B009QTK5QA EBOK (5 page)

“I don’t say that easily,” Rodney said, staring across the table at me, pushing his plate aside. “Because I know what hearing that means for you.”

I wasn’t sure if he really did or not. Unless your own child had been abducted, I wasn’t sure that anyone could quite understand what the roller coaster of information and emotions was like. But I did believe him that he wasn’t giving me some flippant opinion. If he was willing to look in my eyes and say those words, he had a reason.

I cleared my throat. “Why do you think Elizabeth is alive?”

He laid his hands flat on the table. “A couple of reasons. First, you’ve done an excellent job keeping her case alive.”

I shrugged. “I guess.”

He shook his head. “No. You have. You’ve been constant. Her presence, despite the time she’s been gone, hasn’t been diminished. People in the community still know her name. Her disappearance is still discussed. That’s a good thing. It makes people aware.”

“All parents don’t do that?” I asked.

“Most parents can’t,” he explained. “They become overwhelmed. They give up hope. They move on. They don’t forget their child, but they don’t have the energy to face their missing son or daughter every single day.” His eyes filled with sympathy. “You don’t seem to fall into that category.”

He was right. I’d given over my life to finding her. It had ended my career and my marriage. It consumed me. I had the energy. As long as I didn’t mind the isolation.

“So her disappearance and her name are still in the public consciousness,” Rodney said. “She hasn’t been forgotten. There are people who are still, in some way, looking for her. Not just you.”

I glanced at Isabel, then fiddled with the napkin under the glass of water, pulling at the corner.

“So this new lead...it's a good one?” he asked.

“I think so. As good as I've had in a while. I think she was here in Minnesota.”

He nodded. “Do you know the statistics about children who are still alive after the first few weeks following their abduction?”

“I know the chances are better that they’re alive.”

“Not just better, Joe,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Astronomically better. It’s something like sixty percent at ninety days. Seventy-five percent after a year. But after several years?”  A faint smile crept on his old mouth. “It’s very likely that your daughter is alive somewhere.”

My heart beat quickly. He wasn’t telling me things I didn’t already know, but someone who knew what he was talking about was giving me hard numbers. Statistical probabilities that were in Elizabeth’s favor.

In my favor.

He folded his bony hands together on the table. “But here’s the biggest reason I think your daughter is alive.”

I tore off the corner of the napkin, rolled it into a ball and dropped it in the water.

“You know from the message-board world about the rumors that pop up,” he said, staring across the table at me. “People will say anything.”

“It’s the hardest part,” I said. “At least it used to be for me. Distinguishing leads or facts from utter crap.”

He nodded. “Yes. Exactly. People like to insert themselves in the drama. It is hurtful and insidious. I’d like to see those that spread false information treated just as harshly as abductors.”

The bell above the diner door jingled and two college-aged girls came in, shaking snow from their coats and laughing.

“But if you look hard enough, you can find grains of truth even in the rumors,” he continued. “And if you see something enough, there is usually some truth to be found in it. Maybe the story is that the child is living in some city in Africa. Ten people give ten different African countries. It might not be Africa, but it usually turns out that the child is alive somewhere.”

I wasn’t sure where he was going.

“And some horrific individuals will start reporting awful things about a child’s death,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. “Ten different ways the child has been killed. None of them may be true, but there’s a good chance that the child is no longer with us.”  He paused. “There is usually an inkling of truth if there’s enough crap out there.”

“Okay,” I said, a bit annoyed at what felt like his going on a tangent. “But what does that have to do with Elizabeth?”

Rodney settled back into the booth and drummed his fingers on the table. “I spent a lot of time researching your daughter’s disappearance after
…
after, um
…
” His voice trailed off, unable to recall what he was trying to remember.

“After you heard about Topeka?” Isabel offered.

He snapped his fingers. “Yes. After Topeka. I tried to find every word I could that was written about her, you, the disappearance.”  A mirthless smile crept across his face. “Again. A retired old cop has a lot of free time.”

Isabel smiled at him.

“But I don’t think there’s anything left for me to read about your daughter,” he said.

“Okay,” I said, still not understanding.

“People have claimed a lot of things about your daughter,” he said. “No doubt, you’ve seen them all.”

I had. I’d followed up on all of them in one way or another.

“In different places, with different people, doing different things,” he said. “Hard to make heads or tails out of most of it, but I’m guessing you’ve probably run it all down, discredited all of it.”

I nodded.  “Yeah. I have.”

He smiled, the corners of his mouth pulled upward.

“What?” I said.

He leaned forward, setting his elbows on the table, his eyes sparkling. “Not once has anyone
anywhere
claimed that your daughter is dead.”

THIRTEEN

I thought hard about that.

“Not once, Joe,” he said, holding up a finger. “Not once has anyone reported her death. That is a rarity.”

“So you think that means she’s alive?” I asked.

He hesitated, then nodded. “I do. There is very little that points to her death. Virtually nothing.” He paused again. “Dead bodies turn up. Bones don’t stay hidden. They turn up. Almost always. You have to know that as a former cop.”

He was right. Bodies very rarely stayed hidden. They turned up eventually.

“I find it hard to believe that your daughter is gone from us when her death has never even been rumored nor her body located after such a long time,” he said, shaking his head. “It would be a first.”

I was always aware that she’d never been reported dead. It was my lifeline. I clung to it. But I’d never thought about it in the context that Rodney had just placed it. I wasn’t sure I was ready to take it as absolute truth, but if nothing else, it gave a bit more strength to my hope.

Rodney made a fist and knocked it against the table. “I truly believe Sarah is alive.”

I stared at him. “Elizabeth,” I corrected.

Confusion flitted through his eyes and Isabel shifted in the booth next to him.

“Elizabeth?” he asked.

“My daughter’s name,” I said. “It’s Elizabeth. Not Sarah.”

His cheeks flushed. “Yes. Of course. I’m sorry. Elizabeth. Just got confused for a moment.”  He chuckled, glancing at Isabel. “Must be my nap time.”

Isabel touched his arm and smiled warmly at him. “Long day.”

He patted her hand. “Yes. So I should probably be going.”  He turned back to me. “I would be happy to help you any way I can while you’re here.”

“Thank you,” I said. “I appreciate that.”

He slid slowly out of the booth and Isabel followed him, helping him get situated in the walker.

“She can get you my contact info,” he said. He extended a hand, leaning heavily on the other. “I’d really like for you to find your daughter.”

I shook his hand. “Thank you. Me, too.”

“I’ll be right back,” Isabel said.

I nodded and they shuffled off across the diner and out the front door.

I sat back in the booth, digesting what he’d said. He hadn’t really given me any facts or anything to follow, but at the very least, it helped to hear someone else who knew what they were talking about support my belief that Elizabeth was alive. I also thought he might be able to help me in Minneapolis. Names, contacts, introductions. He seemed sincere in his desire to help and I appreciated that. I would use it when the time came.

But there was a problem.

Isabel returned and slid back into the booth.

“He drives himself?” I asked.

She nodded. “Yep. He probably shouldn’t, but for right now, he refuses to give it up. Stubborn old bird.”

“He’s Tess’s father,” I said. “That’s why you sent me to her.”

“Didn’t think it was my place to put you in touch with him.”

“Because of the memory issues?” I asked.  “You weren’t sure Tess would be okay with it? Or that he was competent?”

Her face clouded over.

“You didn’t think I’d notice?” I asked. “Or you hoped it wouldn’t show up?”

She stared down at the table for a moment before catching my eyes again. “I probably should’ve mentioned it before we met him. But, quite honestly, it hasn’t been an issue and I forget about it.”

“He got confused on several things,” I said.

“Small things.”

“Still.”

“He was diagnosed six months ago with Alzheimer’s,” she said.

It was like a punch to the stomach.

“But it’s barely shown up,” she said. “Small things, rare occasions. That’s it.”

“Sure.”

“Joe,” she said. “I’m serious.”

I looked away from her. The two college girls were whispering across their table, serious expressions on their faces.

“Look, I appreciate his opinions,” I said. “But I don't know how much help he can be when his memory is going. And if that sounds harsh
…
sorry. But I can’t afford to be led in the wrong direction. For all I know, he could’ve been talking about some other kid tonight.”

“That’s unfair,” she said, frowning. “He screwed up a couple of names and couldn’t remember the name of a city in Kansas. Jesus Christ, I screw up names all the time.”

“It’s different.”

“No, it’s not,” she said, leaning across the table. “He knew the details of your daughter’s disappearance and was completely lucid while you guys talked. Hell, you didn’t even have to ask him any questions. He did all the talking because he had all that info locked away in his head.”

“Doesn’t mean he can help going forward.”

“Doesn’t mean he can’t, either.”

“I’m not looking to argue with you. And I’ll still help you look for Marc. I’m not going to renege.”

She leaned back into the booth and her expression hardened. “I didn’t suggest Rodney just so you’d help me with Marc.”

“Yes you did. It’s what we do.”

The corners of her mouth twitched. “Maybe, initially. Sure. I help you, you help me. But I’m not suggesting you work with Rodney just so you’ll feel like I’m giving you something. You don’t wanna use him?” She shrugged. “Don’t. But you’d be stupid not to.” She pulled out her wallet and stood. She dropped several bills onto the table. “I’ve got work to do.”

“You want me to go with you?” I asked.

She thought for a moment, then shook her head. “No. Not today.”  She pulled out the knit hat she’d worn earlier and pulled it snugly over her hair. “I don’t like you very much right now.”

She strode away from the table, shoved open the door to the diner and disappeared out into the snowy afternoon.

FOURTEEN

I went back to Jacob Detwiler.

After Isabel left the diner, I walked in the cold for a bit, letting the snow sting my skin, freeze my ears. I was restless. I had no idea how to take Rodney. My hopes had risen and then crashed back to Earth.  I couldn’t deny that there was some sense in what he said but I was unsure of his facts and recall.

So, I needed more info about Bailey Detwiler.

I pulled up to the snow-covered curb and stepped carefully upon the un-shoveled walk.

When Jacob opened the door, he looked like he was ready to vomit. “Really?”

I held up my hands. “Hey. I’m sorry about yesterday. I’ll stand right here if you want.”

He rubbed at his face, the small red dot where I’d jabbed him with the cigarette a tiny bullseye on his face. “What do you want now?”

“Can I ask you a couple questions about your sister?”

“Man, I told you, she’s gone.”

“I know,” I said, nodding. “But I think there are a couple of things you might be able to help me with.”

“And why should I wanna help you exactly?”

“Because I miss my daughter,” I said. “She was taken from my front yard. I’ve never seen her again. I’m trying to find her. That picture I showed you yesterday? That’s the only time I’ve seen her since she disappeared.”

Jacob’s face remained impassive and he leaned against the doorframe. “I’m not inviting you in. You can freeze your ass off out there for all I care.”