Lucas had attempted to reach the Sears, but Chloe’s mother had succumbed to her alcoholism and died in 1995 of sclerosis of the liver. Chris Sears was in jail on multiple charges of rape and burglary. He wasn’t interested in talking to anyone about his sibling unless there was money involved; and Lucas didn’t have any to spare. He couldn’t find Callie anywhere. And while Chloe’s father still lived in the same house, when Lucas reached out to him, the cranky octogenarian called him “a gossip-mongering piece of shit” before damning him back to the worthless column or newspaper or wherever it was he had come from.
Every one of Halcomb’s kids had a similar story to Chloe’s—and every lead Lucas had followed resulted in his getting shut down. Halcomb’s Faithful came from broken homes, were looking for a place to belong, and Jeff had a knack for making the unwanted feel special. He was an expert at saying the right thing at the right time. Charming and conniving, he stated the obvious in ways that made him look wise. Runaways were a disenchanted youth. Unappreciated victims of parents that not only misunderstood their children but also didn’t seem to care. Those parents knew that was the message Halcomb had been passing on to their children—kids that had taken their own lives for reasons no one understood. That kind of loss came with a lot of guilt, and guilt made people defensive. Nobody wanted to talk because everyone felt as though they were at fault . . . and perhaps in a way they were.
He peered at Chloe’s photograph for a moment more, still perplexed by its hanging upside down. Maybe he was just losing it. He didn’t remember doing so, but he very well may have removed that photo while doing his research.
Lucas ducked out of his study and glanced up the stairs. Jeanie’s door was still shut. He frowned and crossed the living room to the kitchen, his stomach rumbling at the thought of a few slices of cold pizza. But he stopped just before climbing the brick steps that would take him into the kitchen. There, hanging on the wall, was a framed family photograph, taken when Lucas and Caroline still lived in the big colonial in Port Washington. It remained Lucas’s favorite family photo, taken when Jeanie was two or three years old. The three of them sat on the brown front lawn, crispy autumn leaves surrounding them in shades of red and gold. Caroline’s dream home was behind them, out of focus but still dominating the background. He’d hung it to remind himself of what was important, to keep his motivations in check. Except that, now, he gave the picture a perplexed look. He would have passed it by without a second glance had the fucking thing not been hanging upside down. Just like Chloe.
“What the hell?” He shot another look up at the second floor. Jeanie was screwing with him. She had to be. There was no other explanation. Except that he was almost positive Jeanie hadn’t gone into his study. The nagging voice at the back of his mind refused to go away.
That photo of Chloe hadn’t been upside down, Lou. You know it hadn’t been. You’re just afraid of what it might mean.
INVESTIGATIVE INTERVIEW OF CALLIE SEARS, EXCERPT
March 24, 1983
Investigative Officer: Russell Cole, badge number 381, Pier Pointe, Washington, PD
Russell Cole: Did Chloe tell you she was leaving before her disappearance?
Callie Sears: She hinted at it for a long time, but she didn’t come out and say “Hey, I’m leaving tomorrow” or anything.
RC: How did she hint at it?
CS: She hated our parents. I mean, me and Chris, we have major issues with them, too, but Chloe really hated them. One time, when we were younger, she told me that she tried to poison our dad.
RC: How old were you when she told you this?
CS: I don’t know, maybe eight?
RC: That would have made Chloe eleven, correct?
CS: Yeah, but when she told me, she said that it had been a few years in the past, so maybe she was around my age when she actually tried to do it.
RC: Did she tell you how she tried to poison your father?
CS: Sure, with rat poison. She said she sprinkled it into his food.
RC: And your father ingested this food?
CS: I don’t know. She said he did, but I’m not sure that I ever really believed her.
RC: Callie, you understand that Chloe was involved with a pretty nefarious group, correct?
CS: (long pause) I guess I wasn’t all that surprised when I found out, honestly. I mean, it made me sad, but I wasn’t shocked or anything.
RC: You expected her to get involved with people like this after she left home?
CS: I guess I didn’t expect anything. Chloe was mean-spirited sometimes. I mean, I don’t like my parents, either, but I never thought about killing them or anything. You really think that group she was involved with was evil?
RC: My opinion is irrelevant. Do you know if Chloe was involved in any type of religious activity?
CS: Like, church and stuff? No way. Not unless she ran off and became a Bible thumper, but I don’t know anything about that.
RC: What about any alternative beliefs? Did she hold any nontraditional views? Anything dark like witchcraft, possibly satanic in nature?
CS: The group was satanic . . . ?
RC: We’re trying to figure that out.
CS: God. Did they really kill a baby?
RC: I’m not at liberty to discuss case details at the moment. Can you answer my question?
CS: I . . . I didn’t think she was satanic.
RC: Did you speak with your sister after she left home at all?
CS: Only once.
RC: When was that?
CS: It was around my birthday last year, so January of 1982.
RC: How did Chloe reach out to you?
CS: She called me, said she was heading up to see the redwoods with some friends. She asked me if I wanted to go. By then Chloe had been missing for almost a year. I hadn’t heard from her at all, and when she called me she sounded funny . . . so I told her no.
RC: Funny how?
CS: Just different, like when you haven’t heard someone’s voice in a long time. She was being really sweet, which was totally unlike her. I guess that’s why I knew something was up. Chloe was never nice to me.
RC: Did you tell your parents that she called?
CS: I mentioned it.