Not by Sight A Novel

CHAPTER 4

The next day, just after noon, Abby parallel-parked her mother’s blue Honda Odyssey in front of Salisbury’s Supermarket. Foggy Ridge was bustling with activity. Neon signs had been turned on in shop windows. And the parking lots of eating establishments along Main Street were filled to overflowing with the after-church crowd.

Abby got out of the car, the words to “Above All” continuing to play in her head hours after she had attended the early-morning service at Praise Chapel. It hurt her to think of God’s Son “like a rose trampled on the ground.” It was that image that had softened her heart toward Him. It had been almost six months since she walked the aisle and made a profession of faith. Her mother had tried to be supportive, in a detached sort of way, but it was obvious she had abdicated the role of spiritual leader to Grandpa Buck. The days of the family going to church together had long passed. It was just Abby and her grandfather now.

Abby looked up and down Main Street. It was alive. Breathing. As if it had a heartbeat of its own. Magnificent shade trees lined the sidewalk on either side, branches intermingling overhead to form a green basket weave so thick that only glints of sunlight filtered through. On both sides of the busy boulevard stood a row of quaint two-story buildings, some brick and some natural stone, many with modern facades and creative signs designed to draw tourists.

She spotted Mrs. Sanchez, last year’s Spanish teacher, across the street at Rocky Springs Park, pushing a baby carriage, flanked by two black-haired girls in pink dresses. Funny how seldom Abby thought of her teachers having a personal life.

Near a mossy rock wall, just inside the park entrance, about a dozen men and women stood in line, holding empty containers, waiting for their turn to fill up with pure spring water.

An African-American couple sat together on a park bench facing the carousel, with their three little boys, who were eating blue cotton candy.

Nearby, two pesky grackles played tug-of-war with a wrapper of some kind, seemingly oblivious to a pair of teenaged skateboarders who zoomed past.

A young woman and a blond, curly-haired boy, each carrying a rolled-up towel, turned into the park and walked in the direction of the public swimming pool. And coming from the opposite direction was Mr. Chang, proudly riding his power chair and throwing out seed for the pigeons.

Abby had no agenda, other than not letting yesterday’s grim anniversary steal another day. She stuck her cell phone in the pocket of her sundress, hoping Jay would call and suggest they do something fun and adventurous. A sudden hankering for cookie-dough ice cream prodded her up Main Street toward Sweet Stuff.

Tourists moved in all directions, cameras strapped around their necks. Angel View Lodge was just minutes away, but it was like another world down here.

As Abby passed Murchison’s Feed Store, she spotted a girl sitting on the bench next to the wooden Indian chief out front. The child appeared to be about six or seven. Braided dark hair and almond-shaped eyes.

Abby’s heart nearly stopped.

The child was the spitting image of Riley Jo—only older. The little girl smiled shyly and waved. Without even thinking, Abby took her phone out of her pocket and snapped a picture. And then another. Her pulse surged.

She stood frozen in the middle of the sidewalk, people squeezing past her, grumbling for her to move. But she couldn’t move. She could barely breathe.

Abby kept her gaze fixed on the little girl, who smiled at her again. Was it possible? Could it be?

The door to the feed store opened, and a fortysomething man with a mousy beard, dressed in overalls and a sleeveless T-shirt, came outside and grabbed the girl by the arm, swatted her behind, then pulled her inside.

Abby turned and walked briskly to her car, her heart racing. Shouldn’t she have tried to get a closer look at the girl? Find out who the man was? Ask some questions? This was too important to dismiss without knowing more. Maybe they were still there.

She turned around and hurried back to Murchison’s, pushed open the glass door, and breezed up and down every aisle—and then did it again. No sign of the little girl or the man.

Abby went outside and looked in both directions on Main Street. How far could they have gone so quickly?

She stepped off the curb and jogged over to the park, moving her gaze from person to person. They weren’t there. She made her way up the block, looking in shops and eating places on both sides of Main Street. Finally she gave up and went back to her car and sat.

She took out her phone and looked at the two pictures she had taken. Only one had turned out, and she enlarged it to see what color the girl’s eyes were. Blue! Abby felt chill bumps on her arms. The resemblance was uncanny.



Abby burst into the log house and shouted for her mother.

Hawk came out of the kitchen. “What’s your problem?”

“Where’s Mama?”

“Over at the office.”

Abby turned and rushed out of the house, down the porch steps, and across the street. She raced over to the main building and felt a rush of cold air when she opened the door. She nodded at the day manager, went back to the offices, and stood in the open doorway, trying to catch her breath.

Her mother looked up from the computer, a puzzled expression on her face. “What is it, Abby?”

“I need to show you something.” Abby hurried over to where her mother was sitting. “I was in town and saw this little girl. I nearly freaked out.”

Abby held up her phone and displayed the picture of the girl.

Mama stared at the image on the phone without saying anything.

“Well …?” Abby said. “Don’t you think she looks like Riley Jo?”

“Lots of little girls have similar features and coloring.”

“Mama, look at that face. She’s even the right age.”

Her mother’s eyes flashed a flicker of hope that was quickly extinguished. “Abby, you have to stop this. How many times has this happened? Twice? Three times? It’s been five years. You need to accept that she’s gone.”

“But aren’t you even curious? What if it’s—”

“There’s no way it’s Riley Jo.”

“I saw a man come out of Murchison’s and swat her behind. He pulled her inside before I could get a closer look. As soon as I got my wits about me, I went into Murchison’s and tried to find them. But they were gone. I looked in the park and every shop and restaurant along Main—all the way to First and back. But I didn’t see them.”

Mama turned a pencil upside down and bounced the eraser on her desk. “This isn’t healthy. Maybe it’s time you went back to see Dixie. There’s no shame in getting more counseling.”

“I don’t need counseling,” Abby said, more loudly than she intended. “I need the truth.”

“Well, we’re not going to get the truth! The sooner you accept that, the happier you’ll be. What happened to Riley Jo and your father is a mystery and will likely never be resolved. We just have to accept it and move on.”

“I can’t,” Abby said. “I won’t!”

Mama threw her hands in the air. “I can’t force you to accept it. But I have. And I simply can’t be part of your false hope. I don’t want to hear any more about this.”

“Like you ever did.”

“That’s enough, young lady. One more disrespectful comment and you’ll find yourself grounded.”

Abby put her phone in her pocket. “Don’t worry. I won’t mention it to you again.” Ever!

Abby turned on her heel and left the office. She went to look for Grandpa Buck.



“Why is everyone being so weird about this?” Abby looked across the kitchen table at her grandfather, who was studying the photo of the little girl. He handed her cell phone back to her.

“I didn’t realize I was actin’ weird,” Grandpa Buck said. “But I agree with your mother, honey. The chance that it was Riley Jo is next to impossible.”

“Next to impossible—not impossible. You said yourself that nothing is impossible with God. Now that I finally believe that, are you saying it’s not true?”

“That’s not what I’m sayin’, Abby. And I think you know it.” Grandpa stroked his white mustache. “Let’s pretend for a moment that this was Riley Jo. What would she be doin’ in Foggy Ridge?”

Abby shrugged. “Don’t you think we should find out?”

“How?”

“Go to the sheriff.”

“And tell him what?” Grandpa looked over the top of his glasses. “That you saw another girl that looks like you think your sister would look now? Where do you suggest he start lookin’? The sheriff’s department has spent more money and manpower on this case than any in the town’s history. They’re not gonna take kindly to any more wild-goose chases.”

“Is that what you think this is?” Abby’s eyes burned with tears. “Grandpa, you should’ve seen her. The picture doesn’t do her justice. It could’ve been Riley Jo. I can’t just ignore that.”

“And I’m not sayin’ you should. But this has happened before, and I know that neither the sheriff nor the police chief is gonna start another investigation without somethin’ more concrete to go on.”

Abby heard someone laughing and turned.

Hawk stood leaning on the kitchen doorway, his arms folded across his chest, an irritating smirk curling his lips. “You’re hallucinating again, Sis. The next stop is the loony bin.”

“That’s enough,” Grandpa said. “Abby wasn’t talking to you.”

“How long have you been standing there eavesdropping?” Abby didn’t bother to hide her annoyance.

“Long enough.” Hawk came into the kitchen and stood holding the back of an empty chair. “All the wishful thinking in the world isn’t going to bring Daddy and Riley Jo home again. And this kind of talk is really upsetting to Mama.”

“You think I’m trying to upset her?” Abby handed him the cell phone. “Take a close look. Are you going to stand there and honestly say that if you had seen this little girl, you wouldn’t have given her a double take—and wondered if it could be Riley Jo?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Hawk slid the cell phone back across the table to Abby. “Riley Jo’s either dead or she’s somewhere far away with Daddy. Either way, she’s not going to show up in Foggy Ridge. You’re the only one who doesn’t get that.”

Abby pushed back her chair and stood. “Laugh at me all you want. But I’m going to find out who this girl is.”