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I click Bailey’s leash onto her collar and take a quick moment to hug her. The cop doesn’t seem patient enough to wait for me to put Bailey’s training vest on her. “It’s going to be okay. It’s going to be okay.” I repeat the words slowly and softly to myself a few more times and straighten to my feet.
I open the door again. Bailey remains sitting by my feet. My hands are no less shaky than before.
“Do you live in this house?” The cop’s appearance might be nothing like my husband’s, but his voice is the same block of ice.
“Yes. I-is something wrong?” My gaze wants to check over his shoulder to see if my neighbors are watching. But he’s big and bulky and I can’t see past him.
He studies me for a fraction of a second. It’s long enough to send my pulse thundering in my ears and it feels like my heart is attempting to burst out of my chest.
Think about Amelia. I imagine her running through the San Diego waves, giggling. I skip and dance alongside her, laughing and enjoying our temporary freedom. The scent of coconut sunscreen mingles with the salty breeze.
It works. Slightly. My pulse still pounds in my ears, but it’s slower and quieter than a moment ago. The trembling remains the same.
“I’m looking for a missing woman and her seventeen-month-old daughter. They were last seen yesterday around noon. Have you seen them?” He shows me a recent photo of Violet and Sophie on his phone. Violet is smiling, but there’s an emptiness in her eyes that tells me the smile is fake. For the camera’s benefit.
It’s a look that screams for help. That begs for someone to release her from her own private hell. It’s not the kind of photo you would expect to be shown when looking for a missing person.
Or…her husband is using the photo for his benefit, setting Violet up for the biggest fall of her life. Clearly, she’s not mentally stable, your honor. My wife shouldn’t be allowed custody of our daughter.
I nod, unable to take my eyes off the picture, unwilling to let the officer peer into them. “That’s Violet Wilson. She used to be in my yoga class.”
He lowers his phone, not giving me a choice but to look up at him. “Have you seen her since then?” he asks.
“This is a small town. I bump into her at the store from time to time.”
“Did you see her yesterday?”
“No.” Please tell me no one saw her coming here. Please tell me—
“Is there any reason you’re nervous?”
“N-no.” I fight the urge to rub my clammy hands on my thighs.
“Is there a problem, Officer?”
Troy. He’s carrying a white box with the Picnic & Treats logo on it.
What’s he doing here? I didn’t see him walk up the path leading to my front door, but here he is. Thank God.
The cop pivots. “Hey, Troy. What are you doing here?” His voice is friendlier than it has been the entire time he’s been talking to me.
“Hey, Roy. I came to see my girlfriend.” Troy nods at me, his expression somewhat relaxed, but not as relaxed as it normally would be. His gaze remains on the cop.
“Have you seen Violet Wilson and Chief Wilson’s daughter, Sophie?”
“Not for a few days. Why?”
“They’re missing. They haven’t been seen since yesterday.” Roy’s voice is even, but not even enough to mask his concern at their disappearance.
Troy’s brow creases into a slight frown. “Maybe they’re visiting relatives.”
“They haven’t seen her or heard from her in the past few months.”
God, her family must be freaking out of their minds right now. They have no idea where Violet and Sophie are. The less they know about her disappearance, the better. Then they are less likely to accidentally give anything away to the authorities.
“Does Chief Wilson think they’ve been kidnapped?” Troy asks.
If Wilson suspects that’s the case, why hasn’t the police department issued an Amber Alert? Even if they have reason to believe his wife has kidnapped his daughter, he should be issuing the alarm.
