The security cameras were up high, as the police reports had described. Looking straight down, looking for acts of theft more than faces. It would be hard to spot one blond woman among the sea of humanity that now surrounded her. People had seemingly come from all over—skinny blondes in fancy dresses and heels, overweight blondes in jeans, sweatshirts, and sneakers. Plenty of brunettes as well, and men wearing everything from tailored sports coats to muscle shirts.

Nic was looking for Chief Watkins. But her eyes were drawn to the women, each one pulling at her, wanting her to see her mother so she could take her home and have all of this be over.

Her phone rang when she reached the bar. She took a spare stool between two sets of couples and picked up the call.

“Sweetheart? Are you all right? Where are you?”

Nic heard the concern in her father’s voice. Yes, she was at a bar. But for once, she waved off the bartender who stopped to offer a drink.

“I’m fine. I’m just out. Meeting someone who might have information.”

“What information? Is it about the truck?” He was beginning to panic.

“No. Something else. Probably nothing.”

He waited, breathing heavily into the phone, but Nic didn’t offer more. It was hard to hear with the noise in the room, but more than that, she didn’t want to say the words out loud.

Chief Watkins may have . . .

And then what? May have helped her mother disappear? Kurt Kent’s story felt absurd now.

She changed the subject.

“Dad—Evan told me you saw a fence behind the inn. He said you told him that you had to stop searching the woods because of it.”

“Why? Did something happen? Tell me!” His fear was a tinderbox. She chose her words carefully.

“No, Dad. Calm down,” she lied. It wouldn’t do him any good to picture her like that. Alone in the woods in the town where her mother disappeared.

“Okay, okay . . . yeah, I remember that. I went with one of the search parties. We walked straight back from the road through the property behind the inn and diner. The Booth property. We walked until we hit a fence.”

“With coiled barbed wire?”

“Yes. It was pretty tall. One of the locals said it was probably left there by the old chemical company. They thought the two properties might back up to each other. It was hard to tell how old it was. Why? What’s going on?”

Nic thought about this, about the property that might be on the other side.

“Did anyone search that property—the one on the other side of the fence?”

“I’m sure they did, sweetheart. They searched over thirty miles of land. What is this about?”