With no need to watch the front and back doors as a group, those who had been have now joined the search, and I try to talk to them as they come in occasionally for water or to use the restroom.
To my surprise Demi Gonzalez has come back out in the middle of the night to help.
“I really appreciate you helping with the search,” I say as she steps out of the bathroom and into the hallway.
“Least I could do when I heard,” she says. “I’m so sorry this has happened. I just can’t wrap my head around it happening twice in the same house. And, my God, poor Keith and Christopher. After all this time and to find precious little Magdalene dead in her own bed.”
Her expression of sadness for Keith and Christopher reminds me to check on Charis, who is probably equally as devastated and not receiving a fraction of the support and condolences.
She starts to make her way back down the hallway, but stops and turns toward me again.
“I’m hesitant to say anything,” she says. “For a variety of reasons—including legal issues of privacy—but . . . given the circumstances . . . I know how important it is that we find your little girl as quickly as possible. This may be nothing. Probably is, but . . . I just . . . Oh, God, I feel so guilty even saying it, but . . . I feel I must. Like I say, it’s probably nothing. Anyway, Brooke Wakefield has been obsessed with having a child for as long as I’ve known her. She’s . . . She was seriously considering adoption. When I say serious . . . she had already converted a spare bedroom in her house into a nursery. Anyway, she kept pestering me to find her a little girl. I mean . . . she was relentless. But then after Magdalene went missing she stopped. I’m talking full stop. She went from bugging me every day about finding her a little girl to saying she has changed her mind. It was the most stark contrast I’ve ever seen—and I’ve been doing this a long time. Then a few weeks later—a few weeks after Magdalene disappeared—she started up again, bugging the fuck out of me to find her a little girl. Something she’s done from then until now. But I just saw her out there while we were searching and she told me she had changed her mind again, that she no longer needed me to find her a little girl to adopt, that she was good. It probably doesn’t mean anything but just in case it did I didn’t want to not have told you. But given that it could cost me my job, please keep it between us.”
“I will,” I say. “And I really appreciate you telling me. Truly.”
As soon as she walks away, I text Roderick.
Has anyone searched Brooke Wakefield’s place yet?
Let me check.
A few moments later, he texts again.
No. It hasn’t been done yet. I’m assuming you have a reason for asking. Want to join me for it and a search of The Sand Witch’s freezers?
Yes.
Pick you up out front in five.
While waiting for Roderick on the narrow street at the edge of Keith and Christopher’s property, various weary searchers—both civilian and law enforcement—pass by, some heading to different search locations, others heading into the Florida House for water and the restroom.
I thank each of them for what they’re doing to help find Taylor and I am so grateful for the opportunity to do so.
As Roderick pulls up, I see Charis in the distance heading this way.
“Give me just a minute,” I say.
I walk over to meet Charis.
“I was hoping to see you,” I say. “To check on you and tell you how sorry I am about Magdalene. Sorry I haven’t been able to until now.”
Her eyes are red and puffy, and it’s obvious she’s been crying.
“That’s so thoughtful of you,” she says, “but don’t you dare apologize for anything. With what you’re dealing with right now . . . It means all the more that you thought of me.”
“And thank you so much for searching for Taylor,” I say. “Especially after us finding Magdalene the way we did.”
Tears crest her swollen eyes and she begins sniffling. “Sorry,” she says.
“I was just thinking how everyone is expressing condolences to Keith and Christopher,” I say. “Comforting them. You were her mom and—”
“Am,” she says. “I am her mom. Will always be.”
I nod. “Of course. I just meant you had her longer than they did and yet I can’t imagine you’re receiving even a small portion of the outpouring they are. They are sitting in the parlor getting to grieve and be cared for while you’re out here searching for Taylor. I just wanted to let you know that I know they weren’t the only ones who lost a child tonight.”
She steps toward me and hugs me and starts to cry harder.
“Thank you,” she says. “Thank you so much. That means . . . so . . . much. You can’t know what that . . . does for me.”
We embrace for a long moment.
As we let go of each other she says, “The only other person to express what you are, to check on me in any way—and it really surprised me that she did—was Brooke Wakefield. I’m sure Demi would if she was here. Derinda, if I saw her, but—”
“Demi is here,” I say. “She came back to help with the search when she heard what happened.”
“Really?” she says.
“Yeah. I just saw her a few minutes ago. Why?”
“I’m just surprised,” she says. “She was supposed to leave town for a conference earlier tonight. And I’d expect her to call or text me if she was here. You sure it was Demi that you spoke to?”
I nod. “Positive.”
“Wow. That’s truly . . . strange. I’ll have to call or text her to see what’s going on. I’m really stunned she hasn’t said anything at all—especially given the fact that she knows we found Magdalene. I just thought she didn’t know yet.”
“Will you do me a favor?” I ask.
“Sure.”
“Will you go inside and find Derinda and the boys and let them know how you’re feeling?” I say. “Will you give them the chance to console and comfort you even as you try to do it for them?”
She hesitates.
“I can take you in there and explain it to them if you like.”
“No, it’s not that. I don’t mind doing it. I know they’ll be great—especially Derinda. She’s such a born caregiver . . . and if anyone knows what a mother would be feeling right now . . . but I’d feel guilty taking that much time away from searching for Taylor.”
“I understand and appreciate that,” I say. “I do, but as Taylor’s dad I’m the one asking you to.”
She nods and gives me a little smile as more tears stream down her cheeks. “Thank you. Okay, I will. But just for a few minutes.”
We begin moving in the direction of the house and Roderick’s unmarked.
“You said Brooke had been kind to you,” I say. “When and where was that? Do you know where she is now?”
She shakes her head. “That was much earlier. I haven’t seen her in a while.”