Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 132834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
And what about his inheritance? Once the clock ran out and he had his money, how long would he be content to stay in Sawyers Bend? I loved living here, loved my work, loved being so close to my mom. Did that mean I wouldn’t leave if that’s what Finn wanted? I didn’t know.
I wanted to reach for that bright, beautiful future he was offering me. I did. But every time I pictured going down to the kitchens and talking to him, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I was chicken. It was humbling to admit it to myself. I was a big, giant chicken. Not willing to say no, too scared to say yes.
What I needed was a distraction. I thought about those boxes of baby things still in Griffen’s office. I’d been hoping to dig through them today, but Paige, who’d been a lifesaver with the kids, had told me Stella had been up all night nursing and crying, sleeping in short bursts before wanting to nurse again. Hope and Griffen were exhausted, in no shape to think about anything but Stella and whatever precious sleep they could snatch between feedings. I remembered how that went. And Hope would murder me if I went through the bins without her.
I’d have to find another distraction. My mind flashed to Ford. What if something in those boxes could point us to the real killer? That’s what we were all hoping. Shouldn’t we go through everything now? We’d already waited two weeks. Really, it had been months since my mother had first seen the boxes.
What were the odds that the answer would be in there? Not good, I had to admit to myself. Those boxes might have been new information to us, but based on the model year of that monitor, they predated both Prentice’s murder and Ford’s arrest by a few years—old news. We’d get to them soon enough.
Then again, maybe Hope wouldn’t mind if I just opened one . . .
My phone rang. Scarlett. She was at Laurel Country Day, picking up the boys from their last school day before Christmas break. Seeing the time on the screen, I realized she should have been on her way back by now.
“Scarlett, what’s up?” I asked.
“Savannah?” She sounded breathless. Scared.
My heart stopped.
“What is it?”
“Nicky’s missing, Savannah. I came to pick him up—” She stopped, a muffled voice in the background. Then she finished, “I got here to pick them up, and August and Thatcher were waiting, but no one could find Nicky. His teacher doesn’t remember signing him out for pickup. I don’t know more than that. They’re all looking for him, but I didn’t want to wait to call you.”
It was like sinking into a nightmare. I was paralyzed, and my brain couldn’t keep up with the worst-case scenarios spinning to life in my imagination. My questions tumbled out. “No one knows what happened? He’s just not there? How can they not know where he is? What about the sign-out procedures?”
I could hear my voice rising in panic and knew I had to calm down, but I couldn’t seem to do it. I’d picked up the boys before. The teachers in charge of pickup always checked the list. Whoever was picking up students had to have an assigned name tag in their car. You couldn’t just drive on campus and leave with a student.
“Everything is crazy here,” Scarlett said, not sounding much calmer than I was. “The kids’ Christmas parties ran late and cut into pickup time, and then they started to rush because the line was backed up and people were honking their horns. They’re trying to find who signed him out, but—”
She cut off, and it sounded like she was talking to someone else. Then, louder, she said, “Savannah, I think you should come. I’ll call if we find him, but I think you should come.”
My heart froze. Scarlett was not a woman given to hysterics. She wouldn’t have called if she thought Nicky was just distracted on the playground or messing around with friends.
“I’m on my way,” I said, my heart racing, my brain swamped with panic so intense I couldn’t think. Oh god, my baby. “I’m on my way,” I said again, picking up my pace as I ran down the stairs. “I’ll call Hawk, West—”
“You get in the car,” Scarlett said. “I’ll call Hawk and West. I think the school is outside West’s jurisdiction, but he’ll call the county sheriff and get his officers moving. You focus on getting here. If anything changes, I’ll call you.”
I hung up, shoving my phone into my pocket. My mind raced, but all I could think was Nicky, Nicky, Nicky. And then, Lydia. Could she have taken Nicky? She wasn’t on the list for pickup. Of course, she wasn’t. They weren’t supposed to release the kids to anyone who wasn’t on the list. But it was the last day before Christmas break, and I knew that sometimes holiday dismissals got a little crazy.