At the school gymnasium, a flurry of motion and commotion had already begun: artisans bustled in all directions, some wheeling dollies loaded with cartons, bags, and all kinds of totes; others set up racks and stacks of their exquisite handmade crafts. Chatter and clatter echoed off the concrete walls, buoyed by a classic rendition of “Jingle Bells” that scratched through the old PA system. Annie loved the merriment and energy that the weekend brought to the island.
Carrying a tote of her special Christmas soaps, she followed the chart and located her booth. But when she turned to direct Lucy to follow, the teenager wasn’t behind her. With a bevy of friends, Lucy’s lively social skills mirrored those of her grandfather and her father, which meant she was often sidetracked at events such as this.
Annie set down her purse and opened the tote; light scents of Scotch pine and vanilla wafted out. She smiled with determination to put all the drama in her life aside and concentrate on doing her part to make sure the Fair was successful and fun.
“Look what I found!” Lucy’s voice broke into Annie’s thoughts. The girl wielded a dolly that she’d either borrowed or swiped; the rest of the totes they’d stuffed into the Jeep were piled on it.
Setting down a small bundle of freshly clipped evergreen boughs—a last-minute decorating idea Annie had when they’d been dashing out the door to her cottage—she helped Lucy unload the array of goods. When the totes were empty, they slid them under the cloth-draped tables, and Lucy maneuvered the dolly back through the crowd, presumably returning it to wherever she’d found it.
Then Annie started to create small displays of her fragrant treasures so that they’d look inviting and gift-worthy. She stacked the Scotch pine and vanilla in the shape of a Christmas tree and adorned it with a few of the greens. Then she grouped the snowdrops and winterberries into three pillars of varying heights to resemble large candles and sprinkled deep red berries around the bases. She was nearly finished when Lucy came running back toward the booth, her long braid bobbing over her shoulder. Surprisingly, Jonas was sprinting alongside her. His face was ashen, his expression, panicked.
“Where’s Bella?” he shouted to Annie above the noise.
Annie frowned. Wasn’t Jonas supposed to be on Chappy, babysitting for Bella? “She’s with you.” Annie paused. “Isn’t she?”
His eyes squeezed shut, his shoulders dropped. “One minute she was next to me . . . ,” he cried, shaking his head. “The next minute she was . . . gone.”
Annie thought the noise in the gym must have prevented her from hearing him correctly. But as she studied his face, she knew that something was very wrong. The hubbub around her swooned into slow motion; she leaned against the table of snowdrops and winterberries.
“What do you mean, she’s ‘gone’?” Her voice was softer than she had expected.
“It’s true,” Lucy said, folding her arms, tightening her stance as if she, too, had lost her footing.
“I can’t find her,” he cried, and slumped onto a folding chair in the booth.
“Tell me what happened,” Annie said. “And make it fast.” In order to think straight, she needed facts.
“It’s not like she could walk away.” Lucy jabbered because that’s how she reacted when she was nervous or scared. “Bella’s a toddler. She toddles. She doesn’t walk.” She’d planted her hands to her hips and swayed back and forth now, her jaw stiff, her eyes wide.
Annie regained her bearings, pulled a bottle of water from her bag, and handed it to Jonas. “Drink,” she said. “Then take a breath.” She thought she sounded relatively calm for someone whose heart was racing as if she were the captain of the leading keelboat in the Edgartown Regatta.
Jonas drank. He breathed.
“Did she come to Edgartown with you? Did she slip away from you here at the school?” If Bella was there, she should not be hard to find. Maybe someone would recognize her. Or maybe she’d ask a friendly face if she knewAmmieand Lucy.
He shook his head.
“At the Inn,” he croaked. “I was in the great room, framing. She was on her play mat at the other end, talking to her dolls like she likes to do.” He stopped. He struggled for another breath. He drank again. “I’d put her down there to make sure she wouldn’t get near the knife I use to cut the canvasses.”
Annie crouched in front of him and put a hand on his knee.
“I was busy,” he continued. “I went into the media room to change a couple of pictures and I wound up reframing them in there.... I left her for maybe ten minutes.... Oh. God. I’m such a jerk.” His voice cracked. His chin dropped to his chest, reminding Annie of the sensitive young man he’d been when she’d first met him and he’d apologized that his grandfather was making her move out of her rental house because of him.
“What happened next?” She pressed her hand against his knee more firmly.
“I realized she was awfully quiet. She likes talking to her dolls, you know? But she’d stopped.” He put his face in his hands. “I went back to the great room. And she was gone.”
“How hard did you look?” Lucy demanded. “Did you check her room upstairs?” Much to Francine’s terror, Bella now knew how to navigate the big staircase on her own.
“It’s the first place I went. She wasn’t under the bed. Or in the closets.”
An alarm went off in Annie’s mind. “Did you look in the chef’s room, where her toys used to be?” she asked. Could Bella have peeled off the tape and opened the cabinet? Did a mousetrap snap down on her fingers? But if so, wouldn’t Jonas have heard her cry?
“I checked. The cabinet’s sealed. I even looked where you moved her stuff, which was lame because it’s not like she could read the note you left.”
“Did you call my grandmother?” Lucy asked. “Maybe she picked her up?”
“I did. She didn’t. I didn’t say that Bella’s missing. I just asked if Francine asked her to pick her up. Claire said no but offered to come and get her. I said it was no problem, that I only called because I couldn’t remember if Francine had asked.” His eyes pleaded for help. And forgiveness. “I didn’t want to upset Claire. I didn’t tell her that Francine has my car. That hers is still in Minnesota.”
