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“Betsy!”
Lorna Bea glanced to the neighboring cabin. The little girl next door was named Betsy. She’d heard her brother teasing her.
Flashlights bobbed up and down as people combed the woods.
The air was hot, the reds, yellows and oranges of the sun disappearing over the lake. Lorna Bea imagined ghosts tiptoeing across the surface, hollow eyes staring back at her as if begging to be free.
“Betsy! Betsy, where are you?” a man called.
Lorna Bea craned her neck to see across the property. Flashlights waved through the darkness, bushes parting. The voices sounded more anxious by the minute.
“Betsy, if you can hear me, call out!”
“Betsy! Where are you?”
A dog barked in the distance, and Lorna Bea scanned the land to the right of the cabin, then climbed higher in the tree so she could see over a thick patch of briars. She spotted a boat dock and a small shed, then thought she saw the little girl ducking inside it.
The man in dark clothes was skulking through the brush toward the shed.
Her father’s warning about bad people made her breath catch. What if he was after the little girl?
Heart hammering, she swung herself from one branch to another until she reached the lowest branch. Then she dropped to the ground. She quickly checked the driveway for her father’s black Pathfinder but he wasn’t back yet, so she snuck into the garage and found a flashlight. Gripping it tightly, she hurried toward the woods.
She used a stick to mark her path as she went. Bugs swarmed her face, and weeds made her legs itchy. She might be on a wild goose chase, but what if that man was after Betsy?
Sweat trickled down her the side of her face. The sound of a boat rumbling mingled with the croaks of the tree frogs and chirping crickets.
She didn’t have a watch but she knew the minutes were ticking by. The shouting grew louder, more intense.
Night closed in, blurring her footpath. The sound of water lapping against the dock told her she was on the right path. Brush rustled to the right and she saw the man again. Cold fear licked her belly and she ducked behind some bushes so he wouldn’t see her.
“Betsy?” she whispered. “Betsy, are you here?”
A light breeze rustled the leaves as she crept closer. When she finally reached the shed, she peered inside, but it was so dark she couldn’t see anything. “Betsy?”
A tiny noise broke the silence. Maybe it was an animal?
Her heart raced. But she shined her light inside the shed, and saw it held a few ropes and paddles.
A second later, she spotted blood on the floor.
TEN
Ellie followed protocol for a possible child abduction and issued an Amber Alert, then called Sheriff Bryce Waters and explained the situation.
“Circulate her photo and description across the state and alert train stations, bus stations and airports,” Ellie said.
“Copy that. What’s your gut telling you about the parents?” the sheriff asked.
“They’re distraught,” Ellie said. “Each thought the other was watching her.”
“Heard that story before,” Bryce said. “Same thing happened at a pool party a couple of weeks ago. Kid drowned.”
“I know.” Worry churned in Ellie as she remembered the gut-wrenching faces of the parents on the news. All it took was a minute to lose a child—turn your head away for a second, and something bad could happen. “Cord has boat patrol scouring the lake. If we don’t find her soon, we’ll get them to drag it.”
God, she hoped it didn’t come to that.
A minute later, the local news van rolled up. Journalist Angelica Gomez—Ellie’s half-sister—stepped from the van, looking impeccable in a black pant suit and heels, the streaks of red in her dark hair shimmering against her caramel skin. Her cameraman Tom unloaded his equipment from the van while Angelica walked toward Ellie with a sympathetic gaze.
