Page 23 of The Summer Guests

Jo paused to rein in her irritation. Managed to say, in a civil tone: “Maggie Bird means well, Mr. Yount. But she has no role in this investigation.”

“Seems to me she’s a step ahead of you here. Just like she was back in February.”

That stung because it was true. It wasn’t Jo who’d rescued Callie from the abandoned farmhouse where she’d been held prisoner. It was Maggie who’d swooped in and freed the girl, Maggie who’d delivered her to the hospital.

Jo took a calming breath. “All right, Callie. How about you just tell me what you told Maggie?”

“You could ask her.”

And she’d never let me forget it.

“No, I want to hear it from you. Tell me how you met Zoe Conover.”

Callie nodded. “It was real hot yesterday. I got done with my chores early, so I asked Grandpa if he’d drop me off at the pond, where a lot of the kids hang out. Usually I ride my bike there, but my chain’s broken and Grandpa was going to the post office anyway. I figured I’d just go with him.”

“So you got to the pond, and ...?”

“I saw this girl there, swimming. She went underwater for areallylong time, and I got worried that maybe she’d drowned, so I swam out to her and she popped right up. Told me she was training herself to hold her breath for three whole minutes, and could I hold mine that long? We had this contest, and she beat me every time. She said she took the lifeguard test and she passed it, but they won’t let her work as a lifeguard because she’s not sixteen yet. She wants to go to the Olympics, and that means she has to train every single day.”

This was now getting into the weeds. “Tell me how she came home with you. Whose idea was it?”

“Both of us, I think. I told her I had goats and a cow, and would she like to see them, and she said she’d ask her dad. Then Grandpa came back from the PO and drove us home.”

“How did she seem yesterday? Happy, unhappy?”

“She was fine,” said Luther.

“Callie?” asked Jo.

“She was fine,” Callie echoed. “Just like Grandpa says. Not moody, not upset. She didn’t talk about running away. She didn’t say anything was wrong in her family. She likes her new dad. She doesn’t have a boyfriend. She isn’t talking online with anyone who wants her to go away with him. She just talked about swimming and how she’s learning to dive and whether she could come back another day to watch me milk the goats.”

These must be all the questions Maggie had asked, and here were the answers, recited in one convenient package. It made Jo feel superfluous, following in Maggie’s much quicker footsteps. How the hell did the woman always manage that?

“Okay,” sighed Jo. “What time did Zoe leave the farm?”

“It was getting close to lunchtime,” said Luther. “I told her I had to leave for Augusta, so I’d drop her off at the pond.”

“Callie? Is that how you remember it?”

“Just like Grandpa said.”

Jo looked at Luther, then at the girl. Their stories were perfectly aligned, maybe too perfectly. The downside of allowing Luther to listen in.

“And ’cause Maggie asked, you’ll probably want to know this too,” said Callie. “Zoe had her backpack with her when she left. She was wearing a red-and-pink dress and sandals. I remember the sandals, ’cause I was worried Rosie might step on her feet, and that would hurt.”

“Rosie?”

“My cow.” Callie gave a sigh of exasperation. “You could talk to Maggie. She knows all this, and she could help you.”

“I’m sure she could,” Jo muttered.

“Zoe likes it in Maine. She wouldn’t run away.”

“Then where do you think she is, Callie?”

The girl fell silent for a moment, then looked at her grandfather, as if he had the answers. Luther gave a sad shake of his head.

“That’s not something we want to think about,” said Luther.

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