It’s ten-thirty when I pull into the house on Mockingbird Lane.
“I’m home,” I say as I turn off the car.
Stepping onto the porch, I run my hand over the railing, so in need of a paint job. Where my sister and I would run and jump off, pretending we were fairies. The step where I tripped as a four-year- old and knocked out my front tooth.
I find the front door unlocked and step inside, my heels clicking on the floor. “I’m home!”
The house is dark, except for a light at the top of the stairs. I’m sure Dad’s fast asleep. I make my way up the steps, my head spinning with all I have to tell Riley. And I have to call Passport to the World and tell them I’m quitting. Then explain to National Geographic why I won’t be taking the producer position. I have a decent nest egg. I can survive here in Ivy while I pursue my dreams. Like the documentary. And Connor Blake. And detoxing from all the candy.
I knock on Riley’s door and let myself in. “Riley? I have big news!” I flick on the lights.
But the room is empty. Except for the clothes strewn on the floor and Matilda, who runs to me and rests a mangled chew toy at my feet. I reach down and scratch her head.
I check the rest of the upstairs rooms, then holding the puppy, go back down. When I don’t find Riley in the kitchen or the backyard, worry sets in.
“Dad?” I tap on his door. “Dad, wake up.”
I flick on the lamp as he sits up. “What? What is it?” He shields his eyes from the light.
“Where’s Riley?”
He blinks and rubs his neck. “Upstairs. She sat in here and watched Nick at Night with me until nine. Then she went to bed.”
“Did you check on her? You know she went to bed?”
“Yes, yes. What’s wrong? What’s going on?” He throws off the covers, alarm sharpening his features.
“She’s not in the house.” I step back outside and call her name. Three times. Four. No answer.
“Maggie!” Dad yells, shuffling into the living room. “It’s Allison.” He holds up a piece of paper. “There was a note on the kitchen table.”
I wrench it from his hands.
You can’t keep me from Riley forever.
She’s my child. She belongs to me.
—Allison
“Allison must’ve used her key,” Dad says.
I grab a chair to keep from doubling over. “That day in the shed—Allison said you weren’t letting her see Riley.”
“I wasn’t. Allison was getting too unpredictable. Dangerous.”
“She told me she wanted to see Riley. That she would see her.”
Dad sinks into the couch, resting his elbows on his knees. His head falls into his hands. “I didn’t hear a thing.”
I set the puppy down. “What time did you go to bed?”
“Ten.”
“Did you go right to sleep?”
“I was out cold. I haven’t felt good all day. Mrs. Bittle left a little after nine.”
And this is the last thing he needs. I throw my bag on the ground and rip out my phone. I punch in the dreaded three numbers, 9-1-1.
“I need to report a missing child . . .”
My next call is not any easier. “Connor?”
His voice is clipped. “What do you need, Maggie?”
I take a deep, steadying breath. “Riley’s missing.”
“I’ll be at your dad’s in five minutes.”
I hang up and call Beth. Then Mrs. Bittle, and a few neighbors. Anyone I know who might’ve seen or heard anything.
But no one has.
“Maggie?”
I pace back and forth in the living room. “What?”
Dad rolls the tie of his robe in a ball. “Why don’t you, um . . . pray for Riley.”
Resting my hand over my galloping heart, I nod. “Okay, Dad.” We sit on the couch together, and I hold his hand, and I give it all up to God. Because if there was ever a fire to walk through, this is it.
I run upstairs to change quickly into jeans and a T-shirt, and when I return two policemen sit in the living room talking to my dad. I watch the strain build in his shoulders and say another prayer for his heart. I give another officer all the information I have about my meeting that day with Allison.
Connor walks into the house without knocking. I run straight into his arms.
“What happened?” He smoothes my hair, my back. “What in the world is going on?”
I dash away tears and step back. “Riley’s missing. Allison has her.” I recite the note. “I don’t think Riley left voluntarily. She wouldn’t have gone off without Matilda.” I point to the dog curled up at Dad’s feet. “She takes that dog with her everywhere.”
“Okay.” His hands run up and down my arms. “We’ll get her back. We’ll find her.”
And I was doing so good with this fear thing. God, help me to not fall apart. I can’t stand this. Please bring Riley back. I want to spend the rest of my life taking care of that little girl.
“Wait.” I rummage in my bag again. “I have the license plate number of Allison’s friend—or boyfriend.” Or dealer or whatever. “Here!” I hold it up like a gold medal.
Connor takes it and hands it to Officer Peyton. The policeman calls Connor by name, and somehow this makes me feel better. As the two talk quietly, I consider telling Connor about all of my revelations. That I want to be Riley’s guardian. That in all my awkwardness, I’m falling in love with him. And that he was right—I was running scared.
But now isn’t the time. He wouldn’t believe me. And I don’t have the energy to do anything else but focus on getting my niece back.
Ten minutes later, Officer Peyton hangs up his phone and gives Connor the latest update. Connor nods and joins my dad and me on the couch.
“I have a name and address. Bobby Driscoll.”
Dad nods. “She ran around with him a lot last year. Got into some trouble.”
“He’s got a rap sheet a mile long. Minor offenses.”
I close my eyes. I could’ve done without that piece of information. “Let’s go talk to him.”
Though it takes some arm-twisting, I convince my father to remain at the house while Connor and I follow the police to Bobby Driscoll’s. My unease grows as we drive at least ten miles out of town. The three squad cars ahead pull into a rural trailer park neighborhood. They turn in a driveway marked with a broken mailbox and overgrown weeds. I take in every detail of the single-wide trailer. The peeling roof. The dog on the front stoop. The seven cars in the yard.
“Stay here.” Connor gets out with the police. I sit in his truck, my body racked with tremors, my mouth moving silently in prayer like Jane’s on the plane. Please help us. Please help us. I recite what I can remember of her Bible verses over and over. Bring us through, Lord.
Five minutes later, I’m still sitting in the truck shivering, my hands pressed to the windows to see. Obviously my niece isn’t here.
When Connor walks out, I open the door and go to him. “What did you find?”
He shakes his head. “Nothing.”
I close my eyes against a wave of nausea.
“We’ll find her.” He pulls me to him, whispering prayers over Riley. Pleas to God for us.
“Why are there so many cars here?”
Connor drops his arms. “Officer Peyton says Mark Driscoll is known for his parties on the lake. Judging from the beer cans in the yard and the bonfire ashes, I’d say they got started early, then maybe moved it to the water this evening. Peyton’s calling the marina right now to see if anyone’s rented a pontoon.”
“The lake?” God, is the very same body of water that killed my mother going to take my niece as well? Why would my sister even want Riley with her at a party?
I call my dad and update him. Then I phone Beth and give her the same information.
“We dropped the kids off at Mark’s mother’s,” she says. “We’re driving around town looking for her. Or Bobby’s yellow truck. Or that crazy fool sister of yours.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m praying, Maggie. Mark and I are nothing but hopeful. We’re gonna find Riley.”
I should be bolstered by her never-ending optimism. But I’m not. I’m too bone-deep numb.
“Maggie?” Connor stands with Officer Peyton.
I walk to them, my head aching with guilt and fear.
“Bobby rented a party barge at about eight this evening,” the police officer says. “They’re out on the lake somewhere. We don’t know for sure that he has your niece, but it’s a lead we’re going to pursue. We’re heading out to comb Ivy Lake right now. County’s on their way too, as is the Corp of Engineers.”
We get back in our vehicles and caravan the direction we came.
“I’ll drop you off at your house.” Connor turns on some heat, even though his truck reads sixty-eight outside. “I’ll get my boat and search the lake too.”
“It’s so dark.” And the lake’s so big.
Connor makes a few phone calls as he drives to my dad’s. I hear him asking friends to pray, others to join the search.
He stops his truck outside my house, puts it in park, but leaves it running. “I’ll keep you posted.”
I absently nod and shut the door. As he pulls away, I’m bowled over by grief. The fear gnaws at me like a parasite. And the worst of it all, I simply feel helpless. Powerless.
And that just ticks me off.
“Stop! Stop!” I take off running after his truck, my hands waving over my head. “Connor, stop!” I scream with every bit of air I’ve got.
And his brake lights appear.
Then he backs up the truck. And I jump in.
“I’m going with you.”
“Maggie, we don’t have time for you to—”
“Freak out. Yes, I know. I won’t.” At least I’ll try not to. “I have to go, Connor. If we find Riley, she’ll need me.” And this gives me some hope. This child loves me. I may never have been grounded to this earth by the stable love of my father, and my mother is long gone. But my ten-year-old niece is the reason I’m here. And I’m not going to sit in that house and let a moment pass by that I could be searching.
Connor nods in approval as he drives. “Next you’ll want to declare victory over cooking.”
“Let’s not get crazy. I think I’m retiring my skillet for life.” Sometimes you just have to know when to hang your impossible hopes on the Lord . . . and when to cut your losses.
We get to the center of town and I see a familiar minivan.
“Is that Beth?” Connor asks.
“Yep.” I smile as my best friend and her husband zoom by us, the Peppy’s Pizza sign lighting up the top of her van. Fast Delivery Guaranteed.
Two minutes later, we see more familiar cars. “There’s Michael and Jermaine.” Connor points out even more.
Tears spring to my eyes. But not of fear—of hope. Twelve years ago I left Ivy as fast as I could. I had to get away, make something of myself, and remove all traces of the girl I was and the town I loathed. But now this is home. Where people get out in the dark of night to help you. Even if you stood them up at the spring dance or depantsed them in P.E. This is home.
As the seconds turn to eons, we finally reach the Ivy Lake Marina. We jump out, and I follow behind Connor inside. Without speaking, he takes my hand and guides me over the wobbling dock. Don’t look down. Do not look down.
We walk by six boats before coming to Connor’s.
In my delirious state, I read the side of his boat and laugh out loud. “Jedi Lovin’?”
He pats the white-and-navy Bayliner. “May the force be with us.”
My laughter fades as he helps me onto the boat and fits me with a life jacket. He moves my fumbling hands out of the way and snaps me in.
“Take a seat and hold on.”
He fires up the boat, turns on all the lights, unties us from the dock, and out we go. The night air is slightly chilly on my skin, and I adjust my eyes to the dark of the sky above the lake. Let us find her, God. Show us where to go.
Connor builds up some speed, and the wind whips my hair in my face. I want to hold it back, but I need both hands to keep my iron grip on the rail. My stomach churns like I’ve just eaten my weight in hotdogs and gotten on Space Mountain.
“What if we’re wrong?” I yell over the motor. “What if we’re wasting time on a false lead?”
“It’s the best tip we’ve got.” His focus remains on the water. “There are tons of people out searching. Within the hour, the county will be covered.”
Connor keeps the phone close and pulls it out every few minutes to check in. And each time he looks at me and shakes his head. He stands at the helm like the captain of a pirate ship. Wind-blown hair, confident in his abilities, and intent on his prey.
We weave through islands and coves. We cross to the other side and check the docks on the border of the next town. Connor stops and questions the occasional late-night fisherman. But there’s no sign of Bobby Driscoll and my sister. No trace of Riley.
He checks his texts again, then nods. The boat slices the water in a quick turn, and he aims Jedi Lovin’ down an alley of water I think we passed awhile back.
I slide myself across the seat cushions, take a few steps on legs of jelly, and sit right behind Connor.
He turns around. “An old fisherman and his son were listening to the scanner. They called in and said they saw a pontoon down at Maple Cove. It’s about ten minutes this way. There’s a narrow channel that I didn’t try, but I guess it’s wide enough to get through. Police are on their way, but we’re closer.” Connor’s eyes lock with mine. “We’ve been told to wait.”
“No.” I shake my head, the blood rushing in my head. “We have to go. Now.”
He nods once. “That’s all I needed to hear.”
The boat’s roar builds, and I squeeze my eyes shut as the water sprays my face. I focus on breathing in and out. Because it would be really cool if I didn’t puke right now. I hang on to the armrests like the seat could self-eject at any second.
Just when I think I can’t take any more, Connor jostles my arm. “There it is.”
I peel open my eyelids as he points to a pontoon fifty yards away.
The boat noise plummets to a whine as Connor brings down the speed. The pontoon gets a little closer, and I can make out some people dancing on board. They’re packed on there like a swarm of ants. Drinking. Laughing.
Let my niece be here. Please, Jesus. Let her be safe.
A few minutes pass as the boat idles. The current pulls us closer to the larger craft.
“We can’t ride right up to it,” I say. “We have to be as subtle as possible. My sister has to be out of her head tonight. I don’t want to scare her into doing something crazy.” If she’s there. And if she has Riley.
Connor lowers the anchor. “You stay here while I swim over to them. But do not so much as move a muscle on this boat. Do you hear me, Maggie?”
“I’m going.” I stand up and grab on to the seat back for support. “I’m going with you.” I nod, whether to assure myself or Connor, I don’t know.
Connor hesitates. Shakes his head.
“Yes.” I jerk my hand toward the boat. “If my niece is there, I’m taking her back with me. You can beat up any goons that get in my way.”
His left cheek dimples. “This isn’t a movie. I don’t expect a showdown.”
I pat his hand. “Then just stand there and look pretty.”
When I stand on the seats and look down into the lake I must jump into, my bravado sinks like a fish carcass.
“You ready?” Connor whispers.
“Uh-huh.” The water dances below me, lapping at the boat. If it had a voice, I know it would be mocking me. Taunting my cowardice.
With a battle cry, I fling myself off the slick boat and flail feet first into the lake. I hold my nose. I squish my eyes shut. I scream out a prayer to the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.
And on Jane’s behalf, I’m pretty sure I pee my pants.
The water explodes by my shoulder as Connor cannonballs next to me. My arms and legs are a spasm of movement as I pull my chin up, squirt out water like a fountain, and wonder at the sheer stupidity of my action.
“I can’t swim.” I pant and paddle. “I can’t swim.”
Connor’s hand reaches for my vest and pulls it up. “Breathe. Maggie, look at me.” His voice is sharp as steel. “Stop moving!”
I cease my floundering. My legs go limp. My arms latch on to his. “Okay, okay, okay. I’ve got it.”
“You should get back in the boat.”
“No.” I clamp my teeth together. What was I thinking? My dad’s critical voice pierces my memory. What kind of idiot can’t swim? You are such a baby.
“Let the life vest do the work.” Connor’s words are softer, a contrast to the loud party noises coming from the pontoon. “You don’t have to know how to swim. Just tread. Push the water away with your hands.” He demonstrates. “You got it?”
I nod like an idiot. Of course I don’t have it.
Resembling a dog in its first bath, I become a catastrophe of movement, my clothes clinging and weighing me down. But somehow I keep up with Connor, as he deftly glides across the lake. I hear a few voices calling attention to our presence, but mostly the party seems to continue without pause.
Connor jerks his head toward the back of the boat. “Around here.” He pulls me to him, and I make a pathetic eek in the back of my throat.
We swim around to the other side. A ladder hangs over the edge, and he helps me up. My feet slip off the first rung, but with a push to my backside, I move up to the top. Glancing back, I see Connor’s right behind. And with the hope that Riley is on board, I keep going.
And fall right over the edge and into the boat.
I land in a heap, bringing down a girl in a bikini top.
“Hey!” she yells.
“Sorry.” I want to inform her that I just swam all by myself, but I don’t think she’d care. And I don’t have the time.
Connor’s hand beneath my armpit hoists me up. “Stay with me.” And I don’t know whether he means stick by his side or just do a better job of staying upright.
We weave through the crush of people, and my senses are overwhelmed by the odd smells, the sight of drugs, and the fact that it is a huge injustice that any dope-head should have the gift of looking amazingly toned in a two-piece.
Connor and I make a full circle around the boat. And finally I spot my sister. She dances to a rap song, a drink in one hand, a cigarette in the other. Three people crowd around her like she’s the center of her own party.
“Allison!” I toss out any ideas of being calm and subtle. “Where is she?”
My sister continues her dance, her eyes hazy and slow in finding me. “Hey, Maggie.” She spies Connor and a little frown puckers her brow. “What’s the deal?”
I move a couple out of my way and step closer. “Where’s Riley?”
She tilts her head. “I don’t know what you mean. But she’s my kid, so it’s none of your concern.”
Sloshing in my life jacket, I charge Allison. I reach for the neck of her T-shirt and drag her to me. “Tell me where my niece is!”
Strong arms pull me back. Connor tucks me to his side. “Allison, Riley is missing, and we’re really worried. The whole town is looking for her.”
Allison takes a drink and giggles like a junior-high deviant. “You’re not invited, so get off the boat. I’m the mother, and I’ll take care of my own kid. You think you know what’s best for me, but you don’t.” She staggers and waves the bottle in my face. “We were fine until Dad started interfering. Then you.”
“Please.” My voice is hollow with desperation. “Please tell me. She has a puppy now. I just want to give her the dog.” The lie sounds ridiculous even to me.
“What’s going on?” A pot-bellied man with a sleeveless shirt that reads Tanksley’s Body Shop stumbles to us. His eyes glow pink, and he reeks of sweat and something I can’t even begin to guess at. “These people bugging you, Allison?”
“Yes,” she pouts. “Get them out of here, Bobby.”
He rounds on us, and I instinctively shrink back. Connor does not. “You have a child somewhere.” Connor’s face could scare the fun out of any party. “Hand her over and we’ll leave you and your friends.”
“You think you’re so much better than me.” Allison steps around Bobby. She shoves at me with her unsteady hand. “You have to ruin everything. My kid, my party, and don’t forget—my mother. You should be the one who’s screwed up, not me. You’re the one who watched our mother die. You just stood there.” She pushes me again. I edge toward the side of the boat and ground my feet. “You can’t have my daughter back!”
“Noooo!”
I turn at a sound equivalent to angel’s singing. My niece digs herself out from beneath a row of seating. Shoving upholstery pillows off, she flies straight to her mom.
“Stop it!” She pushes her whole body into Allison.
“Allison.” I steady my voice. “You know this isn’t right. Just let her come home with me. For tonight. You can pick her up tomorrow.” When the police are waiting for you. I turn to Connor for help, but he’s got Bobby pinned in a headlock, shoving another guy off with his elbow.
Allison grabs Riley by the hair and pulls her to her side. My niece gasps, her mouth open in pain.
“No way, sister. I’m not as dumb as you and Dad think I am.”
Riley’s eyes beg for me to intercede. “You’re hurting your daughter. This isn’t you.” I advance a step.
Allison takes two back. She inches away from me, dragging Riley with her. She takes a drag of her beer. “You can’t have her. You will never have her. She is all I have left.”
I make a dive for it, and in the seconds that pass, I watch in horror as Allison flings out a hand to hold me off. Riley’s head connects with Allison’s glass bottle. Pain makes her eyes go wide. Then they close.
A cry rips from the depths of my soul as Riley tips backward.
Her small, limp body hits the water.
And sinks.