Chapter 22
As Annie rounded the corner and tore into the clamshell driveway, she was greeted by an eerie glow of floodlights permeating the darkness, filtered by a veil of fog that had rolled in.
She turned off the engine, not knowing in which direction to head first. Four police vehicles were already at the Inn—one from Massachusetts State, one from Oak Bluffs, and two from Edgartown, one of which was the one John most often used. She took a deep breath and dropped her forehead onto the steering wheel. Thank Godhehadn’t been held up in traffic.
Then a thought swept over her like beach sand on a windy day: if the cops were there and the floodlights were on, that meant they hadn’t found Bella yet. She started to tremble.
Stop it, Murphy’s voice bellowed through the haze.Get the hell out of the car and find out what’s going on.
Annie closed her eyes. Tried to compose herself. Then she grabbed her phone, got out of the Jeep, and hotfooted it toward the back door of the Inn, praying for strength of mind and body, then praying that she wouldn’t need to keep praying, because everything was going to be fine.
But as she stepped onto the patio that led to the back door, she nearly bumped into a poster board standing on an easel.BELLA, the thick black marker letters read. AGE: 2YRS. 4MOS. H: 32.5” WT: 21.8LBS. LAST SEEN: PALE BLUE HOODIE SWEATER, DARK BLUE PANTS.
The information had come quickly; John must have contacted Bella’s pediatrician. But as disturbing as the poster board read, it was the reference to the sweater Claire had made that made Annie feel as if hands had clamped tightly around her throat. The sweater, and the omissions: mittens. Claire had knit matching mittens that she’d attached to the cuffs with a thin braid of yarn. Had they become detached? Or had whoever scribed the poster simply not known that they were there? Annie loosened the collar of her parka. And then, her text alert went off. Her eyes shot to the small screen.
It was from Francine.
Oh, God,Annie cried inside.Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God.
Where was Francine? Did she already know?
Annie squinted at the text.
WHAT’S GOING ON? Francine had typed. I’M ATEARL ANDCLAIRE’S.NOBODY’S HERE.LOOKS LIKECLAIRE WAS MAKING DINNER? HALF-MADE STUFF IS ON THE COUNTER. JONAS ISN’T ANSWERING HIS PHONE. IS ALLOK?
Annie shoved the phone into her pocket. She knew she needed information before she could respond.
“Annie?” It was John’s voice, coming from behind.
She turned. “Did you . . . is she . . . ?”
He went to her, hugged her, kissed her cheek. Then he stepped back and put his hands on her shoulders. “We’ll find her. So far, we don’t see any signs that she went down to the water, so that’s good. We’ve got a team there, just to be sure. And a pack of volunteers is on the way.”
Her angst began to settle. “Things are happening fast . . .”
“Bella’s a little kid,” he said with a small smile.
Which, of course, said it all. Annie had lived on the Vineyard long enough to know that neighbors watched out for neighbors. And when anyone needed anyone . . . well, more than once, she’d witnessed islanders gathering to help. Especially when a child was involved.
“My mom’s in the kitchen making food,” John continued. “No surprise, right? A couple of the OB cops are combing every nook and cranny inside the Inn. Lucy’s with them. My dad put together a team to search the meadow. Your year-round tenants are part of it. Two single guys and a couple, right?”
Annie nodded, grateful that the tenants had joined in.
“Linc’s outlining the grid search for them,” John added.
Annie knew that “Linc” was Lincoln Butterfield, an Edgartown detective, like John. Linc and his wife were good friends, too. She also knew that Earl would have known that the meadow was a prime spot to search, because Bella loved to walk among the flowers and was too young to understand that they weren’t blooming in December. “Where’s Kevin?”
“One of the cops said he saw Kevin and Taylor walking into the Wharf. You want me to text him?”
She wrapped her arms around herself. Her brother and Taylor would no longer care about being out for dinner once they heard the news. “Yes. Please. They’ll want to help. And Francine just texted me from your parents’. I have to answer her before she shows up here and gets even more scared than she’ll already be.”
“Jonas told me he didn’t tell her.”
“He’s worried about the baby. And Francine, too. . . .” She stared at John’s black leather boots, their typical high polish now scraped and dusty from the sand down at the beach. Where he’d been looking for Bella.
“Go to my folks’ house,” he said. “Tell Francine what’s going on. Bring her back here. She needs to be part of this, or she’ll never forgive us.”
Annie knew he was right. She lifted her eyes to him. “I love you,” she said. “In case I don’t say it often enough.”
