The Stillwater Girls(61)

I don’t expect the Gideons to let us stay here forever.

Sage says nothing, tromping upstairs to our room in a sleepy haze.

Lingering in the hallway, I decide some time spent sketching in Brant’s office might take the edge off today, so I head upstairs, swiping my sketch pad and pencil from the dresser in the guest room.

A moment later, I’m showing myself into Brant’s office and adjusting the drafting stool by the window to the perfect height when something catches my eye.

A photograph rests on Brant’s end of the desk, only it isn’t just any photograph.

It’s a photograph of Evie.

How would they have this? Why would they have this? It’s recent, of that I’m certain. She looks exactly the same as the last time I saw her.

My lungs expand, my chest rises and falls, but still, I struggle to breathe. It only takes a moment for me to catch my breath, to calm myself enough to set my thoughts straight. If they have this picture, they might know where she is. They might know something I don’t. This could be a good thing.

I don’t want to think about the alternative.

With her picture carefully clutched against my chest, I run downstairs to demand an explanation.





CHAPTER 42

NICOLETTE

“The person extorting us expects another transfer tomorrow, but Western Union doesn’t open until nine,” Brant tells me as we wash up for bed that night. It’s a couple of hours earlier than we normally wind down, but given the news we just broke to Wren about Evie possibly being our missing daughter, we’re too exhausted to do anything else. “And you’ve frozen the account.”

I press a hot towel against my face, and when I meet my own gaze in the mirror, all I keep picturing is the look on Wren’s face when she dashed down the stairs earlier with Hannah’s picture in her hand.

She took the news with skepticism, like the intelligent girl she is, first implying that we knew where her sister was, that we were hiding information from her, but Brant set her straight. He answered every question she asked with poise and tact, not once letting his true emotions break through.

By the end of our discussion, her demeanor had softened when it hit her that we were her best chance at finding Evie. And that Evie was very much presumed to be alive.

“What happens if we don’t pay?” I ask out of curiosity, not that I’d be willing to find out.

Our gazes intersect in the mirror.

“I don’t know. I’ve yet to take that chance.”

Earlier today, after I’d finished a two-hour phone call with my parents so they could corroborate Brant’s story, he pulled me into his office, and we pored over medical records and documents that he fished out of a cabinet in the corner—including Hannah’s birth certificate and all the letters and threats this extortionist has been sending for the past couple of months.

Whoever it is . . . they know everything.

No wonder Brant took this so seriously.

“What exactly is the FBI doing to find her? Beth is in the city, right?”

“One of their agents is some expert survivalist tracker-locator type. I guess he’s been on assignment here since we got the first letter and it was obvious it was someone who knew us. Beth said he went around talking to people here, watching, looking for suspicious activity. Something tipped him off, and then he insisted on searching the woods. As far as we know, he’s been in the forest for weeks now, but Beth hasn’t heard from him in a while. He’s supposed to check in on his satellite phone every so often, but I’m not sure when he last called.”

“She’s not concerned?” I ask, sliding into bed and situating the covers, though I’m not sure how I’m going to get any sleep tonight.

“Doesn’t seem like it. She said he knows what he’s doing and he’s one of the best.” He climbs in next to me.

Leaning back against my cool pillow, I stare at the ceiling, at the motionless fan above. “So what now?”

Brant slides his hand under the sheets, finding mine. “We don’t stop until we have her in our arms again.”





CHAPTER 43

WREN

It’s been three days since we said our goodbyes to Mama.

Sage cried until her tears dried up, and then she cried some more, soft whimpers in her sleep mostly. But this morning was a different story.

Nicolette got the call around eight.

There was a hit on Sage’s DNA. A match, they said.

They’d found Sage’s family, and they’d been looking for her all this time.

They also regretfully informed us that there were zero hits on my DNA.

“How do I look, Wren?” my sister asks, combing her bangs down her forehead.

“Lovely,” I tell her.

“What do you think they’re like?”

“I bet they’re nice. And I bet you look just like them.”

She smiles. With her dark hair and fine features, she always stuck out like a sore thumb alongside Mama, Evie, and me.

“Girls?” Nicolette stands in the doorway of our room. “They’re going to be here any minute. Just wanted to check on you.”

Sage bites her lip, looking to me. “I want to meet them, Wren, but I don’t want to leave you.”

Blinking away tears, I force a smile. “Everything’s going to be okay no matter what happens.”