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Her gaze went to the box of glass ornaments she planned to paint with Ava today, then the set of watercolors she planned to wrap for her countdown to Christmas gifts, and her chest throbbed so bad she almost doubled over.
Sixty-Seven
Crooked Creek Police Station
Ellie and Derrick began to compose a cover story that sounded plausible. “Let’s use names that we won’t forget,” Derrick said. “It’s important to base your story on things close to the truth and to keep it simple.”
They tossed around suggestions and decided on a variation of Derrick’s name by using Erikson as their last name.
“I’ll use Mae, since that was my given birth name,” Ellie said.
“I’ll use my father’s name, Jared,” Derrick replied.
Derrick jotted the names down. “Good. Now if we’re going to pay for a child, we need to present ourselves as having money. I’ll be a financial planner with my own consulting firm.”
“And I can work as your accountant,” Ellie said, although truthfully math was not her strong suit.
“That’ll work. Then we can set up a fake work site with clients and financial information.”
Ellie nodded. “We should live in a trendy area with people our age who are more upper class.”
“That would be Buckhead,” Derrick said. “There’s a lot of old money there. In fact, we could divulge that one of our families established a trust fund for us.”
“Let that be you,” Ellie suggested. “Now for the reason we’re seeking a child this way. Let’s say that we’ve been married five years and have tried to conceive. We finally resorted to IVF, but it failed.” She paused, then took a breath. “I’ve been desperate since then and obsessed with becoming a mother.”
“Why aren’t we seeking an infant instead of an older child?” Derrick asked.
Ellie rubbed her forehead in thought. “Let’s use my story. I was adopted when I was four and I know how difficult it is for older children to be placed in forever homes.”
Derrick searched her face. “Are you sure you’re okay with that? I know learning about your past has been difficult.”
Emotions threatened, but Ellie squashed them. She didn’t have time to let her messy personal life interfere with finding Ava. “I’m fine, let’s just do this,” she continued. “Since we both work, we want a school-aged child, preferably five to six years old, so we don’t need childcare during the day. Being the accountant gives me flexibility, though, so I can work at home if necessary and be there when the child gets home from school.”
“Sounds good,” Derrick agreed. “We could throw in there that we plan to adopt a dog. Kids love dogs.”
Ellie’s chest clenched. “Lara said Ava wanted a puppy for Christmas.”
Their gazes locked, tension building. The clock ticked in the background. Another hour into the third day Ava was gone.
Derrick gave a small smile. “I don’t know if they’ll ask. It depends on if these people are selling children for money or if they truly are trying to find good homes for needy kids. But we should have a background story for how we met.”
“Like you said, let’s stick to as many truths as possible. We can say we met during a freak snowstorm where we were both on vacation in the mountains.”
“Not here,” Derrick said. “That could draw suspicion.”
“Then we lived in the same condo building at the time and there was a blackout. All the neighbors congregated in the common room, and we hit it off there.”
“We married six months later,” Derrick said. “At a resort hotel on St. Simon’s Island.”
That sounded wonderful, Ellie thought. Far away from murder and crime. The ocean crystal blue, sun shimmering off the water, waves lapping gently at the shore.
She shook herself back to reality. This was no vacation. Ava’s life was at stake.
Sixty-Eight
Somewhere on the AT
Five-year-old Becky Hornsby rolled into a ball, clenching the sheets to her chest and burying her face in the covers.
