The comment cut deeply. “I wouldn’t have expected you to stoop so low,” Annie said, regretting that she’d once confided to Trish her heartache of not having had children.
“Sorry. But don’t get me wrong. I’m sure it’s difficult. However, to be blunt, the girl’s situation will be resolved one way or another—and probably soon. The TV deal, however, will be gone—probably forever—if you can’t give me an answer in time for the deadline. This is business, Annie. If you aren’t up to the task, say so.”
Annie’s cheeks flared. “Since you put it that way, my answer is no.”
And though it was unlike her editor, the woman abruptly hung up.
* * *
The rest of the day went by quickly, too quickly, as it passed the seventy-two-hour mark since Bella had disappeared. Annie worked in tandem with Earl and Kevin, Lucy and Abigail, tending to the needs of the volunteers, many of whom had come back since the storm. Earl had ordered Claire to stay home and rest because she “wasn’t getting any younger,” as if he was. She must really have been tired, because it wasn’t often that she obeyed one of his so-called orders.
Lucy had taken the day off from school and announced that she’d take the next year off—no matter what her father said—if it took them that long to find Bella.
Kevin said that Taylor and Jonas were going to stay home and sleep so that they could relieve the volunteers later that night.
Francine stayed in her room, only appearing for a snack around dinnertime.
People came and went in and out of the Inn, grabbing full thermoses of coffee and brown bags of food. Everyone had fallen into a somber, efficient rhythm, zeroing in on the mission. Annie supposed that, secretly, they all hoped that while they were busy, Bella would be dropped off on their doorstep, safe, well, and glad to be home. Or maybe that was wishful thinking on Annie’s part.
Rose helped out in the kitchen a few times, retreating upstairs now and again when there were too many people and too much going on.
As for the way Trish had dismissed her, Annie felt nothing. Of course, the woman hadn’t confessed—Annie hadn’t expected that—but her potential involvement was one less thing for Annie to have to think about. She’d made her decision heard, and if Trish had Bella, or knew where Bella was, Annie felt sure she’d soon be returned—while there would be time for Annie to change her mind and still meet the deadline. If Trish wasn’t behind the kidnapping, so be it. Annie had said no, and she couldn’t think of a single reason why she should change her mind. Maybe she simply wasn’t cut out for the Hollywood scene; maybe she wasn’t destined to be very rich. And maybe she’d just saved herself a whole lot of grief.
She also was mindful, however, that she might not be thinking too clearly right then.
You’re a survivor, Murphy had once told her.You know how to bounce back no matter what.
She hoped Murphy had been right.
Around nine o’clock, just as Annie was feeling worn out, Taylor and Jonas arrived. Annie showed them where everything was and explained their system, such as it was. Then she decided to go to bed—in her own bed at the cottage. It was silly not to; she’d sleep better there than on a couch or crammed between end tables and chairs. And if the kidnapper dared to return in the middle of the night, she could defend herself. Or not. Either way, she needed to be in her own little house.
As she fastened her parka, Taylor walked into the mudroom.
“Kevin and I want you to take a break tomorrow,” she said. “So you and I are going to Edgartown for lunch. Kevin’s treat.”
Annie almost asked if Taylor had lost her mind. There was no way Annie was going to leave the Inn to “do lunch” until Bella was back.
“Um,” she replied, trying to be tactful because sometimes she still felt off balance with her sister-in-law, “thank you for that. And thank Kevin. But there’s too much to do here.”
“Not tomorrow. Lottie and Georgia Nelson have offered to take care of the food. And Kevin and Jonas will work with the cops to make sure they know what turf the volunteers are covering. So no excuses. Especially since I don’t want to have to tell your brother that you turned me down.” Her long, thick auburn hair was wrapped tightly and pinned atop her head, her amber eyes were lasered at Annie as if they were advising, “Do not argue with me.”
Annie laughed—it felt good to laugh. Maybe Taylor was right; maybe Kevin was, too. And a lunch outing might help soften some of those lines that were now carved deeply into her face.
And when they returned from Edgartown, Bella might be back.
So she agreed. Then she grabbed her phone and headed to the cottage. Halfway there, her text alert sounded.
Standing there in the snow, Annie froze. The message was from Linc.
NO DECIPHERABLE PRINTS ON THE NOTE. SORRY. WE STILL MIGHT GET SOMETHING FROM THE COTTAGE.
Her mood quickly soured as, in the shadowy moonlight of the winter sky, another glimmer of hope evaporated. And, once again, Annie’s world crumbled a little.
Chapter 38
John called Tuesday morning, waking her up. She’d almost forgotten about him, though she refused to analyze what that meant. Maybe she, not Taylor, had lost her mind.
“We waited all day yesterday, but no one was at the Gardners’ address.”
