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"Giselle was a good shooter at school. She was champion in her final year," the mother explained. "And because of that, my older brother suggested that she should try hunting and see if she liked it. So, she did. She got herself some gear, and found a group who did it, and she went out in the woods a few times."
"Go on?" May said, feeling curious about where this was going to lead. A champion shooter. Was this related to why she’d been taken?
"She tried it, but she didn't really like hunting. She enjoyed her comforts too much. She said hunting meant being out for long hours in the cold, mud, and rain and that she preferred shooting at a target and ended up feeling sorry for the animals."
"Understandable," May sympathized. She knew that even the best hunters had a huge affinity and respect for the prey they tracked.
"Then she found out about some local shooting events where there were targets and prizes for accuracy and grouping, and she thought that sounded more fun. So, she started doing that, and she’d done quite well. She’s been in the medals and was hoping to be on the county target shooting team next year," Mrs. Sandler explained. "But it was as a result of the hunting that she got to know a man called Maurice Fardy. He lives far out in the woods. He has an RV, and he is part of a small community. They're big-time hunters, obviously, and Giselle got to know him a year or two ago when she started doing it. They became friends and stayed friends even after she quit hunting. And it was never really a friendship I approved of." She sighed.
"Why is that?" May asked, wondering if the mother would be ready to give details.
"Perhaps I shouldn’t tell you this because I don’t want to slander him, but I was pretty sure that he was a serious pot smoker. You could tell, at a glance. And I didn't know what else that little community got up to, but it didn't feel savory to me. But then again, what could I do? I couldn't ban Giselle from going there or try to control her. I couldn't come across as . . . as a prudish, overbearing parent. I have always wanted to avoid that."
She sighed, staring again at the photo as if she was drawing strength from it.
"What did you do?" Owen asked her.
"Well, I just told her that I was a little worried about the friendship they had, and that she should be careful. I said she must just be . . . be cautious, as I wasn't sure what went on there."
"And did she listen? How did she react when you warned her?"
"She didn't blow up about it or get mad at me. But she did tell me that she would use her judgment and that he was basically a harmless guy who was fun and entertaining to be around. Which he was, definitely. And I also thought he was harmless—as in, I didn’t think he was violent. But the problem is, I know how people can change when they’re high and drunk."
She frowned as if now worrying that she'd been wrong, and that she should have told the police earlier. May could see that self-blame was about to descend and that she'd now be mad at herself for not having spoken about her suspicions.
"Did she see him often?"
"No. But she said that they were friends, and that from time to time she was going to go around there, and I must just deal with it. And she promised she wouldn't smoke pot. I don't knowif I believed her, but I thought, at that age, she would experiment regardless of what I say. So, I just said that was very wise."
"Did you get the feeling he might have been dealing drugs?" May asked, wondering if Maurice was already showing criminal tendencies.
"I wondered about that. I was worried about it, actually. Because I didn't know how the people in that RV community earned a living, including him. But I didn't know for sure."
"What about Giselle? Was she worried about him?"
May was wondering if Giselle had ever suspected he might be the kind of person to break into her cottage, grab some items of jewelry, hit her on the head, and drag her away.
Was he, in fact, that person?
"No," Mrs. Sandler shook her head. "She liked him and always wanted to defend him. She said he was a laugh to be around and that he was a good friend. I didn’t see him that way at all. I thought of him as someone who might easily resort to violence."
“Why was that?”
“Just in the way he talked. The things he said. The words he used. It was definitely an instinct I had. I would have been more worried if Giselle had gotten romantically involved with him, but she swore to me that he was just a friend, and she enjoyed hanging out with him. I believed her but never knew if he felt the same. Perhaps he wanted more.”
"And the link with Chloe?" May asked.
"Well, that was the interesting thing," Mrs. Sandler remembered. "When I told her that Maurice was an unsavory character and she needed to be careful, she told me that I was wrong, and that he was also friends with Chloe. Apparently, he was helping her with some of her botany experiments. Chloe was passionate about growing superfoods that would work for slimming and nutrition. She was very focused on better healthand how herbs could help. So, they were working together or collaborating on that somehow. That’s what she told me, anyway."
May felt a flare of excitement. This was a definite link. Without a doubt, both women had recently been in Maurice's orbit. And the RV community sounded exactly like the kind of fringe setup that lived by its own rules and threw society's conventions out the window.
She wondered if Maurice was looking to bring more people into the community. Was that what this was about? Was he violently capturing women in order to start some kind of a cult?
Her mind raced as she considered the possible options. There sure were a few of them and May knew her next, urgent step was to go out to that community and see for herself what was happening there. She felt very glad that they had decided to revisit this mother. This was taking them further, for sure.
She could see Owen was thinking the same thing. They now had a new and intriguing direction to go in. And even though it was now starting to get dark, they had to find Maurice immediately.
"Do you know where Maurice lives?" she asked.
