Page 74 of My Child is Missing

He blinked at his wife. The flush of anger drained until his cheeks were bloodless. He turned his gaze to Josie. “Have you arrested him yet?”

“We can’t arrest him because of the handprint,” Josie explained. “It doesn’t prove anything. What I need to know is if either of you remember coming into contact with him?”

They both shook their heads.

Josie turned and motioned around the park. Several feet away, the girls on the field had gathered around their coach. They had moved closer to where Josie stood with the Patchetts. She wondered if the coach had done it on purpose to try to eavesdrop on them. When Josie glared at him, he quickly turned to the girls and began shouting. “Remember,” he said. “Next week, we play Danville and the week after that, we play Fairfield…I need you to give one hundred percent effort…”

“Henry Thomas works in this park,” Josie said. “I know your family is here often for games and practices.”

Shelly looked at Dave. “But we never bring the sedan. Dave uses it for work. We always come in the minivan. It’s the only thing big enough for the girls’ equipment and sometimes, after games, we take Savannah’s friends out for lunch or dinner.”

Josie said, “Are you telling me you’ve never had the sedan here? Not even on a day when maybe Shelly brought the kids in the minivan and Dave was late coming home from work? Maybe he arrived separately?”

The Patchetts looked at one another. “Well, I mean, I can’t say never,” Shelly said.

Savannah came running over. She threw herself at Shelly, wrapping her arms around her mother’s waist.

Dave said, “I’m sure I’ve driven it here like that before, but I couldn’t tell you when. Why would he have been messing with our car?”

“Who’s messing with our car?” asked Savannah, her forehead creasing.

Shelly stroked her ponytail. “No one, sweetheart. The police took our cars to make sure they were okay, remember?”

Savannah stared at Josie, nodding.

“Well, good news,” said Shelly with forced brightness in her tone. “They’re fine! No one messed with them!”

Josie smiled at the girl. “Your mom’s right. All your family’s cars checked out.”

“Are you still going to find Kayleigh?” Savannah asked, a small tremor in her voice.

“We’re doing everything we can to find her,” Josie said, feeling like a fraud. They were doing everything, but if they did find her, it would not be the outcome that Savannah was hoping for. “In fact, I’ve got to go talk to someone else right now.”

She turned to go, feeling the stares of every parent and child there as she walked away. The coach gawked openly at her, and his words echoed in her mind, although she wasn’t sure why. The team would play Danville next week and Fairfield after. Josie was trying to figure out the significance—why her brain had alighted on this, of all things—when she heard small footsteps running up behind her. Next, she felt a tug on her wrist. Savannah Patchett held fast to her. “Mrs. Police,” she said.

Josie laughed. “My name is Detective Josie Quinn,” she said. “But you can call me Josie.”

Savannah tugged at Josie’s arm until she squatted down so that the two of them were roughly face level. Savannah reached up behind her head and pulled at her ponytail, removing the scrunchie that held it in place. She folded it into Josie’s palm. “When you find my sister, can you give this to her? It’s my favorite. I want her to have it.”

Josie felt a hairline fracture form in the protective shell she mentally donned each day on the job. She gave Savannah a smile she hoped wasn’t wobbly and said, “Sure. Of course.”

FORTY-SEVEN

Josie waved to the patrol unit parked outside of Henry Thomas’s driveway as she pulled into it. The tires of her SUV bounced over the gravel, fighting for purchase as she punched the gas to make the climb up to the cabin. Trees closed in on either side, forming a green arch. The late-morning sun struggled to penetrate it. The area would be so beautiful if this mountain wasn’t home to so many evil acts, if it had not hosted so many evil men. Did it attract them? Josie wondered. Like some kind of fucked-up siren song only violent psychopaths and deviants could hear? Or had it just been bad luck that a team of serial killers had operated there for decades, unchecked, leaving behind land that only Henry Thomas could stomach living on?

The roof of the cabin came into view first. Then its small porch and finally, the driveway, the backs of the two vehicles facing her. They sat in roughly the same places they’d been the night Josie had followed Blue and Luke here. This time, the hood of the El Camino was propped up. As she brought her own vehicle to a stop, Josie saw Henry Thomas peek his head around the hood and then disappear again.

Josie got out and walked over, studying the car. The last time she’d seen it had been the night Kayleigh was abducted, under the cabin’s exterior lights and the occasional strobe of the state police helicopter passing overhead. Now, in full daylight, she saw rust eating at the edges of its body and the bed, where leaves and pine needles gathered in the corners. Paint had faded in some places, been reapplied in others, and then only half removed so the entire thing was a patchwork of gray and white. The side mirror on the driver’s side door was missing. About the only things that looked new were its rear bumper, brake lights, and tires. Not a speck of dirt or dust on any of those things. She supposed you had to start somewhere when it came to restoration.

Thomas didn’t acknowledge her as she rounded the car to join him near the front. He was bare-chested again, wearing a pair of low-slung jeans that had more stains and tears on them than Josie could count. He stood on a large piece of cardboard while he fitted a drop cloth across the opening beneath the hood. As he worked, the scales of a large snake tattooed across his back rippled. A paint sprayer lay next to his feet, along with several rolls of tape.

She said, “What color are you painting it?”

Without looking at her, he said, “I know you didn’t come here to talk to me about paint.”

“You get yourself a torque converter for this?”

From his profile, she saw one corner of his mouth quirk. “Nope. It’s on backorder. Now come on, I know you didn’t come to talk to me about cars.”

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