“Lovely.”
“Is that woman a therapist of some kind?” Abby tried to stop me from going inside. “Tom, I think you do need help. Real help.”
I went past her and up the stairs. At the half-open door of the master bedroom, I heard Pastor Chris’s cheery voice chirping inside. I pushed in. They were sitting on the floor.
“Tom,” Chris said. “I was just counseling Caitlin here—”
“Do you know someone named Tracy Fairlawn? She’s a stripper at those clubs you used to go to with the man in the sketch. Did you talk to her?”
“If I say I don’t know,” Caitlin replied, “will you slap me again?” She scooted closer to Pastor Chris.
“Tom, if you’d like to join our conversation, it might—”
I turned and left the room, letting him talk to my back.
When Liann came home from church, her family in tow, she found me waiting on her front porch. She told the family to go on, and when they were inside, she still didn’t say anything.
So I spoke.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked.
Her shoulders sagged a little. She knew what I meant.
The phone rang in my pocket. I ignored it. “You knew this about Tracy all along,” I said. “The man, the baby . . . you kept it all from me. You told me you were her lawyer for a drug case. You didn’t mention she’d been the victim of a violent crime.”
“Tom, she did come to me needing legal help. That’s where my contact with her started. And in the process of helping her with the drug case, I found out that she had been taken and assaulted. The police turned their backs on her, Tom. They just turned their backs on her. Someone had to help that girl. She trusted me, and I couldn’t—”
“No. I don’t want to hear any bullshit.”
The phone rang again, so I checked it. Abby. I silenced it.
“So you decided not to tell me everything you knew about Tracy?” I asked. “Answer the question.”
“I didn’t think it was relevant.”
“Not relevant?”
“What mattered was catching the guy,” she said. “Tracy was skittish. She was scared of the police. But she did see Caitlin in that club, and it was easier for her to talk about that than about what he did to her. That’s why I brought Tracy to you with her story. I helped you.”
“I trusted you,” I said. “You came to us when Caitlin disappeared. You cut through the bullshit and helped us. I thought you were on our side. But you kept this information from us. From me.”
“What do you want me to do, Tom?” she asked.
“All those things that happened to Tracy. The kidnapping, being held hostage. The rape. That’s what happened to Caitlin, isn’t it?”
“What matters now is that we find that man—”
I was up and past her. “Call me if your agenda changes, Liann.”
Chapter Thirty-five
I sat in my car in front of Liann’s house. I wasn’t ready to drive off. I didn’t know where to go or who to turn to.
I looked down at the phone. Two more calls from Abby. Three messages.
The slap. My confrontation with Caitlin.
There was music to face on all sides. And what did they say about home—when you go there, they have to take you in . . . ?
So I drove home.
I stepped inside the back door. “Abby?” She didn’t answer my call, but I found her in the living room, sitting on the end of our couch, her elbow on the armrest and her chin cupped in her hand. It looked precarious, as though her head could slip loose at any moment. “Abby?”
She still didn’t look up, but I could tell something more was wrong, something besides the fight and the slap. The room felt devoid of air, like someone had died.
“What’s the matter, Abby?”
She jumped a little. She looked over, moving her head slowly, as though turning took a great deal of effort. “Oh, Tom. It’s you.” She held the phone next to her on the couch.
“What gives?” I asked. “Why did you call me so many times?”
“Ryan called,” she said. “They found that guy, the one from the drawing. They made an arrest.”
Abby told me the little she knew. Ryan had called shortly after I’d left the house and told Abby they had someone in custody, someone who matched the description given by Tracy. Someone they believed to be the man Caitlin was seen around town with. Abby didn’t know how or where they’d found him or what tipped the police off, but Ryan was going to come by the house at any minute to fill us in. And talk to Caitlin.
I couldn’t stop thinking about the morning.
If the man was in custody, where was Tracy? She hadn’t been seen in weeks.
“Caitlin told me about the fight this morning,” Abby said. “Actually, she told Chris about it.”
The fight and the slap seemed so distant somehow, something that had happened in another life.
“I lost my cool. And I’m sorry for it. She must have gotten a thrill out of being able to tell Chris about it and make me look like the bad guy.”