Page 62 of Girl, Remembered

‘Nothing?’

Lisa disconnected the call, then looked worriedly at the phone. ‘Now that I think about it, he’s usually back by now. The store shuts at ten. I can call them if you want? I know the manager.’

‘Please do.’

Lisa found the number in her phone and dialed. She stepped back into the porch.

Ripley wanted to believe it. For about half a second she let herself picture headlights sweeping up the driveway and Edis climbing out with two shopping bags, mildly annoyed at all the fuss over nothing.

She knew better than to trust it. Optimism wasn’t a working theory.

‘Hi, Bryan? It’s Lisa Edis. Is Will at your store?’ A brief pause. ‘When was that? Are you sure?’

Ripley caught half the conversation, but it was enough.

‘Okay, thank you.’ Lisa hung up, then looked at Ripley with eyes on the verge of bursting. ‘He left twenty minutes ago. It’s only a ten minute drive. Where is he, Mia? What’s going on?’

Ripley’s stomach dropped somewhere she’d have to deal with later. Not now. Now she needed Lisa functional, not fearing the worst.

‘I don’t know yet,’ Ripley said, as level as she could make it. ‘That’s why I need your help.’

‘My help?’

‘Call the office. Give them every property Will owns. Every address, even the ones he barely uses. All of them.’

Lisa’s hands were already shaking around the phone. ‘There’s only two that don’t have tenants. The place on Blake Avenue, and the one near Front Royal. Will barely goes to either one.’

Ripley knew the Front Royal place well. Edis had let her son and his family stay there during the height of Doyle’s reign.

‘Do you have keys to both?’

‘Yes. In the kitchen, on the board by the fridge.’ Lisa didn’t move.

‘Go get them. Now.’

Lisa disappeared back into the house and returned thirty seconds later with two keyrings clutched in her fist. ‘Here. I’m coming with-’

‘No. I’ll check them out. I need you to stay here, okay?’ Ripley took the keys. ‘Keep calling Will. Don’t stop. If he calls you back, or if he walks through that door, you call me before you do anything else. Before you hug him, before you yell at him. Me first. Understood?’

‘Understood.’ Then the tears came.

Ripley took her by the shoulders. Lisa was smaller than she looked from a distance, bird-boned under the satin, and up close Ripley could see exactly how fast this woman’s whole world had crumbled to bits.

‘It’s going to be okay,’ Ripley said. ‘I’m going to find him.’

‘You promise?’

There was a rule amongst field agents to never offer empty reassurances to victims’ family members. True despair could only be achieved if hope first laid the groundwork. It was an awful rule, but it was always wise to keep expectations low and not make promises you couldn’t guarantee. Rookie agents were taught it on day one.

Ripley had put the instruction in place herself thirty years ago, and had never broken it.

Until today.

‘Yes. I promise.’

Ripley let go of Lisa and hurried to her car.

Front Royal was about eight minutes away.