Just then, Heather burst through the door of Furious Fitness. “OMG, you beat me to work again! Don’t you ever sleep?” It wasn’t easy impressing a boss who worked as hard as Jo.
“The place is all yours,” Jo told her. “I was just about to go out for a jog. You coming?” she asked Claude.
“Right behind you,” Claude said as Jo took off.
By the time Claude caught up, Jo was already halfway down the block, her arms pumping like pistons as the rage inside her propelled her forward. “Where are we going?” Claude asked.
“The police station,” Jo told her.
“To see Rocca?” Claude asked. “Do you really think he’ll tell the truth?”
“He will if I beat it out of him,” Jo said. But when they reached the station, the parking lot was barricaded by sawhorses and the front door was cordoned off with yellow caution tape. The warning seemed rather unnecessary, considering the building itself was covered in furry black mold.
“Shit, I forgot about this,” Jo said. “I should have known the station would be closed.”
“What happened?” Claude panted.
“The cops fucked with the wrong bitch,” Jo said. “Come on, let’s jog down to Grass Beach.”
“Grass Beach?” Claude asked, her eyes still fixed on the mold.
“It’s a beautiful run,” Jo replied. “And all the police officers live down that way.”
On the outskirts of Mattauk, a bridge carried the road over a sea of tall grass that grew in the swampy land separating the town from the beach. It was a peaceful stretch of highway where one was unlikely to encounter another human so early in the morning. The air hadn’t yet lost its nighttime chill, and the breeze off the ocean sent ripples across the grass. Jo’s eyes landed on a patch in the center of the marsh that appeared to be moving against the wind. Something was out there among the reeds. Suddenly, it took a sharp turn to the left, followed by another, until it was heading back the way it had come.
Jo stopped to watch. Claude raced past her, then slowed and doubled back.
“Probably a dog,” she said.
“Maybe.” Jo had to be sure. “Hello?” she called, sending a flock of birds shooting into the sky. “Someone out there?”
“Help!” a frantic girl cried in response. “I’m lost! I can’t find my way out!”
“Don’t panic!” Jo shouted back at her. “Just walk straight for a moment so I know which way you’re facing.” She watched carefully as the grass moved. “Okay, stop! Now turn to your five o’clock. Then start walking forward from there.”
The grass bent in another direction. “Am I doing this right?” the girl shouted. “I can’t see a thing!”
“You’re headed in the right direction! Keep going, you’ve got a few hundred yards till you reach the edge of the marsh.”
Soon a girl with a tear-slicked face emerged from the grass, her pretty gray running shorts and tank stained green and black. Her skin appeared to be speckled with moles, until Jo realized they were moving. The girl shrieked when she noticed the ticks and frantically brushed them away with both hands.
“Breanna?” Jo rushed to greet her. “Oh my God, are you okay?”
“It’s you.” The girl began sobbing.
“Why were you out there?” Jo turned her around and swept the ticks off her back. “What the hell happened?”
“Jordan and I usually run together, but she and Mama slept late this morning. I always come this way when I’m alone. It’s supposed to be safe because all the police live down here by the water. I was crossing the bridge when a cop car pulled up beside me. He said something had happened to my mom, and he’d give me a ride back to the house.”
“No, no, no.” Jo didn’t want to imagine what might have happened to Nessa’s girl if she’d gotten into the car.
“Then I realized it was that cop from Newsnight—the one who lied about you and Mama. I told him I’d run back to the house myself, and he started to get out of the vehicle. I figured I wouldn’t be able to get away if he pulled his gun, so I jumped off the bridge and hid in the grass. I stayed down there until I heard him drive away. But after he was gone, I couldn’t find my way out.”
The story sounded all too familiar. “Was there anything unique about his patrol car that would identify it if we saw it parked in a driveway?” Jo asked.
“Yeah,” Breanna said. “It had a big number one painted on the hood.”
Jo took her phone out.
“What are you going to do?” Claude asked.
“I’m going to get Breanna’s mom out of bed.”
Nessa was already awake and at her computer. While she’d been sleeping, an email had arrived. The author had written “The Girl in Blue” in the subject line. A few days after she found the body by Danskammer Beach, Nessa had posted portraits of the girl on every major missing persons site. A few responses had trickled in at the beginning of the summer, but this was the first email she’d received in weeks.
To Whom It May Concern:
I am certain the Girl in Blue is my niece. Her name is Faith Reid, born March 29, 2004.
I have enclosed a photo. Please contact me at your earliest convenience.
Dana Reid
Montego Bay, Jamaica
Faith. The name couldn’t be a coincidence. Her heart pounding, Nessa opened the picture Dana Reid had attached and found herself face-to-face with the girl she’d found at Danskammer Beach. She was leaning in for a closer look at the pendant Faith wore around her neck when the call came in from Jo.
Nessa left the car running and the driver’s-side door standing open. Barefoot and still dressed in her nightgown, she grabbed Breanna and held her against her chest. Jordan, who’d hopped in the passenger seat before Nessa could back out of the drive, stood with her arms wrapped around her mother and her twin. The tears running down Nessa’s face felt scalding hot. She’d never contemplated killing another human being before. Now it was all she could think about. For the first time, she understood exactly how Jo had felt the night a man had come for Lucy.
“Jordan, drive Breanna to your aunt Harriett’s house,” she ordered. “Tell her what’s happened, and ask her to get all the ticks off your sister and make sure she’s okay.”
“You’re not coming with us, Mama?” Jordan asked.
“Not now,” Nessa told her.
“Your mother and I have someone we need to visit.” Jo shifted from foot to foot. She was having a hard time standing still. The energy racing through her system couldn’t be contained much longer. It needed to be released before it blew her to pieces.
“The chief of police?” Jordan scoffed. “You’ve got to be joking. What are the two of you going to do? The guy’s a dirty cop. He could shoot you.”
“Don’t worry. I’m going with them,” Claude said. “I’ll make sure I get everything on camera. Rocca won’t try anything stupid as long as I’m there.”
That didn’t seem to do much to convince Jordan. She kept her eyes on her mother. “How’s she going to protect you? Rich white ladies generating their own force fields these days?”
“Go,” her mother ordered. “Now, Jordan.”
“I’m not ready to be an orphan,” Jordan snapped.