Where They Found Her (14 page)

Caroline laughed harshly once he was gone. “That’s one way to be sure he’ll pull
that
stunt again. TV as a reward for a tantrum. Now, there’s a parenting strategy we didn’t have back in my day.”

Barbara couldn’t look at Caroline. She loved her mother. She did. But Caroline needed to go away right now, just for a few minutes. Until Barbara could pull herself together. Claw back a sense of humor and maybe some semblance of patience.

“Mom, can you go out and get us a loaf of French bread?” Barbara asked as she stared down at the kitchen floor.

“Of course,” Caroline said, sounding delighted as she rested her casserole on the counter. She loved nothing more than a job to do. “While I’m gone, put this in at three-fifty for twenty minutes. And why don’t you fix yourself a snack, some almonds and raisins, maybe. Something with protein. Or a glass of milk. You need to balance your glycemic index.” She pulled her car keys out of her purse. “Back in ten minutes!”

“Take your time, Mom.”

Absurdly, Barbara did drink a glass of milk once her mother was gone, but it instantly nauseated her. She could hear
Bob the Builder
in the other room as she put her glass in the sink. It was a comfort to think of Cole safely secured in front of the TV. Maybe Barbara needed a distraction, too. Just while Caroline was gone and Cole was occupied, a sliver of space in which to pull herself together.

All day she’d wanted to see what kind of news there was about the baby. Nothing could put your own living child’s problems into perspective like thinking about someone else’s dead one. Barbara would eventually know much more from Steve about what was going on, but there were unexpected tidbits one could pick up from the news online, not to mention the chatter of regular people. If nothing else, the citizens of Ridgedale could be counted on to have opinions and to insist on sharing them.

Barbara grabbed her laptop off the counter and sat down at the kitchen table. A quick Internet search brought up several stories about the baby, but it wasn’t until Barbara found her way onto the
Ridgedale Reader
’s site that she found anything to pique her interest. Already there were quite a few comments on the articles about the baby. As usual, many from crackpots who just wanted to hear themselves talk. But there were remarks that gave Barbara pause. It was true that someone could have murdered the mother and the baby, like that one commenter suggested, and maybe the mother’s body was yet to be discovered. Though Steve had dismissed that possibility out of hand, Barbara was no longer convinced.

But it wasn’t until Barbara was skimming the comments on the second story that she saw a post that stopped her dead in her tracks.

FIND HIM.
BEFORE HE FINDS YOU.

The hairs on the back of her neck lifted. What the hell did that mean? Was it some kind of liberal nonsense, like someone had suggested? Except there was something so chilling about the words: menacing, almost. As though someone—a killer, for instance—was taunting all of them. Barbara was squinting at those few words when something came to rest on her shoulders. Something heavy and warm. A pair of large hands. Barbara jumped up, her chair falling back and smacking the ground as she whipped around.

“Whoa!” Steve said as Barbara was about to bolt for the living room and Cole. His hands were raised like he was trying to corral a spooked colt. “Take it easy.”

“Dammit, Steve! Why are you sneaking up on me?” Barbara clutched a hand to her chest. The surge of adrenaline made her heart feel like it was going to burst. “Why didn’t you text when you were on the way? And why didn’t you come in through the garage?”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t even thinking—battery died in the Taurus, battery died in my phone. Been that kind of day.” Steve shook his head as he dropped his hat on the table. He looked completely exhausted but handsome in his dress uniform. He must have been meeting with someone important—the mayor, the press. “I got a lift in a cruiser. I really didn’t mean to scare you.”

Barbara took a couple more breaths until her heart slowed. She felt bad for yelling at him. Surely, it had not been an easy day—it had not been easy on anyone.

“No,
I’m
sorry. I really didn’t mean to snap like that. I was just reading this—” But that eerie post wasn’t going to make Steve happy. It would just get his mind back on work, and she needed him here with her now. She’d mention the post to him later, or maybe she wouldn’t. It was all nonsense anyway. “God, what a terrible day. You must be exhausted.”

“Amen to that,” Steve said. He leaned over and kissed Barbara on the forehead—the forehead again, the forehead always—then righted her chair so she could sit back down.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Barbara offered. But he shook his head and frowned as he sat down at the kitchen table across from her.

The volume on the TV out in the living room got loud, than sank just as quickly back down.

“TV on a Tuesday?” Steve asked with a tired smile. He supported Barbara’s rules, took them on as his own, especially in front of the children, but they were always Barbara’s rules.

“Like I said, it’s been a rough day all around.”

Steve nodded, then got up for the drink of water he’d refused. He stood at the sink with his back to her, filling a glass from the tap. Barbara watched him there at the counter, so steady and strong. The man she’d always known would step up and take care of her. The man she would do anything to protect. No matter what. For the third time in one day, Barbara felt like she was going to cry. It was ridiculous.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Steve asked as he turned back to her.

“Oh, it’s just this whole mess with Cole and that conversation with Rhea and then—” The words shot out like a breath Barbara had been holding. Steve came back over and rested a firm hand on her shoulder. “And then just now, when Hannah picked him up from Will’s house, Cole was hysterical. He even had this—I don’t know, this
episode
right here.” She gestured to the kitchen floor, the scene of the crime. “It was horrible. Just awful, Steve. There is something wrong, really wrong. For all we know, he was abused over there.
Molested
.”

“Molested?” Steve pulled his chin in. “Where’d that come from?”

“When kids start acting out, sometimes it’s because something has been done to them. Between that woman and her boyfriends and her older son and whoever—”

“Wait, what woman are you talking about?”

“Stella! Come on, Steve, I’ve been telling you. Have you not even been listening?” This was their son they were talking about. Steve needed to pull it together and pay attention. The rest of town would just have to get in line.

“Hold on and back up,” Steve said firmly, sitting across from Barbara. At least he seemed focused. “Cole had a bad day. I get that, but everyone’s entitled to one of those, right?”

“But that’s not—”

He held up a hand, silencing her. “One thing at a time. Do you have any proof that’s not all this is? That this isn’t going to be like Hannah with the bridges? You remember that? One day out of nowhere, we can’t drive anywhere over water without her screaming her head off.
Screaming
, in case you’ve forgotten. Then one day she’s fine again. You have proof that this isn’t just like that?”

Barbara stared into Steve’s clear bright blue eyes. There was so much feeling in them, so much caring. Sometimes it aggravated her that Steve was more emotional than she was; always it mystified her. He certainly hadn’t gotten his overactive heart from his mother. A widow who died of breast cancer, Wanda was always cold as a corpse. And yet there was Steve, all mushy under that hard masculine exterior. God love him—and Barbara did, every last ounce of him—but Steve could be too trusting and too generous in general. Still, his being so emotional did make it seem like he understood things Barbara didn’t. And right then she needed to believe he was right. Steve stood up and came around behind Barbara, putting a hand on her neck and kneading the knots at the base of her skull. Slowly, her shoulders lowered.

“You’re right, I guess,” she said, letting her eyes slide closed.

This could be just like Hannah with the bridges. Barbara had forgotten all about that. At Cole’s age, Hannah was always having an episode about one thing or another. She was still high-maintenance, but she was well within the range of normal for a teenager. Maybe none of this was as serious as Barbara was letting herself believe. Maybe she did need to calm down. She tried to focus on Steve’s fingers on her neck, the sensation of her muscles unraveling.

“Wait, what’s that?” Steve asked, the sleepy warmth suddenly gone from his voice. When Barbara opened her eyes, he was staring at her open laptop. “
Find him. Before he finds you
?”

She’d forgotten all about the
Reader
comments. Steve hardly needed another thing to worry about. And now she’d lose him again to the investigation. He’d be gone for the rest of the night without ever leaving the house.

“Someone trying to make some stupid point,” Barbara said. It was so obvious to her now that the message was not some well-calculated threat. It was a stupid prank. She really was letting herself get too wound up about everything. “You know this town: God knows what their point is, but you can be sure they think they have one.”

“What is it?” Steve’s voice was sharp as he stepped closer to the computer. “Where is it from?”

“Oh, they’re comments on the articles from the
Reader
,” she said. “You know how people
love
to comment on there. They find a way to go at each other about the annual Turkey Trot.”

“Great, just what I need, somebody causing a panic.” He shook his head in disgust. “Are there other comments like that?”

“Not that I’ve noticed, but I haven’t had the chance to get through them all.” Barbara dragged her finger across the touchpad, scrolling down. “Can’t you just contact the
Reader
and make them take it down or trace the email or something?”

He shook his head. “First Amendment. They’re not actually threatening anybody, and you have a constitutional right to be a jerk. Besides, the
Reader
isn’t going to crack open its computer records to the police, not for something like this.” He ran a finger down the screen, blowing out some air. “Dammit. I looked at the articles. There was nothing to them. These people really can make a damn mountain out of a molehill.”

“They’re just worried,” Barbara offered because it felt like Steve was talking about her. And that part
was
understandable. “It makes them feel better to yammer on about it. Like they’re in control of something.”

“Wait, stop.” Steve tapped the screen.

Another Ridgedale murder??
Barbara had known as soon as they found the baby near the Essex Bridge that Simon Barton’s death would come up eventually. But she was surprised it had happened so soon.

I don’t care how long ago it was, that seems like a crazy coincidence.

“Seems this Molly Sanderson is just dying to make something out of nothing,” Barbara said.

“I think the problem is she really believes what happened to Simon
is
something,” Steve said quietly.

“Well, tell her it’s not.”

“I did.” His eyes were on the computer screen.

“Then tell her again and make her listen, Steve,” Barbara snapped. She wasn’t going to tolerate some reporter adding to their troubles by bringing up something upsetting from years ago. “You
are
the chief of police. Who is she?”

“Actually, you know her, or she knows you,” he said. “They just moved here last fall. Her daughter is in Cole’s class.”

“You’re kidding me.” Ella’s mother, it must be. Ella was the only new child in the class. Barbara had exchanged niceties with her mother, but that was it. Molly was friends with Stella, and that was all Barbara needed to know to get her to steer clear. “Well, this is a hell of a way for her to make new friends.”

Steve stayed quiet. He’d been staring at the computer longer than it could have taken for him to read the rest of the comments. The muscle in his jaw had lifted like a walnut. “Print those out for me, will you?” His voice was so low it didn’t sound like his.

“You weren’t even a police officer back then,” Barbara said. Because there he went again, responsible for everyone and everything. He probably felt like he should have kept Simon from getting so drunk that night. Steve had never been much of a drinker himself. “We were all upset about what happened to Simon. But whatever should have or could have been done at the time—it really has nothing to do with you.”

She did realize that might be easier for her to say. Barbara had been way on the other side of the woods that night, near the circle of logs where the girls hung out, at least the ones who weren’t off hooking up with boys in the wet leaves. The logs were the only place they could sit without getting filthy. The boys, meanwhile, were always taking off into the woods to play something they called “drunk obstacle,” seeing who could scramble the fastest over a pitch-black course of branches and logs. Dumb high school jocks: Everything’s got to be a competition. Steve had never wanted to talk about the details of that night—it upset him too much—but he and some of the other boys had seen Simon slip.

Steve nodded. “Just print them out, okay?” He straightened up and headed for the steps. “What I really need now is to wash that creek off me. I’ve got it coming out of my pores.”

“Okay, but try to be quick,” Barbara said tentatively. She had no choice but to warn him. “My mom’s coming back in a few minutes. For dinner. It’s Tuesday, remember?”

Steve paused on the stairs. His head dropped as he rested a hand on the banister. “Okay,” he said, looking up at Barbara and forcing a smile, obviously steeling himself. “Okay.”

As he drifted up the steps, part of her wished he’d demanded that she cancel dinner with her parents. Because, lately, his doing what she wanted seemed in inverse proportion to his affection for her.

After Steve was gone, Barbara went out to the sitting room. Cole wasn’t in front of the TV, a sure sign she’d left him out there far too long. Instead, he was sitting at his small table, tucked in the corner. His back was to Barbara. From across the room, she couldn’t see what he was doing, but the closer she got, the more it looked like he wasn’t doing much of anything. Except sitting there, staring once again, at nothing.