Chapter 14 #2
She didn’t care. The need to go inside—to see—was overwhelming. She had to do it.
Her feet had taken her down the steps and around the corner of the house by the time he’d caught up with her.
“Ms. Newton—Sarah—don’t push it. I’m not about to let you break the law,” he cautioned.
At the side of the house, farthest from the street, she crunched through the snow and pressed her face to the nearest window.
Kitchen. Vase after vase of flowers lined the counters.
Her heart skipped a beat, then started to pound frantically.
On the center of the island was the only vase of red roses.
A full dozen, at least. Clear glass vase, water almost exhausted.
Several of the velvety heads drooped with the passage of time, but others still stood tall and open.
Petals had fallen on the white counter, their deep crimson color like drops of blood.
She faced Conner. “You have to call Chief Willard. There could be prints on the card . . . on the vase.” The possibilities raced around in her head. “This may be the only break the investigation gets.”
Conner held up his hands. “Just wait a minute. We don’t know that this means anything.”
But it did. She knew it. Urgency swam through her veins.
“Never mind.” She considered what she was about to suggest. Definitely the best strategy.
“We can talk to the chief later.” She leveled a take-no-prisoners look on Conner.
“We need to go to the Appleton home. Now. If they’ve gotten the roses already .
. .” She swallowed back the threat of defeat. “It may be too late.”
But they had to try.
The changing expressions on Conner’s face told her he wanted to say no. But the possibility that she was right wouldn’t allow him to.
“All right. But you watch what you say.”
“I understand. Let’s just go.”
The ten-minute drive to Calderwood Lane had her literally suspended on the edge of her seat. Her hand was on the handle, ready to open the door and bail out of the Jeep the instant he stopped.
Two endless miles past the big sign proclaiming Appleton Farms land for as far as the eye could see, he slowed for the turn.
“That’s the grandparents’ home.” He pointed to the rambling farmhouse on the left of the driveway. “Farther back”—he nodded toward the gravel road that served as a secondary drive beyond the paved one—“is where Alicia and her family live.”
As soon as he braked, she was out of the car. She didn’t slow but he caught up with her.
“Remember what I said,” he cautioned as they climbed the steps to the front stoop.
“Yeah. Yeah.” Sarah pressed the doorbell, and the door opened almost immediately.
“Yes?” An older version of the missing girl stared at Sarah a moment before shifting to Conner. “Kale,” she said, acknowledging him personally.
“We’re sorry to bother you, Ms. Appleton,” he said with obvious shame. “This is Sarah Newton, and she’d like to ask you a few questions about Alicia.”
The hesitation that followed prevented Sarah from taking a deep breath. She needed to talk to this lady. She needed to see if red roses had been delivered.
“Ms. Appleton,” Sarah blurted, unable to bear the silence any longer, “there are questions in your daughter’s case that I believe haven’t been thoroughly considered or even raised yet. I’d like to speak to you about those.”
Sarah was surprised that Conner didn’t kick her or dispute her suggestion. His silence and tolerance was all she could ask for.
“All right.” Though clearly disappointed that good news hadn’t arrived, Ms. Appleton stepped back and opened the door wider. “My husband isn’t home right now,” she explained as Sarah and Conner entered her home. “He took the boys in to town for lunch.”
Alicia had two younger brothers who still needed parents. Sarah sympathized with how difficult this must be for them as well. “Thank you,” she said with all the sincerity she could pack into the two impotent words.
The house looked lived in. Big overstuffed furniture, a little worn. Magazines and newspapers lying about. A home where people gathered and enjoyed each other’s company. But it felt empty. Stark and empty. And too quiet.
Like the Gerard home.
“Would you like something to drink?”
Rachel Appleton’s voice was empty of emotion. Her pale, drawn features spoke the same. How did one face the day knowing their child, however old, was missing, possibly dead?
“No, ma’am.” Conner shifted uncomfortably. “We’ll only take a few moments of your time.” The look he shot Sarah said it had better turn out that way.
“Well.” Rachel stood in the middle of the room as if she wasn’t sure what to do next. “All right.”
“Ms. Appleton, have you received any gifts?” Sarah shrugged offhandedly. “Flowers?”
Rachel’s head bobbed enthusiastically as if she were glad to have a question she could answer. “Oh, lots.”
Sarah moistened her lips. “May we see them?”
Confusion lined the older woman’s brow, but then she gestured to the hall behind her. “They’re in Lici’s bedroom.” She managed a shaky smile. “That’s what we call her.”
Sarah nodded. Lici, pronounced “Leecee.” Cute. Rachel Appleton’s next hesitation had Sarah ready to explode with tension.
The lady finally turned and led the way to her missing daughter’s room.
She opened the door. The light was already on inside.
As with the exterior of the Gerard home, Alicia’s room was filled with flowers and cards and stuffed toys.
Sarah scanned the vases, her heart thumping harder and harder as she moved from one to the next.
Dozens of mixed bouquets of pastel colors, some richer, bolder colors like purple and orange.
Lots of whites and creams. Rows of pink, lavender, and yellow tulips.
If the roses had already been delivered . . .
Sarah’s heart stumbled as her gaze lit on the next vase. The long-stemmed roses stood tall and proud amid the less revered varieties. The water level in the vase was barely an inch from the top. No fallen petals, no bowed heads.
These flowers were fresh . . . newly delivered.
“The red roses,” Sarah said, barely resisting the impulse to run over and look at the card, “when did you receive those?”
“This morning.” Rachel faked a smile. “They’re very beautiful, but the sender forgot to sign the card.”
“May I?” Sarah gestured to the flowers.
“Newton,” Conner admonished.
Rachel blinked, the confusion was back. “It’s all right.” She swallowed with effort. “Alicia will love them. She loves flowers. We always got her pink ones on her birthday.” Rachel’s voice quivered as she said the last. “But the red is pretty, too.”
Sarah heard Conner say, “They’re very beautiful.”
She dropped to her knees in front of the vase that sat on the floor amid the other arrangements. Her pulse thundered, had her blood rushing. The card wasn’t in an envelope. Just tucked loosely amid the greenery and baby’s breath.
Her fingers cold as ice as if the blood wasn’t making it that far, Sarah used her fingernails to grasp the very corner and lift up the card just enough to see the written note.
Deepest regrets . . .
No signature.
She released the note, let it settle back amid the foliage, and pushed to her feet. “Ms. Appleton, do you recall which floral service delivered the roses?” Sarah’s gaze connected with the lady’s.
Rachel thought a moment, then shook her head. “They were on the stoop when my husband and boys were leaving. I’m not sure anyone rang the bell. I called Deputy Brighton like I was supposed to. She said it was okay to keep them.”
This could be nothing. Sarah knew that for certain. Just because Marta Hanover recalled red roses from twenty years ago, and because a dozen had been delivered to Valerie Gerard’s family more than a week ago . . . meant nothing.
But it didn’t feel like nothing.
Conner sent her a firm look. “We should go.”
“Did you see?” Rachel asked. She moved across the crowded-with-gifts room. “Alicia’s senior portrait arrived yesterday.” She admired the large portrait that sat on an elaborate stand. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”
Sarah studied the image in the portrait. The girl was stunning. She wore a delicate necklace that sported a small shimmering crown. “She’s very beautiful. The necklace is lovely, too.”
“That was a Christmas present,” her mother explained, clearly excited to talk about something besides the fact that her daughter was missing. “She’s won so many beauty pageants, her friends nicknamed her the queen.” Rachel touched the flawless portrait, smiled.
“I can certainly see how it would be difficult to choose anyone else standing on a stage next to her. She is stunning.” Sarah felt sick to her stomach.
Alicia’s mother motioned around the room.
“She has so many trophies and crowns.” She sighed.
“She was crowned Miss Youngstown High School at the homecoming game.” She moved to an enormous curio cabinet and indicated a glittering crown sitting atop a velvet pillow.
“She loved getting dressed up from the time she could walk.”
Sarah surveyed the numerous crowns, would have shifted her attention back to the roses, but something out of place snagged her curiosity. A pink pillow, four shelves down, was empty. All the rest displayed a shimmering crown, but not that one.
“I don’t know what happened to that one,” Rachel offered, obviously noting Sarah’s focus there. “I’ve searched this house twice over and I can’t find it. I even accused her brothers of having misplaced it, but they swear they didn’t touch it.”
Part of her needing to reach out, Sarah put a hand on the woman’s arm. “I’m sure you’ll find it.” She wished she could say the same for her missing daughter. Sarah’s every instinct blistered her senses with the impression that this would not end well.
“I sure hope so,” Rachel lamented. “She won that crown in seventh grade.” She drew her eyebrows together. “Or was it eighth? She’ll remember, and she won’t be happy to learn it’s misplaced.”
Conner practically dragged Sarah out of the room after that. He kept apologizing for their having stayed so long. When they reached the front door, Rachel Appleton asked, “Are you going to put Alicia’s picture in your magazine?”
Sarah paused. The other woman’s expression was so hopeful that she couldn’t say no. “Yes. With your approval, of course.”
The woman beamed even as her lips trembled with fear. “Alicia would like that a lot. Just a minute.” Rachel hurried off in the direction of the bedrooms.
“We have to go,” Conner urged. “The chief needs to know about this. He’s not going to be happy you touched that card.”
Sarah didn’t care what the chief thought; she couldn’t stop obsessing on that missing crown. “We’ll go in a minute.”
This felt wrong. It was more than the missing girl . . . it was about the crown somehow. And the roses. She felt it deep in her gut.
“Here.”
Sarah hauled her attention to Rachel as she burst back into the room.
She held out a small photograph. Sarah accepted it.
Alicia Appleton’s beautiful smile radiated from the wallet-size photo as if it were ten times its size.
This girl would walk into a room and own it with nothing more than that smile.
“That’s her favorite.” Rachel glowed with pride. “She would be mortified if you didn’t use that one.”
“This one’s perfect.” Sarah delivered her best attempt at a reassuring smile.
Rachel’s face fell as if the weight of maintaining the hope was too much for her. “You don’t have any more questions?”
The woman was lonely. Lonely and terrified. Terrified that no one would be able to find her daughter.
Before it was too late.
Emotion burned Sarah’s eyes. “I may be back with more questions. If that’s all right.”
Rachel nodded. “Come anytime. I’ll be here.” The distraught mother glanced around her living room. “When she comes home, I want her to find me right here waiting.”
Waiting, Sarah knew, for things to be the way they used to be.
“Thank you, Ms. Appleton.”
Rachel Appleton reached out this time, rested her trembling fingers on Sarah’s arm. “I know what other people say but . . .” She moistened her lips, blinked back the shine in her eyes. “I’m glad you’re here.”
There. Right there, Sarah realized, was the compassion that Conner spoke about so avidly. No matter that her daughter was missing, this woman still reached out to Sarah to make her feel welcome.
The look that passed between them as they stood, touching, was something else Sarah recognized all too well. Sheer desperation . . . absolute terror.
Sarah was unconditionally certain of one thing in all this: If she wasn’t found soon, Alicia Appleton would die.
Very soon.
And Rachel Appleton would never, not in a million lifetimes, recover.