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“Dolly! Where are you?”
I hear the mixer in the kitchen whirring.
“Kitchen!” she calls back.
I force myself to walk and not run as I approach the kitchen, where she’s dumping flour into the mixing bowl.
“When was the last time you talked to Rosie, and what did she say? Talked on the phone, not a text.” I plant my hands on the countertop in front of her, tensing up and trying to keep myself from driving into town and strangling Clay Dixon until he tells me when the last time was that he spoke to his daughter.
Dolly’s eyes are filled with alarm as the color drains from her face. “I haven’t spoken to her on the phone, only texts.” Her voice is barely audible. “She was supposed to be here this morning … I thought she was running late.” She visibly gulps, clapping her hand over her mouth. Tears well up in her eyes.
My body feels like it’s about to burst into flames. I force myself to remain in place, to think. “Do you have her on your phone? Her location?”
Dolly sucks in a ragged sob. “Yes. I have it on Snapchat.” She pulls it from the back pocket of her jeans, opening up the app.
I move around the island so I can see what she’s seeing on the screen. The little cartoon Bitmoji face with red curls and aqua eyes looks exactly like Rosie. Her cartoon isn’t far from the one with black hair that looks like Dolly.
“Where is that?” I peer closer at the map.
“It’s her last known location. But it says … three days ago. So, it’s probably not where she is anymore.”
“Is it on the ranch?”
Dolly zooms in on the cartoon. “Looks like it’s more on the dirt road portion if you drive toward Elmott. Why would she be going that way? She was supposed to head into La Pradera to meet her aunt.”
“Her aunt is here.” I reach for Dolly’s phone, which she hands over.
“So, there’s no way to make it update to her current location?”
Dolly shakes her head, wiping the tears from her cheek with the back of her hand. “What do you think happened? Car accident?”
I consider the possibility. Rosie could have gotten in a car accident, but wouldn’t her next of kin have been notified, which means June would have heard by now? Clay Dixon wouldn’t bother telling us about Rosie being hurt or hospitalized even if she was unable to communicate herself.
But why keep it from June?
Also, why all the texts? Why has she been texting and just not showing up anywhere or answering the phone?
Unless someone else has her phone.
“What should we do? Call her father?”
The possibility that Rosie was supposed to go meet her aunt at her father’s house and he hasn’t come looking for her is a bright red flag in my mind. This entire situation has me coiled for some kind of unhinged attack waiting in the wings.
There’s nothing Clay Dixon isn’t capable of when it comes to ruining my life. He made that clear after my sentencing when he came to visit me and told me exactly where I’d be sitting for the next two years—off and on in solitary confinement—followed by another thirteen in a maximum-security prison.
When I got out early, he started planning his revenge.
But what does that have to do with his wife and daughter? She was working here before I even got out.
The front door opens, and heavy footsteps approach. Cash’s face is grim as he enters.
“She’s calling the sheriff. I couldn’t very well stop her.”
I pause, debating his words and my next move.
On the one hand, Rosie is the very rich and powerful mayor’s daughter. Surely, they’ll do whatever they can to find her even if it is just for show.
On the other hand, she technically went missing on Redford Ranch. No one’s seen her since she was here.
