Page 21 of Trapper Road

“I’m not most moms.”

She rolls her eyes. “Tell me about it.”

I keep my hands on her shoulders. “You call me anytime. For any reason.”

“I love you too, Mom.”

Then she’s slipping out from under my grasp and skirting around the truck and slipping into the front seat. Sam is already behind the wheel, and he starts the engine. With a sigh I climb into the SUV. Apparently Vee won the right to the front seat; Connor is already sprawled out in back.

Sam presses the remote control to open the garage door, and we pull out one after the other, turning in different directions. Our hope is that the unexpected double departure will surprise the news crews enough that they won’t follow. Even so, we both know how to lose a tail, and neither one of us is too worried about reporters learning where we’re going.

The drive to Gardenia is easy if a bit tedious at times when I get stuck behind oversized trucks on some of the two-lane mountain roads. I’d planned to arrive in town early enough to drop Vee and Connor off at the motel before freshening up and going to meet the missing girl’s parents. But the closer we get, the more reluctant I am to leave the two of them alone, especially without any mode of transportation. So I decide to bring them with me. Besides, all Connor would do at the motel is read, and Vee would sleep, something they can both do just as well in the car.

I find the house easily and park on the street in front of it. I turn so that I’m looking at both Vee in the front seat and Connor in the back. “You two going to be okay out here for a bit?”

Connor rolls his eyes. “I think we can manage to sit in a car for a while without getting into too much trouble.”

Vee shrugs. “I dunno. If Ms. P leaves the keys, I’m sure we can figure out something. Drag racing maybe?”

The problem with Vee is that I’m ninety-nine percent sure she’s joking, but there’s still that slight possibility she’s not. “No drag racing,” I tell her as I slip out of the car, leaving the keys in the ignition. “You’ll lose anyway with this car.”

“You’re no fun,” Vee pouts.

“How about you promise no drag racing, and I promise hamburgers and ice cream after?” I offer.

“I regret to inform you that I just became a vegan,” she says.

“Salad for you then.” I glance toward Connor. Ice cream is one of his weaknesses. “You in?”

He shrugs, but he can’t totally hide the gleam of anticipation in his eyes. “I guess.”

As far as victories go, it’s a small one, but I’ll take it.

I turn and start up the walk toward the house, taking it in as I approach. It’s a lovely home, something that looks like an early twentieth century Craftsman that’s been added onto several times without losing any of its charm. It’s been well maintained, the paint fresh and the gardens out front tended. I wonder if the gardens are the work of Mr. or Mrs. Larson or if it’s something they’ve hired out. Given the size and appearance of the other houses and yards on the street, I’m assuming the latter. It’s probably easier that way — the world outside continuing automatically while they slowly fall apart inside over the disappearance of their daughter.

At the door I knock, and within a minute, it’s opened by two people. They both look utterly broken, and I know without question these are Juliette’s parents. It’s obvious in the slump of their shoulders, the exhaustion in their eyes, the worry lines radiating from their mouths. Their pain is so clearly etched into every facet of their being that it steals my breath.

I introduce myself, offering my ID card and shaking their hands. They invite me inside, and as I step through the door I glance back at Connor and Vee. A shiver passes through me, accompanied by an ache deep in my gut at the thought of one of them disappearing.

It’s impossible to work a missing person case without some of the fear and paranoia bleeding into your own life. I clench my teeth against it. They’re safe, I remind myself. We’re safe. And I aim to keep it that way.

5

VEE

I’ve heard it said that like knows like. Well, the opposite is true as well. You know right away when someone don’t even exist in the same universe as you. That’s exactly the feeling I get when I set eyes on the girl walking toward us. The way she strolls up to the car casual as can be and leans herself against it. It’s near ninety degrees outside, and I know for a fact that the metal around the doorjamb has to be burning hot but this girl doesn’t even wince. I wonder if she likes it — the pain.

I also wonder if maybe she’s trying to show off, as though this will impress me. And then I wonder if it works. I’m not sure yet. But I’m pretty sure I’m out of my depth with this girl. I come from trash, there’s no denying it.

This girl, though. She comes from money and polish. I can tell by the smooth shine to her dark hair and long legs that don’t show scratches or bruises. There’s not a day goes by in my life I ain’t got some sort of bruise or cut somewhere on my body. You just can’t make it through real life without a bit of brawling with the world.

I don’t trust girls with perfect manicures and makeup that hasn’t sweated off by midday. Which means I don’t trust the girl leaning in the driver side window.

“Help you?” I ask. It comes out gruff, and that’s how I intended it. This girl intimidates me, and I don’t want her knowing it. She’s the type that’ll pounce on weakness the way a tomcat pounces on a mouse.

She answers with her own question. “Y’all here visiting the Larsons?”

“What’s it to you?”

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