“I have an address if you will write it down. We can meet you there in one hour. Will that give you time to get in touch with your wife?”

He nodded frantically, wiping at his eyes. “Yes. Please let me speak to Annie.”

There was a pause, and whispered words that he couldn’t catch. Then there was a breath into the phone and Annie spoke, and it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.

CHAPTER 54: Carolyn Thompson

Carolyn stared into the woman’s face, sweet tea and wilted napkins between them on the dining room table. In the background a phone rang, and Becky’s eyes flickered.

“You’re not getting that phone Becky. You’re going to answer my damn question. This is my daughter we are talking about!” Carolyn stood, leaning over and looking into the woman’s watery blue eyes. “Do you think that Michael had anything to do with this?” The phone stopped ringing, and the sudden silence hung stagnant in the room.

“You’ve been asking me the same question for thirty minutes!” Becky’s voice broke. “I don’t know,” she finally said, beaten. “I just don’t know. Michael has always been very private.” The phone started up again, and she shoved to her feet, hurrying to the wall and snatching up the phone. “Hello?”

There was a pause, and then she turned, her eyes large. “It’s Henry. He says he has news about Annie.”

I have one final item to take care of and glance over at Annie, who is fiddling with the radio, flipping through pop stations. She grins at me, and I return her smile, seeing her eyes light up when she finds a song she likes. I quickly create a bogus email address and send an email to John Watkins, one of two deputies listed on the Brooklet Police Department’s online roster. It is a brief email, stating the address where Ralph lay, stating that he may or may not still be alive, and stating that he was the responsible party in the Annie disappearance. I press “Send” and then set the tablet down.

“Okay, sweetie. Let’s go get this kitten.”

CHAPTER 55

Annie’s reunion with her parents was held at a church parking lot ten miles outside of Brooklet. The marquee was faded, the building was poorly maintained, but Carolyn Thompson didn’t notice anything but the empty parking lot. She had quizzed Henry from the moment she had walked in the trailer door, asking questions she knew he didn’t have the answers to, speaking just to speak, nerves frying every receptor in her body. She didn’t trust it, this strange girl calling to return Annie, someone they didn’t know, her intentions unclear. It was too good to be true. And meeting here, without police, smelled like a trap. She wanted to call John, wanted to involve the police or the FBI—who had so far been utterly useless—but Henry had been adamant about following the stranger’s instructions to the tee. So here they waited, alone and exposed, their sanity as much at risk as their safety. She didn’t know if either one of them could handle disappointment at this stage.

She had unloaded Henry’s chair from their handicap-accessible van, and he sat in the sun, his eyes closed, a small smile on his face. He seemed utterly at ease, a condition that infuriated her. How he could be calm baffled her. If only she had been home, had spoken to Annie, heard the words that could have been her last. Henry had had that moment, and she felt cheated—an unfair sentiment, but present all the same.

“It’s late, Henry,” she said tightly, looking at her watch. “She said eight, right? You told me she said eight.”

“Relax Carolyn. It’s only a minute past. Give them a minute.”

And then there was a sound, an engine, and Carolyn almost cried, her heart breaking as she turned, afraid to give credence to her hope. A flash of blond reflected from the passenger side of a truck, and her throat constricted tightly. The truck came to a stop in front of them, the sun’s glare obscuring the windshield and she ran, oblivious to anything but the thought of Annie. She flew to the passenger side, scrambling for the handle, ripping it open and catching Annie when she tumbled out, gripping her tightly and sobbing into her curls, her hands gripping her small body, which squirmed in her grasp. “Oh Annie!” she gasped. There was a squeal of metal on metal and she turned, seeing Henry struggling in his chair, trying to roll over the root-filled dirt, his eyes catching her, and his hands releasing the wheels, straining outward, reaching toward her.

Cursing her inconsideration, she ran, with Annie in her arms, to Henry, falling into his arms, Annie tumbling into his lap, her giggles reaching their ears. Henry’s eyes met hers, tears spilling from them, his mouth shaking as he reached down, cradling Annie’s face, choking on his sobs. His arms grabbed her tight, and the three of them embraced for a very long time.

CHAPTER 56

I watch them, my throat tight, the love that they share evident. They are an older couple, Annie obviously a miracle in their life. I am surprised to see her father in a wheelchair, a scenario I had never considered. I never thought of them at all, my own greed consuming me, my need to kill giddy at the justifiable opportunity that it had been presented. Annie’s giggle reaches me, and I cover my mouth, her childish innocence breaking my heart in two. I feel like an intruder in their private reunion, and I clear my throat, stepping forward.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt, but this belongs to Annie.” I hold out the grey kitten, its body flattening against me as if reluctant to leave. The mother turns, her blue eyes meeting mine for the first moment. She pats Annie as if reassuring herself of her existence, and then steps away, taking steps forward until she stands in front of me.