Though she had no answers, Annie was reassured that at least her brain was working again. Her thought process felt sensible and logical and had quieted her innards. Until light suddenly flooded the reading room, and Annie was no longer alone.
She blinked.
“There you are.” The intruder was Earl. He held a large mug that emitted an aroma of hot chocolate. “My son’s on his way. He has a list of things for us to do.” He pulled out a chair and sat opposite her at the small table. “Are you okay?”
“Holding my own. How ’bout you?”
He sighed one of his heavy, weary sighs. He rubbed his spikey eyebrows and scratched at the stubble on his chin. “Esau Gibbons wanted to haul over a couple of his old haying rakes—the kind on wheels. He said we could pull ’em by hand, like they were wagons. He thought they’d comb a wider swath in the meadow than what we can do by walking slow. He was all revved up about it, until I pointed out that the rakes might hurt Bella along the way, not to mention scare the bejeepers out of her. . . .” He choked up. “He meant well, though.” He bowed his head and scratched his chin again.
“It’s okay,” Annie said, “it’s early yet.”
“No, it’s not okay. It’s been hours since our little one disappeared. It’s cold outside now. And really dark.”
She looked at the clock. He was right. It had been hours. But though it felt as if things had been happening in snail’space motion, the time had somehow sped by. And every hour that passed portended an outcome that would not be positive.
“How’s Jonas?” she asked. “And how was Francine with him?”
He snorted. “Best as I can tell, she doesn’t want to talk to him. Other than when she told him to go home to his mother’s, that she doesn’t want him around the Inn or anywhere near her, that he’s already done enough damage.”
Annie’s heart began to ache. “Did he leave?”
“They’re not done in the meadow, so he’s still out there. But he’s staying clear of her.”
Annie nodded without commenting. She couldn’t get involved in the young couple’s discord; right then, on the scale of importance, it needed to be low.
Then Claire and Francine appeared. Francine’s cheeks were red, either from being out in the cold or from crying.
A minute later, John arrived. Lucy was with him. And another Edgartown police officer whom Annie didn’t know.
Everyone except John and the other cop sat on one of the barrel chairs.
“I brought Jeremy along,” John said, “to take your fingerprints.”
Annie supposed the others were as surprised as she was.
“Sorry, but that way we’ll be able to quickly dismiss them if they show up where we dust—which they likely will.”
No one challenged John. So Jeremy opened a leather valise and began the process.
“We’ll get Kevin and Taylor’s later,” John added. He didn’t mention Jonas. Maybe they’d already taken his.
While Jeremy was busy, John turned to Annie. “Can you get some paper and pens? Sometimes it’s good to do things the old-fashioned way.”
She stood and quickly went out to the reception area, where she grabbed a few pencils and small notepads that readThe Vineyard Inn—Chappaquiddick’s Finest Resort. The tagline had been a joke that Earl had come up with, as the Inn was the only one on Chappy.
Back in the reading room, she distributed the materials, returned to her chair, and waited in silence until the process of the fingerprinting was complete. She was glad John was in charge. And that she didn’t have to be.
When Jeremy left, John continued. “Mom,” he said to Claire, “I’ll start with you. The food on the table looks fabulous. But a lot of folks won’t want to stop to come inside. I need you to figure out how much coffee, cream, sugar, hot chocolate—whatever you think they’re going to need. That includes paper towels, toilet paper, paper cups, and small bags for sandwiches. Plan to have enough to last a few days, just in case. Once you’re done, I’ll call Stop and Shop. They’ll get the order to theOn Time.”
He turned to Earl. “Dad, I’ll let you know what time to go to the ferry and pick it up. For now we’re concentrating on searching the grounds at the Inn, up and down both sides of North Neck Road, and on the shore from the Gut to theOn Time.”
Annie knew that the Gut was the channel this side of the Cape Poge Lighthouse, which was on the northernmost tip of Chappy. She also knew that it seemed like an awfully large area in which to find a 21.8-pound little girl.
“By dawn I hope to have volunteers spread north through the Gut and into the bay,” John was saying, “then east past the burying ground and out to Pease Pond, west by land between here and Chappy Road down to the ferry, and south as far as we need to go. I’ll keep you updated so you can bring supplies out to them. They might need fresh hats and gloves, too, so find out how and where to get some. Maybe Lucy can help with that. And Abigail, if she ever shows up.”
Annie blinked twice at the sound of Abigail’s name. John did not seem pleased that his other daughter wasn’t there. But where was she? And why wasn’t she helping? Annie steadied her gaze on him, hoping no one had noticed her reaction.
Then John scanned the room. “Where’s Jonas?”
