“Oh, that’s the most exciting thing that’s happened in this town!” she cried. “One of our police officers stopped a man for driving crazy. I saw him—he was all over the road. Must of been drunk. Anyhow, they were talking, and suddenly the guy fell. I could see the blood from two blocks away.”
That was an exaggeration, but she felt it made the story sound good.
“Anyway,” she said, “I heard he was shot! There were cops all over the place a while ago, but it’s quieted down since then.”
“Do you know who the man was?” Eric asked.
The woman shrugged.
“Sorry,” she said. “I was taken to headquarters to answer some questions because I was an eyewitness, of course. But they didn’t tell me who he was. Not from this town, I know for certain. There aren’t very many people around here, so you get to notice strangers.”
“What about the little girl?” Rachel said. “Have you ever seen her before?”
“No,” the waitress replied. “And I know everyone in this town.”
Rachel pushed her coffee cup away. She’d drained it dry, welcoming the jolt from the caffeine.
“Eric, I don’t think we should be sitting around,” she said. “I don’t know who that little girl is, but we have to find Steven.”
The waitress rested her forearms on the counter.
“You think that dead man has anything to do with those kids?” she asked.
Rachel got off her stool without answering. Eric sighed.
“I hope not,” he said. He paid for the coffee. “Thank you for your help. Did you happen to notice which direction he went?”
“Sorry,” the woman said. “Why don’t you try the train station? You might be able to learn something there.”
“Good idea,” Eric said with a half-smile. He’d had enough of train stations that day, but if he had to, he’d head for another. “Thanks.”
He took Rachel by the arm and led her out of the diner. They got back into the car and followed the waitress’s suggestion. In a few minutes they learned that Steven had not gotten on a train.
“I didn’t think he had,” Rachel said as they exited the station house. “I still feel him nearby. Eric, there was something about those woods. I want to look there.”
“Oh, God, Rachel . . .”
Rachel swung around, meeting his eyes.
“I’m not letting myself think anything, Eric,” she said. “Steven is alive. I’m sure of that. But I think he was in the woods. And maybe there’s a clue . . .”
“Then let’s have a look,” Eric said. “It’s starting to get dark. We’d better hurry.”
He opened the car door, but stopped before getting in.
“If we park on the side of the road, we’ll attract too much attention,” he said. “I’m not sure if the man who was shot has anything to do with this, but you can bet the police are on the alert for anything suspicious. As out-of-towners, we’d be subject to major questioning.”
Rachel nodded. “You’re right. Let’s walk to the woods.”
They held each other’s hands like high-school kids, crossing over the tracks that Steven had crossed just a short while earlier. They had no way of knowing that Steven was far, far away, locked in a secret room.
47
SAMANTHA AND HER friends arrived in Shoaling just as the sun was going down. It was a charming community, established in colonial times as a fishing port.
“Does anything look familiar?” Wil asked.
“Not at all,” Samantha said. “I suppose I only came here for a short time when I was very young.”
Barbara pulled into the beach parking lot. It wasn’t nearly as full as it would get in a few weeks, when summer vacation started. She parked and everyone got out. A cool breeze was blowing off the ocean, scenting the air with salt and seaweed perfume. Samantha tucked her Dutch-boy hair behind her ears, but it still flapped at her eyes.
“Well, here we are,” she said.
Wil looked around.
“We don’t know which way to find Haybrook’s,” he said.
“Let’s just walk,” Samantha suggested. “I’m tired of sitting after such a long drive.”
“It’d be a good way for you to see if you remember anything,” Wil agreed.
He put his arm around her shoulder. A small road led away from the parking lot, following the coast. The beach ran along one side, and tiny summer cottages sat on the other. Samantha looked at each one, but they meant nothing to her.
“Maybe we’ll find that house Julie kept drawing,” Barbara said.
“Yellow with green shutters,” Samantha reminded her.