Don't Look for Me(55)

Still, Nic couldn’t sit around and do nothing all morning. Town hall was two miles down the road. She had no car. Roger Booth was here, right in front of her.

“It’s a tall, barbed wire fence,” she said, breaking her promise to Reyes. “And I think it belongs to the neighboring property—maybe one of the old plants.”

Booth’s face lit up then. He seemed happy to be entertaining someone in his apartment, and Nic felt a wave of pity.

“Oh—yes!” he said then. “I’m so silly! I remember now—my father speaking about this years ago. Not about the fence, exactly, but the investors who bought the land and old buildings from Ross Pharma—they were planning to make it some kind of mental facility for criminals, but they never got the permits they needed. The whole town fought it. I remember him saying he’d never let Hastings turn into a prison town. Their property must back right up to mine deep in the woods.”

“And you didn’t think of this when I asked you before?” It seemed very strange to Nic—how many fences could there be in this town? And how did he not know who owned the neighboring land?

Booth appeared to be embarrassed. “I … I’m not sure. You were going for a run in my woods and that made me nervous…”

He had looked nervous then. And now as well.

“Do they still own the property?”

Booth shrugged, set down his teacup. “I think they do. It’s never been for sale. They probably keep it for a tax write-off.”

“There’s a house on that property—with a driveway running down to Abel Hill Lane. But it’s not a registered address. Do you know anything about it?”

“The foreman who kept the grounds had a house. That must be it. Probably ran the separate driveway for some privacy. I heard it was kind of strange. A ranch but with a porch and false roof so it looks like a farmhouse from the front. I think they started a renovation but then didn’t finish after the permits for the facility were blocked.”

“Then it might be abandoned?” Nic said. “And then never searched, the owners never questioned about the night of the storm…”

Booth contemplated this.

“I know the buildings were searched. Reyes did it himself—with one of the state troopers. I heard them talking about it at the diner, how they were falling apart—those old redbrick buildings you can see from River Road. But the land—all of it? And the foreman’s house, I don’t know.”

Nic smiled politely. Booth picked up a spoon and stirred his cup. He added more sugar. He added sugar like a person who really didn’t like tea.

“Can I ask you something else?” she said then.

Booth crossed his legs and leaned away from her. But he still managed a polite, conversational smile.

“How well did you know Daisy Hollander?”

The air became thick between them. Booth froze with that smile on his face. Nic froze as well, acutely aware of the trigger she’d just pulled.

Reyes had been right.

“Daisy?” Booth said softly. “Why do you keep asking about her?”

Nic pushed her chair out and slowly got up.

“You know what,” she said. “Let’s finish this later—I forgot I needed to call my father.”

She started to walk away. When her back turned, she heard Booth’s chair scrape the wood floor. Then his feet shuffling.

He grabbed her by the arm and spun her around. And just like that time in the shed, she felt a kind of strength that was belied by his appearance.

“Why are you here?” he asked her.

Nic shook her head back and forth. No words would come.

“Why are you asking about Daisy?”

Her fear seemed to startle him then. He stepped away and released her arm.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Nic went for the door, but he was upon her again, holding it closed with one arm.

“No—wait. Please don’t go thinking … I’m not like this. I’m not like this.”

Nic stood perfectly still as he began to cry. His face was close to her shoulder, warm tears dripping onto her skin.

“You don’t understand,” he said then. “No one understands. No one knew the truth.”

Nic spoke softly but with conviction. “Let me open this door.”

Booth stepped back several feet, his head hanging in shame. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m not like this.”

Nic opened the door, her mind screaming at her to run from this room.

But instead, she turned around.

“What is the truth?” she asked.

Booth wept into his hands, his tall frame hunching over like an old woman.

“She was pregnant,” he said.

Nic stared at him, mesmerized by his despair.

“That’s why you kept looking for her?” she asked.

Booth sat down on the bed. The sobs slowed as he took deeper breaths. It seemed that he had been here before, to this place of anguish over his lost love. His lost child. And he also knew how to make it recede.

“It was mine,” he answered after a long moment. “I couldn’t tell anyone. I promised her—her family would have been furious. They were strict, you know? Their father used to whip them with a belt over a kitchen chair—and he would wait to do it, sometimes days, to make them suffer from the fear. He’d whip them over nothing, over taking food from the cupboard or being too loud. There’s more—so many things. It was brutal, the way they lived.”