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She snatched her phone. Forget calling the sheriff.
She’d sent a message to the reporter earlier telling her there were more missing children, not to forget them. She’d hoped that would stir things up. Maybe she hadn’t been direct enough.
Time to take the bull by the horns. Her fingers shaking, she dialed the number for the news station.
A woman who identified herself as Roberta answered. “How can I help you?”
“I need to speak to Angelica Gomez about the woman who was injured last night. Tell her to call me as soon as she gets this message. It’s urgent.” She left her number, then hung up and went to the kitchen.
The ingredients for the sugar cookies ridiculed her from the counter. Last night she’d gotten them out and thought she’d make them to honor Becky.
But this morning, she couldn’t bear the thought. Angry and frustrated, she grabbed the flour and sugar and sprinkles and jammed them back in the cabinet. She slammed the door, the empty hollowness of the day mounting.
One Hundred Nine
Crooked Creek
One more day until Christmas.
Another day had passed without putting the Truman family back together again.
Ellie’s nearly bare Christmas tree looked as depressing as she felt this morning. Vera had called after she’d seen the news report the night before, asking if she was all right.
Of course, she’d lied and said she was. Although nothing was right in the world when people sold children like objects.
She rubbed her throbbing head, ducked into the shower and let the warm water assuage her aching muscles while a fresh pot of coffee brewed. She quickly dressed in jeans, a denim shirt and thick socks, chilled just looking through the window at the gray skies. Everywhere she looked the bare branches hung heavy with the weight of the hailstorm. More clouds moved in, topping the sharp ridge and cliffs.
She blew her hair dry then pulled it back into a ponytail, hurrying to the kitchen for coffee. Her phone buzzed from the kitchen island, and she snagged it then checked the number, expecting it to be Derrick or Shondra. Her friend had her hands full the night before after the Trumans had seen the news.
Instead, Angelica’s name appeared. She answered as she stirred sweetener into her coffee.
“Ellie, I just got a call from a woman named Jan Hornsby. You need to hear what she has to say.”
“What’s it about?”
“Just meet us at the police station.”
The urgency in Angelica’s tone made Ellie’s heart skip a beat. Adrenaline surged through her. “See you in half an hour.”
“We’ll be there.”
Ellie grabbed a bagel, smeared it with cream cheese then holstered up, dragged on her coat and gloves and poured her coffee to go. Outside, it took a minute for her defroster to warm up and the wipers to clear the frost on her windshield. Driving even the short distance to town meant watching for black ice. At least traffic was minimal. By now, most of the town had finished their Christmas shopping, and after last night’s news report on MWC aired, families were probably tucked in their houses out of fear.
By the time she arrived, Angelica was parking. She and a thirty-something brunette climbed out, the woman bundled up, and Angelica in a red wool coat and hat. She always looked like dynamite, professional and ready to take on the world. Today an eagerness lit her eyes as if she knew she was on to something, but the other woman had a wariness in her eyes.
Ellie ushered them inside and Angelica made the introductions. “Let’s grab coffee and go to my office,” Ellie said leading them first to the coffee machine and then to the sitting area in the corner of her office, hoping the warm drink and more relaxed seating would ease the tension radiating from Jan Hornsby in thick waves.
“How can I help you?” Ellie asked.
Jan rubbed her fingers up and down the coffee mug, and Angelica offered her a tentative smile. “Jan saw the report about the woman who was brought into the hospital yesterday—Priscilla Wilkinson.”
Ellie fought disappointment. She’d hoped this was about Ava.
“Do you know her, Jan?”
Jan nodded, her shoulders stiff. “We met on a Facebook support site that I started for mothers of missing children.” Her breath gushed out shakily, and Ellie sat up straighter.
“Jan sent me that text about there being other children missing,” Angelica explained.
