“Notice any walkers or joggers since you’ve been back?”
The teen shook his head.
Wells silently studied his notes. Ava glanced at Callahan. The man was watching his son carefully but seemed distracted. He kept glancing at the clock on the wall and shifting in his seat. He’d brought a pencil and notepad but hadn’t written a word. He just kept spinning the sharp pencil between his fingers. He caught her watching him and set the pencil down but didn’t make eye contact.
Something’s up.
She looked to Wells, but he was engrossed in his notes. If Callahan’s pencil spinning had bothered him, he didn’t show it. She suspected Wells was taking careful mental notes of every movement Callahan made. He was a born observer.
“I saw one of the news station reporters say Lucas’s business is being investigated,” Jake said slowly. “They also said Lucas wouldn’t talk to them.”
All the attention in the room went to Jake. His lips were pale, and his gaze bounced between the three of them, seeking reassurance.
“Don’t listen to what the media says,” started Ava. She leaned forward and touched the boy’s hand. “They’re looking for ratings, and Lucas is smart to not talk to them. We advised him not to.” She didn’t know that fact for certain but figured it was a safe bet. “Yes, they’re looking at his business. They need to know if there are any issues with clients that could drive someone to harm Henley. It’s common sense to look.”
“I’ll be doing all the talking to the media for the family,” Callahan added. “That was my agreement with Lucas and your mother.”
“They said he has a lawyer. Why did he get a lawyer if he didn’t do anything? They make it sound like he’s hiding something.” Jake’s voice wavered.
“It does make it sound bad, which is why the media makes a big deal of it. The business has a lawyer to protect its rights. Hiring a lawyer is not a sign of guilt,” Callahan reassured the teen. “It’s the right thing to do. Innocent people need lawyers, too.”
Jake didn’t look convinced, and Ava suspected that was a hard line for Callahan to sell. Lawyers slowed down police investigations, and there was no doubt Callahan had vented his frustrations in the past within Jake’s hearing.
“Online, too. People are saying horrible things about Lucas in the comments under the stories on the news websites. They all think he did something to Henley.”
Ava’s heart cracked. “Don’t read that stuff, Jake. They are uninformed people wanting to share in the public speculation. Making a stupid comment makes them sound smart in their heads. Anyone with half a brain knows they’re full of shit.”
He blinked at her choice of words. Ava didn’t care. Online speculation would be the family’s worst enemy. Nothing good ever came from it—just a lot of hurt feelings and anger.
“You need to keep your chin up. Some idiots will try their hardest to make the family look bad in this case, and they will do it where everyone can see it, read about it, and add fuel to the fire. You know the truth. Not them. Ignore it. There’s a chance it could get out of hand. I pray it won’t, but you need to realize that if it happens, it’s up to you to stay out of it. Don’t give them reason to focus on you. Your first reaction will be to defend your family. You have to stay strong and ignore what people say.”
“Stay offline,” Callahan ordered. “Keep the TV off, too.”
“They took my laptop last night,” Jake said.
“Don’t use the browser on your phone, either,” his father stated.
“Will I get my computer back before I go back to school?” Jake looked at Wells.
The agent nodded. “I’ll make certain we get it back as soon as possible.” He scratched a note.
“Will we know what happened before I leave for Duke? Before Christmas?” Jake whispered. He looked down at his clenched hands on the table, his knuckles white.
Ava bit the inside of her lip. Jake hadn’t asked if Henley would be back.
Had her brother given up already?
10
26 HOURS MISSING
Jake rubbed his eyes and stared out the window. After his interview, he’d excused himself to use the restroom and then wandered to the far end of the church. The building felt more like a school. Lots of small rooms and hallways. He peeked in the windows of the doors, passing an obvious nursery and toddler playroom. He kept going. God was somewhere in this building. Or at least there was a good place to talk to him.
His family didn’t go to church. Some of his friends did. He’d gone with a few of them on Wednesday evenings, when a big group of kids would get together and go bowling or hit the batting cages. No one had pushed God down his throat during these times. He’d waited for it, expecting them to all pull out bibles and pray at some point in the evening. Instead, he’d seen simple, clean fun. He figured they saved the preaching for Sunday morning.
He turned a corner and spotted three sets of huge double doors across the end of the hallway, indicating the sanctuary.
That had to be it.
The hall was silent; the noise of the FBI had dissipated as he walked through the big building. He stopped and peeked through a window in one of the doors. Rows and rows of chairs filled the room. A traditional-looking pulpit stood alone on a low stage, two huge screens hung in the front corners of the room, and . . . was that a drum set on the stage? He pulled open a door, and it snapped loudly as it swung out. He stepped inside and quietly shut the door behind him.
The room was silent.
He waited.
Nothing happened.
Wasn’t he supposed to feel God in church? Shouldn’t he feel at peace and comforted? Maybe it only worked on members. The lights were dim in the sanctuary; only the stage was lit. He moved forward, scanning the stage. Drum set, microphones, piano, electronic keyboards. Weren’t churches supposed to have giant organs?
He sat down in a seat in the front row and waited again.
He didn’t know what he was waiting for but figured he’d know it when it happened.
“Is she safe?” he whispered.
His voice was swallowed up in the silence of the gigantic room.
He leaned forward, his elbows on his thighs, listening hard.
“Did he kill her?”
Silence.
He blew out a deep breath and closed his eyes, letting his hearing explore the room. A very quiet buzz came from the lights above the stage. He breathed deep and relaxed. At least here it was quiet. No parent or cop watching him with eagle eyes to make certain he wasn’t about to have a nervous breakdown. No escapist video games to turn off the horrible images in his brain. It was just him.
Please bring her home. She’s just a little kid.
Henley was a sparkly child. Her laugh infectious, her smile wide, and her eyes engaging. From the very beginning, he’d been fascinated with making her smile. Nothing made him happier than his power to transform his baby sister’s face. Although she lived with her mom a lot of the time, when she came to stay at his house, it was like she’d never left. They always picked up right where they’d left off. He was her source of information about the world, and she always had questions. Questions about weather, dirt, school, boys, and music.
Last summer they’d done a family trip to Disneyland. He could still see her spinning in the teacups with his mom while he and Lucas watched. As he looked back, he realized the trip had centered around Henley and his little sisters, Kindy and Kylie. But he hadn’t cared. Half his fun had been watching them squeal and scream and dance when they spotted a princess or Pooh. He and Lucas had snuck away to do the scarier rides, but what stuck in his mind was watching Henley enjoy her kiddie rides. When they’d discovered A Small World was closed, Henley had burst into tears, and Jake had been overwhelmed with the need to fix the situation. He’d surprised her with a souvenir from the Small World gift shop, bought with his own money. Her tears stopped and her eyes had worshiped him. He’d felt like a real superhero.
At what age had his sister’s happiness become more important than his own?
Jake opened his eyes.
God hadn’t appeared or spoken in his head. He still missed his sister and had no answers. At least he didn’t want to punch the wall anymore. He’d considered it in the bathroom a few minutes before, when anger and rage had been swirling beneath his urge to bawl like a baby. He hadn’t given in to either need.
He was helpless, useless. How could he find his sister?
He’d lost his superhero cape.
Ava slowly washed her hands. The church bathroom was immaculate and smelled like citrus air freshener. She soaked in the peace and quiet, stalling to avoid the hustle and noise of the command center. It felt good to let down her guard for two minutes without an agent or family member watching her. She counted slowly to ten, taking deep breaths and letting her mind wander, avoiding any thoughts of a kidnapper or the sad family. She shook the water off her hands and stared in the mirror, trying to ignore the signs of her twin in her features.
She knew they were there. The same eyes, the same lips, the same facial shape. That’s where the similarities ended. Or at least that’s where they’d ended last time she’d seen Jayne. Was Jayne in a cycle where she wanted the two of them to look alike again? The obsession seemed to crop up every few years. Ava, however, kept her look consistent. Her hair was always its natural dark brown, shoulder length, and her makeup was usually minimal. Jayne, on the other hand, changed with the seasons, often going through a platinum-blonde phase as she tried to imitate her namesake.