Hannah should have gotten the box by now, and I hope she’s found the phone inside the stuffed bunny. I know she’s desperate to hear from me and has been worried that I’m injured or dead. Hopefully this has put her mind at ease.
I know she often goes for a walk after supper, so I drive about thirty minutes outside of town and try her at six thirty. If she’s followed the same instructions we had for the previous phone, she has it on silence all the time. Still, I call her. It rings to voice mail, which hasn’t been set up. I hang up and hope she’ll see the missed call soon, and that the phone is not still stuffed inside the toy.
I find a park at the edge of a lake, and I get out and walk as I wait for my phone to ring. After a few minutes, it does.
I click it on, my heart pounding. “Hey.”
“Hey.” Her voice is tight, high-pitched. I can tell she wants to say my name, to ask if I’m okay, to demand I tell her everything, but she’s quiet. I hear the wind whooshing, and I know she’s walking.
“Are you all right?” she asks.
“Yes, I’m fine. So you got the bunny?”
“Yes,” she says, “but come on. I almost missed it.”
“I knew you’d try to turn it on. Did Jeff see the box?” I ask.
“No, I was home by myself with Emma when it came. You know, you’re really good at this. It’s a little scary.”
“It’s in my DNA,” I say.
“How come it’s not in mine?”
“I hung out with Dad a lot.”
She’s quiet for a moment, then she says, “They’re saying you’re a hero. You saved that girl.”
My hand is sweating, so I switch to the other ear as I walk out onto a public pier. “Almost got caught, but I got away.”
Footsteps jar her voice. “The media is all over it. It’s like dueling news stories. They released the crime scene pictures.”
“I know.”
“First they call you ‘the homicidal hero,’ then they’re debating whether you’re a psychopath. I want to call them so bad and tell them you’re not any of that.”
“Don’t!” I say. “Don’t ever do that. Do you understand me?”
She sighs. “Yes, of course.”
I lean over a rail and look around to see if anyone is within earshot. “No, I’m serious, Hannah. It’s not just you. It’s Emma, and Jeff, and Mom. You can’t let your emotions lead you into doing something reckless.”
“Me, reckless?” she says. “You’re the one who risked everything for a girl you’d never even met. I have to let them just keep thinking those things about you. The media is crazy here, camping out on the front lawn, blocking our street. I had Jeff park my car on the street behind us and I snuck out the back way just so I could come to the walking park.”
The word sorry seems so useless. “Don’t throw the old phone away at home. They might go through your trash.”
“Can they do that?”
“Yes. Once it’s taken out to the curb it’s fair game. In fact, have Jeff take your garbage to the dump. Don’t leave any of it out for them to dig through. Remember? Dad used to go through trash when he was investigating crimes. The media can do it too.” I draw in a long breath, let it out. “Are they camping out at Mom’s too?”
“Yeah, some of them.”
“How is she?”
“She keeps having these horrible thoughts that you’re going to die. She has all sorts of new rituals. She checks the mailbox about seventy times a day, even though the media is there. I’m taking her to the doctor twice a week. They’re adjusting her dose.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and cover them. “What about the police? Are they harassing you?”
“They come by every so often to see if they can badger me into spilling my guts. I think I’m being followed.”
“Who’s come by? Keegan? Rollins?”
“Yes, they come together.”
My head is starting to ache. “Have they threatened you?”
“Their very existence is a threat. I just keep acting like I’m mad at you, like I hope they find you so this will be over for all of us.”
“Good. Hannah, just tell them whatever they want to hear. You can’t let them think you’re a threat.”
“You’ve told me that over and over.”
I feel the tears rising in my eyes, my throat constricting. “How is Emma? I miss her so much.”
“She’s trying to walk. So precious. I wish I could be like her and be oblivious to all this.” Her voice catches. “I wish you could see her.”
I swallow back the knot in my throat and press my tear ducts. Crying does no good. “I know you’re a great mom. Take care of her.”
“Just worry about you.” She’s quiet for a moment. “Casey, you have to figure out a way through this. I can’t stand never seeing you again.”
“I’m working on it.”
“Really? So there’s a possibility that this will end someday?”
I don’t want to get her hopes up, but maybe hope is just what she needs. “I just have to get enough evidence against them that they can’t squirm out of it. Once I do . . . Yeah, maybe there’s a chance.”
I hear her muffled crying on the other end. I hope she can’t hear mine.