Pretty Girls Dancing(43)

They couldn’t protect her from that. But Claire could, and would, guard her from anything that threatened to disrupt the growth she’d made.

“You’ve been through the hardest thing a parent could endure,” the agent said. “My being here . . . bringing it up again is difficult. Believe me, I know that. Just a couple of questions, and I’ll be out of your hair. Whitney DeVries disappeared October 30. That was a Friday night.” He paused expectantly. “Do you recall where you were that evening?”

Claire raised a trembling hand to her forehead. Rubbed at an ache that had appeared there. “I . . . home, I guess.”

“That would have been our Auxiliary Trick or Trunk night,” Barbara put in. “Remember, Claire? Before the football game, in the high school parking lot.”

Of course. “Now, I do. I left here . . . about three?” She looked at her friend for agreement. “We decided to buy more candy, although in the end, we had more than enough . . .” Her voice trailed off. “It was over by seven. I was home shortly after that.”

“Who was here with you?”

“Ah . . .” Her thoughts were scrambled. “Just Janie. That was David’s weekend in Columbus. My daughter’s friend stayed the night. They were having a horror-show marathon. The Halloween ones, I think.” She’d made herself scarce for the duration. Claire didn’t need Hollywood’s rendition of horror. She lived with her own.

He nodded. “Your husband mentioned that you had once attended the same church as Brian DeVries’s mother.”

“Yes, years ago.” Claire couldn’t recall the last time she’d been to church. The faith that she’d been raised with had seemed to slip from her grasp after Kelsey was gone. Just one more thing that had vanished with her daughter.

“And you took the girls?”

“Um . . . Kelsey more often than Janie, probably, but certainly both of them at times. Kelsey is the only one who attended any youth activities. That would have been very difficult for Janie back then.” And wouldn’t be a favored activity even now.

“What sort of activities?”

Claire tried to recall. Her mind was a hopeless jumble of thoughts. She sent a beseeching look to her friend, who put in smoothly, “There were youth church nights on Wednesdays. Bible school on Sundays, and I know our kids attended church camp at least a couple of summers together.”

Seizing on the information, Claire nodded. “Yes, Kelsey refused to go back to camp after the second time. By twelve, she’d outgrown it, I think. The following year I switched to a church here in town. I wasn’t really a fan of the new pastor who’d taken over a couple of years earlier. Even less of a fan of his wife.” She sent an apologetic look to her friend. Barbara had been on the church board that had hired the Reverend Mikkelsen.

Mark looked at Barbara. “What about you, Ms. Hunt? Are you still a member of that church?”

“I am, yes. While I don’t always agree with some of Reverend Mikkelsen’s more conservative views, the church does a lot of good work for the community. I know Helen DeVries well and am acquainted with her daughter-in-law.”

“And Whitney DeVries?”

“She’s attended church occasionally with Helen. I’ve met her a time or two.”

“Did she ever take part in the youth activities that your families did?”

Barbara smoothed her slacks with her free hand and took a sip from the mug she held. “I wouldn’t know. I don’t have children that age anymore, and I haven’t been on the church board for years.”

The man stared at her for a moment before snapping his fingers. “Barbara Hunt. I knew that name sounded familiar. You gave a statement after Kelsey Willard disappeared.”

Claire stilled. She shouldn’t be surprised. Anyone connected to their family would have been questioned. And as much time as she’d spent with Claire, Barbara had known her family well.

But something in the woman’s face had needles of caution stabbing through her. “Yes.”

Mark used his free hand to check both his coat pockets before finding a notebook and drawing it out. Expertly, he flipped it open and thumbed through it. Stopped for a moment to read before glancing up again. “You were the last on record to report seeing Kelsey Willard the day she disappeared.”

Claire swayed in her seat. “You . . . you saw Kelsey? When? Where?” Barbara reached for her hand. She snatched it away. “You never told me that. Never. How could you not have told me that?”

Her expression tortured, the woman said, “I didn’t see how it would help you to hear it. It was on Baltimore Street, about three miles from here. She was on her bike. I saw her for only an instant.”

Kelsey’s bike had been found much farther away than that. On Gilbert, just around the corner and down the block from the fire station. Which had been empty, because it was staffed by volunteers on an as-needed basis. Six miles from her house. The one Claire had forbidden her to leave. The one Kelsey had stormed out of, anyway.

You’re not going anywhere, young lady. Not with that attitude. And not on a school night.

I wouldn’t have an attitude if you weren’t on my back about every little thing. She’d shoved her arms through the sleeves of her jacket, her jaw jutted in a way that was becoming all too familiar.