“As you know,” John replied, “after that whole mess, he moved his family off the Vineyard. Well, now he’s dead. Died last spring. Some kind of cancer.”
She refrained from saying, “Good riddance to the creep.”
“With Thurman out of the picture,” John continued, “there’s one other logical choice. Keep this between us, Annie; in the morning, I’m going to Minneapolis. We’ve been trying to contact Francine’s aunt and uncle, but they’re not getting back to us. Which is not a good sign. And before you ask, no. We did not leave a message saying we were Edgartown police officers. And, no, you can’t come with me.”
She stood mute. And waited.
“I have no idea what, if anything, it means,” he continued. “The aunt and uncle could have planned this all along. They could have come to the island and been staying out of sight. We checked the boats and flights, and their names didn’t come up. But they could have borrowed someone’s ID and rented a car. They could have left the note to stop people from worrying that something bad happened to Bella. And . . . they could be back in Minneapolis by now.”
Annie resisted saying that that was a lot of “coulds.” Especially when John added, “And let’s face it, they’re the only ones we know of who actually have a motive.”
“To bring Francine and Bella back.”
He nodded. “And I know you won’t want to hear this, but there’s a chance Francine knows about it. And has agreed to it. Because it would give her a good excuse to dump Jonas, go back to the Midwest, and have her baby without him.”
Annie was speechless. Did she believe it? Not for a minute. But was it possible? Well, that was the worst part. Because she could not disagree.
Chapter 33
John didn’t stay in the cottage with Annie Saturday night. Instead, he suggested that she take a break and go to his place in Edgartown. As for him, he planned to sleep in Vineyard Haven at the home of an officer who was going with him on the trip; they’d get the early boat, hop the bus to Logan, then catch a 10:00 a.m. flight to Minneapolis, by way of Chicago. Before leaving, he reminded Annie not to say a word to anyone, including his mother and father, about where he was going or when he’d be back, not that he knew the latter.
There was no way Annie was going to stay at his place in Edgartown, though she didn’t tell him that. She had too much on her mind to have to deal with Abigail if, with her father out of sight, the young woman resumed donning her challenging leopard’s spots. Besides, Annie wanted to be at the Inn in case . . . in case.
She was thinking she’d sleep in Francine’s room until Lucy told her that Francine was there, that she’d walked back to the Inn because both Earl and Claire were napping soundly, and hadn’t wanted to disturb them. She’d worked in the kitchen for a little while, but after she’d made lasagna and salad for those who wanted a hot meal, and helped pack dinner boxes of sandwiches and chips for the volunteers who wanted to stay outside, she’d gone upstairs to her—and Bella’s—room.
Which made it even more difficult for Annie to believe that Francine could possibly be involved in Bella’s kidnapping. And angry with John for entertaining the idea.
Annie told Lucy and Abigail to go home; she promised to text them if anything developed. Lucy said she’d be sure to let theOn Timecaptain—whoever it was that night—know that the ferry should be ready if anyone needed to make an emergency crossing.
The girls left, and Annie putzed around the kitchen for a while. As far as she knew, people were still searching, but apparently not nearby, as the grounds had become eerily quiet. Even Winnie had gone home. Kevin stopped by and said he was going to bring Taylor and Jonas home and that he’d try to nap as well.
It was clear to Annie that the first push to try to find Bella had been the strongest; people were notably weary—physically and mentally—and perhaps were beginning to feel that their efforts were in vain.
Sometime after midnight, she grabbed a blanket and a pillow from the linen room, retreated to the reading room, and hung a sign on the door that read: PLEASECOMEIN ANDWAKEMEIFYOUNEEDME. Then she put together what turned out to be a fairly uncomfortable makeshift bed using the barrel chairs (one for her head, the other for her feet) and a couple of end tables to fill in the middle. When she finally was able to stay in one position, she spent the next who-knew-how-long staring up at the ceiling, something she was becoming too adept at doing.
The next thing she knew, she woke up. And she was cold.
Unfolding herself from the bedding and the chairs and tables, she stood up and stretched. She checked the time: nine o’clock. Why was the Inn so still? Then a strange realization swept over her: She was cold because there was no heat in the room. She opened the blinds and peered outside; she couldn’t see the sky. Instead, an all too familiar sight greeted her: blustery, swirling wind, the kind that accompanied snow. Lots of snow.
It only took another moment for her to understand that the power had gone out.
Bella, she thought.Oh, God, where was Bella?
Quickly shoving the furniture back where it belonged and freshening up in the downstairs powder room (where the water in the sink was predictably chilled), Annie tried not to get irritated that Earl and Kevin had put off having a generator installed last year. They’d intended to do it once the holidays were over and things quieted down. But though December was often early for a bad storm on the island, Annie knew better. She had firsthand experience from the year Bella had arrived.
She wrapped herself in the blanket she’d used for sleeping, then went the back way into the kitchen, which was silent, nearly abandoned. No dishes, no food, no thermoses of coffee crowded the big marble-topped island. The only sign of life was Claire, who was dressed in a heavy coat, flannel pants, and what looked like ten-year-old Ugg boots; her unruly hair poked out from beneath her red knit hat. She was sitting on a stool, staring out the window. Her iPad sat idle on her lap.
“Claire?” Annie asked. “You’re back.”
“Came back around two. You slept in the reading room?”
Folding the corners of the blanket, Annie formed small, makeshift pockets for her hands. “I did. But the power’s out, right?”
Claire nodded. “Earl built a fire in the fireplace, but I’m more comfortable in here.”
Annie saw no reason to question her rationale.
“Where is everyone?” Sorrow brushed her heart. The silence seemed . . . dreadful.
