Maybe she should read it, just to see what was going on. If he wanted to get back together she’d write and tell him to shove it. The idea of rejecting him in no uncertain terms gave her a quiver of pleasure, the first she’d felt in a long time.

  So she ripped the envelope open and got a huge shock.

  Etta, I found a baby for us. She’s about the same age our son would have been. Doesn’t that make you happy?

  She crumpled the note and threw it on the compost like the first one. The man was truly insane. Then she buried the brief note with pitchforkfuls of more compost.

  How could he adopt a child? He was a divorced man with a police record for having beaten Etta, even though she hadn’t dared to follow through.

  Yeah, Phillip had tipped over the final edge. Putting it from her mind, she turned on the TV.

  It was good to be free of Phillip. Maybe the best thing about her life in the last two years. She wasn’t going to let him worm his way back in. Miserable and lonely as her life now was, she didn’t want him to fill any part of it.

  Satisfied with her decision, she put on some sitcom. Even canned laughter sounded good these days. But never the news. Never. She had enough reality to cope with inside herself.

  Chapter Ten

  Guy returned to his ratty apartment, seeing it through Valerie’s eyes, then wondering why he should. It was his place, damn it, and it sufficed. Why should he care about her approval?

  The fact that he might troubled him.

  Then there was his outburst about life as an Indigenous person. Why had he felt the urge to tell her something so personal? It wasn’t as if she could help change the reality of it any more than he could.

  So much for his belief that working inside the system might help his people. Maybe he should just quit and go home apologetically to his family.

  But no. Regardless of whether he changed this small bit of the world, the job needed doing and he took a great deal of pride in his work. It satisfied him. It also gave him some control, though not enough. More than he’d had on the rez.

  How could he even think of quitting at a time like this anyway? His detachment as a cop was beginning to desert him big-time. As had happened with Valerie, although she had a better excuse than he did.

  He made some instant cocoa, unable to face another cup of coffee, and headed for his recliner, his mind shifting gears to all the interviews he’d repeated. He still couldn’t believe that no one had any unkind words about the Chamberlains. Nobody was that good.

  There ought to be at least some envy out there. The Chamberlains were relatively well-off for these parts. Big fancy house, new-model cars, maybe even some exotic vacations.

  And what about Chet? Had no woman ever made a play for him? A woman whose advances might have been rejected? The same thing went for May, a beautiful woman. Although women with babies were less likely to interest men. Usually.

  Had one of them been cheating? Given Chet’s apparent hours, he was the likeliest one to have a second relationship, one easy to conceal.

  Time to get to Chet’s coworkers, to get beyond the teachers, the preschool, and neighbors. So far they’d been too busy to get to that obvious arena.

  Tomorrow, he decided. It had waited long enough, and the longer Lizzie was gone the more likely it was for someone to speak about matters no one wanted to mention. Matters that might not be relevant but still had to be checked.

  God! He put his cocoa on the end table and rubbed his eyes. Someone had to talk. Someone always did. The criminal himself often told someone.

  But what if the kidnapper—or killer—didn’t talk to anyone around here? Spreading the search over four states made it even less likely that they’d hear anything. Too many people, some of whom wouldn’t have a reason to care or wouldn’t tell for a variety of reasons, like not wanting to get involved with the law.

  Staring into the bleak reality of this case was like going down a black hole into nothingness. Staring into that empty hole eventually dragged him into a restless sleep. The black hole followed him into his dreams.

  * * *

  NOT FOR THE first time, Gage Dalton was finding it impossible to sleep. This time he didn’t lie to his wife, Emma, claiming it was his back.

  “The missing baby,” she supplied without even asking him what was wrong. “For heaven’s sake, Gage, you can’t keep this up. Find a way to sleep or you’ll be dead tomorrow.”

  He shook his head. “You go to bed. I’ll manage.”

  “Then I’ll stay up with you. Unlike you, I can call in sick tomorrow. Nora Jackson can handle the library.”

  He looked at Emma, taking in her beautiful face and thinking about her loving nature that had dragged him out of the dark pit his life had become all those years ago. Since then, life had touched her only lightly, making her all the more beautiful in his eyes.

  “Do you suppose Nate would be up at this hour?” he asked suddenly. Nate Tate, the sheriff who had preceded him. The “old sheriff” as everyone referred to him, as they referred to Gage as the “new sheriff” even after all this time. That didn’t bother Gage. It was a mark of respect this county continued to show the old lawman.

  Emma looked wry. “Need a brainstorm, huh?” She glanced at the clock. “It’s late but I’m sure he won’t mind being dragged out of bed. He’s that kind of man and he still hates being sidelined.”

  “Tell me about it. Besides, he knows this county better than I ever will. I swear he could name every person off the top of his head.”

  “He probably could, but he was born here, unlike you. Call him. If it bothers him he won’t hesitate to tell you to get lost. He’s never been one to withhold his opinion.”

  Gage finally rustled up a half smile, then reached for the landline. Every wise person out here kept one. Cell communications could be disrupted by any number of things. Which was why all his deputies carried satellite radios. SAT-COMS. Everything seemed to have an acronym.

  Nate was on Gage’s speed dial and the man sounded only mildly sleepy when he answered the phone. “Tate.” Just as he had for years while he was sheriff.

  “Gage,” he answered. “Spare me some time?”

  “The Chamberlain case, I reckon. Get your butt over here. I’ll put on the coffee.”

  Gage kissed Emma goodbye with the always repeated “I love you.” Because they both realized there was always a chance that one of them might not come home. The passing of years only strengthened that awareness. It might be the last time the words were spoken. The final memory.

  Then he went out the door, pulling on a light jacket. The spring leaves were beginning to pass the feathery stage and become fuller. Beautiful in the daylight, creepier at night as the wind rustled them.

  He had no room in his head to really notice, though. His thoughts, his worries, pushed him to Nate’s house through the dark night, his official vehicle the boss of the roads he drove over. No traffic to argue with him tonight, however.

  He made it to Nate’s house in ten minutes over town streets toward the subdivision on the outskirts. Built after the Second World War in response to a pressing housing need and the GI bill, most houses here were small though well-kept. Nate’s house was the exception. With six daughters, he’d long ago expanded to create space for his girls and all their friends. Practically a mansion compared to his neighbors’ homes.

  The porch light was on, as were lights inside the front of the house. As Gage pulled into the driveway behind the two family cars, Nate opened the front door, ready for him.

  Age had added some lines to Nate’s face and his dark hair had changed to silver but overall he looked like a man in great condition. He greeted Gage with a shake of hands. “Head for the family room. Still take your coffee black?”

  “My stomach wishes I wouldn’t, but yeah. Thanks.”

  The huge family room hadn’t changed much over the years, even with the girls moved out. It had lost the bean bag chairs, however, replaced by some recliners that faced a large flat-screen TV. Gage sank carefully into one of the recliners and nearly sighed with relief. It eased his damaged body.

  Nate returned with two large mugs of coffee. “Never thought I’d watch so much TV,” he remarked, then took the other recliner. “Lousy case,” Nate added. “I’m glad I’m not working it. How’s Guy Redwing doing?”

  Which meant that Nate still had his feelers out, was in touch with everything including who was leading the investigation. That gave Gage a probably exaggerated sense of support. He had sometimes thought this man would know if anyone sneezed in Conard County.

  “Guy’s doing great from everything I can tell.”

  Nate nodded. “I thought he would. Fine officer. I hope things are better for him. I remember when I hired Micah Parish, an old buddy of mine from Special Forces. Man did he get a load of BS around here. Well, until the day he took out a sniper in the bell tower of Good Shepherd Church.”

  “That would make a difference, all right. I’m not sure about how it’s going for Guy along those lines. He doesn’t talk about it at all. I suspect he’s getting some bull, though.”

  Nate nodded. “Speaking of Good Shepherd, I just got a ping tonight. Pastor Molly is returning early from her trip, should be here tomorrow.”

  “That’s good. We could use her pastoral comfort right about now.” Pastor Molly Canton was now married to the other detective in the sheriff’s office, Callum McCloud. Callum had some business in his old hometown and Molly had taken some well-earned vacation time to accompany him. “Callum, too?”

  “Just Molly. Woman’s got a backbone of steel along with that gentle nature. Anyway, I’m sure you didn’t come to discuss Molly.”

  Gage shook his head. “Heard any other whispers?”

  “I wish. Never heard the grapevine so quiet in my life. Reckon Emma’s told you the same.”

  “She has. It’s strange.”

  “I’ll grant you that. Never saw tongues quit wagging. Which I guess means that everyone is so shocked by all this, so disturbed, that nobody wants to be responsible for any rumor that could turn ugly.”

  Gage nodded. He sipped coffee and watched Nate do the same. Then he sighed. “Nobody’s talking about anything, even in our interviews. You know as well as I do that the Chamberlains can’t be perfect. No one is.”

  “Damn county’s going to hell in a handbasket,” Nate remarked. “Been saying that for years. When I grew up here, we didn’t have the kind of crime we’ve been seeing the past years. Now a baby might be kidnapped or dead?”

  Nate drained his mug then leaned back. “So tell me. What’s going on and what do you want from me?”

  “Ideas,” Gage said bluntly. “Are we missing something? Are we going about anything in the wrong way?”

  “You did the search, right? You’re questioning people about anything they might have seen or heard about the Chamberlains. Tried to find if they have any enemies.”

  “And we’ve called for cadaver dogs.”

  Nate looked away. It almost seemed he winced. “Not good.”

  “No choice. Valerie suggested it.” He paused. “You know who Valerie Brighton is?”

  “Hell yeah. Now, that got the tongues wagging, including in the department. Some folks claim it shows that Guy ain’t good enough.”

  Gage shook his head. “Bigots will find any excuse. Thing is, given she’s a detective with a personal stake in all this, there’s no way I could keep her out. Better to team her with Guy than have her trying to investigate on her own.”

  “Couldn’t agree more. And folks’ll simmer down once this case gets solved. I researched Valerie.”

  A crooked smile escaped Gage. “Why am I not surprised?”

  “Well, I figure I got more time to look into her than you got.” It was Nate’s turn to smile. “So I did. Using access I’m not s’posed to still have.”

  Gage chuckled. “I didn’t hear that.”

  “Figured you’d go deaf. Now Valerie. She’s got a brilliant record. Highest solve rate in robbery-homicide. A record most would envy.”

  Gage nodded. “That’s good to know.”

  “Might could be this is a little different. She’s involved.”

  “Thought about that. But she’s the one who wanted the cadaver dogs. Cop thinking.”

  “True.” Nate rose. “More coffee?”

  “Natch.”

  Nate returned a minute later with freshened mugs. “Been thinking about this whole mess.”

  “I thought you would be.”

  “Any ideas I might not have heard?”

  “Valerie asked Chet to look over his records for anyone who might have reason to hold a grudge against him. HIPAA is a problem. You wouldn’t know if I can get a warrant?”

  “Never had cause to get one, but law enforcement is probably allowed. Same as they can read your online chatting or phone info with a warrant. No damn privacy anymore.”

  Gage cocked his one functioning eyebrow. “You think that’s bad?”

  “Not for law enforcement. That’s all I’ll say, except you couldn’t pay me to use any of them online social groups.”

  “Off the grid, are you?”

  Nate snorted. “Like I said. So you think Chet might find something?”

  “I’m hoping. You probably heard we’re looking at kidnapping, too.”

  “No shock there.”

  “No ransom note, though. Strange.”

  “Somebody could have a different reason for taking the kid.”

  “That idea sickens me.”

  “Yeah.” Nate fell silent. “Hell and damnation.”

  “We need just one thread to pull and we’re not finding it.”

  “I’ll think on it, Gage. Right now I ain’t seeing a thing you ain’t done. But if I come up with something, I’ll let you know. And you keep me in the loop, too.”

  Gage had to be satisfied with that, but he was more satisfied they now had an additional brain, a good one, thinking about all this.

  Another strand of hope, albeit slender. But just hope, not a lead.

  He swore as he drove home and banged his palm on the steering wheel. He’d lost his kids to a car bomb intended for him. He’d nearly lost his mind. He knew how that felt to a parent.

  And now he was losing his cool on this one.

  * * *

  HE WASN’T THE only one losing his cool. Not that Valerie had been totally cool since Lizzie disappeared, but it was getting harder to squelch her own grief even though it might hinder her in the investigation.

  After she finally got an exhausted May into bed, she couldn’t sleep herself. She paced the dimly lit house, her mind racing. Poking at everything they’d learned, trying to shake out more info. Seeking any hole they hadn’t peered into.

  She stared out the front window into the darkness and felt despair washing over her.

  “God,” she murmured. “Just a clue. Please, just one little clue to help us.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The cadaver dogs arrived in the early morning. They were trained by separate owners but evidently willing to work together. Their owners looked a bit fatigued, having driven most of the night.

  At nearly the same time, Kell McLaren arrived with his own K-9, both of them retired from the Army.

  “Bradley,” Kell said, “isn’t a trained cadaver dog but he’s damn good at chasing a scent. Any scent. Let him smell the baby’s dirty clothes or a blanket. And let him sniff around for any other scent in that room. Won’t take him any time to sort out a useful odor.”

  Guy didn’t think that Bradley could do much more than the department’s own K-9s, but he had to admit Kell’s dog had a lot more experience. There wasn’t much call for K-9s around here, except for searching for some idiot hiker who’d lost his way or managed to get himself injured. Or the occasional fool who tried to fly his small plane over the mountains.

  “Go for it, Kell.”

  He took Kell and his dog into Lizzie’s bedroom. May at once grew worried. “Another dog? He isn’t...”

  She clearly couldn’t bring herself to speak the words.

  “Nah,” said Guy easily. “This one’s Army trained. Probably better than ours.” Maybe.

  May looked relieved. “But the other dogs?”

  “Same thing, but with more experience than ours.”

  May accepted it and returned to her living room, where she sat beside Valerie, who appeared washed out. Guy didn’t expect much from her today.

  “I’ve sent Connie Parish over to the hospital to do some interviews.” He was past caring if May heard it. Besides, he reasoned, it wouldn’t make Lizzie’s disappearance any harder to take. Might even ease her mind to know something of what was being done.

  Valerie nodded. A moment later, May nodded as well. The two were images of worn-out anguish.

  “It’s been too long,” May said woodenly. “She can’t be alive out there.”

  Guy sat facing the two women, controlling his expression. “Maybe we can find the exact place she disappeared.”

  May shook her head. “What good will that do?”

  “We’re trying everything, May.”

  “Yes,” said Valerie. “We are.”

  May looked at her sister. “I know,” she said finally. “I’m glad you’re helping, Val.”

  Ouch, thought Guy, even though it wasn’t fair. Why wouldn’t May trust Valerie more than anyone else? Valerie had a bigger stake than the rest of them.

  Besides, he was just a redskin cop. And how many times had he heard that in these parts? Or everywhere else.

  Also not fair to May. He reined in his ugly thoughts that wouldn’t help anyone, least of all himself. Instead he focused on the crushing burden May was placing on Valerie’s shoulders.