“My God. It’s so sickening. What are we supposed to do now?”

“Keep looking for your daughter. We’ll need to rule them out as suspects, of course. And someday, when this is all over, we’ll investigate and try to get a conviction.”

She meets my eyes, a fresh wave of dread moving through her. “My mom is so fragile now. The news about Cameron has been hard enough. This would kill her.”

“Have you spoken with your father lately?”

“A few days ago. I’ve been updating them when I can. You don’t think he’s the one who has her now?”

“Is that possible? Have he and Cameron remained in contact? Would she have gone to him?”

“No. I really don’t think so. He never leaves my mother alone now. It’s sort of ironic.” Her glance hardens. “She can’t travel anymore. It’s why they haven’t come out.”

“I’ll have the sheriff’s department follow up, just to be sure we’re not missing anything.”

Emily says, “Why didn’t Cameron ever tell me what was happening?”

I wish I had a simple answer for her, but there isn’t one. “It’s possible she didn’t remember,” I manage to say. “It happens a lot. Her subconscious probably forced it away to help her endure it. And even if she did remember, she might have been too ashamed to tell you. Most of the time, abuse victims blame themselves for what’s happening to them, as if something they did caused it. It’s one of the hardest pieces to understand. The saddest, too.”

“I didn’t protect her.” Emily’s voice sounds small and gutted, undone. “I let her down.”

I reach out for her arm, wishing there was some way to turn back time for her and for Cameron. And for me, too. I feel the grief grow huge between us. “You never meant to hurt her, Emily. You just didn’t see. Maybe you couldn’t. You had your own scars after all. Everyone does.” Tears spring to my eyes, and I let them come. “There’s still a chance to help. You can start from here.”

She sags against me, surrendering to something. Maybe everything. Over her shoulder, far out on the beach, another search group shouts to one another over the wind. Hector out in front, striding purposefully. The sea is stormy, black water terraced in white lace. “Okay,” she says, gulping breath.

“Okay,” I say back, and we stand there, inches apart, together and alone.

(fifty-eight)

It’s hard to leave Emily at her door after the day we’ve had, but Troy is home, and I know they need time to talk.

“Call anytime,” I say.

“Thanks, Anna. None of this feels good right now, or even doable.” Her voice trembles like fine wire. “But I know you mean to help. That you care about Cameron.”

“I do.”

—