Chapters (57)
- Books by Gregg Olsen
- Dedication
- Prologue
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Hear More from Gregg
- Books by Gregg Olsen
- A Letter from Gregg
- Acknowledgements
“That’s crazy,” Joshua says.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
I don’t tell them that Ida and Merritt hadn’t submitted the paperwork to support the orphanage. It could mean any number of things, not all nefarious.
Sarah gets up from the table and runs to a room down the hall.
“Go to her,” I tell Joshua. “She’s in shock.”
He does as he’s told. I get up and wander around the living room. I focus my attention on the wall with the photo of the siblings. In line next to it is a nail puncture and the faint rectangular shape of where it appears another picture once hung. Ruth was bothered by the fact that the photo of her sister and brother-in-law was no longer hanging in the living room. I’ll ask about that later. I’ll also ask about the problems Joshua had with his father.
He and Sarah emerge from one of the bedrooms. Her eyes are framed in red, and he has his hand on her back.
“Where are they?” she asks.
“We’ve sent out a bulletin. Nothing has come in so far.”
I direct my gaze first to Joshua, then to Sarah. “I’ll need you—both of you—to come to the sheriff’s office to make a statement that we can add to the Missing Person’s report.”
“Like when?” he says.
“Now would be best.”
He nods and releases his hand from his sister’s back. “Will you be okay here?”
I don’t give her the space to answer. “You both need to come.”
Sarah nods and disappears to retrieve a sweater. Joshua follows her out the door.
“Aren’t you going to lock up?” I ask.
“Nah,” he says. “Nobody but you and Aunt Ruth have been out here in years. Door doesn’t even have a lock.”
I bend to study the doorknob. He’s right. No deadbolt either. It passes through my mind just then that country living is not for me. I like locks. I like people around me. Even when I don’t speak to them. There’s safety in numbers.
They follow my Taurus in a white Chevy Cavalier that had been parked in the barn. I can be a bit of a lead-foot, so I keep my eye on the rearview mirror. I don’t want to lose them. I shouldn’t have worried. Joshua drives like I do, and we get to the office in record time.
I get a couple of Cokes from the vending machine, and we sit in the same interview room as Ruth and I had. I can still smell her. I add to what they already told me, this time digging deeper.
“Did Mom or Dad have any tattoos or distinguishing birthmarks or scars?”