Page 2 of My Child is Missing

“A little,” Josie admitted. “Work, you know.”

Pointedly, Misty said, “Have you been seeing Dr. Rosetti?”

Josie’s muscles stiffened. “I, uh, really don’t want to talk about this right now.”

Cindy said, “If you’re not, you should talk to her.”

Her face felt hot. Sun-poisoning hot. Stiffly, she said, “I am seeing her. I never stopped seeing her.”

Josie had started seeing Dr. Rosetti for therapy after the death of her grandmother. She didn’t like it. She had never liked it, but she went because she knew she had a lot of childhood—and now adult—trauma that needed to be addressed. Drinking hadn’t worked. Alienating everyone in her life hadn’t worked. Operating solely on sex and rage hadn’t helped either. She’d finally come to the conclusion that the people she loved deserved more from her, and that she should make some effort to learn to cope in a healthy way. Plus, while solving a case connected to her grandmother’s death, she’d met a courageous little girl who had taught her about tolerating her discomfort. Josie had made that girl a promise that she’d go to therapy.

Slowly, Misty said, “Have you talked to her? About your insomnia?”

Through gritted teeth now, Josie said, “You can talk about him, you know. You can say his name. I’m thinking about him twenty-four hours a day as it is—there is no moment in which I am not thinking about him—so bringing it up isn’t going to upset me. Just say it.”

Cindy patted Josie’s knee. “I’m sorry, hon. We’re just worried about you.”

Misty said, “Are you not sleeping because you’re having nightmares about when Mettner died?”

Josie felt an instant wave of relief wash over her at the sound of his name. It had been three months since her friend and colleague Detective Finn Mettner died in the line of duty, while holding Josie’s hand, and everyone around her acted like he’d never existed. Even at work, where his desk remained untouched since the last time he’d been there, no one said his name. No one talked about him. He was the elephant in every room. It was as if people were afraid to talk about him because it might set off some explosion of grief even though Josie was not the type to explode. Not from grief, anyway. She was a champion at bottling things up. Still, the more people walked on eggshells around her, avoiding the topic of Mettner’s death, the worse she felt. A couple of times she’d tried to bring him up at work, to Noah, Detective Gretchen Palmer, and their Chief, but then their press liaison, Amber Watts—who had been Mett’s girlfriend—walked in and everyone shushed her. Evidently, they were treating Amber the same way they treated Josie, which was to say they never spoke of Mettner.

But he was real,she kept saying to herself.He was real. He was my friend. I loved him. I watched him die.

Not saying his name, not acknowledging his absence, made it feel like he had never existed.

Of all the horrible things she’d felt in the wake of his murder, that was worst of all.

“Not nightmares,” Josie said. “Not like I had when my grandmother died. It’s just…I’m there with him again.” She pressed her palms together. “I can feel his hand. I see his eyes—”

She broke off, not willing to get into the rest of it here in such a public space. She didn’t want strangers to hear about how she had watched his face change from shock to realization and then to resignation before the life drained from his eyes completely, even though that was what kept her up at night.

Misty slid a hand across her shoulders and pulled her in for a side hug. “I just want you to know I’m here for you. You can talk to me about Mettner.”

Josie felt the sting of tears behind her eyes and mumbled a thanks. Much to her relief, the crowd of adults had dispersed on the field below, and play was resuming. Everyone’s attention returned to the game. Josie’s eyes tracked Noah’s progress from home plate to behind the dugout of Harris’s team. She watched as he fished his cell phone from the back pocket of his jeans and looked at it. Frowning, he looked up from its screen and searched the crowd for her. Josie stood up. They locked eyes. She knew from his expression that they wouldn’t be here for the remainder of the game, nor would they be joining Harris, Misty, and Cindy for a post-game dinner.

Misty said, “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” said Josie.

As she made her way to the bottom of the bleachers, her own phone buzzed in her pocket. She took it out and saw a text from the Chief of Denton’s police department, Bob Chitwood.

Need you both ASAP.

She found Noah at the side of the bleachers. “I just talked with Gretchen,” he said. “Two kids have been reported missing.”

THREE

The address Gretchen had given Noah was to a house in a rural area of Denton. It was several miles from the center of town along a little-traveled two-lane road that wound its way deep into the mountains. While Noah drove, Josie checked her phone. It was nearing three in the afternoon, which meant they had over five hours of daylight left. That counted in their favor when it came to searching the forest. Gretchen had texted the names and ages of the missing children first: Kayleigh Patchett, sixteen and Savannah Patchett, eight. Sisters. Next, a photo of the two girls flashed across Josie’s phone screen. They stood side by side in front of a bright red door, each wearing a sports uniform of some type. Even though Josie and Noah tried to go to as many of Harris’s sporting events as possible, Josie’s knowledge of kids’ sports was dismal. Kayleigh looked like she was in a softball uniform. She had straight, shoulder-length dark hair, almost black like Josie’s, and a round face with a smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks. In the photo, she gave a stiff smile that didn’t reach her brown eyes. Savannah, on the other hand, had a grin that went on for days. Her uniform looked more like what kids wore to soccer, if Josie had to guess. Unlike her sister, her hair was curly. Even her loose ponytail couldn’t contain her curls.

Josie said, “What did Gretchen tell you?”

“The kids went for a walk in the woods this morning while the parents were out grocery shopping. Never came back. Parents searched for them but found nothing. After a few hours, they called 911.” There was a pause. Josie looked away from the photo of the Patchett sisters long enough to see a muscle ticking in Noah’s jaw.

“What is it?”

“We had a new report yesterday from the state police. Last fall, in Lenore County, two teenagers went into the woods. Only one came out. The other died. The kid who survived said someone attacked them but couldn’t give a description. They went out in the dark, apparently. No leads. I talked to Heather.”

“Heather Loughlin?” Josie asked. “From their criminal investigative division?”

---