Page 13 of All Good People Here

Krissy widened her eyes in surprise, then laughed. “Billy, that waseighth grade. These are, like, big-time dancers.” But even so, the compliment felt warm in her chest. She couldn’t believe he’d remembered her dancing from that long ago. “I’m a lot better than I was in eighth grade. Every penny I’ve ever earned I’ve spent on dance classes. And I don’t go to that rinky-dink little studio downtown for kids. I go to one in South Bend every Tuesday and Thursday night.”

“I didn’t know that.”

She nodded. “Yep.” Then she turned her face back to the stars. “Now I just have to save up enough for a bus ride and I’m gone. Well, enough for a bus ride and an apartment and food and stuff.” Her voice faded, her smile falling away. Thinking about everything it would take to get out of this place never failed to overwhelm her. But she didn’t want to worry about that, not now. She turned back to Billy, propping up the side of her head with her hand. “Anyway,” she continued, making her voice bright again. “I’d ask if you were leaving, but I know you’re not. Everyone knows Billy Jacobs is to inherit and run the family farm.” She said the last words as if she were sayingthe royal throne.

Billy smiled, but it looked soft and almost sad. “No, yeah, I’m not leaving.”

Krissy’s gaze flicked over his face. “Hey. Eeyore.” She had the urge to reach a hand out, to smooth the line that had formed between his brows—so she did. “Don’t think about that right now.”

Even in the dim light of the moon, Krissy could see his cheeks flush at her touch. And suddenly, she knew that he wanted to kiss her, that he was thinking about doing it. But a few seconds passed and he didn’t. “Well,” he said, “whatshouldI think about?”

“Think about…” Her eyes glanced away from his and back again. She couldn’t quite tell if she wanted to kiss him, but then, what was the harm in taking both their minds off other things? What was the harm in kissing this boy in a field under the moon? “Think about this,” she said, and leaned forward, the leaves of the corn crop brushing against her cheeks. Then she pressed her lips to his.

Krissy couldn’t have known then everything that kiss would lead to. If she had, she never would have done it. If she had, she would have run fast in the opposite direction.

—

In the police station, sitting across from Detective Townsend on the day her daughter disappeared, the memory seemed surreal to Krissy, as if she and Billy had been mere characters in a scene that night, two different people entirely.

“Would you mind if we took a break?” she said. “I need to use the restroom.”

Though really, she just needed a minute alone. She’d felt the collective weight of so many sets of eyes on her throughout the day, and she wanted one moment where she wasn’t being watched, to relax her shoulders, to exhale.

Townsend gazed at her for an uncomfortably long moment, then, finally, he said, “Be my guest.”

Krissy took her time in the bathroom, splashing cool water on her face, but it did nothing to mitigate the way the walls seemedto be closing in around her. So on her way back, when she spotted a set of double doors to the outside, she threw a furtive glance over her shoulder, then hurried toward them.

Outside, the hot July air was a welcome break from the oppressive cold of the station and she gulped it in like she’d been drowning. She slumped against the red brick wall, but just as she did, she realized she wasn’t alone after all. A murmur of voices came from around the corner, and although they were talking quietly, Krissy would recognize Detective Townsend’s clipped voice anywhere.

“…think she’s hiding something,” he was saying, and Krissy’s chest clenched. She felt instinctively that he was talking about her. “She’s nervous, but it’s more than that. Something’s up with that family. I just can’t put my finger on what it is.”

“Seem like a nice Christian family to me,” the second voice chimed in. Detective Lacks.

Townsend let out one breath of laughter. “Exactly. But everybody’s got something. And back at the house, you should’ve heard her. Had about a hundred theories about who could’ve taken her daughter.”

“So what?”

“When people start throwing out that many theories at once,” Krissy heard Townsend say, “nine times out of ten, it’s because they don’t want us looking at something else. Like an old-fashioned pickpocket, waving a hand over here just so his target doesn’t see that he’s robbing him blind.”

SIX

Margot, 2019

By the time Margot made it to the state police’s press conference on Natalie Clark’s disappearance, it had already begun. She tugged the door open, then slipped quietly through, joining the crowd of cameras and news teams positioned in the back of the room. At the front, behind a podium, stood Det. Rhonda Lacks, whom Margot recognized as one of the two original detectives on January’s homicide. Separating her from Margot was a sea of press sitting in the section of chairs where Margot should have been, notepads clutched in their hands. She stole a glance at her watch and muttered a curse beneath her breath. She wasn’t just late. The conference was halfway over.

She tried to create as little disturbance as possible as she sidled up between two camera guys, but her heart was still racing from sprinting through the parking lot and her whole body was prickling with heat from outside. She plucked her T-shirt with her fingers and surreptitiously blew onto her chest, but as she did, her elbow bumped the man next to her. He shot her a dirty look and she mouthedSorryin return.

Five hours earlier, Margot emerged from her room at Luke’s,ready to head to Shorty’s. She’d just spent an hour and a half prepping for interviews in Nappanee and had allotted two more to talk to people in Wakarusa. But when she walked out of her room, she stopped short. Something about the air was off. It was too still, too quiet.

She slid her backpack to the floor, then walked softly to Luke’s bedroom in case he was taking a nap, but his door was open and dark, the attached bathroom empty. Back in the hallway, she called his name, her voice echoing loudly around the house. There was no response. “Uncle Luke!” she called again, but still there was nothing. She walked past the empty living room to the kitchen, where she felt idiotic as she turned in a slow circle and opened the pantry.

Margot’s heart started to pound, but she didn’t even know if her fear was justified. After all, Luke was an adult who, as he’d pointed out that morning, had survived many months by himself. Still, leaving the house without so much as a goodbye wasn’t like him. She strode to the door to the garage and flung it wide, breathing in relief at the sight of her uncle’s old Pontiac gathering dust. At least that meant he couldn’t have made it far. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. Presumably, he was just on a walk. And yet, these past two days in Wakarusa had shown Margot just how bad things had gotten. What if he had an episode when he was out? What if he lost track of where he was or who he was and was wandering, confused and scared?

She turned on her heel and walked through the hallway to retrieve her cell from her backpack. But when she called him, it rang through to voicemail. She tried again and again, but it just rang and rang.

“Shit,” she hissed, rubbing her fingers into her forehead.

She disconnected the call, grabbed her keys from her backpack, and rushed to the front door. The only thing left to do now was look for him.

---