“It’s too hot for a dress,” Junie complained, tugging at her lace collar.
She wasn’t wrong. Not yet 9:30 a.m. and the sun was already melting our Sunday best right into our flesh. Mom made it to church with us about every fourth Sunday. Today wasn’t one of those times. Dad was talking to Father Adolph on the church steps while Junie and I fought over the little shade the open door offered. It’d be rude to enter the building without Dad.
A whistle drew my attention. Brenda and Claude were standing beneath the cool umbrella of the churchyard oak tree. Half of it shaded the cemetery, the other half the living.
“Be right back,” I told Junie. “If Dad gets done early, tell him I’ll meet you inside.”
“No fair!” she said, but I was already halfway down the stairs.
“Hey,” I said. The leaves dappled their faces but could not hide the worry.
“Brenda told me about Maureen,” Claude said. He looked so grown-up in his black slacks, button-down shirt ironed crisp, and blue tie. “Said she didn’t make it to the quarry party after your show.”
My scalp grew tight at the mention of the party. I’d probably see Anton today for the first time since. I was scrubbed head to toe, hair brushed clean and thick over my ears, wearing my best eyelet sundress, but I suddenly felt dirty. What would Claude think of me if he found out what I’d done? I couldn’t believe I’d thought he’d laugh about it.
“Junie said she spotted Maureen at the ring toss booth after we left,” I said, looking to Brenda for confirmation. “I saw the same guy, the ring toss guy, in the haunted part of the neighborhood yesterday.”
Brenda’s eyes slid away. “The one with the Abraham Lincoln beard? I bought pot from him.”
“Think he was selling to Maureen, too?” Claude asked.
Brenda shrugged and began rubbing one thumb with another. “Maybe.”
Claude furrowed his brow. “Do the cops still think Maureen ran away?”
He didn’t know what we’d seen her doing in that basement, didn’t know that Sheriff Nillson had been there. Brenda and I exchanged a look.
“That’s what he said yesterday,” Brenda said, tipping her head toward the church.
I turned to see Jerome Nillson entering. He wore a tan suit with a gray tie. It appeared tight at the shoulders. I realized how little I knew about him. He lived in Pantown, and he was the law. That had been enough. I hadn’t ever noticed a wedding ring on his hand, and I’d never had a reason to think about his personal life.
It wouldn’t have occurred to me in a million years that it would involve one of my closest friends. Had she thought she was dating Sheriff Nillson?
That’s when I got the idea to sneak into Maureen’s room.
I would read her diary.
My mind wandered as I went through the motions of Catholic mass, kneeling, praying,and also with you–ing. Mrs.Hansen sat three rows in front of us, in the same pew as Jerome Nillson but on the other end. I hadn’t yet spotted Ant or his family, which proved (to me, anyhow) that God could work miracles.
I decided I’d tell Mrs.Hansen that I’d forgotten something in Maureen’s room. It wasn’t a lie, exactly—I had once forgotten a shirt there—but it was enough of a fudge that I’d wait until we were outside of church to tell her. I wasn’t sure where Maureen kept her diary, didn’t even know for a fact that she had one, but if she did, it might tell us why she’d been in that basement and where she was now.
“... Heather Cash, and Claude Ziegler,” Father Adolph said, his tone indicating he’d just reached the end of a list of names.
My heart thundered as I looked around, gape-eyed, for clues of what he’d just said. Claude was staring at me, unsmiling.
“... the teens invited to my first-ever Labor Day camp at the church cabin. So talk it over with your parents and see if you can make it.”
Dad squeezed my hand. All summer he’d been encouraging me to attend one of the father’s camps. He’d said it’d look good if the daughter of the district attorney went. Him and Sheriff Nillson’s idea in creating the getaways with Father Adolph had been to create a safe place for teenagers to hang during the summer, something that kept them away from drugs and hitchhiking and taught them useless pioneer things like starting fires and tying knots. I think Dad believed I might even talk about Mom if I went, get some support, but I didn’twantto talk about her. I just wanted her to get better.
“Finally, let’s all take a moment to say a prayer for a missing member of our community.”
My eyes pinned to the back of Sheriff Nillson’s neck. If the priest knew Maureen was missing, that meant Nillson wouldn’t be able to cover it up.
But Father Adolph wasn’t talking about Maureen.
“Nobody has seen Elizabeth McCain for six days. Please hold Beth and her family in your prayers.”
I was staring straight at Sheriff Nillson’s neck, so I noticed when his skin jumped.
