Detective Olsen came by the house as the sun was going down. He didn’t call first, and when he rang the doorbell, Jason and Nora and Sierra were all sitting in the living room, saying little to one another. Despite napping, everyone was still tired—emotionally more than anything else. No one mentioned Hayden’s name, although, Jason suspected, they were all thinking about her. He knew he was.
When Jason looked outside and saw Olsen, he rushed to the door. Then he slowed down. He wondered why he was hurrying. What could the detective have to say that he would want to hear?
Olsen looked tired. His jacket was gone, and the cuffs of his pants as well as his shoes were covered with dirt. Jason held the door for him, his hand trembling. He tried to read Olsen’s body for signs. Did he look like a man arriving with the worst news possible?
Everyone stood. Sierra had her thumbnail in her mouth again, and Jason wanted to rush across the room to her, to cover her ears, to cover and protect her completely so no bad news could reach her. But he couldn’t. He was too far away. And the bad news was going to come whether he was sheltering her or not.
But Olsen said, pushing the glasses up on his nose, “There’s nothing for me to report right now. We haven’t found anything on the Bluff.” He looked at all of them after he spoke these words, and he clearly intended for his look to be reassuring and comforting. But he just looked tired as well. He looked like
he
needed reassuring. “No sign of Hayden. No indication of where she might be. It’s starting to get dark, so we had to stop.” He quickly added, “Her car has been taken into custody. We’ll process it further and hold on to it for now.”
“Is that it, then?” Nora asked.
“For tonight. We plan on looking some more in the morning.”
“On Sunday?” Sierra asked.
“No rest for the wicked,” Olsen said. “We also have her description out to all of our units. We’re casting a net.” He cleared his throat. He looked at Jason and Nora and then at Sierra. He seemed to be considering if he wanted to say more in front of her. Jason nodded, trying to let Olsen know that he should go on, that there was nothing he needed to worry about hiding from Sierra. Jason didn’t know if Olsen got the hint, or if he just decided to go on himself. “You know, there’s a limit to what we can do or think here. We don’t know if Hayden is in any danger. We don’t know if she’s been hurt.”
“The blood—” Sierra said.
“I know,” Olsen said. “But people get blood in their cars for a variety of reasons. She could have cut her hand. She could be menstruating.”
“On the backseat?” Jason asked.
“I get it,” Olsen said. “I know you’re worried. We’ll test it, don’t worry. We’ll see if we can get a match.” He turned to Sierra. “You don’t know your mother’s blood type, do you?”
“A positive. We’re both A positive.”
Olsen looked impressed with Sierra’s knowledge. “Okay, we’ll check. But Hayden’s an adult. If she left, if she abandoned her car, or if she’s just spending time somewhere, those are all her choices. The only thing she’s done wrong, in the eyes of the law, is leave her car overnight in a park. That’s a twenty-five-dollar fine.”
“You’re saying the next move is up to her,” Jason said.
“I’m saying we’re going to look a little more tomorrow,” Olsen said. “But we can’t have a bunch of manpower searching for an adult who hasn’t committed a crime and who hasn’t given any indication she’s in danger.” He sighed and looked down at his dirty shoes. “It’s been a long day, and I’m just trying to be forthright with all of you. There are limits to what we can accomplish.”
None of them said anything, but Olsen’s words hit Jason like a splash of cold water. What did he expect to happen if Hayden wasn’t up there on the Bluff, alive or dead? Was Olsen going to devote his professional life to finding his sister? She had run off before and abandoned her responsibilities only to resurface at some later date, expecting that she could seamlessly return to whatever she had left behind. Was that what she was doing now? Was she having a last round of partying with Jesse Dean and company before coming back to pick her daughter up? Olsen was right. Blood showed up for a lot of reasons. Especially in the car of someone who had just fallen off the wagon . . .
Sierra sat down. She turned her face away from the three adults in the room. The only noise she made was a low sniffle. Nora walked over to her, and Jason took a step that way as well, the emotion Sierra displayed catching hold of him. He felt his eyes burn from tears, but when he moved, Olsen placed his hand gently on Jason’s arm. When Jason looked at the detective, he motioned toward the door with his head, indicating he wanted to talk to Jason alone.
The two men stepped outside. The sky was turning red in the distance. The days were getting longer, and Jason knew they would, in just a few weeks, reach the longest of the year. Summer made him nostalgic—for childhood, for his teenage years with Regan and Logan, for a time when he didn’t have to think about or deal with the things he was dealing with as an adult. He knew he couldn’t and shouldn’t remain untouched by such things. He had already lost both of his parents, after all, but he didn’t like to think of Sierra getting hammered by those things when she was just seventeen. Instead of gearing up for a summer of friends, boys, swimming pools, and late nights, she was inside, absorbing the reality of her mother’s disappearance. Jason wasn’t sure which would be worse—the news that Hayden had met with foul play, or the news that she hadn’t, leaving everything up in the air for who knew how much longer.
Olsen placed his hands in his pockets and leaned back against the porch railing. He let out a long, slow breath. A flock of birds passed overhead, a scattering of black dots against the darkening clouds. “I am sorry I don’t have more information. But it’s only been one day. Less than a day, really.”
“I understand,” Jason said.
“I wanted to talk to you a little more. This is about your niece.”
“Okay. What about her?”
“We still have the matter of the car and the drugs. I didn’t want to push her on it in there, but those things have to be addressed.”
“Like I said, we don’t want to press any charges about the car. It’s fine.”
“But she hit another car. It’s been reported to the police. She has to face the music about that.”
“You said no one in the other car was hurt, right?”
“That’s right. But there’s damage to the other vehicle. It’s not
a lot, but someone has to pay for it. Either your insurance will, or you will.”
“We’ll take care of it.”
“Really?”
“We’ll find a way.”
“Okay,” Olsen said. “What about the drugs? That’s not something I can just make go away. That’s possession by a minor.”
“It’s not hers. She’s holding them for a friend.”
“It’s not really relevant,” Olsen said. “Do you think she’s holding them for her mother?”
“I don’t know. I doubt it. Hayden never did a lot of drugs. Some, I know. Give me a chance to get the story out of Sierra. I don’t want her to face some kind of legal issue that will follow her the rest of her life.”
“She’s a minor,” Olsen said. “There are programs.” Olsen cleared his throat. “I know she’s already been in trouble before, over in Redman County. The stolen car. If she’s starting down the road her mother went down, it might be good to get her help now.”
“She’s not on that road,” Jason said. He wished his voice carried more conviction. He believed it, yes, but he also knew how empty promises and vows could sound when spoken with a great deal of force. “Can we just wait until we know more about Hayden? I appreciate the fact that you’re trying to be sensitive. Can you just hold on to that for a little while longer?”
Olsen didn’t give his word one way or the other. He moved his foot and kicked at a small pebble, sending it into the yard. “We’re going to get in touch with Sierra’s father.”
“Why?”
“Why? Because he’s her father.” He took his glasses off and polished them with a tissue he drew from his pocket. “His child’s mother is missing. The girl may be left here for a long time. We
have to tell the other parent. He may want to come and be with his daughter, or he may want her to stay with him until this is resolved.”
“Stay with him,” Jason said, almost under his breath.
“He might,” Olsen said. “I don’t know what he’s going to want to do. But he has to be informed about any situation involving his child. Don’t you agree?”
“I guess.”
“Is there something wrong with her father? Something we should know about?”
Jason didn’t want Derrick out of Sierra’s life. He wanted Sierra in
his
. The feeling had been slow to come over him, but he didn’t want her to leave the house with someone else. He didn’t want to think of her facing everything without his and Nora’s help.
“He’s always treated Sierra well,” Jason said. “In some ways, I guess he’s been more reliable than Hayden.”
“But?” Olsen squinted as he asked the one-word question.
Jason paused. “He’s had some trouble with the law. It’s been a few years, but that’s part of the record. He’s been a troublemaker.”
“Lots of people break the law and have children.”
“Well, it’s something to consider,” Jason said, aware that he was trying hard to throw his ex-brother-in-law under the bus. “You should look into it.”
“I will.”
“Sierra hasn’t seen him in a couple of years, and she’s safe with us now.”
“Maybe I’m just tired, Mr. Danvers, but if the matter of Sierra’s custody went to court . . . let’s just say the car accident and the drugs wouldn’t be used to bolster
your
claim.” Jason started to object, but Olsen said, “We’ll notify the father. If he
wants to come and see his daughter, he can. If he wants to ignore the problem and hope it goes away, he can do that as well. You all probably just want to do what’s best for the girl right now. She’s in the middle of a brutal time. Right?”
Jason nodded.
Olsen tried to smile. “Look, no one doubts you care about the kid. Keep her safe. But if the father decides he wants to play a role, she doesn’t need to see a bunch of adults fighting over her. It’s better if everybody joins hands, you know?”
“Sure.”
“Good night,” Olsen said.
“How early are you going to start looking tomorrow?” Jason asked.
“Early.”
“Do you think you’ll find anything up there? Anything that will tell us where Hayden is?”
Olsen considered the question, then said, “As long as we’re looking, we’re hoping.”
* * *
Before going to bed, Jason stopped in Sierra’s room. She had the light on, the door open. She sat up, her back propped against several pillows, and she held a history textbook. Despite the door standing open, Jason knocked anyway, and Sierra looked over. Her eyes looked tired, the lids heavy. Jason couldn’t tell if the redness in her eyes came from crying or the accumulation of the emotion of the past couple of days. Nevertheless, when she saw Jason in the doorway, she tried to smile.
“I’m sorry to interrupt.”
“That’s okay,” she said. “I’m not really reading. The words are just going past my eyes, and I’m turning the pages, but none
of it is sinking in. I’ll get through a few pages and then realize I didn’t understand a thing I just read.”
“I wanted to say good night and see if you needed anything.”
“I’m okay. Aunt Nora has been checking on me every few minutes. I’m glad we heard from the police earlier. At least we know they’re going to look more in the morning.”
“It’s something,” Jason said. “You’re right.” Jason came in and sat on the bed. Sierra scooted over, her legs moving beneath the covers. She laid the book aside. Jason said, “I’ve been thinking about your mom a lot. Of course. And I realized something about her.”
“What?” Sierra looked curious.
“I know I complain a lot, and have complained a lot, about her being untrustworthy. All those years she told us she’d quit drinking and then she’d start again. Or she’d be drinking on the side. Those things made her untrustworthy, right?”
“I guess so.”
“That’s different from being dishonest,” Jason said. “I realize that, at least when it comes to a personal relationship, your mother is the most honest person I’ve ever known. The drinking could mess her up, and she’d lie about whether she was drinking or not. But she always told me what she was really thinking. And she always told me what I needed to hear, whether I wanted to hear it or not.”
“That’s true,” Sierra said.
“I have a feeling that whatever she came back for was motivated by that. A desire for honesty. For telling the truth to someone or about someone. It might have gotten her in trouble, but—”
“That wouldn’t stop her,” Sierra said, finishing the thought.
“No, it wouldn’t.” The words Hayden spoke about Regan on the night she dropped Sierra off came back to him. Jason understood
the real message his sister was delivering when she asked him about Regan—she was saying,
Are you happy, big brother? Are you really happy?
Sierra was fingering the edge of her blanket, and her cuticles were chewed and raw. She needed peace and rest.
“Anyway,” Jason said, “I wanted you to know that’s the way I think about her. The other stuff . . . the problems she may have had, they’re not important to me.”
“Thanks,” Sierra said. “I’ll remember that too.”
He reached out and clasped her hand. Sierra squeezed back, and then he left the room to try to
sleep.
Jason stepped out onto the porch the next morning, searching for the Sunday paper. He had slept off and on the previous night, finally waking around seven thirty. The rest of the house slept, even Sierra. She left her bedroom door open—for transparency’s sake, Jason assumed—and when he walked by on his way downstairs, Jason heard her soft breathing. The history textbook lay on the floor next to the bed.
The morning was clear as he retrieved the newspaper, a late spring day full of promise. The sky looked like a clean slate, one that the events of the coming day could still be written across. The neighborhood was quiet, no human voices to be heard. A sprinkler up the block made a repetitious chittering noise, but nothing else stirred. He rolled the paper open, searching for any news about Hayden. A quick scan revealed nothing. He was turning to go inside when he saw someone walking toward the house.
He recognized the bulky, slow-moving figure. Jason wondered if Colton ever slept, or was he constantly on the move around the town, checking in with people, asking them questions, tending to their needs? Johnny-on-the-spot, Nora called him, even on a Sunday.
But Colton’s face looked troubled as he came up the walk. His forehead was creased, the corners of his mouth turned down. Jason still held the open paper in his hands. He wanted to lift it up between his body and Colton’s, use it as a screen of some kind. But Colton had already seen him, had already reached the bottom of the stairs that led to the porch. He stopped there, one foot on the bottom step. He rested his arm on the banister and huffed a little as though he had exerted himself hustling to Jason’s house.
“What is it, Colton?” Jason asked.
Colton’s face was red. He came the rest of the way. “Jason, you may want to sit down.” He pointed to one of the chairs they kept on the porch.
“What?” Jason asked. “Tell me.”
But he knew. He knew before Colton said the words, before he felt his body going backward and plopping into the chair as though someone had pushed him. He felt the words roll across him like the concussive wave from an explosion.
He knew.
“Are you sure, Colton?” he asked, even though Colton was always sure. He knew everything. He didn’t speak without being certain.
“I’m sure,” Colton said. He reached out and placed a heavy hand on Jason’s shoulders. He even gave a squeeze, his attempt at comforting the bereaved. “The police will be contacting you soon. I only heard because I was up there.” He paused before he said it again. “They found a body, Jason. They found a body up on Heroin Hill.”
* * *
“What were
you
doing up there?” Jason asked.
It was the next question he thought to ask. What was Colton
doing hanging out at the Bluff? Why was he bringing Jason that piece of news instead of the police?
“I stopped by this morning to see how the search was going,” he said. “My family was getting ready for church, so I went up there just to check things over. I’m nosy—you know that. I went by yesterday as well. The cops, they all know me.”
Jason still held the newspaper. His grip tightened until the paper started to crumple in his hands. He looked down at the porch and saw ants running, the grain of the wood, and the cracks in the paint. Hayden was gone. He couldn’t think of anything else.
His sister was gone.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have told you,” Colton said. “I thought someone would have called by now. I thought you might need some help. This was almost thirty minutes ago.”
“What happened to her?” Jason asked. “Was she . . . Did someone kill her?”
“I don’t know,” Colton said. “They hadn’t even brought it—
her
—out yet. Her. I don’t know what they’re doing. It takes a while to gather all the evidence and everything. Secure the area. They have to be real meticulous with this stuff in case there’s foul play.”
Jason looked at the house. Through the screen door he saw the stairs that led up to Sierra’s room. She slept, unaware of what she was about to learn.
“Are you sure, Colton?” Jason asked, and he realized he was repeating himself. He didn’t know what else to do or say.
“I was there. I heard them talking. I heard them call the coroner.”
Jason dropped the newspaper. He raised his hand to his mouth. He felt something stirring in his gut. Sickness. A tingling passed up the back of his neck and across his scalp. He imagined his face was bone white. Black dots danced across his vision.
Colton came closer and with a low grunt knelt down next to the chair Jason sat in. Again, Colton placed his hand on Jason’s shoulder. Jason caught the sweetly clean scents of soap and shaving cream coming off Colton’s body.
“Do you want me to get Nora for you?” he asked.
Jason uncovered his mouth. “No,” he said. He took a few deep breaths, trying to restore his equilibrium. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to clear the spots. When he did, he saw Hayden. The little girl in the sandbox. Crying. In need of a helping hand. Hayden the wild child. Hayden making that toast for their parents and saying the exact right thing at the exact right moment. Hayden walking out the very door he sat next to for the last time. He let her go. He let her walk away.
Jason opened his eyes. “I should go up there to the Bluff,” he said.
“No,” Colton said. “You should stay here. With your family. They’re going to need you. Very much.”
“But Hayden’s alone . . . just . . . tossed aside in the woods.”
“You can’t help them,” Colton said. “Do you want me to go inside with you? Maybe you need some support.”
Jason straightened up. He blinked his eyes a few times and cleared his throat. He tried to force the images of Hayden from his mind. He tried not to think of her body—rag doll limp, bloodied and bruised—lying in the woods.
“No,” Jason said. “I need to do this. Colton, can you go back up there, back to the hill? Find out what’s going on for me.”
Colton hesitated just a moment before he said, “Okay. I will. Gloria drove the kids on to church without me. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”
But Jason wasn’t really listening. He was looking inside the screen door again, trying his best to envision how he was going
to do what he knew he had to do. He stood up. His legs felt jittery. When he stumbled, Colton reached out and steadied him.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Colton asked.
Jason didn’t answer right away. The images flooded back in his mind. Hayden. A thousand moments rushed past his eyes. Hayden the child on her bike, Hayden the teenager at the beach, Hayden the mother who came to his house asking for help.
Hayden.
“My sister, Colton,” he said. “My baby sister.”
“I know. I’m sorry. She was really something.”
Jason let Colton steady him for a few moments. When his uneasiness seemed to have passed, Jason nodded to Colton. “Thanks,” he said. “I’m okay now.”
“Are you sure?”
“I am. I’ll be okay. This wasn’t unexpected, right?”
“We don’t ever expect these things,” Colton said.
“Find out what you can,” Jason said, looking at the house again. “I’ll take care of things here.”
* * *
Jason didn’t go straight upstairs. He wandered out to the kitchen, not even conscious of his legs moving. Not even conscious of a purpose. He worried that Colton’s arrival and their conversation on the porch had woken Nora and Sierra, but when he stopped and listened, he heard nothing from above.
In the kitchen, he stared at the walls. He thought of his mother and father. At least they were spared this news. They had lived in fear of the middle-of-the-night call for so long, and Jason saw them as the fortunate ones. They died before it came. He was the only one left, the one who would have to see to Hayden’s burial and the tidying up of her affairs.
Her daughter.
He reached up and opened a cabinet. He brought down a bottle of bourbon, something called Rowan’s Creek. A friend gave it to them after a trip to Kentucky. Jason occasionally sipped a glass in the evenings, but that morning he poured a shot and threw it back like a college kid. It was smooth, the oaky warmth spreading through his body as it reached his stomach. He didn’t know what he thought it would do, but the act of downing the shot calmed him. He leaned against the counter and gave in, letting the sobs shudder through his body. For a moment, he felt out of control, his torso shaking as though it was being wracked by seizures. The shuddering slowed, but not the crying. He wiped at his eyes and nose with both of his hands and the back of his arm. He grabbed a napkin and used that to finish cleaning his face.
His mind turned to Nora and Sierra. What if they found him this way? He tried to gather himself by taking deep breaths. He needed to regain his composure so that he could go upstairs and tell them the news.
Then the phone rang. It was their landline, which they’d been planning to eliminate anyway. Only telemarketers seemed to call that number anymore, but the sound of the ringing jolted Jason. It could be the police. Olsen. It was probably Olsen. When he answered, there was no sound on the other end. For several seconds, nothing. Then rustling.
“Hello?” he said.
Someone made a noise on the other end. It sounded like laughing, or even perhaps crying. But no one said anything.
“Hello?” Jason said again.
Then the call ended. Whoever was there hung up. Jason held the phone in his hand, staring at it. Were they laughing or crying? Was it a wrong number?
He put the phone down slowly. Wondering. Could Olsen have tried to call and been interrupted? But the sound from the other end sounded lighter, higher. Like a woman’s.
It couldn’t be Hayden. She was gone.
“Who was it?”
Jason spun toward the voice. Nora and Sierra stood in the kitchen doorway, their faces expectant and fearful at the same time. Jason didn’t know what to say, so he told the truth.
“No one,” he said. “There was no one there.”
“They just hung up?” Nora asked.
“No. They made a noise. Something. They might have been laughing.”
Or crying. But he didn’t say that out loud.
“Was it Mom?” Sierra asked. “Did it sound like her?”
Jason still didn’t answer. He thought the same thing. Maybe it was Hayden. But why would she call and say nothing? He didn’t even know if she had the number. And after what Colton told him just moments before . . .
“Jason? What is it?” Nora asked. She came into the room, moving toward him. “I can see that something else is going on. What is it? Why is the liquor out?”
Jason didn’t look up at them. He could face Nora, but he couldn’t face Sierra. He just couldn’t. He was looking at the floor when he finally said, “They found a body up on the Bluff.”
* * *
Sierra turned away. She shook her head over and over. Back and forth as she walked away. She didn’t speak or make a noise, and Nora and Jason followed her. But Sierra stayed ahead of them until she reached the foyer, and then she turned around and looked at both of them.
“No,” she said. “No. It can’t be.”
“The police will be by soon,” Jason said. “They’ll tell us more.”
“How do you know that wasn’t her on the phone?” Sierra asked. “How do you know?”
Jason didn’t know what to say, so he simply repeated himself, and when the words came out of his mouth, he felt foolish. Incapable of handling the occasion that required him to be the adult, the strength for this young girl.
“They found a body up on the Bluff,” he said.
“How do you know?” Sierra said again. Her voice rose as she repeated the line. Her voice grew louder, even as she collapsed to the floor. “How do you know? How do you know?”