Chapter 2
The rain hadn't stopped.
It beat against the ER windows like someone trying to get in, and Rachel stood in the hallway, pressing her phone so hard to her ear her knuckles turned white.
“How much blood?” she said.
“Enough to be worried,” her partner, Mike Torres, said. “Not enough to be sure. CSI is on the way. But Brooks—Jesse Cole's ankle monitor was cut off at 1:02 a.m. the night Clara vanished. His parole officer didn't notice until we called an hour ago.”
Rachel closed her eyes.
One a.m.
Thirty minutes after Clara left the apartment.
“Any sign of him?” she said.
“Nothing yet. But we talked to the manager at the pharmacy. He said a man matching Jesse's description was hanging around the parking lot for an hour before closing. He was sitting in a beat-up black truck. No plates. The manager thought he was just waiting out the rain.”
Rachel looked through the glass into Lily's room.
The girl had opened the juice box, but hadn't taken a sip. She was tracing the words on her mom's note over and over, like she could rub them into her skin.
“Send a unit to Clara's sister in Toledo,” Rachel said. “Jesse knows about her. He might think Clara ran there. And pull every camera within a mile of that pharmacy. If he took her, someone saw something.”
“Already on it. Hey—you need to see the comments on that viral video. People are tearing Clara apart. Saying she's a drug addict, a deadbeat, that she probably sold the kids for cash. Half the city already made up their minds.”
Rachel's jaw tightened.
“Let them talk,” she said. “We know the truth.”
She hung up and took a breath before going back in.
Lily looked up when she entered.
“Was that about my mom?” she said.
Rachel sat beside her.
“We found her car,” she said. “It was close to the pharmacy. She didn't make it inside to get Leo's medicine.”
Lily's face crumpled.
She didn't scream. She didn't wail. She just folded in on herself, small and quiet, like she'd spent her whole life learning how to hurt without making a sound.
Rachel wanted to hold her.
She wanted to tell her everything would be okay.
But she'd been a cop too long to lie.
“Jesse took her, didn't he?” Lily said, her voice muffled against her knees.
“We don't know for sure yet,” Rachel said. “But we're looking for him. We're looking everywhere.”
“Mom said if he ever took her, we should tell the police about the box.”
Rachel froze.
“What box, Lily?”
“Under the floor in the closet. It's a metal box with a lock. Mom said it has all the proof we need to make Jesse go away forever. She said if anything happened to her, we had to give it to a cop we could trust.”
Lily looked directly at her.
“Are you a cop I can trust?”
Rachel held her gaze.
“With your life,” she said.
Thirty minutes later, they were back at the apartment complex.
The rain had slowed to a cold drizzle, but the crowd was still there. News vans lined the street, their lights painting the wet brick red and blue. Reporters shouted questions as Rachel walked through, holding Lily's hand tight. The girl kept her head down, her face pressed against Rachel's side.
Upstairs, the hallway was empty for the first time all night.
The neighbors had all gone outside to be on TV.
Rachel unlocked the apartment door and flipped on the lights. The place looked smaller in the brightness, sadder. The spoiled soup was still on the stove. Leo's empty bottle lay on the carpet.
Lily walked straight to the bedroom closet.
She knelt and pulled up a loose floorboard near the back wall. Beneath it was a dented metal box, wrapped in a plastic garbage bag to keep out the damp. It had a heavy combination lock.
“Mom made me memorize the code,” Lily said. “She said if I ever forgot, we'd all be in trouble.”
She turned the dial three times.
Click.
The lock snapped open.
Rachel knelt beside her as she lifted the lid.
On top was a stack of papers.
Police reports. Hospital bills. Photographs of Clara's bruised arms, her split lip, her black eyes. All dated, all labeled, all never filed.
Beneath that were text messages, printed out and folded.
If you leave me I'll find you.
If you tell anyone I'll break every bone in your body.
The kids go with me. You get nothing.
At the bottom was a thick manila envelope.
Rachel opened it.
Bank statements.
Thousands of dollars in cash deposits, made every two weeks, always in cash, always at a different branch. Tucked between the statements was a handwritten note, Clara's neat handwriting slanted with urgency.
This is the money from the restaurant. Jesse says it's tips. I know it's not. I heard him on the phone. They're running guns out of the back. I've been taking a little every week, hiding it. It's enough to get us to Canada. Enough to start over. If I'm gone, give this to the feds. Don't trust anyone local. Jesse owns half the precinct.
Rachel's blood ran cold.
She'd heard the rumors for years.
Cops on the take, looking the other way while crews ran drugs and guns out of the west side. She'd never believed it. Not really.
She looked at Lily.
The girl was watching her, already understanding.
“Mom said not to tell the regular police,” Lily said. “She said they'd give the box back to Jesse. But I told you anyway. Because you were nice to me. Because you didn't call my mom a bad name.”
Rachel closed the envelope.
She had no idea who she could trust anymore.
Not her captain. Not half the guys on the force. Maybe not even Mike.
But she knew one thing.
She wasn't giving this box to anyone.
Not until Clara was home.
A floorboard creaked in the hallway.
Rachel stood fast, her hand going to her gun.
“Stay here,” she whispered to Lily.
She moved to the bedroom door, slow and quiet.
The apartment door was still locked. The chair was still wedged under the handle. But the window above the kitchen sink was wide open, rain blowing in onto the counter.
A piece of paper was taped to the fridge.
Rachel walked over, her heart hammering.
It was a single sentence, scrawled in messy black ink.
Nice box, Brooks. Next time I take the girl too.
May you like
She ran back to the bedroom.
Lily was gone.
