CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

WHEN THE POLICE KNOCKED on the Bradleys’ front door, Tiff was initially shocked. She’d forgotten to close the gate. It was so rare to hear someone at the door when she didn’t already know who was on the way. The image of them waiting under the security camera, all business, sent her thoughts wandering to places she tried to avoid.

Her second instinct was fear.

She’d known her daughter was forever gone for years now, but there was this tiny string of hope that remained as long as Lindsay’s body—whatever was left of it—still hadn’t been discovered. There were nights when she’d woken in a sweat from nightmares that started like that moment had, with the knock at the door.

The knob was cold against her palm. Tiff twisted and it opened easily, revealing the uniforms she’d seen on the camera. This wasn’t a dream. “Yes.” She tried to force a smile, but all she could manage was holding back a mother’s agonized sobs.

“Mrs. Bradley, we’re here to see Eve Brookes. Is she available?”

Tiff’s heart started to beat again, pounding in her chest with absolute relief. “Sure. Come on in.” But what did they need with Eve?

There were two of them, a man and a woman, both wearing the same serious composure that gave police added authority. They walked through the door and stopped in the entrance.

The woman reached into one of her many shirt pockets and pulled out a card, then tapped it on the side of her opposite wrist.

“I’ll be right back.”

In the hall, Tiff knocked on Eve’s door. She’d been home from work for only twenty minutes.

Eve opened the door and stood there in jeans and a T-shirt, a towel wrapped around her hair. She’d gained a bit of weight, which gave her a healthy glow, but a darkness still circled her eyes.

“A couple of police officers are here to speak with you.”

Eve took a step back. “Why?”

“They didn’t say. I’m sure it’s nothing serious.” But Tiff really wasn’t. In her experience, police only came to the door when it was serious. “I’ll let them know you’re coming.”

Nodding, Eve shut the door between them.

Eve must have felt the same way Tiff did about surprise visits from authority figures. Between the two of them, they were likely to look as if they had something to hide.

“She’ll be right out,” Tiff told the officers. “Can I get you something to drink—water, soda?”

“No, thank you.” The female officer responded for both of them.

“Please come sit down.”

The woman nodded her agreement.

Tiff led them into the living room, where they both took chairs, and Tiff sat on the couch. Her brain was unable to conjure up a topic of conversation, so they sat in awkward silence until Eve joined them.

She’d towel-dried her hair and combed it into a ponytail, making her look more like Zara than ever before. Tiff had planned to talk with her about Sammy’s condition this afternoon, but she’d wait on committing to that until she found out what was happening here.

“What’s going on?” Eve edged closer to Tiff and sat near the middle of the sofa. “I haven’t done anything.”

“Ma’am.” The female officer, Officer Talbot, took the lead, and Tiff wondered if that was a purposeful tactic to gain Eve’s trust. “We’d like to talk with you about Joseph Crawford. We understand you and Joseph were involved in a relationship for at least a couple of years.”

Eve nodded. “Joey and I were together for almost three years, but I don’t know where he is now.”

Talbot tapped a pen on her notebook. “Listen, I understand you’re refusing to press charges against Mr. Crawford for domestic violence. We know he was the one to send you to the hospital, but without you, we have no proof aside from talking to your daughter. But we’re not here about that. This man—and I know you know what I’m talking about—is seriously bad news. We need him off the streets, and you have the chance to make that happen.”

“What about my kids?”

The male officer, Pittman, shrugged. “What about them?”

“How are you going to be sure Charlotte and Sammy are safe?”

He crossed his arms. “Seems to me the safest they can be is if he’s in prison.”

The color in Eve’s face washed out, as if all her energy had gone down the drain in her shower. “I don’t know anything.” She stood. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.”

The officers took her lead and rose too.

“Listen, you can play it this way, but there will be trouble to come for you and the kids. It’s a guarantee.” Pittman proceeded to the door, his boots loud against the hardwood floor.

Taking the card she still held between her first two fingers, Officer Talbot held it out to Eve. “You can call any time if you change your mind. We can help.”

Eve held her gaze on the card, her mouth silent.

Eve

July 12, 2019

I almost did it. I almost told the cops everything I know about Joey and his network, about the women, the drugs, the violence . . . but I couldn’t. He’s been able to get to me so easily. What if they didn’t have time to reach the kids before he did? He can find them anywhere. No one around here says no to Joey.

I can’t believe I thought he was my savior. Sure, he was better than Chaz. Chaz is very willing to look the other way when a girl is clearly a child, selling her to whoever will give him a buck. I took Joey’s line in the sand as goodness. But there’s no goodness in either one of them. Only danger.

When I get my kids back, we’ll get out of here. Not to another supposedly safe little town, but to a city where we can disappear. No one is going to know who we are or where we came from, and they won’t care, either. We’ll just be another family, nothing to sound the alarm over.

It means leaving Bruce and Tiff. That’s the worst part. Bruce treats me as if I have something important to say, and not because he’s trying to get something from me. He’s careful not to be alone with me except when we drive back and forth from work. He’s the first man I feel like I can trust, and he’ll be the last.

This starting over means no more men in my life, ever. I can’t be trusted to choose wisely, and I can’t risk my kids or my sobriety on some guy who’ll never save me.

Tiff says the only man who has that kind of power is Jesus.