It was half past midnight by the time Natalie pulled into her driveway. Lethargy had set in. Exhaustion claimed her. She trudged up the porch steps and went inside.
She’d spent the afternoon and evening searching for Bunny, following up on any new leads. Now she checked the Weather Channel. Another storm front was headed their way. Today’s search had ended in failure. They would have to start again in the morning. Every year, thousands of missing person cases were investigated by SAR teams across the country. They used survivability statistics to determine when to call off a search. It was always a tough decision. This one would continue for ten more days—or for as long as Bunny would be able to survive in the wilderness. That window could narrow, depending on the severity of the storm.
She checked her watch. Luke was coming over in twenty minutes for a debrief. He hadn’t been to her house since she and Zack had thrown a barbecue last summer, and now she looked around the place, trying to see what other people saw. Last autumn after Zack took off, Natalie had painted the kitchen green and the hallway yellow in an attempt to brighten up the place, with disastrous results. Now she stood in the living room, assessing the mismatched furniture and ugly throw pillows, her books in their rifled-through boxes, a pile of laundry on the sofa, stacks of files on the chairs. Nostalgia usually clouded her vision, but tonight everything looked cheap and embarrassing. No wonder Zack had disparaged her “crib,” but the fact that he’d called it a crib in the first place should’ve clued her in.
There wasn’t enough time in the day to do all the things Natalie wanted to do with her life, so she’d let it all drift. The house, the yard, her personal issues. She couldn’t seem to change directions. She couldn’t get unstuck.
Maybe she was waiting for something. A catalyst. An idea to magically beam itself inside her head, like a sci-fi movie. Like The Day of the Triffids. A foreign body burrowing into her and transforming her into a whole new person.
Anyway, her big excuse … she had her hands full.
Now she did the dishes, took out the garbage, and cleaned up as best she could.
Just as she finished, a pair of headlights flared across the ceiling, and a car engine died outside. She peeked out the living-room window. Luke stepped out of his Ford Ranger, a tall athletic-looking man washed in amber moonlight, like a sepia-tinted photograph.
She’d been expecting him but couldn’t help feeling a nervous flutter in the pit of her stomach. The house was a mess. She was a mess. He rang the doorbell. “Just a minute!” She smoothed her hair behind her ears and opened the door.
He handed her a bottle of wine. “Housewarming gift.”
“Hey, thanks.”
“You’re officially no longer on-call.”
She stepped aside, and he moved into the house with a loping, predatory grace, carrying a woodsy smell in with him.
“Nice paint job,” he observed.
She cringed at the yellow hallway walls. “Yeah, well, I’m quietly mortified.”
“Didn’t these walls used to be white?” he asked.
“A few years ago.”
“Don’t they sell white paint at the hardware store anymore?”
“Ha. You’re funny. Two days in a row. I swear I’m going to get my act together eventually. In the meantime…” She showed him into the living room. “Have a seat.”
He balked. “Any suggestions?”
“Create a space.”
He moved a bunch of reports off a chair and sat down. “Some days it seems all I do is push paperwork from one side of my desk to the other.”
“Sucks to be you.”
He laughed. “You like paperwork, do you?”
She smiled.
“Seriously, though. How’re you holding up?” He folded his arms and studied her carefully.
“Not great,” she admitted. “I can handle the workload. It’s just that there’s a lot of information to process.”
“So let’s start with this morning. Walk me through it.”
Natalie debriefed him on the day’s events, and when she was done, Luke said, “They buried the poppet in Daisy’s yard?”
She nodded. “Ellie admitted to everything. They were jealous of Daisy. They found out about the affair. Daisy and Hathaway weren’t as discreet as they thought they’d been. Anyway, Ellie insists she and her friends had nothing to do with the murder.”
“Do you believe her?”
“I believe my niece, but she could be wrong about her friends. I asked if she thought it was possible India might’ve persuaded Riley to harm Daisy in some way, and Ellie waffled. Apparently India and Berkley were laughing and joking on Thursday, after the news broke. Now this thing with the letters—I think it’s possible that India, Berkley, and Sadie, along with Angela Sandhill, their new recruit … were hexing Ellie for abandoning them. Or else she knows something, and they’re trying to intimidate her into silence. Grace stopped the interview as soon as Ellie admitted they were smoking pot.”
He nodded slowly. “So Ellie might know something about it, but she’s too scared to tell you.”
“It took her a long enough time to fess up,” Natalie said with a heavy heart. “Meanwhile, Grace has gone into protective mode. I’ll give her a call tomorrow, after she’s calmed down. Maybe I can persuade her to bring Ellie into the station for a formal interview. I’ll tell Grace we need to eliminate Ellie as a suspect, that might motivate her.”
“Look,” Luke said, leaning forward. “I don’t believe Ellie’s guilty of anything, either. I’ve known her since she was a kid. But the question is … did she witness a murder? Did any of these girls witness the murder? Or was it worse than that? Did they participate?”
Natalie shuddered at the thought. “Ellie left Berkley’s house shortly before five o’clock and rode her bike home. If we can verify that, then she’s got an alibi.”
“Okay, that leaves the three of them, plus Riley.”
“We can’t forget about Hathaway,” Natalie reminded him. “No alibi. He didn’t want to break up with Daisy. She could’ve been carrying his child.”
“When’s the polygraph scheduled for?”
“Tomorrow afternoon.”
“How did Hathaway act at the funeral?”
“He stayed in the background and left early. I was surprised he showed up at all, considering the affair’s out in the open now, but he clearly had deep feelings for her.”
“Or else he’s a Machiavellian sociopath.”
Natalie nodded. “Let’s see what the polygraph tells us. Meanwhile, I got your message about the supermax facility. Thanks for setting up an appointment with the warden.”
“Tomorrow morning, nine o’clock sharp.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Are you ready for this? Would you like some company?”
“No, I’ll be fine.”
Outside, a strong breeze stirred the fir trees.
“Anything else?”
“Not that I can think of.” She thumbed the numbness out of her eyes.
“Running on fumes?”
“Pretty much.”
“Get some sleep.” Luke’s phone rang, and he picked up. “Hello? Yes, sir.” He cupped his hand over the receiver. “It’s the chief. You all set here?”
“Yeah, thanks for the wine.”
“Don’t drink it all tonight.” He smiled at her, then headed out the door.
Natalie got a bottled water from the fridge and took a couple of Ambiens, wanting the fog of sleep to roll across her brain and snuff her out like a candle. She wondered if she could handle the demands of the task ahead, but, like Joey used to say, “If you can’t handle it, just pretend.”