Bree put the box on the one she’d just set down. “Honey, this isn’t your job. The sheriff will handle it. Investigations can be dangerous. I wouldn’t want to see you get hurt.” She studied Emily’s face. “Have you been investigating on your own?”
Emily’s face got hot. “Just a little. I’m not getting anywhere, though.”
“Does your dad know you’re poking into things?”
Emily looked over at the twins again. “Well, not really.” Guilt pricked her for not telling everyone that she was working with Inetta. She should have told Dad or Naomi.
“What have you found out so far?”
Emily listed the suspects she’d had, who she’d eliminated, and how.
“I’m impressed, Emily,” Bree said. “I never would have guessed you would have such a flair for investigation.”
That was high praise coming from such a top-notch investigator as Bree. Emily sneaked another glance at the twins, who were still occupied with the doll clothes. “But I’m stuck now. I don’t know what to check next.”
“First off, I’d talk to Rachel. Ask her why she’s angry with you and apologize for any way you’ve hurt her feelings. You need to clear the air between the two of you, and God says when you know someone is offended that you need to go to them and try to resolve it.”
“He does?” Emily didn’t like the sound of that. She knew all about not holding a grudge against others, but was it her responsibility to go to someone who was mad at her?
“Read Matthew 5:23–25. It tells you if you are giving God a gift and remember that your brother has something against you that you should stop what you’re doing and be reconciled. So basically God doesn’t even want you giving him anything until you set things right.”
Emily sighed. “That doesn’t seem fair, and it’s going to be super hard.”
Bree smiled. “It’s good for your character. And God is more concerned about your character than anything.”
“Okay, okay, I’ll do it.”
“Good. And tell her that you think she misunderstood what you said. Maybe Gretchen would agree to talk to her too.”
“Maybe.”
Bree studied Emily’s expression again. “Is the gloomy face you’re wearing about the prospect of talking to Rachel, or is something else bothering you?” Bree bent over to adjust the clothing in a box so the lid fit better.
Emily bit her lip. “It’s about my dad and Naomi.”
Bree straightened. “What about them?”
“This is just between us, okay?” Emily waited until Bree nodded. “I think they’re getting a divorce.”
Bree gaped. “Oh, honey, whatever gave you that idea?”
“They’re acting weird. They’ve been tense all the time. And they stop talking when I come into the room, but I’ve heard them raise their voices like they’re upset. I remember my mom and dad acting like that before my mom left.”
Bree put her hand on Emily’s shoulder. “You should talk to them about your fears. I’m positive it’s nothing like that. If you tell your dad you’re worried, he’ll tell you what’s going on.”
Emily saw something in Bree’s face, a knowledge. “Do you know what’s going on?”
Bree bent over the box again. “This is something you should talk to your dad and Naomi about.”
Dread squeezed Emily’s chest. Bree must know something. If it wasn’t divorce, then maybe one of them was sick. Maybe one of them had cancer or something terrible. She couldn’t bear the thought.
She swallowed hard. “I-I’ll talk to them.”
Bree straightened. “Good. Honesty is always best. You can drive yourself crazy thinking things that aren’t true when all it would take to set your mind at ease would be to talk things out.”
“I guess.” Emily wasn’t looking forward to any of it. Maybe she shouldn’t have brought up the subject at all.
THIRTEEN
Emily put her history book away and went to see her brother. “I need to talk to you.” She stepped into Timmy’s room and shut the door behind her. Charley looked up from his nap on the bed.
“I didn’t do anything.” Timmy gently set the half-painted airplane model onto its stand on the desk.
Emily gave a weak smile and sat at the foot of her brother’s bed. Charley inched down and pushed his head into her lap, his big brown eyes silently begging her to pet him. She dug her fingers into the lovable golden retriever’s silky fur. “I heard you last night, crying out. Nightmare?”
Timmy looked down. “Yeah.”
“Why didn’t you tell anyone you were having them again?”
He shrugged with only one shoulder and stared at the floor. “I’m too old for nightmares. I’m not a baby anymore.”
“Hey, everybody has scary dreams. It has nothing to do with age.”
“Do you?” Timmy lifted his head and met her stare.
She started to tell him about the steady nightmares she’d had about the Windigo after their babysitter had scared her silly, but she couldn’t because then she’d have to admit she hadn’t outgrown them. “Sometimes I do.” She remembered the dream she’d had last night and straightened her back. “They aren’t fun.”
“What are your nightmares about?”
“I dreamed I fell into the lake and drowned. That was a nightmare for sure.” She’d awakened in a cold sweat, her heart hammering.
“Wow. You dreamed you died?” Her little brother’s eyes were wide.
She nodded. “Do you ever dream that?”
Timmy nodded. “I dream Mom is there, holding my insulin, and won’t give me the shot.” He shivered.
Emily curled her hands into fists. How dare their mother cause such fear in a little boy? All because she’d altered his medication and made him sick. On purpose. What kind of mother did that?
Theirs.
She put her arm around his shoulders and squeezed. “It’s okay, Timmy. Dad and Naomi won’t let her hurt you again.” She squeezed tighter. “And I won’t either.”
It was unfair that Timmy had to deal with all this.
God, it’s me again. This time I’m not asking you for anything for me. Just for Timmy. He’s scared and shouldn’t be. It’s not his fault our mother is what she is. You’ve got to help Timmy. I don’t know what to do for him. Please. Help him.
She hugged him. “Have you talked to Dad or Naomi about the nightmares at all?”
He looked down at the floor. “Dad’s been so busy at work lately. He hasn’t even come with me to the field to fly my planes.”
That was unusual. Dad usually made time to fly the model airplanes with Timmy at least once a week. It was their father-and-son bonding time. Emily had been jealous of it more than once.
Maybe Dad hadn’t made the time not because he’d been busy at the store, but because he and Naomi were having problems. But Emily couldn’t just ask Timmy if he’d overheard any arguments. He was obviously stressed enough. More stress could affect his diabetes.
“I know what you mean.” She drew a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “You know, the other night I must’ve been dreaming because I could have sworn I heard Naomi crying in the bathroom in the middle of the night.” Emily held her breath, waiting to see if Timmy would volunteer any confirmation.
He chewed his bottom lip—a sure sign he was worrying about something.
“Have you heard Naomi doing anything strange like that?”
Timmy opened his mouth like he was going to say something, paused, then slowly shook his head. “I haven’t heard her crying.”
“But you have seen or heard something strange with her?”
He nodded.
This was worse than benchmark tests. “What?”
“I wasn’t really eavesdropping, I just couldn’t help hearing her and Dad in the kitchen from the pantry.” He hung his head. “I was sneaking some treats for Charley—”
The dog lifted his head at the word treats. Emily rubbed between his ears, and he laid his head down again but kept a
careful watch on Timmy with his soulful eyes.
“And I heard Naomi tell Dad that she wouldn’t go through it again. She used her serious voice.”
It? “She wouldn’t go through what again?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t hear anything before that.”
That could be just about anything. “What did Dad say?”
“He said he didn’t want it to come to it, but if he had to go the legal route, he would.”
A legal route? That didn’t sound good at all. “What else?”
“Naomi just said they’d consider their options.”
“What options?”
Timmy shrugged. “I don’t know. You and Olivia came into the kitchen, and Dad went to wash up for dinner.”
What did it all mean? She didn’t have time to think about it as her cell phone buzzed in her pocket. She had a text. She stood and gave her brother a gentle hug. “Don’t worry about it. Everything’s gonna be okay.”
He nodded, but his expression said he didn’t believe her.
She couldn’t blame him—she had no way of knowing what would happen.
“And if you wake up with any nightmares, you let me know, okay?”
He nodded.
“Promise me, Timmy.” She put her hands on her hips.
“I promise.”
She smiled and headed back to her room. She checked her phone and read the message from Olivia: Charles said nothing new. miss you
Emily quickly texted back: ok will talk 2 u @church. miss you
“Timmy! Emily!” Dad hollered from the living room.
Calling both of them? Must be important. Emily licked her lips as she shoved her phone back into her pocket.
God, it’s me again. I just wanted to ask you not to let my parents break up. Timmy needs Naomi. I need Naomi.
She and Timmy met in the hall and headed into the living room together.
Naomi walked into the room with big bowls of popcorn. “It’s movie night. I have popcorn!”
Dad waved the remote control. “It’s Naomi’s turn to choose the movie, right?”
Emily smiled and let out a huge sigh of relief. If Dad and Naomi remembered movie night, and even whose turn it was to pick the movie, they couldn’t be on the brink of breaking up, right?
Naomi was smiling, a lighthearted tip to her lips that Emily hadn’t seen in a while. “I choose The Princess Bride.”
They all groaned. “Again?” Emily hit her head with a pillow. “We’ve only watched that thing a thousand times.”
“It’s my favorite movie.” Naomi hugged her. “And it’s not like we haven’t had to watch Phantom of the Opera as many times.”
Emily hugged her back, glad to see some joy in her. “Okay, okay. But next week is my turn.”
Timmy snuggled between Dad and Naomi, while Emily pulled out the overstuffed pillows to prop against the couch and lean on. As Dad started the movie, Emily grabbed a big handful of the buttery popcorn. Maybe she and Olivia had been mistaken. Probably. All this missing necklace business had Emily all messed up.
The doorbell rang.
Dad paused the movie as Naomi opened the front door.
Sheriff Kaleva stood in the doorway, his hat in his hands. “Sorry to bother you on a Saturday night, but Bree’s out of town on another search.”
“What is it?” Naomi’s back straightened as Charley went to her side.
“It’s Rachel Zinn. She’s missing. We need you and Charley to help, Naomi.”
Naomi pressed her foot to the accelerator of the SUV. Emily pressed her lips together, not daring to do anything to draw attention to herself as they left the lake behind and raced forward along the rutted dirt track. It was a miracle Naomi and Dad had even let her help, but with Bree out of town, Naomi and Charley were the Kitchigami K-9 Search and Rescue team.
Emily steadied herself against the door’s armrest and looked over her shoulder at Charley safely confined in his kennel. The Kitchigami Wilderness Preserve lay to the east, past Miser, a drive of only fifteen miles or so, but it felt much longer tonight.
Emily shivered under the orange vest Naomi had loaned her. Her throat was tighter than the vest’s buckles.
God, please keep Rachel safe. I know she’s mean to me and all, but please . . . I don’t want her to get hurt.
“Here’s what we know,” Naomi said. “Rachel’s dad said she didn’t come home in time for dinner. He’s called all her friends and checked everywhere: the community center, the library, the café, even the Coffee Place . . . No sign of her, but one of her classmates said his family had given her a ride to the campground. He’d last seen her at the picnic area out here.”
Emily swallowed against a dry mouth.
“Mr. Zinn said the last time he saw her was around ten this morning. Calls to her cell phone are going straight to voice mail,” Naomi said.
Emily remembered the look on Rachel’s face when she ran away from her father’s harsh words. Should she tell Naomi?
“One of her friends said she’d asked Rachel to go shopping with her, but Rachel told her she had to study.” Naomi continued, “Mr. Zinn says he doesn’t think Rachel went anywhere to study.”
“And not here for sure,” Emily muttered.
Naomi looked at her curiously. “You know something about Rachel? If you do, Emily, now’s the time to tell me. Time’s of the essence.”
Emily looked out the window. She remembered when she and Timmy were lost in the woods and Bree and Naomi had to come find them. It’d been cold and scary. “I saw Rachel leaving the community center this morning.”
“Did she tell you where she was going?” Naomi tapped the steering wheel with impatient fingers, as if that would make the SUV go faster over the bumpy, rutted road.
“I didn’t talk to her. She didn’t even see me. She was upset.”
“Upset?”
As Naomi slowed and turned onto the access road that would take them back to the campground parking lot, Emily told her about what she’d overheard and seen.
Naomi pulled into the parking lot, making humming noises. That meant she was working something out in her mind. The SUV’s headlamps caught a lot of people moving about. There was an assortment of searchers, ranging from teenagers to adults. A big tent had already been set up with a generator and huge floodlights that kept the whole area lit. When one of their own was threatened, Rock Harbor residents pulled together. But the searchers hadn’t had any luck or they wouldn’t have had to bring in the search-and-rescue team.
Emily followed Naomi out of the SUV, attached Charley’s leash, and shrugged on the ready-kit backpacks, fully outfitted with a first aid kit, a small plastic tarp, energy bars, a flashlight, flares, bug repellant, towelettes, a compass, a Swiss Army knife, a radio, a topographic map of the area, a canteen, sunglasses, sunscreen, and every other item anyone could need on a search.
“Over here, Naomi.” Sheriff Kaleva motioned them over to a group of deputies and park rangers.
Naomi headed toward the group. Emily followed in silence.
Mr. Zinn turned to face their approach. Pain contorted his steely features. “Please, you’ve got to find her!” His hands trembled as the torment in his eyes spoke of his fear of loss more clearly than his words.
Naomi put a comforting hand on his arm. “We’ll find her, Mr. Zinn. Charley is well trained, and he’s in familiar territory.”
“I hope so. Since her mother died, she’s all I have.” He shook his head. “She doesn’t even answer her cell phone. She’s never without that thing.”
“I need something of hers. Something she wore recently.”
“I have her sweater she wore this morning in the car. Will that work?”
Naomi nodded. “Perfect.” She handed him a paper bag and a plastic glove. “Put the sweater in this and don’t touch it with your bare hand.”
He rushed to get it, returning in a flash to hand her the bag. When they peered into the bag, Emily saw a sweater she was very familiar with. It was R
achel’s cheerleading squad sweater.
Naomi gave Mr. Zinn a smile. “Stay close to base. Rachel might be scared when we find her, and you’ll need to be in a position to get to her quickly when she’s found. Try to stay calm. We’ll find her.”
Mr. Zinn nodded, but his fearful gaze flickered from Emily to Naomi. “I want to do something.”
“Pray,” Naomi advised.
Naomi’s answer to everything was prayer. Prayer had done little for Emily’s own desperate pleas lately to clear her name. In the midst of Rachel going missing—and Emily knew how scary and hard that could be—she realized her pleas had been pretty self-centered.
God, I’m sorry I’ve been selfish. Please keep Rachel safe. That’s what’s most important right now. Even more than proving I’m innocent.
When she looked around again, she saw Brandon walking toward her, and her heart skipped. She waited until he reached her. “You’re helping with the search?”
He nodded. “Want me to come with you?”
“Sure.”
“Let’s go.” Naomi flipped on her flashlight and headed toward the campground with Charley, Emily following, her own flashlight burning. “Remember, you have to keep up with me. I won’t be able to stop and keep track of you.”
Emily nodded and fell into step beside Brandon.
“If we get separated, I have my cell phone on. Check and make sure yours is fully charged,” Naomi told them.
Doing as instructed, Emily nodded at Naomi. “Yep, 98 percent.”
“Okay. And keep your flashlight burning at all times. It’s going to be hard enough searching in the dark without Samson.” She knelt beside Charley and held the bag containing Rachel’s sweater under his nose.
Charley whined and strained at the leash. Naomi released his lead and dropped her arm. “Search!” she commanded.
The dog bounded toward the trees. He ran back and forth, his muzzle in the air. Charley wasn’t a bloodhound but an air scenter. He worked in a Z pattern, scenting the air until he could catch a hint of the one scent he sought.
Charley’s tail stiffened, and he turned and raced toward the creek.