“You know what Barbara’s car looks like?”
Samantha nodded.
“It’s a good bet she’s left it in the parking lot.”
“Do you think she plans to come back for it?”
Wil shook his head. “Not if she’s kidnapped Julie. She’ll try to disappear. I think the car is probably abandoned in one of the short-term lots.”
“Then let’s go find it,” Samantha said.
They hurried out of the building to begin their search. Wil took one half of the lot, while Samantha took the other. Twenty minutes later, exhausted and sweating from the heat of the sun, Samantha recognized Barbara’s old Mustang. She shouted, and Wil came running. He had a crowbar in his hand, borrowed from his own trunk.
“Great,” he said. “Let’s open it and see what we find.”
Samantha opened her mouth to ask how he was going to do it, but then she remembered it had been easy for him to get into Henley’s house. He had the lock picked in seconds. He pulled the door open, then gestured for Samantha to get inside. Then he went around the back and used the crowbar to open the trunk. Except for a spare tire, it seemed empty.
“I’m going to leave this up to you,” he said. “Check every square inch of the car, especially inside the seats. I’ll open the trunk too. I want you to bring everything you find to me at my office in an hour.”
“Where are you going?”
“To see what I can learn about Barbara Huston,” Wil said. “If I can connect her to a city in the East, we may be able to learn where she’s going with Julie.”
He turned and left without saying good-bye, hurrying to get his job done. This time Samantha didn’t ponder his occasional abruptness. She set about her own task, determined to do whatever she could to get Julie back again.
35
SOMETHING COLD WAS tickling Lorraine’s bare feet. She woke abruptly, jerking her legs up into her torso. She tasted sand in her mouth and sat up, making sputtering sounds. Groggily she looked around herself at the beach where she had collapsed the night before. Where was she? The nearest building was some distance away, and there was no other sign of civilization.
Slowly she pulled herself to her feet and brushed sand-salted hair from her face. Her eyes felt gritty. She rubbed at them. There was a small pool of water near her, the cold that she had felt on her feet. Some child had dug it the day before, but she hadn’t seen it in the darkness.
When had she come here? she wondered? How long had she been walking before sheer exhaustion caused her to collapse on the soft surface of the beach? Marty had guided her only part of the way before she lost contact with him. He had said that sometimes they did things to him. Whoever they were, Lorraine did not want to meet them. That horrible man at the motel had been one of them, and he had wanted to hurt her.
A thought knocked all vestiges of sleep from her chubby little body. Maybe, whenever Marty wasn’t able to talk to her, they were hurting him! The only person who could help her! What would she do if he . . . ?
No, she wouldn’t let herself even say the word. He would be there for her. She would just have to wait. She’d come this far. There had been kind people to help her. Lorraine wondered about Sandy and Donny. Was Donny all right? The police would find that horrible man, and then she’d be okay. But she wasn’t quite certain what condition he’d be in when they did.
She looked around herself, finding her shoes and socks and the valise. Picking them up, she began to head away from the water. She had to fight her way through a quarter acre of sea grass, the sharp leaves cutting at her hands. In a short time she reached a long stretch of road. She saw more houses on the other side, but no one seemed to be moving behind the large plate-glass windows. Lorraine was thankful for that. She didn’t want anyone calling the police about a little girl wandering all by herself along a deserted beach road.
But then, maybe there were kind people in those houses who would help her. Maybe they’d be like Sandy and Donny, or like Bettina.
Unexpectedly, a clump of emotion so strong it was painful formed in Lorraine’s stomach. She crouched onto the ground, holding herself, and burst into tears. For a long time she cried, thinking of Bettina. Was she still on that fire escape?
It’s time to go now, Lorraine.
M-Marty? I was thinking about Bettina.
I know. She’ll be found. But you must think of yourself. You’re upset because you’re alone and hungry. But you won’t be alone for long. There is another who is searching for you. He is one of us. He’ll help you.
Where is he?
He’s coming. His name is Steven. He left a place last night, some eighty miles from here.