“I doubt it. It seems there are a lot of people who don’t exactly relish the idea of someone who might have murdered her own child taking care of theirs. Imagine that.”
Hunter sighed. “Maybe you’ve rushed things. Maybe it’s still too early. Maybe you should go slower, start by putting your name on a list of substitute teachers…”
“I did that months ago,” Caroline said testily, tired of all the maybes. “Phone’s not exactly ringing off the hook.”
“Well, December’s an especially hard time of year.”
December, Caroline repeated silently, thinking ahead to Christmas. Was it possible it was Christmas already? She’d spent last Christmas in Mexico, miserable and alone, waiting for some word of their daughter. She’d begged Hunter to come back down; he’d begged her to come home. Michelle needed her, he said repeatedly. He needed her. But how could she leave? How could she go anywhere without her baby? No, she’d told him. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—go anywhere until Samantha was safely back in her arms.
But after two months of rude police questions and no answers, of lost opportunities and leads that went nowhere, of increasingly pointed accusations and decreasing results, she’d finally given up and returned to San Diego, alone and defeated. Except she wasn’t really alone. Reporters were always lurking. People were always staring. Judging her. Finding her guilty.
“I was thinking maybe we should put up some decorations this Christmas,” Hunter said. “Michelle’s been asking about a tree.”
Caroline tried to process what he was suggesting. The holiday season was upon them. Her mother had insisted on holding her usual Thanksgiving dinner, although it had proved to be a muted affair, none of the participants particularly thankful. Steve and Becky barely looked at each other, let alone spoke. Caroline and Hunter had little appetite for turkey and even less for each other. Their eleventh anniversary had come and gone without so much as a congratulatory kiss. And now here he was, talking about decorating Christmas trees as if it was the most natural thing in the world to be discussing such things, as if it was time to put away their grief, accept what had happened, and get on with their lives.
She lowered her head. She was being unfair and she knew it. Someone had to be practical; someone had to take care of the business of day-to-day living. Someone had to worry about Michelle, make sure her needs weren’t forgotten. The child had every right to enjoy the glittery trappings of Christmas. Hunter was right to want to provide her with that opportunity. Caroline knew she should be grateful. He’d been so attentive to Michelle these past months, so patient, never raising his voice or losing his temper, as if trying to atone for his earlier lapses as a father.
She watched a sudden flash of worry shoot through his eyes. “What?” she asked. “What is it?”
Hunter pushed some hair away from his forehead, a signal that he was about to impart some information he considered important. “Listen. I have to tell you something and I need you to stay calm,” he began.
Caroline felt her heart rate quicken. Was he about to come clean about where he’d been tonight, about the affair she suspected he’d been having? She was almost certain there’d been more than one such affair in the last year. She wondered how many times he’d betrayed her since her return from Mexico. But she wasn’t sure she had the strength to deal with his honesty now.
“I spoke to Detective Ramos this morning,” he said, catching her by surprise.
“This morning? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’m telling you now.”
“You called him?”
“He called me.”
“What? Why? Have they found…?”
“No.”
“For God’s sake, Hunter. Spit it out. What did the man say?”
“Apparently a member of the hotel staff was arrested yesterday for molesting his niece.”
The words hit Caroline with the force of a well-placed punch to the stomach. She doubled over, the air rushing out of her lungs as she gathered her arms around her, her body rocking back and forth. “What do you mean, ‘molested’?” she asked when she was able to straighten up and find her voice.
“What do you think I mean?”
“He raped her?”
“He ‘interfered with her’ is how Detective Ramos put it.”
“And they think he might have ‘interfered with’ Samantha?”
“They don’t know. They’re still questioning him. So far, he’s denied any knowledge of what happened to Samantha.”
“Well, of course he’d deny it. But he was working at the hotel at the time she disappeared?”
“Yes.”
“And nobody knew they had a child molester on the payroll?”
“How could they? He had no record. He’d never been charged with anything.”
“But there’s no question he molested his niece.”
“Apparently not.”
“Oh, God, Hunter. Do you think it’s possible? Do you think…?”
“I don’t think anything until all the facts are in.”
Caroline jumped to her feet. Damn him for thinking like a lawyer. “We need to go down there.”