Ren climbed out. She’d tried to get him to kiss her, but he’d shrugged her off and loped quickly up to the house. “I’ll call you, okay?” he’d muttered.
Now she was crying, and Kate repeated her previous offer. “Need me to come in with you?”
“Yes, please.”
So there was a scene at the front door, with Ruth’s mother making horrified noises and Ruth shaking and sobbing, and Kate felt so helpless and inadequate, she just didn’t have words.
She remembered what she and Harrison had said to each other only four days ago about what a sheriff sometimes had to do, the news he had to break, the scenes he had to witness, and she felt a moment of profound… blessing, that was the only way she could think of it… because Harrison was in her life, because he hadn’t looked at her tonight out at the park in a way that suggested he and his ex were getting back together, as if that was the reason his house wasn’t on the market any more. Instead, he’d taken her hands and engulfed them in comfort and warmth, and now she was wearing his jacket.
This was the only thing that kept her going, and it seemed so selfish. Neve Shepherd was drowned, but things might just about be okay, because Sheriff Pearce had held Kate’s hands in a gesture of promise and given her his jacket to keep her warm.
After Ruth and her mother had gone inside and the light on their porch had gone out, Kate sat at the wheel of the pickup for several minutes, trying to find some direction. She wondered if Annette Shepherd had anyone with her, and if fourteen-year-old Kira was sleeping through the nightmare of her sister’s disappearance.
With only a vague idea of what she was doing, she drove over there, remembering their Church Avenue address because it had been staring up at her from Neve’s file, that day she’d met with Annette and Gary to hear their concerns about their daughter. They actually lived next door to the Morgans.
On the way down their street, three houses away from the Shepherds’ home, she saw a figure walking along the sidewalk, shadowed by the trees that lined the manicured verge between sidewalk and street.
Dear Lord, it was Gemma Clayton.
Chapter Nine
Gemma had her shoes in her hand and she was limping as if her feet were blistered and bruised—as well they might be. Was it possible she’d walked all the way here from River Bend Park? It was around two hours since she’d run tearfully after Judd and Garth’s departing car. The walk would have taken about that length of time. Lordy, no wonder she was limping.
Kate slowed and Gemma turned at the sound of the pickup. She looked frightened, and Kate quickly lowered the window to call to her. “Gemma, it’s me, Kate MacCreadie.”
The fear evaporated from Gemma’s face, to leave her looking wrung out and oddly empty. Sheer exhaustion, probably. “Oh,” she said, then didn’t move or say anything more.
“ Get into the truck,” Kate prompted her. “You must be frozen.”
“No, I’m fine thanks.” She used that high-pitched, overly polite tone that some teens adopted when they were talking to older people and had a strong desire to conceal what they were thinking. Kate knew it well. She heard it almost every day.
“You’re not fine,” Kate said. “And you must get in the truck and get warm, and rest your poor feet. Where are you going?”
Gemma walked slowly and obediently toward the pickup and Kate leaned across to open the passenger door. She’d put the heating on high to warm herself and the kids coming back from the park so it was toasty in here now, and she kept the engine running so it would stay that way. Gemma seemed to respond to the heat like a living force, and for several long minutes she simply sat there in silence, as if she was clinging to the warmth for sheer survival.
“I don’t think you’re fine,” Kate suggested gently, once more.
“Really, Miz MacCreadie, it’s okay.” The bright, tinkling
Now she was crying, and Kate repeated her previous offer. “Need me to come in with you?”
“Yes, please.”
So there was a scene at the front door, with Ruth’s mother making horrified noises and Ruth shaking and sobbing, and Kate felt so helpless and inadequate, she just didn’t have words.
She remembered what she and Harrison had said to each other only four days ago about what a sheriff sometimes had to do, the news he had to break, the scenes he had to witness, and she felt a moment of profound… blessing, that was the only way she could think of it… because Harrison was in her life, because he hadn’t looked at her tonight out at the park in a way that suggested he and his ex were getting back together, as if that was the reason his house wasn’t on the market any more. Instead, he’d taken her hands and engulfed them in comfort and warmth, and now she was wearing his jacket.
This was the only thing that kept her going, and it seemed so selfish. Neve Shepherd was drowned, but things might just about be okay, because Sheriff Pearce had held Kate’s hands in a gesture of promise and given her his jacket to keep her warm.
After Ruth and her mother had gone inside and the light on their porch had gone out, Kate sat at the wheel of the pickup for several minutes, trying to find some direction. She wondered if Annette Shepherd had anyone with her, and if fourteen-year-old Kira was sleeping through the nightmare of her sister’s disappearance.
With only a vague idea of what she was doing, she drove over there, remembering their Church Avenue address because it had been staring up at her from Neve’s file, that day she’d met with Annette and Gary to hear their concerns about their daughter. They actually lived next door to the Morgans.
On the way down their street, three houses away from the Shepherds’ home, she saw a figure walking along the sidewalk, shadowed by the trees that lined the manicured verge between sidewalk and street.
Dear Lord, it was Gemma Clayton.
Chapter Nine
Gemma had her shoes in her hand and she was limping as if her feet were blistered and bruised—as well they might be. Was it possible she’d walked all the way here from River Bend Park? It was around two hours since she’d run tearfully after Judd and Garth’s departing car. The walk would have taken about that length of time. Lordy, no wonder she was limping.
Kate slowed and Gemma turned at the sound of the pickup. She looked frightened, and Kate quickly lowered the window to call to her. “Gemma, it’s me, Kate MacCreadie.”
The fear evaporated from Gemma’s face, to leave her looking wrung out and oddly empty. Sheer exhaustion, probably. “Oh,” she said, then didn’t move or say anything more.
“ Get into the truck,” Kate prompted her. “You must be frozen.”
“No, I’m fine thanks.” She used that high-pitched, overly polite tone that some teens adopted when they were talking to older people and had a strong desire to conceal what they were thinking. Kate knew it well. She heard it almost every day.
“You’re not fine,” Kate said. “And you must get in the truck and get warm, and rest your poor feet. Where are you going?”
Gemma walked slowly and obediently toward the pickup and Kate leaned across to open the passenger door. She’d put the heating on high to warm herself and the kids coming back from the park so it was toasty in here now, and she kept the engine running so it would stay that way. Gemma seemed to respond to the heat like a living force, and for several long minutes she simply sat there in silence, as if she was clinging to the warmth for sheer survival.
“I don’t think you’re fine,” Kate suggested gently, once more.
“Really, Miz MacCreadie, it’s okay.” The bright, tinkling
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