Molly was too hurt, too angry to speak.
Cole looked away, momentarily ashamed, but the anger came raging forward, “How much more do you know than the police? It sounds like you’re all over the place—in the woods, at the Perkinson House. Don’t you think if she were in the Perkinson House, someone would have found her? Why don’t you just ask Pastor Lett? I’m sure she’ll tell you she’s not there.”
Molly fumed.
“For God’s sake, Molly, she didn’t take her. I have no idea how you can live like this, wondering, tracking things down. Where do you get the energy, much less the desire? She’s not even your daughter.”
“I know she’s not my daughter, Cole!” she yelled through angry tears. “What if I can find her? The police didn’t find her necklace, I did. What am I supposed to do? Turn my back on this little girl? Walk away like I know nothing when clearly someone, somewhere is trying to send me messages about her? Let her die like I let Amanda die?”
Cole sat on the couch, his eyes focused on nothing.
Molly was caught between walking out and never coming back, and trying to bridge the gap between them. Cole dropped his head into his hands. Molly eyed the foyer, then looked at the photos littered around the room of them in happier times. She walked over to Cole, stood between his legs, put her hands on his shoulders, and leaned her forehead against his. She whispered, “What if it were Erik, and one person was being given details, and that one person ignored them? Would you want that to happen?”
He whispered back, “No, of course not.” He pushed Molly aside and walked out of the room.
Molly listened to the rhythm of Cole’s heavy footfalls and the hum of the treadmill. She settled in front of her computer and opened an email from Hannah.
Molly, I saw your car here today. Sorry I missed you. Were you out running? Hannah.
Molly replied, responded to a few other emails, and was relieved to reach the last one which was from Newton Carr.
Molly, I’m glad I found you today. I thought everyone knew about the campsites, but I suppose not. You should stop by some time. I can fill you in on much of the history of Boyds. I can even show you Colonel Boyds’s grave. He was an amazing man.
Take care, Newton.
P.S. The photo you saw was actually of another home in Boyds that no longer exists. As I mentioned before, Molly, please stay away from the Perkinson House. Grant the Perkinson family their privacy.
Molly clicked back to her Inbox. “That was fast,” she said when a new email from Hannah arrived.
Molly, I’m glad you enjoyed your walk through the woods. Next time, though, why don’t I go with you? Hannah.
Molly replied, Sounds great!
The newspaper clipping nagged at Molly. She retrieved it and scanned the article.
Relief of one sort was provided today to the family of Kate Plummer. The prime suspect, Rodney Lett, was found beaten to death in the home of his sister, Pastor Carla Lett…The body was taken to Delaware for burial in the family plot…The body of Kate Plummer has not been found. Rodney Lett’s confession included a statement that the girl was with her “mommy.” Police interpreted the information to mean that she was dead. Mrs. Plummer, a cancer patient, is alive, though it is unclear if Rodney Lett understood that at the time of Kate’s disappearance.
She tossed the article on her desk, “So that’s their proof?” Molly was disgusted with the realization that the police could lead such a shallow investigation, and that the search would be dropped without ever finding Kate’s body.
Frustrated by the fight with Cole and her internal conflict, Molly decided to try and put their argument behind them. She went downstairs to their exercise room. “Almost done?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he huffed. Cole hated to run, but as he did with most aspects of his life, he did what he was supposed to do because it was best for him, not because it was something he enjoyed. “How would you feel about dinner out tonight? I sort of need to clear my head.” Molly asked, flopping, defeated, onto the couch. “Sure, whatever you want,” he said, as Molly had expected he would. “Café Miletto okay?” “Sure, whatever, I’ll be done in a minute.”
Molly dressed for dinner and then looked beneath her pillow, confirming that her evidence was still in place. She thought of Tracey, out there somewhere, terrified, hungry, cold. Molly ran her fingers over the necklace, then picked up the candy wrapper. Instantly, she tasted apple candy. Her palm became warm, and she could feel Tracey’s soft little hand grasping the wrapper. She could feel her fear, her breathing becoming rapid, shallow. She closed her eyes, hoping for more—slowly, gray images came to her: trees, leaves, the wooden boxes. The wrapper grew cold and fell from her hand.
Molly jumped when Cole put his hand on her shoulder. She pushed the pillow down over the wrapper and the necklace. “Good God, Cole,” she said, “how long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough,” he said.
Café Miletto was quiet. There were four other tables with patrons, two young couples, one older couple, and a couple who appeared, from behind, to be middle aged. They sat in the corner with their backs to Molly and Cole. Molly reached for Cole’s hand across the table, trying to mend the widening abyss between them. Cole withdrew his hand.
Molly blinked back tears and gazed out the window, inadvertently listening to the couple that sat nearby. Their voices were hushed whispers. “I don’t know what to do. I think someone has been there,” the woman said. “Oh no, I’m sure not,” said the man. “It’s just been so long, you know?” she paused. “How long can I do this?”
“As long as you have to,” the man replied. “If you come out now, can you imagine the terror it would bring to the community, the distrust?”
Molly recognized the voices and chided herself for listening. At that point, she couldn’t help it, she was drawn into their conversation, listening for the sake of curiosity.
“You did what you felt like you had to do. People will be angry, maybe try to railroad you. Send you to jail even,” Newton whispered adamantly.
“Look what I’ve put the kid through.” Pastor Lett sounded beaten down.
Molly looked over, her heart speeding up.
“I’ve put that kid in a prison and for what? Somehow, what started to be about the kid, ended up really just about me. I’m so selfish.”
Molly was riveted by their conversation. Cole looked at his menu, unaware of her fixation. He reached across the table and grabbed Molly’s hand. The relief she felt was overshadowed by her curiosity. “And look what I’ve put you through,” Pastor Lett said. Molly suddenly felt like a voyeur. She pulled her hand away from Cole’s, who looked up, surprised. “What?” Cole asked.
Molly hid behind her menu. She tilted it sideways and looked into Cole’s eyes. “Shhh,” she whispered, motioning with a finger in front of her lips. She pointed behind him and mouthed, Don’t let them see you.
Cole angled his body to the side, crossing his legs and stretching. He recognized them instantly, spinning back and leaning over the table toward Molly. “Pastor Lett and Newton—so what?”
“Oh my God! So,” she whispered frantically, “they’re talking about something awful that Pastor Lett did, about a kid kept in a prison!” She lifted her finger to her lips again. “Damn it, Molly. Let it go,” he seethed. The waitress brought Pastor Lett her check. She reached for it and handed the check and a credit card back to the waitress. Cole and Molly sat in silence.