Even four blocks away from the school, Allison could hear the singing. She couldn’t make out the words, but the tune was old and familiar: “Amazing Grace.” She wrapped her coat more tightly around her.
When she had heard on the radio about the vigil for Katie Converse, Allison had decided to attend. Every time she saw Katie’s photo on the news or in the paper, she was reminded of her sister. It wasn’t just the superficial resemblance, the unfinished look of the snub nose and the big eyes. Before their father died, Lindsay had been filled with the same enthusiasm, the same hope that maybe she could be the one to change the world. After he was gone, she started to hang out with a different crowd. Allison felt she should have done something to save her, but she had ignored the danger signs. By attending the vigil, Allison felt like she was doing something, no matter how small, to help Katie.
Obviously, she wasn’t the only one who felt some kind of connection to the missing girl. The school parking lot was completely full, forcing her to park four blocks away. As Allison hurried to the school, she tried to put some distance between herself and the shabbily dressed man who had parked directly behind her. He wore a navy blue ski jacket, the hood cinched tight against the cold so that she couldn’t even see his face. There was something about him that made her uneasy, but she told herself that a vigil would attract all kinds.
After she had walked a block, she turned to look over her shoulder. The man was matching her step for step, no closer, but not any farther away. She thought of the note she had found on her car. Walking faster, she snaked her hand inside her coat and touched her cell phone, clipped to her belt. She was relieved when she joined the crowd—she guessed there were more than three hundred—congregated in front of Lincoln High.
Allison had come straight from work, so she didn’t have a candle. But as soon as she came up to the edge of the crowd, a girl with black-rimmed eyes handed her a candle and a large button with Katie’s picture on it. After Allison pinned the button to her coat, an older man standing next to her lit her candle with his own while she shielded the flame.
The crowd had stopped singing, and it was eerily quiet, except for some muffled sobbing. It was like they were all waiting for something to happen. Waiting for Katie to come home. Or, failing that, waiting for news. For answers, for a sign, for their hopes to be fulfilled—or their nightmares to come true.
Allison spotted Cassidy at the edge of the crowd in a bright circle of TV lights. She was interviewing a man whom Allison recognized from the newspaper as Katie’s father. She edged closer so that she could hear.
Wayne Converse was in the middle of an appeal. “Katie, honey, if you can hear this, we love you. Please call us.” His glasses reflected the light. “And if you are someone who has Katie against her will, please let her go. Please.” His voice broke. “If anyone has any information that can help us, that can lead Katie to us or us to Katie, please call the FBI or any police agency. Our family is absolutely devastated.”
As he spoke, Cassidy nodded solemnly. Afterward the camera turned its eye to her while she wrapped up the segment, leaving Katie’s stricken father literally in the dark. Then a dapper man whom Allison recognized as Senator Fairview put his arm around Katie’s father and drew him away, murmuring softly. They were joined by a tall, slender woman whom Allison guessed must be Katie’s mom.
On an easel near the school’s front doors, a huge blown-up photo of Katie watched the crowd. She was grinning, her eyes as blue as the bright sky behind her. The photo had been blown up so large that every one of her freckles was clear. Allison joined the others gathered before the make-shift shrine erected in front of the photo. More than a dozen votive candles flickered inside glass enclosures. Heaped around them were stuffed animals, snapshots of Katie, a drawing of a dove held in place by a pebble, a ceramic kneeling angel, and a dozen bouquets of flowers, still wrapped in plastic.
On each side of Allison, girls stood in clumps, their arms around each other, their faces shiny with tears as they contemplated the potential loss of their friend. Their tears, Allison thought, came as much from disbelief as they did from pain. And maybe there was a measure of fear, too, fear that whoever had snatched Katie could come for them next.
Allison closed her eyes and prayed wordlessly.