Page 10 of Widow Lake

“Little girl still missing?” Angelica asked.

Ellie nodded. “She’s four. Parents think she just wandered off.”

“You ready to go live?” Angelica asked.

“Yes. But for now, I’ve held off mentioning the possibility of a kidnapping to the parents.”

“Got it.”

Ellie led her over to the couple, who looked despondent. The boy sat slumped with his hands on his knees, tapping them up and down.

Ellie quickly made the introductions. “Ms. Gomez is going to post Betsy’s picture on the news in hopes someone has seen her.”

“Of course,” Mr. Hammerstein said. “We’ll offer a reward if that would help.”

“Let’s hold off on that for now.” She didn’t want to attract the greedy who might call with false leads and divide police manpower.

Betsy’s mother dabbed at her damp cheeks with a tissue then clasped her husband’s hand and faced the camera.

ELEVEN

Fear cinched Lorna Bea’s stomach as she studied the shed floor. Yes, that was blood.

Wood boards creaked as she stepped inside the dark space. Bugs crawled across the floor. A rancid odor clogged the air. There were black widow spiders around her. Nana had said to watch out for them when they went inside the cabin.

A whimpering sound came from the corner, where wooden shelves had crashed down. Behind the mess, a hand peeked through, clawing at the floor.

Lorna Bea’s heart stuttered, and she stooped down see who it was. Brown hair, a pink T-shirt.

“Help,” a tiny voice cried. “Help.”

Lorna Bea sucked in a breath. “Betsy?”

“Uh-huh,” the little girl said.

“I’m Lorna Bea,” she replied. “I’ll go get help.”

“Don’t go. I’m scared.”

For a minute, she just stood there, not knowing what to do. But she couldn’t leave Betsy alone. And that man in the dark hoodie might still be out there.

She studied the small room then heard a tiny meow. “Is that a cat?” she asked.

“Uh-huh. I chased him in here,” Betsy whispered.

Lorna Bea smiled as a yellow ball of fur popped its head up from where Betsy held it.

“Just stay still and I’ll get you out.”

Dust swirled around her as she pitched the shelves to the side. Then she saw a hole in the floor. The wood was splintered where Betsy had fallen through.

For a second, she froze again. On a TV show she’d seen, hadn’t they said not to move someone if they were injured? That you might make them worse? She licked her suddenly dry lips. “Are you hurt, Betsy?”

“I dunno,” Betsy whimpered. “My leg’s stuck.”

What if she had a broken leg? Lorna Bea would have to go for help. “Just be still. Let me see what we’re dealing with.” She shined the light around the hole edges then searched the shed for a tool to help her. Fishing lures were scattered on the floor. That wouldn’t work. Neither would the fishing wire. There were clippers. No good.

Then a hammer.

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