Page 105 of Trust No One

The return address was a PO box in Richmond. No name. No clue where it had been for twenty-three years or why it was here now.

The once-beloved toy radiated menace, its stitched eyes dark and hollow. My throat constricted. I shoved it back in the box, tossed it in the pantry, and slammed the door.

“What the hell?”

I changed into hiking clothes and laced boots with unsteady hands and slipped out the back door. Crossing the back lawn, I cut through the brush as I’d done with Maria a thousand times when we were kids.

Following the creek bed, I approached the damp pebbles, gravel, and rocks. Images of Mom’s pale body superimposed themselves over my present reality.

Mom’s laughter rang in my head. “Don’t be a baby. I’m dead and gone. It’s just rocks and shoddy memories.”

“It’s more,” I said.

“No, it’s not. Stand up straight. Don’t be weak.”

Voices carried with rustling leaves and cracking branches. Rounding the final bend, I spotted a blue crime scene tent pitched over a body draped in a white cloth. Relief it wasn’t exposed shifted quickly to dread.

Judson stood nearby, hands on his hips, profile carved in stone. He had to be remembering the day we’d found Mom.

One of the cops spotted me and called out. “Stop right there.”

I did. But didn’t back off. “This is my land.”

Judson strode toward me, frown deepening. “This is a crime scene, Raine. You can’t be here.”

“Who’s under that sheet?” I demanded.

“I can’t tell you that.” His tone clipped each word. “This is an active investigation.”

He was right. He had a job to do.

But fear twisted sharp. “Gabe cut off his ankle monitor. He took Molly from the school. He won’t tell me where he’s going with her.”

Judson froze, inhaled sharply. “How did he get Molly?”

“He picked her up from the school.” I explained my exchange with the principal, his assistant, and their stupid communication error.

He reached for his phone. “I’ll put out a BOLO on him.”

“Molly still doesn’t know her mother died. I was supposed to tell her this afternoon.” My voice cracked for a second, before I could shore it back up.

A muscle pulsed in his jaw. “We’ll find them.”

The edges of the white sheet lifted in a breeze. No bloodstains. Too little water for a drowning. Drug users migrated to the isolated parts of the land.

Maybe it was random.

But the toy . . . the box . . . the delivery wasn’t random. I couldn’t shake the fear this body was here for a reason.

“It’s not Gabe, is it?” Molly was with Gabe, and for that reason alone I needed him to be okay.

“No,” he said.

“Or Molly?” It had to be said.

“God, no.”

My relief was jagged, short-lived. “Okay.” My worry built.