The Last Thing She Ever Did(24)

“If he was abducted,” David said, “then we’ll catch the freak. Right?”

“We’ll do our best,” the detective said. Clearly she couldn’t promise that.

“Maybe it was a kidnapping for ransom?” Carole said with a little hope in her voice. “We can pay. We will pay anything.”

“Kidnapping for ransom happens more in movies than in real life. If someone contacts you, we’ll need to bring in the FBI.”

Then had come the final possibility. Worse than being kidnapped. Worse even than being molested by some deranged man.

“It might be that he did go into the river. You need to process that, Carole—David. The department has already deployed a dive team to search Mirror Pond.”

Carole had put her hands on her face. David had reached over and held her. “That did not happen,” he said, his voice firm. “Our son is alive. He has to be.”

Esther had heard other parents say the same thing.

“That’s what we all hope,” she had said.





CHAPTER TWELVE

MISSING: ELEVEN HOURS

Liz was on the couch when Owen swung open the front door. He’d tried to call her after he left the office, but she hadn’t picked up. He’d been coming home later and later as work consumed more of his time than ever. When he found her, she was curled up like a snail in its shell. A bottle of wine sat on the coffee table. Her fingers clutched an empty glass. She looked up at him but said nothing.

“I heard the news,” he said, throwing down his laptop case and jacket. “Why didn’t you tell me Charlie was missing?”

Her eyes were puffy. She’d been weeping.

“Sorry,” she said.

Owen dropped his bag and went to console her. She was a mess. Her long brown hair had been fashioned into a messy bun. Loose tendrils brushed her shoulders. Her blouse was disheveled. Her makeup was smeared.

“We need to get over there,” he said.

Her lips trembled and she reached for the bottle of wine. He pushed it from her grasp. She’d had too much.

“I can’t,” she said. She clutched their cat, Bertie, a rescue found in Columbia Park. The gray-and-white tabby’s motor played against Liz’s obvious anguish.

“We have to,” Owen said. “Carole and David need us.”

Liz shifted a little on the couch. Bertie jumped to the floor. The smell of the merlot permeated the space. “I know,” she said. “I just can’t. I don’t feel well, Owen.”

She’d been drinking. That was obvious. However, she didn’t seem drunk. Not the kind of drunk he’d seen her dive into when she couldn’t cope with something.

“The test?” he asked. “Baby, don’t worry about that. That’s small stuff.”

She didn’t answer, and he backtracked a little.

“Small stuff in comparison to Charlie,” he said. “God, I hope he’s okay. You don’t think he fell into the river? They need a goddamn fence over there.”

“I don’t know,” she said.

“We need to get over there,” he said. “You need to be strong for Carole. And David. They must be going through hell. Cops are parked on the street.”

Liz’s eyes met his for the first time, but she didn’t say anything.

Owen nudged her a little. “This is a big deal,” he said. “A damn shit storm. Come on. Pull yourself together. They need us.”

Liz could hardly move. “And do what, Owen?” she asked. “What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “Hug them. Bring them soup.” He heaved a sigh. “God, you’re right. I don’t know what the hell we can do. Hope that Charlie’s all right.”

Liz looked away. “I don’t think he’s all right.”

Owen got up from the couch. “I don’t, either. Let’s get our shit together and get over there.”



It was dusk when Owen and Liz Jarrett pushed past the onlookers who crowded the entrance to the driveway they shared with the Franklins. Liz was more than a decade younger than Carole; her husband twenty years younger than David. While Liz and Carole were at different points in their lives, they had connected in a very real way. It wasn’t a mother-daughter relationship, but more like a kind of sisterhood that came from the ups and downs of living next door. Owen got along with David, but he, like his wife, was more aligned with Carole. They were both techies. Her career with Google impressed Owen. His position with a tech start-up about to blow up made Carole a kindred spirit, or at least a tantalizing benchmark of what success might look like. Everything David and Carole had—the cars, the house, the bank account—was within his grasp too.

Liz had never been motivated by money. She was looking for relationships that were born of emotion, not opportunity.

Once inside the megahome, it took only a second for Liz to have her arms around Carole. Only a heartbeat later both women had dissolved into a muted cacophony of sobs.

Owen stayed close to David. “How are you holding up?”

“Not great,” he said, looking over at the two distraught women. “Managing, I guess.”

“What the hell happened, David?”

“We don’t know. He was in the yard and then he was gone.”