Ellie closed her eyes. There had to be more she could do, but what? She’d already done everything she could think of. She and the town’s other two officers had canvassed the streets. They’d notified the county sheriff’s office that an unidentified child had been found. They’d also contacted the Family Crisis Network and Rural Resources, as well as every state and national agency. No one knew who the kid was, and it was becoming increasingly clear that this was Rain Valley’s case. Her case. Other law enforcement and social agencies might be called upon to help, but the child had shown up in this town, and that made identifying the girl her job. The county sheriff had backed away so fast he’d practically left skid marks. His Sorry, she’s on city property told Ellie plenty. No one would take responsibility for this girl until a positive ID was made.
She pushed away from the desk and got to her feet. Arching her back, she kneaded her aching neck.
She stepped over her sleeping dogs and went to the porch, looking out across her backyard. It was almost dawn. Here, on the edge of the rain forest, the world was both utterly still and deeply alive. As always, there was moisture everywhere; wet air blew in from the ocean and left millions of dew beads on the leaves. Come dawn, those drops would fall soundlessly to the ground. Invisible rain, her dad had called it, and Ellie always listened for it, if only to remember him.
“I wish you were here, Dad,” she said, slipping her feet into the fleece-lined clogs by the back door. “You and Uncle Joe always knew how to run with the big dogs.”
She crossed the porch and went down the back steps, then through the pink and violet morning toward the river. Mist coiled around her feet, rose up from the dark grass in vapors.
She was at the very edge of her property, standing by her dad’s favorite Fall River fishing hole, when she realized why she was here.
His house was on the other side of the river and across a marshy field. From this distance it looked no bigger than a toolshed, but she knew better.
As a kid she’d hiked through this field every day and played in that yard.
For a minute she almost started for it. She had the idea to toss stones at his window again and call out to him. He would listen to her fears and understand them. He always had.
But those days were more than two decades old. Lisa certainly didn’t want to be wakened at dawn by the sound of stones hitting her bedroom window, and though Cal would answer and sit outside with her (she was his boss; not just his friend), he wouldn’t really be listening. He had his own life now, his own wife and children, and even though everyone knew that Lisa wasn’t good enough for him, he loved his family.
Ellie knew she was on her own. She turned and went back to her house. With a tired sigh she sat back down at her desk and pulled up the missing children reports. The answer had to be in here. It had to be.
It was her last thought before falling asleep.
She was wakened by a car horn. She came awake with a start, realizing all at once that she’d fallen asleep at her computer.
“Shit.”
She stumbled to her feet and went to the front door.
Peanut stood in the yard, waving good-bye to her husband as he drove away.
Ellie looked down at her watch. It was 7:55 in the morning. “What in the hell are you doing here?” she said in a voice that sounded like she smoked a pack a day.
“I heard you tell Max you’d meet him at eight at the hospital. You’re going to be late.”
“I didn’t invite you to join us.”
“I figured it was an oversight. Now hustle your ass.”
Ellie fished the car keys out of her pocket and tossed them to Peanut, then went back into the house. There was no time to shower and no reason to change her clothes since she was still in her uniform. So she brushed her teeth, took off last night’s makeup, and put on some new layers. In the kitchen, she took out a package of pork chops—of course there were two of them; no wonder she had to spend so much time exercising. Life came in twin packs. It wasn’t exactly a help to the single woman. She put the package on a paper towel in the refrigerator to thaw.
It was eight on the dot when she got into her cruiser.
Peanut had turned the stereo on and put in an Aerosmith CD.
Ellie snapped off the music. “It’s too early for that.”
“You were up all night?”
“How can you tell?”
“You have a keyboard imprint on your cheek.”
Ellie touched her cheek. “Shit. Is it noticeable?”
“Honey, you could see it from space.” Peanut laughed, then sobered. “Did you find anything useful?”
“I was online all night, and called every precinct in five counties. No one has reported a missing girl in the area. Not lately, anyway. If we have to go national in the search, it means going through the files of all the girls reported missing in the past few years.”
At the thought of that, they both fell silent. Ellie was trying to think of something ordinary to say when she turned into the hospital’s parking lot and saw the crowd gathered at the front door.
“Damn it. They’re turning this into a circus.” Ellie parked in a visitor’s spot, grabbed her notebook, and got out of the car. Peanut followed in an uncharacteristic silence.
Like geese, the crowd surged into formation and flew at her. The Grimm sisters—Daisy, Marigold, and Violet—led the charge.
As identical as prongs on a fork, the three old ladies matched each other step for step.
Daisy, the eldest, was the first to speak. As always, she clutched an old black urn that held her late husband’s ashes. “We’ve come for word of the child.”
“Who is the poor dear?” Violet demanded, squinting up through scratched glasses.