“I heard the Simmers are bringing in their own investigators,” Aubrey said. “The more people looking for Ethan, the better.”
Diana reached for the mail strewn over the quilt and jogged the envelopes into alignment. “They blame me,” she said. “Everyone does. And they’re right. I should never have let go of his hand.”
“Mama, stop it. It’s impossible to watch a child one hundred percent of the time. You were not negligent.”
“I’m hearing those words a little too often.”
“Then let’s just say beating yourself up is counterproductive. It doesn’t help you, and it doesn’t help Ethan.”
She set the mail back down on the bed. “Okay, sweetheart. No more self-flagellation.”
“Good.” Aubrey ran her finger over a crimson satin square on the old patchwork quilt. A few stitches holding it in place had come out. “You’ve had this for as long as I can remember. Since Dad lived with us.”
“It’s a perfectly good quilt. I wasn’t going to throw it away just because—” Diana stopped. She hadn’t thrown him away. He threw her away.
“He’s downstairs, you know,” Aubrey said. “Sitting in the backyard.”
“Who is? Your father? How did he get here so quickly?”
“I guess he took the red-eye.”
Larry. There had been a time when they had faced terrible things together, but they were no longer the impregnable entity they had once been. “I’d rather not see him.”
“I’m sure he understands that, but Ethan’s his grandson, too. It was the right thing for him to come.”
“Yes. Of course. I wish . . .” Diana shook her head. She was having a hard time holding on to her thoughts.
There was a soft knock on the doorjamb. “Excuse me, Dr. Lynd. I hate to intrude.” Gonzalez, the woman detective, stood in the doorway. “I wanted to give you a quick update. Kevin and Kimberly will be making a statement to the press at five at their hotel. I understand the Simmers will be offering a sizable reward.”
“We should go to support them, Mama,” Aubrey said. “I want to see Kevin.”
“Actually,” the detective said, “the Simmers asked that you not be present. They don’t want your mother distracting the press.”
“What?” Aubrey said. “That’s outrageous.”
“She’s right, Aubrey,” Diana said, ashamed in front of the detective and her daughter. “The attention needs to be on finding Ethan, not on the one who lost him.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” Aubrey said. “I think the entire family should be together to show solidarity.”
“I’m afraid it’s the Simmers’ show,” Gonzalez said. “They’ve arranged the press conference and can handle it as they choose.”
A sense of helplessness settled over Diana. The Simmers were controlling her family, and there was nothing she could do about it.
“And we can use your help here,” Gonzalez said to Aubrey. “Special Agent Smolleck would like to have a word with you.”
“With me?”
“FBI is speaking to all family members.”
Aubrey gave Diana a hug. “I’ll be back with something for you to eat.” She got up and followed the detective out of the room.
Diana leaned back against the throw pillows. Her phone was on the bed next to the pile of mail she had brought up. She’d been ready to call Jonathan, but maybe she would wait. Aubrey was here now, taking charge of things. And did she want to bring him into this mess with Larry here and the Simmers asserting themselves? Maybe it would be best for things to settle a bit.
She hoisted herself up on one elbow and spread out the mail on the quilt, hoping a mindless task would calm her growing fears for Ethan. The open envelopes contained bills—credit cards, FPL, DishNET. There were also some advertisements, a medical journal, and a square sealed envelope that looked like a greeting card or an invitation to something. No return address, and the stamp hadn’t been postmarked. That was odd. It was hand-addressed to “Di Lynd.” But Diana had stopped using her nickname when she had married Larry in her sophomore year of college.
At that point, Di Hartfeld no longer existed.
Why hadn’t the FBI opened this envelope?
She slipped a finger under the flap and pulled out a greeting card for a child. There was a cartoon depiction of a smiling little boy on a red tricycle, and above him the printed words, TODAY IS YOUR SPECIAL DAY.
A chill ran down her back. No one she knew would send her a card like this. Her hands began to shake uncontrollably as she struggled to open the card. A small piece of paper drifted onto the bed. Inside the card was the same grinning boy, waving from the tricycle, and the words, BECAUSE YOU ARE SPECIAL!
She picked up the paper that had fallen out, trying to hold it steady. The words blurred, then came into petrifying focus.
WE HAVE ETHAN. HE IS SAFE.
WE WILL RETURN HIM UNHARMED IF YOU DO ONE THING.
KILL JONATHAN WOODWARD.
CHAPTER 6
The door to her mother’s office was open. Aubrey peered into the small, cluttered room with its large, low window that overlooked the jungle in the backyard.
Special Agent Smolleck’s back was to her, something in his outstretched arms. He took up too much space as he sat stiffly in Mama’s rickety wood swivel chair at the scratched oak desk that faced the window. Except for this man, the office was like it had always been, with piles of paid and unpaid bills on the desk, and stacks of medical journals on top of the wooden file cabinets.
Beside the desk were shelves with dozens of old photos of Aubrey and Kevin, a few of Aubrey and Mama, and several of Ethan that she had sent her mother over the years. On the top shelf was a gaping space between a childhood photo of Aubrey and Kevin and a recent one of Kevin and Kim.
She stepped into the room.