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“Sheriff,” the voice said. “Just got a report from the Allen house. Margo Allen said they received a phone call from someone claiming to be the one who has their daughter.”
Butler looked to Santos. “We’ll get someone over there right away to see if we can trace the number in case they call back,” she said. “Do the same for Josie’s grandparents.”
Butler relayed the message to dispatch while Santos called for more tech help.
“Could be pranksters,” Butler said as Randolph pulled up with the car.
“Yeah, but we can’t take that chance,” Santos said. “If it isn’t the killer, at least we’ll catch the sick asshole playing games with the family.”
Butler checked his watch. “Ethan and Becky have been gone for about eighteen hours now.”
“We’ll find them,” Santos said. “I just hope they’re alive.”
“What’s next?” Butler asked.
“We keep searching, asking questions, following up on any tips that come in,” Santos said. “And tomorrow, we bring in the dogs.”
Josie’s ride from the hospital to her grandparents’ house was made in silence. Her arm ached and her stomach churned. Images of her mother’s and father’s bodies flashed behind her eyes. They came to her in snapshots, brief but vivid. In Technicolor. Josie begged her grandmother to pull the car over and Caroline swung the car to the side of the road.
Josie opened the car door, gingerly stepped across the gravel to the edge of the ditch, and stood cradling her injured arm. She took big swallows of air until the nausea passed. The Queen Anne’s lace bobbed their white heads, and Josie snapped one from its hairy stem, rubbed it between her fingers, and pressed the tiny crushed flowers to her nose. They smelled like the carrots that grew in her mother’s garden.
Josie got back in the car, and her grandmother dug into her purse until she found a small wrapped disk of peppermint candy. She handed it to Josie and then went in search of another one. “It helps with upset stomachs,” she said. Together they unwrapped the red-and-white candies and slid them between their lips. The crinkle of cellophane and soft sucking sounds filled the car. After a few minutes, Caroline pulled back onto the road. She was right; the candy did help, but only a little.
By the time they got to the house, it was nearing 8:00 p.m., and the sun was melting into the horizon. Orange sherbet sunsets, Josie’s mother had called them. Just one mile down the road was her own house, so close, yet she knew that it would never be home to her again.
Night came flooding in so quickly and the house was dark and still. Caroline came to the car’s passenger side, opened the door, and held out her hand. Josie took it gratefully. Together they went through the back door and into the mudroom. Matthew’s shoes and boots were lined up in a neat row atop a rubber mat and brass hooks on the wall held his barn jacket and an oversized cardigan that Caroline wore on cool summer nights.
A wave of despair settled over her and she began to cry. Great, gulping sobs that came from an unnamed place deep within. Startled, Caroline pulled Josie onto her lap, though she was much too big. Josie pressed her face into her shoulder and cried. They sat there for a long time, Caroline rocking Josie back and forth on her lap like she did for Lynne when she was a little girl.
When Josie stopped crying, Caroline wearily led her up the steps. “We’ll have you sleep in here,” she said, opening up the door. It was a cozy room, recently painted a soft sage color, outfitted with a twin bed and a table with Caroline’s sewing machine atop it.
Gauzy white curtains framed the window, and Caroline went over to pull down the plastic shade, but not before Josie saw a strange car sitting in front of the house.
“Who’s that?” Josie asked.
“Just a deputy. He’s going to sit outside the house tonight,” Caroline said offhandedly as she began to fuss with the bedcovers.
“Just as a precaution, honey. They do that sometimes.”
“But why? Are they afraid the bad guy is coming back? Why would he come here?” Josie asked, pulling aside the shade to take another look.
When her grandmother didn’t answer, Josie turned from the window. When she saw the look on her face, Josie understood. The deputy was there for her. They were worried that whoever killed her parents was going to come for Josie. “Don’t worry, you’re safe here,” Caroline said.
Josie climbed into the bed. The sheets smelled of bleach and were cool to the touch. They felt good against her sore feet.
Josie’s mind wandered then to dark and lonely places. Her parents were dead. What could they be thinking? Were they happy she was safe at her grandparents’ house or did they think she should have done more to try and save them? Did they think she should be with Ethan and Becky, wherever they were?
Then it struck her. Josie’s parents, from here on out, for the rest of her life would be looking down on her. They would know her every move, each thought. They knew what she was thinking at that very instant—that she was glad that the deputy was sitting outside in the dark. That a small voice in Josie’s head kept whispering,Ethan did it.That she thought her own brother had murdered her parents and probably Becky because of something as stupid as being grounded. That Josie would be dead, too, if she hadn’t been a step faster than Becky and made it to the field.
Josie opened her eyes. Black shadows danced across the ceiling, and she listened to the unfamiliar creaks and groans of the house settling in for the night as she waited for sleep. It didn’t come. Josie heard the squeak of the door as her grandparents peeked in on her. And later, she thought she heard the soft cries of someone weeping but it could have been the hot wind blowing through the fields.
After a while, Josie slipped from the bed and peeked out the window. The deputy was still there. But there was something else. She stared hard into the dark. What was it? A flicker of light? A shift in the shadows?
It was in the dark, Josie thought, where bad things happened.
She turned on the small lamp next to the bed and crawled back beneath the covers. Sleep came for her then, uneasy and fraught with nightmares.
31
