“I was just thinking about everything…Sadie. The investigation—” Pain sweeps across her face and she turns away, but I saw the tears. “But let’s eat.”
After all the groceries are packed away, she sits at the end of the island, her hands in her lap. She doesn’t touch the pastries she brought.
I take another sip of coffee, the steam rising into my nostrils. “I also had a hard time sleeping. I woke around twelve…heard something like a door closing.”
“Probably the neighbors,” Gabriel suggests, too calm.
“Probably.” My eyes meet his. Is he such a good liar that he shows no sign of guilt?
Whatever they were talking about, I was not meant to hear.
For a moment, none of us speaks, enjoying our food in silence.
Then Gabriel’s phone shrills and he glances at the screen, getting up. “It’s the firm. I need to take this.” He steps out onto the balcony, sliding the door shut behind him.
After getting up to wash Coco’s food bowl and refill it, I return to Scarlett.
“I saw you and Gabriel on the beach last night,” I blurt, unable to hold it in any longer.
She puts down a croissant and brushes the fragile crumbs from her fingers with a napkin.
Then she lets out a brittle, almost humorless laugh. “Yes, we both couldn’t sleep and found each other on the beach. Not a good idea because we ended up arguing.” She chews her bottom lip.
“About what?” I meet her gaze head on.
She glances at the closed balcony door, then back at me. Her voice drops. “Gabriel still thinks we should leave town as soon as possible. He asked if I’d help convince you to drop the investigation and go home. He even suggested postponing the funeral for a few weeks or months. He said he’s worried about you.” She shakes her head. “He won’t like that I’m telling you this.”
“The funeral is off, not postponed,” I say sharply. “And I’m not going anywhere until I know the truth about what happened to my daughter.”
Scarlett nods once. “I told him as much and he got upset.”
The balcony door slides open again and my husband steps back into the apartment.
“What’s going on with you two?” Gabriel narrows his eyes, sensing the tension in the air.
“I was just telling Scarlett that I’m not leaving town until I know what happened to Sadie.” I reach for a croissant and bite into it. “Bring me the report from your PI…about the missing kids.”
“Now?” he asks.
“Yes, now,” I say through gritted teeth. “If you don’t mind.”
He looks like he’s about to argue but changes his mind, nods and leaves the kitchen. He returns holding a manila envelope, which he hands to me.
After taking a few breaths to prepare myself, I tip out its contents.
There are printouts, three perfect squares attached to each other with a paperclip. Each one shows a child’s face. But what freezes my insides is the same word printed across the bottom of each image.
MISSING
They were all around Sadie’s age.
SIXTEEN
Scarlett picks up the first photo, stares at it for a second before turning it over to read the writing on the back.
“Eliza Bennett,” she reads softly. “Fourteen.”
Gabriel takes the second. His expression tightens as he does the same. “Marisa Lane. Fifteen.”
