Deliver Her: A Novel

by Patricia Perry Donovan

  There was probably a whole history behind that last comment, but Meg didn’t have time to dig. She leaned closer to the teenager.

  “Did you know Alex lost her job?”

  Hesitating, Shana barely nodded.

  “Do you know why?” Meg pressed.

  Shana wriggled. “Come on. I feel funny talking about that. Ask Alex.”

  She would, if she only knew where her daughter was. “OK. That’s fair. But tell me. Did Evan hear from Alex today?”

  “Yeah. He showed me some crazy texts in study hall, from a weird area code. Maybe Massachusetts?”

  Meg stiffened. Massachusetts—where Alden, Alex and Murphy stopped for lunch. “Go on.”

  “Apparently Alex got somebody to text him about his stuff.”

  “But you just said she didn’t help Evan anymore.”

  “She doesn’t. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Alex didn’t have his stuff. Evan just thought she did. Until Alex texted today to say she’d dumped everything into Larke’s purse last night. When he was driving them both home.”

  So that’s where Alex was last night, she thought. At least her daughter had had a change of heart. “What time was that text today?” Meg asked.

  “Study hall’s at 1:10, so maybe, right before that?”

  Carl’s check-in from the rest stop had come in around twelve thirty. Even in his care, Alex had contrived a way to send a message. “Didn’t you find it bizarre she texted from a strange phone? From a Massachusetts area code?”

  Shana blew out her lips. “Seriously, kids forget their phones all the time. I figured she borrowed one.”

  That was true. And no, Shana didn’t know the Massachusetts number. But there was one last thing Shana might be able to clear up for her: if Evan assumed Alex had his drugs, he might have grown frustrated when she wasn’t in school this morning and come looking for her—or his property.

  “Tell me the truth, Shana. Did Evan break into our house this morning?”

  Shana twirled her phone in her lap. “I . . . I don’t know.”

  “Somebody broke my dining room door today. Was it him?”

  “I said, I don’t know. And you still haven’t told me what’s up with Alex. I swear to God, she never said anything about running away. I would have tried to talk her out of it.”

  “She didn’t run away,” Meg said quietly. “She was being taken to a school in New Hampshire.” She explained about The Birches, the arranged transport, the accident.

  “Oh, my God. She’s missing?” Shana pushed back from the table. “Holy . . . why didn’t you tell me that first thing?” Her eyes clouded. “And why would you send Alex all the way up there, away from her friends?”

  “We both know things haven’t been good with Alex for a while. Since the Sweet Sixteen.”

  “Stop.” She scrunched her eyes shut. “I don’t want to talk about that.”

  “I’m sorry, Shana. I miss her, too. Cass was like a daughter to me.”

  “I know.” The girl opened her eyes, her face stony.

  “It’s just that since Cass died . . .” Meg saw Shana wince at the word, and her heart ached. “We . . . I had to do something to help her.”

  “But why New Hampshire? Why so far? Isn’t there any help around here?”

  “I tried. Alex wouldn’t talk to anybody.”

  “She talked to me,” Shana cried. “We talked to each other. And she talked to Cass.”

  “To Cass?” Meg imagined ghoulish rituals around a Ouija board.

  “At the cemetery. Almost every day.”

  “How did she manage that?”

  “She hitched from downtown.”

  “When she left school.” Meg sat back, comprehending. If she only had waited outside Perk Up a little longer that day, she might have discovered how Alex spent her time away from the classroom.

  “Now she can’t even do that,” Shana raged. “And now you’re sending her away and I’m . . . I’m . . .” She twisted a saltshaker on the table. “Totally alone. It’s not fair.”

  Meg stroked Shana’s back. “Shana. Honey. You’re not alone. You have your family. And us. This is a good thing. Alex is going to get what she needs. A fresh start.”

  Shana shot the shaker across the table and stood. “How do you even know what Alex needs? You have no idea what happened.” Shana scooped up her phone and backpack. “I gotta go. My mom needs her car.”

  “Wait. Don’t leave. What do you mean, what happened?” Was she talking about last night? Last year? Meg narrowly beat the girl to the front door. She knew Shana’s parents; they’d spent some time together after the accident, trying to figure out what happened that night. “Call your mom. I know she’ll understand. I could talk to her.”

  “I have to go.” She attempted to slide around Meg.

  “Shana, please.” Meg gripped her arm. “We don’t know where Alex is. Don’t you care about her?”

  Shana wrenched her arm away. “Of course I care. Alex is all I have. And now you’ve ruined that.” Breaking Meg’s hold on the door, she ran out into the insistent rain.

  Meg watched the girl drive away, hating the idea of her behind the wheel in such a state. If Shana’s version was to be believed, the good news was that Alex clearly wanted to break ties with this older boy, that her text to Evan meant she was done helping him.

  But if Shana was right, and Alex was no longer his mule, then what was the explanation for the pills hidden in her basement pillow?

  A tap on her shoulder made her jump.

  “You need to see this.” Melissa thrust Meg’s phone at her. “Jacob’s pissed. I think he knows something’s up.”

  CARL

  “I’m not saying nothing without my lawyer present.” As chatty as Chester had been earlier, he’d clammed up as tight as his buddy when Carl and Mendham came back inside.

  Carl itched to throw their discoveries in the suspects’ faces. As far as he was concerned, they had them. But before they reentered the store, Mendham had ordered Carl to keep quiet. The trooper was on a mission to proceed delicately, directing his questioning toward the more talkative of the two truckers. More than anything, Carl wanted to know if they had harmed Alex and where she had gone. At this rate, it would take all night for them to confess, Carl thought.

  Glancing at his watch, he wondered if it was too soon to call the hospital again. Carolyn’s state had weakened during the ambulance ride, the EMTs reported. At the hospital in the valley, she was taken directly into surgery; admitting wouldn’t know anything for a few hours. Raking a hand over his head, Carl turned his attention back to the interrogation.

  “You two sure you want to stick to that story? Finding the scarf and all?” Mendham asked.

  “’Course. Why wouldn’t we?” Chester said.

  So much for saying nothing, Carl thought. Keep talking, buddy.

  “And you had no right to touch my property,” Chester continued. “I know my rights.”

  “Your property . . . You were the passenger, am I right, Mr. . . . ?” He checked his notes. “Mr. Murray?”

  Chester nodded. “That’s correct.”

  “So can I assume the truck in question belongs to your friend Mr. Pressman here?”

  Kyle the driver began to rock rhythmically on his stool.

  “Correct also,” said Chester.

  “Thank you. I appreciate your staying with me, Mr. Murray. So it goes without saying, that if there were any type of illegal behavior involving that moving vehicle—say, for example, driving with an open container of alcohol, unregistered weapons, illegal goods, maybe—any legal consequences would be suffered by the vehicle owner?”

  Chester sniffed. “I guess, if there was any illegal behavior. Which there wasn’t. Was there, Kyle?”

  The driver froze in midrock.

  Mendham leaned in close to Kyle. “Mr. Pressman, what if I told you we know the girl was in your truck?”

  Kyle scraped his face with his hands, then spun to face his friend. “Come o
n, Chester. Tell him, will ya? We didn’t do nothing wrong.”

  Chester slapped the counter. “Kyle, you stupid—”

  “Sorry, man. I don’t need any more trouble.” He crossed his arms and stared at Mendham. “We gave the girl a ride. Nothing else. I swear.”

  Chester threw his hands in the air. “We’re in the shitter now, Kyle. Nice work.”

  “You’re lying. Both of you.” Carl could stay silent no longer. “Where is she? If either of you laid a hand on her, I swear, I’ll—”

  “Relax, dude.” Now that Kyle had started talking, he couldn’t restrain himself. “Hell knows where she is. She freaked out. Plain jumped out of the truck while it was moving. A little crazy, that one. Wouldn’t you say, Chester?”

  “Don’t you know when to keep your mouth shut?”

  “I’m just tellin’ the truth. No law against giving rides, is there?” Downright cocky now, Kyle looked for assurance from the officers.

  “Ask them how long she was in the truck,” Carl said.

  “Easy, Alden.” Mendham shot him a warning look, but repeated Carl’s question.

  “Couldn’t have been more than fifteen, twenty minutes total.”

  Long enough, Carl thought.

  “And where’d she jump out?” Mendham asked.

  The driver scratched his head. “I dunno. Hard to remember with the storm and all. Somewhere right around this place, I guess.” He turned to Chester, now pacing the length of the counter. “Woulda thought she’d come inside here, she was so freaked out, right, Chester?”

  Ignoring Kyle, Chester stopped in front of Carl and sneered. “What’s it to you, anyway, old man? You her boyfriend or something?”

  Carl lunged.

  “Alden. That’s enough.” Lopez pinned Carl’s arms.

  Chester used the opportunity to get right up in Carl’s face. “Listen, mister. Up here, if somebody’s looking for a ride, we give them a ride. And if for some reason they change their mind, well then, that’s fine, too. They can just get out. That’s all there is to it.” He yanked off the orange hunting cap and tossed it on the counter. “That’s it. I’m done talking. For real this time. Until I have a lawyer, which the state of New Hampshire is damn well gonna pay for.” He shoved Kyle’s shoulder. “You better do the same, if you know what’s good for you. These guys are gonna twist everything we say.”

  Kyle put a foot on the ground to steady his stool. “Guess I’m done talking, too.”

  Carl could barely contain himself. “Really, Mendham, what more do you need?”

  Lopez came up behind Carl and steered him to Iris’s antiques nook. “I’ve got enough to hold you, too, Alden, if you don’t back off.” He shook a finger in Carl’s face. “Stay here and be quiet, or I’ll book you on interfering with an investigation.”

  Steaming, Carl considered going back outside to look for Alex, for any evidence she’d been in the vicinity.

  Beside him, the two shopkeepers conferred.

  “How long you think this is going to take?” Cam asked his wife.

  “I don’t know, Cam.”

  “I feel for him, Iris. I do. For those two families, too. It’s just the short season and all. We’re the only licensing game in town. Once this ice melts tomorrow, everybody’s going to be itching to get out there.”

  “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “What will customers think tomorrow morning, our whole parking lot filled with troopers’ cars?”

  “You know people around here. They’ll want to help. Anyway, they’re bound to find the girl soon.”

  “Have you looked outside? You know how these ice storms go. Roads are getting worse by the minute. This could take all night.”

  Carl sympathized with the man; he was a businessman himself.

  Iris laid a hand on her husband’s arm. “And what if it does? What would you do if it were Mia out there? My goodness, this girl Alex is just a bit younger.”

  “Mia would have better sense than that.”

  “You’d think so. Sometimes that girl surprises me.” Iris turned to her husband. “Speaking of Mia, have you seen her this afternoon?”

  Cam shook his head. “She’s down in her studio, isn’t she?”

  “That’s what I thought. You would think she’d come up to see what all the fuss was about.”

  “You know how she is when she gets into her work.”

  This was the first Carl had heard of another building on the premises. He stepped over to the couple. “I couldn’t help but overhear you say something about a studio. Is it nearby?”

  “Yes. Behind the store, down the hill a bit. Cam built it for our daughter, Mia.”

  Carl waved his hat toward the counter. “It seems those men gave Alex a ride earlier. They claim she jumped out somewhere near here. Maybe your daughter knows something.”

  “I doubt it,” Iris said. “She’s been working down there all afternoon finishing up some big deadlines for art school.” She gestured to a collage of paintings on the nook wall. “Those are all hers.”

  “Iris, I don’t think he cares about Mia’s art right now.” Cam was giving Carl a look like: Mothers, you know?

  “Still, I’d like to talk to her,” Carl pressed.

  “Of course. I’ll just buzz her.” Iris walked over to a wall phone.

  “Installed an intercom when I built the studio,” Cam offered. “Can’t always rely on cells up here.”

  The men waited in silence until Iris returned. “Mia didn’t answer. Doesn’t surprise me, though. Sometimes she’s got her music so loud she doesn’t hear it.”

  “Mind if we take a look down there?” Carl said.

  Iris’s expression changed. “Not sure I’m comfortable with that.”

  “Please. We know Alex was nearby.”

  Cam pulled a fleece off a peg on the wall. “I’ll take you down there. Anything to move this along,” he said to Iris over his shoulder.

  Outside, Cam bounced his flashlight down the slick path and off a gleaming wall of glass below them. Up close, Carl saw how Cam had transformed an entire wooden shed: three walls of windows sat on a waist-high brick wall, meeting in a sleek arch overhead. The craftsmanship impressed him.

  Cam knocked, then pushed open the studio door. “Mia? I’ve got someone here who’d like to talk to you.”

  Following Cam inside, Carl was struck by the earthy tang of marijuana and burnt wood.

  An artist’s leather portfolio leaned against one brick wall. On the wall opposite, embers glowed in a woodstove. A ceiling fan swirled lazily above their heads; industrial lights glittered on a curved track like a smile, illuminating canvases on a pair of easels below. Overhead, sleet ricocheted off the metal-framed roof.

  “Strange,” Cam said. “No sign of Mia. I’ll check the bathroom.” He disappeared through a pocket door, leaving Carl to scan the small kitchen. There were mismatched mugs drying in the dish drainer, granola bar wrappers in the trash that might have been there for days.

  “Hey, Alden. Come look at this.”

  Before Carl could make his way to the bathroom, the entire studio plunged into darkness.

  “Give it a second,” Cam said. “Generator will kick in.”

  Sure enough, a generator roared to life almost immediately, flooding the studio with light again.

  “This isn’t like Mia.” In the tiny bathroom, Cam held open the curtain of the small standing shower. On its floor was a heap of wet clothes. Even in the dimly lit bathroom, there was no mistaking the coat topping the pile: Alex’s quilted ski jacket, the one her mother had packed for her.

  MEG

  “I knew it.” With one look at Meg and Melissa’s worried faces, Jacob yanked off his coat, tossing it onto the couch. “When you wouldn’t answer, I knew something had happened. It’s Alex, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. But I never wanted—” Meg started.

  “She ran away, didn’t she? Damn it. I bet it was that Evan guy she’s been hanging with. When I get hold of that
kid, I’m going to wring his—”

  He shoved his hands in his back pockets and paced.

  “It wasn’t Evan.” Meg moistened her lips. “You’re not going to like this, Jacob. Alex didn’t run away. I . . . I sent her away.”

  He whirled to face her. “You what?”

  “I . . . I sent her to New Hampshire.”

  “You went behind my back, even after I said I was against that reform school?”

  “You barely listened to me that night. You were more interested in the TV than what I had to say. I had to do something. You were ready to let her . . . self-destruct.”

  “I can’t fucking believe this,” he said, shaking his head. “But wait . . . if you’re both here . . .” He gestured at the kitchen, where Melissa had retreated when he’d come in.

  “. . . How did Alex get there?”

  Meg took a deep breath. “I hired someone. A transport service.”

  “You paid a stranger to take our kid? What is she, some kind of package to be shipped off to New England?”

  “I had no choice. You said it yourself that night: she’d never go willingly. But Jacob, there’s something else.” Meg joined him at the fireplace, crossing her arms and shaking off the tears that spilled down her cheeks. “There’s been an accident.”

  “An accident? What the—?” Jacob slammed his fist on the mantel. “How is she?”

  “We know Alex got out of the car OK. But she’s been missing for a few hours.” Skipping over the morning pickup, Meg offered the sparse accident details Carl had provided. “We have to focus on the good news. She walked away from the car. And she left Cass’s scarf as a marker. That’s something.”

  “Good news, huh?” Jacob rubbed his face. “The only thing I’m hearing is that my little girl is out there alone.”

  “Our little girl.” Up close, he looked like hell: bloodshot eyes, fatigue stamped in blue crescent shadows underneath, days’ worth of stubble. Guilt rippled through her. “Jacob, I am so, so sorry. I never should have done this. Nothing you can say will make me feel any worse than I already do.”

  “I’ve gotta go up there.” He started for the hall.

  Meg ran after him. “Jacob, you can’t. You just drove all that way.”