Nice Girls(38)

“Ronald Obermueller here. I just want to take the time to say thank you for showing up and helping us find one of our revered community members. We wouldn’t be able to do any of this without help from the fine people of Liberty Lake!”

The crowd cheered. A few men even punched the air with their fists.

“As your city council president, I do not tolerate any kind of pain or suffering in this fine city. Liberty Lake is a city of good people, and good people take care of their own. We’re all family over here.”

The crowd broke out into applause and cheering. Mr. Obermueller beamed, the top of his head glinting with sunlight. The faces in the crowd adored him. A decade ago, these same people had been outraged against him. They’d called him a child killer, an alcoholic murderer. They’d cheered over his election loss.

But Mr. Obermueller’s political career had never ended after all. He might not have become mayor, but he’d wormed his way into something just as reputable—city council president. Mr. Obermueller hadn’t just saved his career—he’d made people forget.

He handed Olivia’s father the megaphone, the two of them patting each other on the back. Mr. Willand cleared his throat.

“I couldn’t have said it better myself, Ron, thank you. And thank you all for being here. Everyone’s support and love mean so much to us. Olivia would be just . . . Thank you.” Mr. Willand cleared his throat again, once, twice, the sound of wetness reverberating in the park.

His face had turned bright pink. He handed the megaphone back to Mr. Obermueller and suddenly walked into the pavilion, his shoulders shaking.

Mr. Obermueller quickly took the megaphone again in one hand, his other hand gesturing deliberately as he spoke.

“We will help Olivia Willand today. But we can only do that if we’re cooperative and observant, folks. A few ground rules for our search in Littlewood Park: No one explores by themselves. Always be in a group of two or more. No minors are allowed by themselves, so, parents, please watch out. We’ll be meeting back at the entrance at noon for a break, free lunch for all the volunteers, and a prayer. If anyone wants to stay after, we’ll do another two-hour sweep of the park. Any questions, folks?”

A man in a hunting jacket raised his hand, a sleepy bloodhound sitting still at his feet. “Can we use our dogs to sniff for Olivia?” he asked.

Mr. Obermueller scratched his head.

“That’s a good question, sir. I have no idea. But lucky for us, we’re in the presence here of a Liberty Lake police officer: my son, Kevin.”

Kevin slowly stepped forward. Mr. Obermueller was beaming as he gave him the megaphone, but Kevin looked like he wanted to melt into the ground.

“Hi, everyone,” said Kevin, stammering. “Uh, usually we don’t want animals to contaminate the crime scene or anything. And police dogs are trained for this type of—”

“Baxter here is the best hunting dog in the state, better than those German shepherds you got there,” said the man in the hunting jacket.

“I’m sure he is, sir, but—”

“My pugs are just as well behaved, and they’re very patient with their work,” said an elderly woman.

“I appreciate the enthusiasm, but we, uh, don’t have anything with Olivia’s scent on it.”

Mrs. Willand waved a hand at Kevin.

“I brought some of Olivia’s old clothes and the perfume she always wore,” said Mrs. Willand loudly. “The other dogs can help, too.”

Kevin looked like he was getting a headache from all the suggestions. Mr. Obermueller noticed it, too. He swooped the megaphone out of his son’s hands.

“If any of you folks have a dog interested in helping us out, please wait here as we check with the police. Are we all clear, folks?”

The crowd nodded, slightly impatient.

“And one other thing,” said Mr. Obermueller, a hand stretching out to temper the crowd. “If you find anything of interest in the park, please contact the police. We have a special tip line with them, so please report any items or things or—” Mr. Obermueller paused, the word “bodies” hanging in front of all of us. “Anything of interest, please call the police first.”

As the crowd flooded the trails, Mrs. Willand reached for my arm.

“Mary, you and Olivia played at the reserve a lot, remember? Maybe you could help them retrace those spots that Olivia liked most?” She looked so downtrodden that I nodded. I didn’t mention that Olivia had been restless and wandered everywhere around the park.

Mrs. Willand disappeared into the pavilion, where her husband was still inside.

Dad and I were stuck with the Obermuellers and the man in the deerskin jacket.

“Are you Jay’s daughter?” the man asked me, his voice uncomfortably deep. “I’m John Stack, a client of your father’s.”

“I’m Mary,” I said as we shook hands.

“I’ve been working on his roofing project, Mary,” said Dad softly.

I was meeting the client who made Dad anxious, the one who monitored his progress at work.

“Okay,” said Mr. Obermueller to the rest of us. “I think the kids can get a head start in the woods. You okay with that, Kevin?”

He nodded, not looking at me.

“Good. The rest of us old folks will join you after I’m done with the puppy patrol. And don’t worry, hon,” said Mr. Obermueller, winking at me, “I won’t let John harass your father about the roof.”