when they haven’t been used in a while.” He paused. “I told you, nobody’s beneath.”
He reached down, his hand a white, waving flag.
Liz refused it, climbing laboriously out on her own.
Aboveground, the temperature was like an assault.
But it didn’t rob her of breath, not like that suffocating dark. Whenher voice emerged, it was steady. “You really don’t know where they are?”
“I don’t,” Matthew said. “But it wouldn’t matter if I did.”
Liz hadn’t let go of Izzy in the whole time she’d been sealed underground. She began stroking the doll’s head, winding yarn hair around her fingers until they pulsed with constriction.
“Of course it would,” she said. “If you knew what Paul was planning to do—”
Her father-in-law was shaking his head. “Whatever Paul is planning, he clearly has no intention of letting anyone else in on it.”
Liz stared at him.
Matthew mopped his brow with his forearm, regarding her with what looked like a genuine sense of sorrow. It was the first spark of human connection she’d felt from her father-in-law, who seemed less man than monolith, something carved out of the hard, oaken land.
“Trust me, Elizabeth. I know all about losing a child.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
T he car gave off a plume of heat as soon as she unlocked it. Liz welcomed the burn when she sat down inside. Sweat sizzled on her thighs, but she didn’t turn on the engine. She deserved this punishment, this pain. She had lost her children.
Liz wrapped her hands around the steering wheel, letting the circle brand them.
From inside her purse, her cell phone let out a bleat of missed calls.
Liz’s mother had left a message, and Jill had left three. It must’ve been Jill who sounded the alarm, since it was still days away from her mother’s usual perfunctory check-in. Liz felt wisps of both gratitude and irritation at her friend.
A slip of paper tucked into her cell phone case snagged her attention. The babysitting cop’s card.
He answered with, “This is Grayson,” and Liz realized that in those desperate, frenetic eight hours at the hotel, she had never learned his name.
“This is Liz Daniels,” she said. “I wanted to thank you—thank your friend—for going up to check the farm.”
“I’m sorry it didn’t lead to anything,” Grayson said.
If only Grayson’s friend had gotten there a little sooner.
“My children were there,” she said. “I found—” She had to break off.
Grayson’s reply was instant. “You found your kids?”
“They were gone by the time I arrived,” Liz said. “But I found Ally’s doll.” She reached down to her pocket to touch it, the most tangible link she had to her children now.
Grayson didn’t say anything.
“Can the Junction Bridge police do anything else?”
“I can’t see that there’s anything to do,” Grayson replied. “There’s the nature of the matter, for one thing. This is a family concern.” As if sensing the understatement contained in that assessment, he went on. “Also, as you say, your kids are no longer there.”
He was right. Liz stared out the windshield, which was coated with bug splatter and dust. The view to wherever her children might be seemed just as occluded.
“It seems almost cruel,” Grayson said.
The word hit her like a hammer.
“Not only for your husband to plan some happy, jolly family trip in order to make off with your children. But also for him to have stuck around all morning. Stupid, too—we could easily have detained him.” Grayson paused. “As a cop—if this were my case—I’d be asking why he did that. Because it might give you some idea where he wound up.”
Liz felt baffled. Grayson was right, of course; those were bizarre moves on Paul’s part. But she had no idea how to uncover their justification.
“Can I ask you a question?” she said after a moment.
“Sure, go ahead,” Grayson said.
“How did you figure it out? That my husband …”
She didn’t have to
He reached down, his hand a white, waving flag.
Liz refused it, climbing laboriously out on her own.
Aboveground, the temperature was like an assault.
But it didn’t rob her of breath, not like that suffocating dark. Whenher voice emerged, it was steady. “You really don’t know where they are?”
“I don’t,” Matthew said. “But it wouldn’t matter if I did.”
Liz hadn’t let go of Izzy in the whole time she’d been sealed underground. She began stroking the doll’s head, winding yarn hair around her fingers until they pulsed with constriction.
“Of course it would,” she said. “If you knew what Paul was planning to do—”
Her father-in-law was shaking his head. “Whatever Paul is planning, he clearly has no intention of letting anyone else in on it.”
Liz stared at him.
Matthew mopped his brow with his forearm, regarding her with what looked like a genuine sense of sorrow. It was the first spark of human connection she’d felt from her father-in-law, who seemed less man than monolith, something carved out of the hard, oaken land.
“Trust me, Elizabeth. I know all about losing a child.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
T he car gave off a plume of heat as soon as she unlocked it. Liz welcomed the burn when she sat down inside. Sweat sizzled on her thighs, but she didn’t turn on the engine. She deserved this punishment, this pain. She had lost her children.
Liz wrapped her hands around the steering wheel, letting the circle brand them.
From inside her purse, her cell phone let out a bleat of missed calls.
Liz’s mother had left a message, and Jill had left three. It must’ve been Jill who sounded the alarm, since it was still days away from her mother’s usual perfunctory check-in. Liz felt wisps of both gratitude and irritation at her friend.
A slip of paper tucked into her cell phone case snagged her attention. The babysitting cop’s card.
He answered with, “This is Grayson,” and Liz realized that in those desperate, frenetic eight hours at the hotel, she had never learned his name.
“This is Liz Daniels,” she said. “I wanted to thank you—thank your friend—for going up to check the farm.”
“I’m sorry it didn’t lead to anything,” Grayson said.
If only Grayson’s friend had gotten there a little sooner.
“My children were there,” she said. “I found—” She had to break off.
Grayson’s reply was instant. “You found your kids?”
“They were gone by the time I arrived,” Liz said. “But I found Ally’s doll.” She reached down to her pocket to touch it, the most tangible link she had to her children now.
Grayson didn’t say anything.
“Can the Junction Bridge police do anything else?”
“I can’t see that there’s anything to do,” Grayson replied. “There’s the nature of the matter, for one thing. This is a family concern.” As if sensing the understatement contained in that assessment, he went on. “Also, as you say, your kids are no longer there.”
He was right. Liz stared out the windshield, which was coated with bug splatter and dust. The view to wherever her children might be seemed just as occluded.
“It seems almost cruel,” Grayson said.
The word hit her like a hammer.
“Not only for your husband to plan some happy, jolly family trip in order to make off with your children. But also for him to have stuck around all morning. Stupid, too—we could easily have detained him.” Grayson paused. “As a cop—if this were my case—I’d be asking why he did that. Because it might give you some idea where he wound up.”
Liz felt baffled. Grayson was right, of course; those were bizarre moves on Paul’s part. But she had no idea how to uncover their justification.
“Can I ask you a question?” she said after a moment.
“Sure, go ahead,” Grayson said.
“How did you figure it out? That my husband …”
She didn’t have to
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