Hope for Christmas Page 5

  “Like us, he thinks the letter was a hoax but it raised his hackles enough to call the FBI.”

  “It’s good that he did that. You never know and now it’s on their radar.”

  And the cycle of Emily obsessing over whether this person knows anything about what happened to her daughter starts all over again. Besides it being unhealthy, it was unbearably painful. Clay didn’t want her to have to go down this road again.

  “Yeah, it’s good,” he said for the sake of ending the conversation.

  Chapter 6

  “Take this.” Emily handed Justin a tin of the shortbread she’d made the day before and various other cookies she’d been playing around with for the swap the following Friday. “Something for the drive.”

  “Thanks.” He put it in the cab of his truck. “Sorry about Reno.”

  “You can always change your mind and stay . . . Go to San Luis Obispo in January.” She swung Paige to her other hip and zipped her jacket. It felt like snow.

  “Nah. Cynthia is excited about it.” He tossed his duffle into the back.

  “At least wait for your dad before you go.”

  “Why? Is he gonna try to talk me out of it?”

  “No. He’s leaving it up to you, Justin.” She searched the fire trail for Clay’s Ford. He’d gone out that morning to get the rest of the firewood he’d cut. “But he’ll want to say goodbye and give you some words of advice.”

  Justin rolled his eyes and Emily ruffled his hair. “It must be annoying to know more than your ancient parents.”

  “I just don’t want the condom talk again. It’s”—he cleared his throat—“embarrassing.”

  Better that than pregnant at seventeen. But she refrained from saying anything. “Where are you staying?”

  “The Madonna Inn.”

  “Really?” It seemed a little pricey. Justin had worked a summer job and sold a steer at the county fair as part of his Future Farmers of America project, but that was supposed to go to his college fund. She suspected that the landmark hotel had been Cynthia’s idea.

  “We got a deal on Expedia,” he said as if he knew what she was thinking.

  “You’ll call us as soon as you get there, right?”

  “Yes,” he said, and she thought she detected another eye roll.

  “There’s your dad.” She heard a vehicle coming up the driveway. Clay must’ve taken the easement road instead of cutting across the ranch.

  “That’s not Dad.” Justin shielded his eyes with his hands. “That’s Uncle Rhys.”

  Emily called the dogs away as Rhys tried to get out of his Nugget PD SUV without getting a nose in his crotch. “Hey,” she greeted him. “You looking for Clay? Or did you come to pick up something for Maddy?”

  He didn’t say anything and something about his demeanor looked all wrong. He had on his cop face, the one he’d worn when he’d come to tell them about the death-row inmate and his phony confession.

  “Did something happen? Is it Clay?” She suddenly couldn’t breathe and stumbled toward him.

  “Nothing happened to Clay.” He took a step closer and steadied her with his arm. “Where is he?”

  “A tree fell the other day . . . he’s loading the wood in the west range.”

  He took Paige from her. “He get cell reception out there?”

  “It’s hit and miss. Why? Where’s Cody, Justin?” Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

  “He’s in the house, playing video games.”

  That’s right. She’d yelled at him to clean his room before she’d come outside with Justin. “What is it, Rhys? Is it Maddy or one of the kids?”

  “Everyone is fine.” He turned to Justin. “I need you to get your dad, son. Tell him to meet us in the house.”

  Across the field a cloud of dust swirled as Clay’s truck came into sight. Just a dot on the landscape. The dogs began barking, then gave chase, loping through the pasture until they disappeared in the brush. A chill cut through her and she glanced up at the sky. Dark clouds moved in, hanging over the Sierra mountains like an omen. A storm was coming. The forecasters had said snow but it looked like rain to her.

  They could use either. The land was parched from the long drought and the cattle would need grass to graze on come spring. Paige fussed and Emily tried to take her from Rhys but he handed the baby to Justin, who cuddled her against his down jacket. Paige settled in, her lids growing heavy with sleep. They waited for Clay, saying nothing, a sense of dread spreading through her until she felt numb.

  Rhys took her hand and warmed it in his. In her rush to give Justin the shortbread, she’d forgotten her gloves. And hat. She should’ve worn a hat. At least Paige was bundled up. As soon as Clay got back they were supposed to go to Reno.

  She could hear his truck now, the whir of the engine rusty in the still air. As it got nearer, she noted the streaks of dirt smudging the sides. The tires caked in mud. The boys usually washed the cars on the weekends. But what would be the point if it rained?

  Clay parked next to a structure near the house he and the boys had built last summer to store firewood and jumped down from the cab. Rhys walked briskly towards him. They talked for a few seconds and then motioned for her to join them inside. Justin followed with Paige through the mudroom door.

  “Will you put the baby down and check on Cody?” Emily asked, and Justin gave a small nod and headed across the kitchen for the family room.

  “Why don’t you both take a seat,” Rhys directed.

  “Let me make coffee.” Whatever he was here to say, she wasn’t ready to hear. So she busied herself by emptying the morning residuals at the bottom of the pot and scrubbed it clean.

  “I’ll do it,” Clay said, pouring the beans into the grinder. His hands were shaking or maybe hers were. She couldn’t tell. Everything felt fuzzy, like she was walking through a dream.

  The sound of the coffee mill broke the silence and she quickly poured the water into the maker’s reservoir. Clay got down mugs and half-and-half from the refrigerator. He and Rhys typically drank theirs black but she liked a little cream. No sugar.

  Rhys stood against the doorjamb that separated the kitchen from the mudroom, looking grave. But patient. Emily took the last of the shortbread, arranged it on a plate and put it on the table.

  “Sit.” Clay pushed her into a chair. “I’ll take care of the rest.”

  Rhys joined her while Clay waited for the coffee to finish brewing. She reached over to the counter and grabbed a handful of Christmas napkins, trying to keep her hands steady. Clay eventually brought the mugs over. She cupped hers with both hands for the sake of something to hold on to, the warmth from the liquid made her fingers tingle.

  Rhys cleared his throat. “The police chief of Morton, a small town outside of Coeur d’Alene, called me this morning. He said a woman there knows about Hope.”

  They sat in sort of a stunned silence, just the swishing noise of the dishwasher in the background.

  Finally, Clay asked, “How do we know that it’s not another hoax?” Even from across the table, Emily could feel his anger.

  “She’s the one who sent you the letter and called you on the phone.” Rhys held Emily’s gaze. “She’s dying. The chief wants you come to Morton.”

  “So we can listen to a crazy woman on her death bed spout a bunch of lies?”

  Emily put her coffee down and reached for Clay. “Stop.” She turned back to Rhys and with a tremor in her voice said, “Is my daughter alive?”

  Rhys pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a breath. “All I know is that the woman has information. The chief there has already contacted the Palo Alto Police Department and the FBI. Whether she knows where Hope is, I don’t know. But I don’t think it’s a hoax.”

  “Who is she?” Clay clenched his fists on the table.

  “Her name is Maureen Lane. She’s forty-seven and she’s got pancreatic cancer.”

  “And she’s from this town, Morton?”

  “That’s all I know, Clay. He
called me as a courtesy. Nugget PD has zero jurisdiction in this matter. If you decide to go, it’ll have to be soon. She’s on hospice care and doesn’t have much time.”

  “Of course I’ll go.” She’d go to the ends of the earth to find out what happened to her daughter.

  Clay got up and paced the kitchen floor. “I don’t want you to be disappointed. How do we know she’s not just playing us?”

  “So I should ignore it . . . let her take whatever knowledge she has to the grave?” She knew Clay was just being protective but no matter how slim the chances were that this woman could lead them to Hope, she had to go.

  “We should at least talk to the investigators first and see what they know.”

  “The chief said agents from the Coeur d’Alene office would be there later today. I don’t know what Palo Alto is doing. But if you want to go, I wouldn’t waste time.” Rhys turned his chair around. “Clay?”

  “I’ll call in a flight plan.” He stopped pacing and went to the phone.

  “What about Paige . . . the boys? Justin was just about to leave.”

  “Justin needs to stay home.”

  “Maddy and I will do whatever you need,” Rhys said. “Paige, Cody, Justin . . . they can stay at our house.”

  “I’m breast feeding.” God, she couldn’t think. “Drew. I need to call Drew.”

  “I’ll call Drew,” Clay said. “Go upstairs and pack a bag. There’s enough milk in the fridge for a day or two.”

  “I can’t leave her.” Paige was barely two weeks old.

  “She’ll be safe with us,” Rhys said but Emily shook her head.

  “We’ll take her.” Clay pulled Emily into his arms. “We’ll take her with us, Em. We’ll hear what this woman has to say and then we’ll come home. It’ll be fine.”

  There was no way for him to know that. From the day Hope had been taken from her, nothing had been fine again. Emily was enough of a realist to know that any answers this woman could give them could never lessen the pain of losing a child.

  “I’ll pack for the three of us,” she said, and climbed the stairs.

  * * *

  Clay waited until she left the room and asked Rhys, “Why don’t you think it’s bogus? Is there something you’re not telling us?”

  Rhys held up his hands. “Come on, you know better than that. The woman’s dying, Clay. She’s got nothing to gain and nothing to lose. Maybe she just wants to come clean before she meets her maker.”

  “You think she took Hope?”

  “Perhaps, or maybe she knows who did and has kept it secret all these years. What I know is this police chief sounded like a straight shooter and he thought you’d want to hear what she has to say.”

  “Well nothing good will come from it. The girl’s been gone for seven years. You and I both know she didn’t come to a pleasant end . . . does Emily really need to hear that? Does she need to have the vision of her daughter’s death in her mind when she goes to sleep at night? Or when she wakes up in the morning? You saw how she was with Paige. This is only going to make it worse. Just so a dying woman can clear her conscience.”

  “If you think not knowing has kept the visions at bay, you’re wrong. Let her finally put her child to rest, Clay.”

  He nodded but the thought of seeing Emily go through this all over again made him sick to his stomach. “Justin and Cody will be okay here. They’ll need to look after the animals. But if you and Maddy can check in on them . . .”

  “Not even necessary to ask. We’ll have them for dinner tonight. Sam can help with the chores. Whatever you need, we’re here for you.”

  Everyone in town would be and Lord knew Emily would need them.

  “I’ve got to call Drew and file that flight plan to Idaho.”

  “I’ll let the chief know you’re coming and text you his contact information. He’ll have one of his people pick you up at the airport.”

  “You’ll let us know what the FBI finds out?” A part of Clay hoped it was a wasted trip, that the woman turned out to be delusional.

  “Will do. I’ll also touch base with Palo Alto PD. Stay in touch.” Rhys pulled him in for a bear hug.

  By the time they explained everything to the boys and drove the five miles to the Nervino airport in Beckwourth where he kept his three planes, they were delayed by rain. His Cirrus SR22 was ready to go but the weather didn’t want to cooperate. Emily went to the restroom to feed Paige. Clay knew her nerves were stretched tighter than a barbed-wire fence.

  He whiled away the time by looking at his phone every twenty seconds, hoping for more information about this Maureen woman and what the FBI had found out. He’d put in a call to Flynn to see if he could ferret out what the agents had learned. But so far nothing. Things seemed to be moving at a glacial speed. Everything except Maureen’s cancer. According to everyone he’d talked to so far, she was fading fast.

  “No change in the weather?” Emily sat next to him and put the baby carrier down on the carpet in front of her.

  “Nothing yet.” He sighed. “They’ll let us know as soon as it’s safe.”

  “I feel bad about Justin. He was terribly disappointed.”

  “No, he was worried about you. Cal Poly isn’t going anywhere, nor is Cynthia.”

  “I know but he was looking forward to the trip.”

  He draped his arm over her shoulder. Despite the lounge being seventy degrees she still had on layers. “Aren’t you hot?”

  “I got cold in the bathroom.” She unzipped her down jacket. “You hear anything?”

  “Not yet.” He looked at his watch. “The agents should be there by now, though.” If they didn’t get anything useful, Clay wanted to cancel. No reason to put Emily through a fool’s errand.

  He looked at Paige, who was staring back at him, and his chest squeezed. Bending over her, he kissed her forehead. “You think it’s okay to take her on a plane so soon?”

  “It’s fine.” She tilted her head and smiled at Paige. “At least it’s not a commercial flight filled with germs.”

  They sat, watching the rain come down less hard than it had before. He suspected they’d be able to leave soon. He’d flown in worse conditions than this and as a fighter pilot in the Navy he’d landed on moving aircraft carriers in the pitch dark. But he wasn’t taking any chances with his wife and child.

  “I wonder if Drew was able to get a flight out of SFO.”

  “Not if there’s fog,” he said. The San Francisco airport was notorious for weather delays, partly because the runways were spaced too close together to be safe for landing in times of poor visibility.

  She started to dial her cell phone.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Calling him to see if he heard anything. Maybe they’ll tell him more because he’s a lawyer.”

  Clay highly doubted it. Not if Flynn, a former federal agent and prosecutor, couldn’t get anything. Besides, Drew’s specialty was in Internet law. It wasn’t like he was tight with law enforcement.

  “No answer?”

  She shook her head. “He may wind up getting there before us at this rate.”

  “Honey, I’m doing the best I can here.”

  “I know.” She put her hand on his knee. “I’m just anxious. What do you think she’s going to tell us, Clay?”

  “I don’t know. You prepared for it being nothing?”

  She let out a mirthless laugh. “You know how many times I’ve been down this road? Drew and I spent tens of thousands of dollars on private investigators, I followed every lead and tip sent my way and talked to countless people who swore they’d seen her. All dead ends. Every one of them.”

  She’d been through hell. When she’d first come to Nugget three years ago, she’d been a shadow of herself, ravaged by grief. Clay had seen an emptiness in her blue eyes that had reminded him of soldiers in Afghanistan and Iraq. He didn’t want her returning to that dark place again.

  “I think we can get you out of here pretty soon, Mr. McCreedy,” an attend
ant said from behind the counter. “Air Traffic Control says it’s looking good.”

  He and Emily rose at the same time. They’d already stowed their meager luggage on the plane. It was a short flight but Clay bought a couple of power bars and some trail mix for the trip. Emily needed to eat steady meals while she was nursing and once they got to their destination there was no telling when they would have time for a restaurant.

  Just before walking out to the tarmac, he checked his cell. A text from Rhys.

  * * *

  The FBI hasn’t talked to her yet. She’s been in and out of it all day. Her caretaker doesn’t think she’ll make it into the night. Get there as soon as you can.

  Chapter 7

  It was colder in Coeur d’Alene than it had been in Nugget. Seventeen degrees, according to Clay. Emily tucked the blanket tighter around Paige as they waited in the airport lounge. Commercial flights flew into Spokane, only thirty-two miles away in neighboring Washington. Private planes used the Coeur d’Alene Airport, a much larger facility than the one they’d flown out of.

  A tall, lanky man with a lined face in a police uniform came in the door and spotted them immediately. “I recognize you from your cookbook picture.” He introduced himself as Officer Wilson.

  Clay shook Wilson’s hand. “We should get on the road,” he said, reminding Emily that he’d been a naval officer, used to commanding.

  The policeman nodded. He didn’t appear put off by Clay’s brusque manner. It was evident that he’d been briefed on the situation. Emily wanted to ask if Maureen was still alive but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She prayed that if the woman really knew anything about Hope’s disappearance, she’d hang on long enough to tell them.

  Officer Wilson escorted them outside. Clay took the baby carrier from her as they walked across the icy pavement to a minivan with the Morton City logo on the side and set up the travel car seat in the back row. They got in, buckled up and made small talk about the weather during the thirty-minute drive. There seemed to be an unspoken rule that they weren’t supposed to ply Officer Wilson with questions.