“That’s exactly what they are.”
“Great, I’m stepping outside to call the detective now. And I’m sure he’ll be intouch.”
66
I WAIT UNTILI’m back on the freeway with the AC blasting before I call Flynn. I can’t get out of Dallas fast enough, but even with the slow crawl of traffic, I should hit Mapleton long before sundown.
He answers on the first ring.
“Sophie. Took you long enough.”
“Mike, listen, I’ve had a—”
“Hold up, there’s something I need to tell you first; it’s why I’ve been trying to reach you.” His voice sounds warmer than it has lately, so I let him continue.
“Okay, then you go first.”
Even with my windows up, the sound of traffic creeps inside the cabin, making it difficult for me to hear him. I raise the volume on my cell, press the phone to my ear more tightly.
“I understand that you know a man in your neighborhood by the name of Harold?”
Bloody hell. Is he dead,too?
My mouth is dry but I manage to answer Flynn. “Yes, yes I do. I mean, Idon’t know him all that well, just the occasional wave or quick chat from the trail. Why are you asking me?”
A black Suburban in front of me blocks my view of traffic, so I swerve around it, moving into a faster lane.
“He came to the station this morning. With a photograph of you.”
The hairs on my arms rise, and an unsettled feeling washes over me.
“Okay, this is sounding creepy.”
“I’m not gonna lie, itiscreepy, but in this case, it works in your benefit. Evidently, Harold was out on the trail in the early hours of that Saturday morning when Abby went missing. He snapped a picture of you, jogging. On his phone. It was taken at three fifteen a.m., which confirms your alibi for that portion of the night. He said he had read about you in the paper and hated to see you mixed up in all of that, so he wanted to try and help clear your name.”
I’m speechless. And relieved. It takes me a second to find my voice again.
“Does this mean that you believe me now?”
He sighs on the other end. “It helps, Sophie. But I need you to know that this in no way exonerates you. Again, it just confirms your alibi for that portion of the night.”
The freeway is opening up now and I lurch into the far left lane, pressing the accelerator until the needle on my speedometer inches to eighty miles per hour.
“There’s something I need to tell you, Mike. I’m in Dallas. Well, I’m not in Dallas anymore, I just left the city, and I know I wasn’t supposed to leave town but I had to and when you hear me out, you’ll know why.”
“I’m listening.” I hear the faint tap of what I assume to be his pen striking the edge of a desk, or maybe the console in his patrol car.
“First, Brad knew that Abby was pregnant.”
“And how are you going to prove that—”
“Just listen to me. Jamie told me—I’ll explain how and why later—but he also told me that Abby had visited an abortion clinic in Dallas, caving under pressure from Brad to get rid of the baby.”
“Go on,” he says. I hear the crackle of his CB before he lowers the volume on it.
“So, on a hunch, I drove to Dallas last night and hit a bunch of clinics today. Mike, I just left the one that Abby went to.”
“What’s the name of it?” he asks, his attention fully pricked.
