* * *
—
At the press conference, Margot tried to focus on Detective Lacks instead of the self-loathing she felt for leaving her ailing uncle only an hour after he’d been picked up by the police.
“We think that is unlikely,” the detective was saying to a reporter standing in the third row. “Five is young to run away, and according to her mother, Natalie had no possessions on her while she was playing that morning. Not to mention, she disappeared from a crowded playground, whereas children typically run away from their houses. Furthermore, Mr. and Mrs. Clark could name no reason why Natalie would be motivated to leave on her own.”
“So you’re saying you believe she was most likely taken against her will?”
“At this moment, we believe that is the most likely explanation.” Detective Lacks nodded to another raised hand a few rows back.
A man with unruly black hair stood. “Yeah. Brian Smedley of the Indiana Statesman. What do you recommend to other parents in the area? What do they need to be doing to keep their kids safe?”
“This is an area that does not see much crime,” Lacks said. “And so far, we have no reason to believe that this is not an isolated event. However, if parents hear their children mention any new names or the presence of a stranger, or if anyone sees any odd or suspicious behavior, please call our tip line. And as a reminder, if anyone out there thinks they know something about Natalie’s disappearance, please call.” She recited the number, then scanned the room. “We have time for just a few more. Let’s get someone in the back…yes.” She nodded at Margot, whose hand had shot up.
“Hi,” she said. “Margot Davies with IndyNow. You mentioned that you believe this is an isolated event. Have you looked into a possible connection to the January Jacobs case?”
The sound of the little girl’s name made all the heads in the room turn. Up at the podium, Detective Lacks blinked. “The January Jacobs case,” she said after a moment, “is almost twenty-five years old. In that one, January’s body was found only hours after she was reported missing. The crime scene at her home was…extensive. So far, Natalie’s case is different in almost every way. So, no, we do not believe there to be any connection between the two.”
She turned her head to move on, but Margot said, “Is there enough evidence to preclude a connection completely? After all, January’s killer was never apprehended. Is it something you’re willing to look into?”
Detective Lack’s eyes settled back onto Margot’s. “We do not believe,” she said in a cool voice, “that there is any connection between the two cases.”
There was a look of certainty in the detective’s eyes that Margot didn’t understand. How could she be so sure, when January’s killer had never been caught, when he could still be out there, roaming free? It was perfectly normal for detectives to keep things from the public during an investigation, but they were always up front about it, their speech peppered with No comment and We are not disclosing that at this time. But this—this sounded more like an evasion, and it gave Margot the distinct feeling that whatever Detective Lacks was hiding had to do with January’s case rather than Natalie’s. So what did she know that she wasn’t saying?
SEVEN
Margot, 2019
Margot was sitting on the pulled-out futon in her uncle’s office and talking on the phone with a caregiver agency when another call came through. It was the morning after the press conference on Natalie Clark and Margot had stayed up well past midnight to get her story to the paper in time for publication. Now, her stomach churned from the lack of sleep.
Margot glanced at her phone’s screen, and her heart began to pound. Her boss’s name had never induced this level of anxiety in her before, but since their call yesterday, Adrienne’s words had been echoing ominously in her head. And although she’d done her best to write a compelling story last night, Margot knew it hadn’t been her best work.
“Sorry,” she said to the woman at the agency who was in the middle of explaining how they could customize their caregiver’s visits to fit Margot’s schedule. “Something just came up. I’m gonna have to call you later.” She switched calls, then pressed the phone back to her ear. “Hey, Adrienne.”
“Hi. How’re you?”
“Fine.” But from just those few words, Margot could tell her boss wasn’t calling with good news and she couldn’t stomach any small talk. “What’s up?”
There was a pause, then, “Margot, I’m so sorry. Edgar took a look at your piece this morning and he wasn’t pleased.”
Margot closed her eyes. “I know it was a bit rough.”
“That’s not the point. We told you to cover the Natalie Clark case and you gave us a January Jacobs anniversary piece.”
“Wait. But you said a connection would be compelling.”
“I also said not to get sidetracked on an embellishment. You didn’t have a single quote from someone who lives in Nappanee.”
Margot pinched the bridge of her nose and tried to breathe. She hadn’t included a quote from any residents of Nappanee because she hadn’t made it there in time to interview anyone. But she refused to use her uncle as an excuse. Plus, it didn’t matter why she couldn’t do her job, just that she couldn’t do it.
“And on top of that,” Adrienne continued, “the connection was based completely on your own personal hunch. You even have a quote from the lead detective saying there was no basis for one. It read a little accusatory, suggesting the police aren’t doing their job properly.”
“Well, what if they’re not?” Margot snapped. “Isn’t that our role as journalists to provide checks and balances?”
“Of course it is,” Adrienne said, sounding tired. “But you didn’t have enough evidence to prove anything—a connection between the cases or police negligence. You had fifteen hours. Your assignment was a cut-and-dried coverage piece on Natalie Clark’s disappearance, not a speculative opus about a case that’s twenty-five years old.” She took a breath. “I’m not saying you’re not good at what you do. You are. And your instincts are usually on point. But I think you’re blinded by your relationship to the January Jacobs case. Not every little girl in the Midwest to go missing was taken by the person who killed her.”
Margot had to take a deep breath before responding. “You’re right. I get it and…I’m sorry. I should’ve listened to what you asked of me. I’ll do better next time. I promise.”
“Well. Margot…I’m sorry. I thought you understood. There’s not going to be a next time.”
Margot froze. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
“I’m sorry,” Adrienne said again. “I thought I made it clear yesterday that this piece was Edgar’s test. I’ve fought hard for you over here, but I also know how much you have going on in your personal life right now, and I really think this is the best thing for you. Take a step away from work, focus on things with your uncle, and get back out there when you’re ready.”
“You think firing me is the best thing for me?”
“I wish I could do more. I do. You’re a great reporter and you know how much I care about you, but…it has been a few months now, and the paper can’t afford to pay a salary to a writer who’s not producing consistent work.”
A stab of humiliation cut through Margot’s anger. “Right.” Her throat was so tight the word was almost indiscernible.
“I’m really sorry—”
But Margot had had enough. “I should get going.”
“I—” Adrienne let out a heavy sigh. “Okay, Margot. Take care.”