For the next hours they went into one place after another and asked if anyone had seen the young boy. No one had, and a few merchants pointed out that many families came to the beach during the day. One more little boy wouldn’t stand out in this crowd.
Disheartened, Rachel sat down on a bench and stared out at the waves. Tears rolled down her cheeks.
“I know he’s here, Eric!” she said. “I’m not mistaken about that! Why won’t he call me?”
“Rachel, was he ever really calling you?” Eric asked.
Rachel looked at him. Her wet eyes reflected thousands of colored lights.
“You don’t believe me.”
“I didn’t mean it that way,” Eric said. “But it’s been hours since you last had a . . . a vision. And you said on the airplane that you’ve heard the name Marty twice. Maybe he’s calling this guy named Marty, whoever that is. Maybe Steven doesn’t want you to find him.”
That was entirely the wrong thing to say. Rachel burst into unabashed tears, causing a few heads to turn. Eric quickly put his arms around her.
“I’m sorry!” he said. “Look, let’s not sit here. We obviously aren’t going much farther tonight. Let’s book a room somewhere.”
Rachel stopped crying and pulled away from him.
“Where do you suppose Steven is going to sleep tonight?”
“I don’t know,” Eric said. He thought for a few minutes. “But since you haven’t picked up on him, maybe he isn’t worried about that. Maybe he’s perfectly safe right now.”
“I want to believe you’re right,” Rachel said.
“Then believe it,” Eric said, standing. He kept hold of her hand. “Let’s go find a place to stay.”
While the Frelengs sought an empty motel room, Steven slept soundly on the beach, exhausted after all his traveling.
32
SOMETIMES, WIL THOUGHT, his job was closer to that of an archaeologist than a cop. He drove through the streets of union Fort, unnoticed in the twilight. When he found Henley’s house again, he pulled up to the curb. He’d hoped it was trash night, and he’d been right. A huge bag sat near the street. Swiftly, acting as if he did this sort of thing every day, Wil picked up the bag, threw it into his car, got back in, and drove away.
Like an archaeologist, he would comb through the bag to find clues about Henley’s existence. By the time he was through, he would know what Henley ate, whether he shaved or not, who wrote letters to him, and more. And out of that he hoped to move closer to solving Samantha Winstead’s mystery.
When Wil arrived at Samantha’s place that night, she immediately recognized the hum of his car’s motor. This time, she and Julie went out to greet him.
“Your suggestion about the amusement park was great,” Samantha said.
“We had the best time!” Julie put in. “Maybe you can come with us next time?”
She sounded so hopeful that Samantha and Wil exchanged smiles. Samantha felt the fluttering in her stomach again, and fought it down. This was purely a business arrangement! She couldn’t play damsel in distress to Wil’s hero.
“Maybe I can,” Wil said.
Julie showed him a paperback field guide to wildflowers.
“Samantha bought it for me,” she said. “I’m going to try to name all the flowers around the house tomorrow.”
“Sounds like a good idea,” Wil said. “In the meantime, I’m going to borrow Samantha.”
The adults went into the house while Julie headed for the kennel. Samantha invited Wil to sit at the kitchen table for coffee and fresh-baked blueberry muffins.
“So, what did you find for me today?” Samantha asked.
Wil took a bite of a muffin, opened a file, and pulled out a piece of paper.
“Raoul Henley called you last Wednesday,” he said. “Look, your number is on his phone bill.”
Samantha looked at the long-distance listings. Sure enough, her own number was there. The time the call was made was in the morning.
“That would have been right before I left for work,” Samantha said. “But I swear I don’t remember taking any such call.”
“You spoke for nearly fifteen minutes,” Wil said. “I have a theory that he coerced you into coming to Durango to get the child.”
“But I didn’t,” Samantha said, “at least not then. I went to work a double shift.”
“And when you came home, Henley was waiting for you,” Wil added. “He was the one who drugged you and drove your truck to Durango.”
Samantha studied the phone bill as if it could tell her something more than a bunch of numbers.