shook his head.
She walked right past him and went upstairs. On the drive home she had decided that she was going to search Meg’s room. She had never read any of Meg’s emails, never listened to her phone calls, barely looked in her room. She knew mothers weren’t supposed to go through their daughters’ things, but she had persuaded herself that this was different. Meg had brought this on herself.
Sitting down on the edge of her daughter’s neatly dressed bed, she looked at the diary on the bedside table. Claire wondered if there was anything inside that small red book that