Thought I Knew You(55)

He led me inside and poured me a glass of wine. “You need to relax. Here, drink a few of these, but not too many, and I’ll be back.” He left.

“Mommy, I’m hungry.”

I checked the time—five o’clock. Leah would be hungry, too. I hoped that whatever she was doing, she would be reminded to come home to eat. If she can find her way back. Stop thinking like that. I made Hannah a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and turned on the TV. I set up a tray in front of Dora the Explorer. She raised an eyebrow at me.

“Yes, you can eat in front of the TV. Right now, you can do anything you want as long as you don’t disappear on me.”

I was too anxious to eat, but I gulped down a glass of wine and was halfway through the second when my cell phone rang. I snatched it up and answered with a breathless, “Hello?”

“This is Officer Jones. Has your daughter come home?”

“No,” I said, heart sinking. I had hoped they would tell me they had her.

“In about an hour, if we still haven’t found her, we’re going to call the FBI.”

I laughed—a crude, guttural sound. They did so much to find my husband. But surely a child would be different. I hung up, despondent, and stared at the kitchen table, waiting.

The front door flung open.

“Claire! I found Leah. I have her!” Drew walked in holding a very startled-looking Leah.

I grabbed her from Drew’s arms and hugged her so tightly I thought I would break every small rib. I sobbed, crying in her hair, then sat on the floor with her simply because my legs would not support the weight of my relief. I kissed her cheeks, her hair, and ran my hands down her arms and legs.



“Oh, God, you’re okay. You’re okay. Where was she?”

I could tell by Drew’s face that he didn’t want to answer the question.

“Out on the jetty,” he said softly.

“Oh, God.” I couldn’t stop crying. I couldn’t catch my breath. I let Leah go and put my head between my knees.

Drew put his hand on my neck, his touch warm and soothing. “Take slow breaths, Claire. You’re hyperventilating.” He rubbed my back.

I raised my head. “Leah, if you ever do anything like that again, I will take your Uglydoll away forever. Do you understand me?”

She had tears in her eyes, and I knew she had no comprehension of what I had suffered. To Leah, nearly three years old, adventurous and unafraid of the world, she had merely been exploring. She nodded, understanding finally that she’d done something wrong.

Hannah cried and hugged Leah fiercely. “We thought you drowned in the ocean.”

“I was on the rocks!” she protested. “I’m not a’posed to go in the ocean without Mommy.”

I asked Drew to call the police and tell them she’d been found. “Drew, I don’t get it. We looked on the jetty. I ran up and down the beach, calling for her. Leah, did you hear Mommy calling you?” I asked.

She shook her head, still wary of me.

I realized that she didn’t have Uglydoll with her. “Leah, where’s Uglydoll?”

“In the car,” she said matter-of-factly.

The car? Why would Uglydoll be in the car? Unless. Unless. My heart sped up.

“Leah, were you in the car when Mommy was looking for you?”

“I was hiding! I was under the seat, and you couldn’t see me.”

She was there; she saw me search the car. I could have found her three hours ago. I had opened the car door and, in my panic, called her name, searched the seats with a cursory glance, and closed the door. To a child who loved to hide and had no idea how to read panic in a voice, she had probably been thrilled with her cleverness. I could envision her there, flattened under the seats with bated breath, waiting for me to come back and say, “Ah ha! I found you, Leah!” as I usually do when she hides. Then, she got bored and wandered down to the ocean. When? How? While we were in the house, before we called the police, was the only time that made sense. If I had looked out the window at any time while we were searching the house, I might have seen her.



My head pounded. Drew appeared out of nowhere, holding Uglydoll, retrieved from the car. Leah snatched her doll out of his hands and joined her sister on the couch for the rare treat of watching TV for an extra hour.

I poured another glass of wine and drank it down in two gulps.

“Can I do anything?” Drew asked, his hand on my back.

I looked at my watch—seven o’clock. “Yes. We need more wine. And pizza.”





Chapter 24



Drew stayed the night because we had split a bottle of wine, and he felt he shouldn’t drive home. He disappeared into the guest room without a backward glance, and I wondered if my jitters were caused by the adrenaline of the day or something else. My very own Johnny on the spot.