The Last Thing She Ever Did

“That’s fine,” Esther said.

The detectives surveyed the room while Liz disappeared into the bedroom. The living room was fairly neat. Esther couldn’t see any reason why Liz would have felt it was in disarray. Esther was only an indifferent housekeeper and would have considered the Jarrett home perfectly fine for receiving company. A denim-blue camelback sofa faced the river, its back against the river-rock fireplace, which, judging from the black soot on the lintel, got plenty of use in winter. Over the mantelpiece was a painting of a group of skiers. Family photos adorned the shelf. Off to the side, near the dining room, was a set of free weights—thirty pounds each.

When Liz returned, her hair was in a loose ponytail and she’d put on a pair of jeans and a dark blue V-neck T-shirt. She caught Esther’s gaze as it lingered on the weights. “My husband does curls while he watches TV.”

Liz reached for the coffeepot and offered the detectives a cup, but both declined.

“I don’t know how I can help you,” Liz said, filling her mug and looking straight ahead at the wall of cupboards. “Like I told you, I wasn’t home when it happened. Drove up to Beaverton early that morning. Didn’t get home until late.”

“Yes, that right,” Esther said. “Let’s focus on what you might have seen in the days leading up to Charlie’s disappearance.”

Liz sat, set down her cup, and folded her arms. “You think he was kidnapped? That’s what I think too. I think someone came and snatched him right out from under Carole.”

“We really don’t know what happened,” Esther said.

“Has there been a ransom demand?”

“No,” the detective said. “Let’s focus on what you can tell us.”

Liz leaned forward, steadying herself with a hand placed squarely on the armrest of the old morris chair. “I didn’t see anything.”

“Maybe a car out of place?”

“There are always cars out of place around here. We’re overrun by tourists this time of year.”

“What about Charlie? Did you see him with anyone in the days before he went missing? Maybe talking to a stranger?”

“Oh, no,” Liz said. “Not at all. He was a very well-behaved little boy.”

Esther glanced over at Jake. She wondered if he had noticed the same thing she had.

“I know you are good friends with the Franklins,” Esther said. “You and your husband both. Right? You are close.”

“We are,” Liz said. “Nearly from the time when they first moved here.”

“Right. I know this might be hard to do, but we need to know if there’s been any trouble between the Franklins. As far as you know.”

Liz shifted in the chair. “I don’t want to gossip about people I care about.”

“Of course not,” Esther agreed. “I get a sense that you and Carole are especially close.”

“David’s pretty busy with the restaurant. Carole and I have had a lot more time together. She’s helped me prep for the bar. I’ve helped her get her studio in order.”

“Good friends.”

“Very.”

“Sometimes good friends confide things to each other. Has Carole ever confided anything to you about her marriage?”

“Like what?”

“You know what I’m talking about, Liz. About her marriage to David.”

“None of this has anything to do with their marriage,” Liz said. “Some freak came and took their kid. That’s what happened.”

“Probably. But we need to know if that freak, as you say, might have been someone that knew them. Maybe someone from David’s restaurant. Or someone from Carole’s past.”

“Carole doesn’t have a past. She worked her ass off at Google and married David.”

“What about David?”

“I don’t know what you’re getting at. Really, I don’t.”

“Has David been faithful, as far as you know?”

Liz bristled a little. “Look, there was a time when he wasn’t,” she said. “I think. It was before they moved here. Carole told me about something, but I really didn’t pay it any attention. She complained about her husband the same way I complain about mine. He’s too busy. Too distracted at times. I wouldn’t know if he’s played around behind her back here or not. She never said so.”

Esther looked over at Jake again, giving him the signal to ask a few questions of his own.

“You live next door,” he said. “You must have seen something.”

“I don’t know what you mean. I told you I wasn’t home.”

“Not that. I mean before.”

“Oh,” Liz said. “I still don’t know what you mean.”

Jake clarified. “A stranger. Something or someone that just seemed out of the norm. Something that maybe you look back on now and can’t quite make sense of.”

“I wish I did,” she said. “I wish you could bring him home right this very minute. I just can’t help you. I hate to chase you out of here, but I have an appointment that I need to get to. I’m already late for it now.”

“All right,” Esther said, handing Liz her card. “Please call me if anything comes to mind.”

Liz said she would.



“Did you notice that she talked about Charlie in the past tense?” Jake said as they returned to the car.

Indeed Esther had. “It doesn’t necessarily mean anything, other than the fact that she thinks the boy is gone for good.”

They’d reached the car. Jake looked back at the house. “Why would she think that?”

“Because most kids who’ve been missing this long are dead. Some are never found. Dead nevertheless.” She got in behind the wheel.

“You think Charlie Franklin is dead?” Jake asked when he’d joined her inside.

“I don’t know,” she said. “But yes, probably. He probably is. I hate saying it, Jake, but this is the world we’re living in now. Not very many miracles these days.”

“That’s pretty jaded, isn’t it?”

His remark made her wince a little. He was right. “Sorry,” she said. “It doesn’t mean that we won’t fight like hell to try to find him and bring him home. God willing, he will be alive. I want to be hopeful. Wishing for something doesn’t make it so.”

Esther put the car in gear, and they drove downtown to a coffee shop. Her pessimism about Charlie’s fate bothered her. She wondered if thinking that the case might be hopeless would affect how she handled it. No, she decided. The Franklins needed their son back, but they didn’t need false hope that all would be all right. It was her place to toe the line and always tell family members that she and the other members of law enforcement had locked arms and were working every single second on solving the case. There were lots of cases, though. And sometimes cases cooled.

“Did you notice something odd about the way she spoke about Charlie?” she asked while they waited for their order.

“You mean apart from that it was in the past tense?”

“She never said his name. Not once. A little odd, I think.”

“What are you getting at?”

“Nothing, really,” she said. “Just a little strange.”

He poured three servings of cream in his coffee, turning it from dark brown to a light beige. He added sugar too.

“I noticed something else,” Jake said.

Gregg Olsen's books