“And Amber?” he asked.

  “She was wearing dark sunglasses. Her hair was blond and cut short. She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt. We didn’t talk at all. I handed her an envelope with the check, and she left.”

  “Blond hair? It was brunette when she came to the bank with my father a few years ago.”

  “Women change their hair color.”

  “I know, I know. Did she have on a wedding band?”

  “No. And I checked. She was wearing rings on several fingers, but nothing on the left ring finger.”

  “What kind of car was she driving?”

  Millie hesitated. “I’m not good at types and makes. I think it was small and white, but I’m not sure.”

  “Any other children in the car?”

  “I didn’t see any.”

  “What state was the license plate from?”

  “I don’t remember that either. Buddy, it was all over in a few seconds. The only thing I really focused on was the little girl. She was looking at a book and glanced up at me for just a second or two. I don’t remember her clothes. It was her face I wanted to see. The resemblance to you was so strong.”

  “Why did you personally deliver that particular check to Amber?”

  “Because Rascal told me to do it.”

  “Was it the only time?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you and my father talk later about Elise? Was he curious about her?”

  Millie shook her head. “No. Neither one of us ever said a word about it.”

  * * *

  After she returned to the courthouse, Gracie mulled over her conversation with Buddy. Her prayer for him and Elise was going to move in the opposite direction—from once a year to every day.

  “The Office of the Courts in Atlanta called,” Brenda said. “They’re sending another judge to fill in while Judge Barnwell is gone.”

  Judge Dixon Barnwell was on active military duty as a JAG officer for three months. That meant retired superior court judges with emeritus status had been coming to town for short periods to help with the caseload. Gracie called Atlanta and learned that a former judge named Bryant Williams would be traveling to Clarksburg the following week.

  “He’s from Statesboro and has your contact information,” the coordinator said. “He’ll arrive Sunday afternoon and will need accommodations for four weeks. He’s agreed to stay until Judge Barnwell returns.”

  There were two motels in Milton County, neither suitable for a judge. Gracie had housed the other visiting judges with a local couple who ran a bed-and-breakfast in a large, older home on Franklin Street not far from Buddy’s mother. Gracie explained what she had in mind.

  “Sounds okay, but make sure the judge can bring his parrot. That created a hassle the last assignment he took.”

  “A parrot?”

  “Yes. And it’s nonnegotiable.”

  Gracie wasn’t sure if pet birds were allowed at the bed-and-breakfast. “I’ll find out and get back to you.”

  Gracie called Vivian Hunt at the bed-and-breakfast and told her about the unusual request.

  “Thanks for letting us know,” said Vivian. “We can make it work. I’ve had people who snored so loudly it rattled the pipes. In case the bird makes a racket, I’ll put the judge in a room that’s separate from the other bedrooms. It’s downstairs near the kitchen, which is convenient for meals and has a nice view of the vegetable garden.”

  “Sounds perfect. I may bring him over in person.”

  Later, on her way to softball practice, Gracie stopped by Buddy’s office to pay her rent and schedule a specific time to talk to him about Reagan. She handed the rent check to Millie Graham.

  “I have good news,” Millie said when she handed Gracie a receipt. “We’re going to provide free lawn service by Ken Grant for a month to all our residential tenants.”

  “Buddy told me about it at lunch today,” Gracie said, glancing past Millie’s desk toward the lawyer’s office. “I’d like to set up an appointment with him to talk about a new case I want to refer to him.”

  “Let me check for an opening on his calendar. Is there a day that’s best for you?”

  “I can make most times work. It won’t take long. Maybe fifteen minutes.”

  While Millie looked at her computer screen, Buddy emerged from his office wearing his running gear and with a gym bag in one hand.

  “Twice in one day,” he said to Gracie.

  “I was paying my rent and wanted to set up an appointment to talk about a new case,” she replied. “It’ll only take a few minutes to provide the background information so you can decide if you can help.”

  “You’ve got a fairly full day scheduled tomorrow,” Millie said.

  “Do you have time now?” Buddy asked Gracie.

  “I have to be at the ballfield in a few minutes for practice.”

  “I’m going to start running again. Why don’t I swing by and we can talk after practice?”

  Gracie knew she would be hot and sweaty. “Uh, okay,” she said.

  Buddy turned to Millie. “Did you know Gracie struck me out when I was playing ball in high school? I had no chance.”

  “He wasn’t used to hitting a rising fast-pitch softball,” Gracie explained. “It moves differently than a baseball.”

  “It looked like magic to me,” Buddy replied as he continued toward the door. “But that was before I got contacts. See you later.”

  “I remember the girls’ softball team was really good when you were in school,” Millie said after Buddy left. “Much better than the boys’ baseball team that he played on.”

  “We won two regional championships and made it to the state semifinals my junior year.”

  “Was Amber Melrose on that team?” Millie asked.

  “Yes, but she was a bench player,” Gracie said, then paused. “Buddy mentioned Amber and his daughter today during lunch at the Crossroads Café. He discovered some new information at his mother’s house that may help him find them.”

  “We had the same conversation,” Millie sighed. “I felt bad for not telling him about the payments his father made to Amber, but Rascal swore me to secrecy. It was a relief having it all come out in the open. It’s been a burden on my shoulders for a long time.”

  Gracie froze. Millie had mistakenly assumed that Buddy had shared a lot more with her than he had.

  “I’m praying for all of them,” Gracie managed.

  “That’s good. I’m sure Buddy is going to ramp up his efforts to locate them.”

  Gracie left the office with the bookkeeper’s startling revelation swirling around in her head.

  Six

  Buddy parked in a gravel lot large enough for only five or six cars. A winding path led away from the lot and intersected the high school cross-country course near its midpoint. It had been over two years since he’d gone for a run. He stretched for a few minutes before jogging toward the course. Completing half of the five-kilometer route would be a good goal. He took it easy. He’d run the course so many times in training and competition that at one time he knew every tree and rock. Pine trees that were seedlings when he was in high school now shaded the path with thick, long needles on closely connected branches. Neighboring hardwoods grew more slowly, but they, too, were much bigger than when Buddy first ran the course at age thirteen. The only tree that remained eternally the same was a massive, ancient pin oak that marked the halfway point of the course. A foot-wide horizontal streak of bark on the tree had been worn smooth by the hands of countless runners who touched it on their way past in a tradition that began many years before. Buddy brushed his hand across the smooth bark as he jogged past the tree. Sprinting the last hundred yards, he knew his legs would be sore in the morning, but it felt good to be back in the race, even at a much slower pace.

  Leaning against his car, Buddy gulped down a sports energy drink. He turned the air-conditioning in his car on full blast, but it didn’t have a chance to cool down much during the short drive to the softball field. He sat on a low bleacher to watch. The girls were taking batting practice. One of the shorter girls was pitching. Her fastball was rising too much and going out of the strike zone. Gracie jogged over, spoke to her for a moment, then wound up and threw a pitch with her left hand that shot out straight but magically rose shortly before reaching the plate. The girl in the batter’s box swung and completely whiffed. Buddy shook his head. Unlike his running ability, Gracie’s pitches seemed as sharp and deceptive as ever.

  Three more batters hit before Gracie called everyone together near home plate. The girls stood in a circle for several moments before joining hands and bowing their heads. Prayer was never part of the routine for the boys’ baseball team. Buddy’s coach used profanity for emphasis and motivation. The girls separated.

  The petite pitcher helped Gracie gather up the practice balls, then hoisted the large bag over her shoulder and carried it from the field. Gracie came over to him. Her hair was tucked beneath a ball cap, and her cheeks were tinged with the reddish dust from the infield.

  “You’ve still got it,” Buddy said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’d still strike me out.”

  “Maybe the contacts would make a difference.”

  “I doubt it.”

  Gracie took a sip of water from a bottle.

  “What did you want to talk to me about?” Buddy asked.

  “It’s about a girl named Reagan Landry,” Gracie said, placing the water on the bleacher seat beside Buddy. “She was on the team at the beginning of the season but stopped showing up a couple of weeks ago. Her family is worried because—”

  “I know Reagan,” Buddy cut in. “She was born at almost the same time as Elise. Her parents are Sammy and Crystal Landry.”

  “That’s right. Reagan ran away from home. The family filed a missing person report with the sheriff’s department, but so far they haven’t been able to track her down. I know you just took on the Sue Ellen Ford case, but they were wondering if you could help find her.”

  It had been several years since Buddy talked to Sammy, but he hadn’t forgotten the time he’d shared with the jovial expectant father in the waiting room at the hospital.

  “I’d like to help, but they need a real investigator, not a lawyer. Do you know if they’ve talked to the new detective who is overseeing crimes against juveniles?”

  “I’m not sure. Who is it?”

  “Mayleah Harkness. I met her today when I took over the custody order signed by Judge Claremont in Sue Ellen Ford’s case. She seemed sharp. As clerk, you may be able to get the sheriff’s department going when an average person can’t. If Detective Harkness knows you’re personally interested in a matter, I’m sure it will receive top priority.”

  “I don’t know,” Gracie said.

  “Don’t hesitate to use your political influence for a good cause. It’s not like you’re seeking a political favor for yourself.”

  “Okay,” Gracie said and nodded slowly. “But are you sure you can’t get directly involved?”

  “I’ll talk to Sammy and Crystal. If Reagan is caught up in illegal activity, the police will track her down because of that.”

  The look on Gracie’s face revealed that she hadn’t considered the possibility that Reagan was a criminal.

  “I assumed she’s an innocent runaway,” she said.

  “Let’s hope so.” Buddy stood up. “I’ll call Sammy, but you should contact Detective Harkness. It will be better coming from you than me.”

  After Buddy left, Gracie jogged a couple of times around the ballfield. On her way home she received a call from her sister, Lauren.

  “Where are you?” Lauren asked.

  “Leaving softball practice.”

  “Perfect. Jeff is going to bathe the boys and put them down for the night so I can come over and help you set up your dating profile.”

  Gracie was looking forward to a shower and the absence of anything resembling work. “Let’s do it another time. I had a tough day at work.”

  “So did I, and I wasn’t paid for it,” Lauren responded. “When I was rocking Mark this afternoon, I felt a surge of inspiration for you and don’t want to let it pass.”

  Mark was eighteen months old. The sturdy little boy played hard and slept harder. Lauren’s willingness to sacrifice time when she could rest herself touched Gracie.

  “Okay, you win,” Gracie said. “Give me time to clean up.”

  “Awesome, see you in a bit. If you’re in the shower, I’ll play with Opie. I’ve missed him.”

  Gracie fed the dog after arriving home and took a shower. When she emerged wearing pajamas, Lauren was sitting on the floor holding one end of a thick rope. Opie had the other end in his mouth and was shaking it back and forth. Lauren shared Gracie’s blond hair but was taller. The only regular exercise she had was chasing her boys around the house. After obtaining a college degree in psychology, Lauren worked for several years as a counselor at the local mental health clinic. Now she was a stay-at-home mom but planned on returning to work when both boys were in school.

  “Let’s go into the kitchen,” Gracie said. “We can use my laptop.”

  The sisters sat beside each other at the small kitchen table. Lauren accessed the profile creation screen for the dating website that she and Jeff had used.

  “Do you have any chocolate?” she asked. “I didn’t eat dessert before rushing over here.”

  “No, but I can give you a peach.”

  “That’s okay. I need to focus on you and nothing else.” Lauren pointed to the box reserved for entering data. “Keep this in mind. You can’t be too generic. Don’t say, ‘I like to hike.’ You have to write that you ‘love to climb mountains and see the horizon painted on a blue-and-green canvas.’”

  “I don’t like to hike,” Gracie answered.

  “I know. It’s just an example. Unless you want to attract a dud, you need to prove that you have an imagination and write something that stands out from the crowd. Maybe something about golf. A lot of women play golf, but you’re really good.”

  “I haven’t played more than three rounds since Barry broke up with me. And I only took it up because he liked it.”

  “Then ended up being a better golfer than he was.”

  “I enjoy going for walks with Opie,” Gracie said.

  “‘Likes to walk dog,’” Lauren said as she typed the words on the screen. “That will stand out.”

  “No need to be sarcastic.”

  “Only until you give me something decent to work with.”

  Gracie slid the laptop over in front of her and began typing: “I enjoy spending time with my dog. I love watching him discover the world through his nose, which is ten thousand times more sensitive than a human nose.”

  Lauren nodded. “That will get tons of hits from veterinarians.”

  “I wouldn’t mind marrying a veterinarian. He could work with large animals or household pets; either is fine with me.”

  Lauren ignored Gracie’s response. “Let’s cut the technical comment about comparison of noses and add something different,” she said.

  “Okay, I’ll get serious,” Gracie said. “I don’t want to waste your time.”

  Gracie thought for a moment, then edited the sentence: “I enjoy spending time with my dog, Opie, and watching him discover the world through his nose. Opie loves me unconditionally, and that’s the way I want it to be with the man I love.”

  Lauren was looking over Gracie’s shoulder as she typed. “That’s better,” she said approvingly. “It not only speaks about your desire for a relationship but lets any guy know that loving you unconditionally must be his goal as well. I’m going to show that to Jeff. Now you have to make it clear that you’re not always serious but like to have fun too.”

  “I am a serious person. That’s not going to change.”

  “Not only are you serious, you’re a rock that everyone who knows you can stand on. But you don’t want to attract a needy guy looking for a mama substitute to baby him. How do you define fun?”

  Gracie pointed at Opie, who was curled up at her feet. “Walking Opie is fun.”

  “We’re creating this profile so you can find a mate, not a second dog.”

  “I love softball,” Gracie suggested. “Lots of men watch fast-pitch when it’s on TV. It’s as exciting as any other sporting event.”

  Lauren furrowed her forehead for a moment, then clapped her hands together. “That’s it!” she exclaimed.

  As her sister resumed control of the keyboard, Gracie watched the words appear on the screen: “I’m a fierce competitor who loves sports and knows how to play, not just watch. Teach me something new, and I’ll be all in.”

  “Fierce?” Gracie asked.

  “Trust me. The kind of strong guy you want will love it. And when you challenge a man, it makes him want to test you and see if you can back up your words.”

  “It sounds exhausting.”

  “You set the rules. Doing sports together can be a small part of the relationship, but it will mean a lot to the guy. Wasn’t Barry proud of you when you beat him at golf?”

  “Not always. He had to win at least half the time to maintain his fragile ego.”

  “Did you let him win?”

  Gracie shrugged. “There were a few times I missed a putt I probably could have made.”

  “Bad girl for letting him win.” Lauren leaned in closer to the screen. “We need to work in that you’re a confident, professional woman without saying you’re the Milton County clerk of court. That’s intimidating. A guy might think you’re going to make him pay his traffic tickets.”

  “I don’t have anything to do with traffic tickets.”

  Lauren tapped the bottom of the keyboard without hitting any letters, then began to type: “At work I’m a boss who cares about the people working under me. I motivate with loyalty, not fear.”

  “That’s true,” Gracie agreed.

  “I know,” Lauren replied. “Everything we’re including is the truth. And this takes some of the edge off the other sentence.”