Without a Trace

by Carissa Ann Lynch

  I took my own cell out, dialing the number I’d written down in my notebook. After three rings, the phone went to an automated voicemail box.

  “Martin Nesbitt, this is Officer Ellie James with the Northfolk police department. I need to speak with you right away. It’s urgent. Call me back at this number, please.”

  I started for the front door, eager to check outside, but then I stopped in the entranceway. I stared down at a pair of women’s running shoes. They were muddy. “Your daughter’s shoes. Where are they?”

  Nova’s eyes widened as her gaze followed mine. “Sh-she h-had sparkly orange sn-sneakers on when we got h-here yesterday.” Her eyes went fuzzy, her lips curling with anger. “If she put her shoes on, then she must have gone with him w-willingly! But w-why would she do that?”

  “Ma’am, I’m not sure. Hopefully, your husband will call back soon and clear this whole thing up. But for now, I’m going to check outside and then contact my sergeant about your daughter. Can you get some pictures together for me? If we issue an Amber Alert, I’ll need the most up-to-date photo you got…”

  But Nova was shaking her head back and forth, her skin turning paler by the minute. “I don’t have one. N-not even one ph-photo…” she breathed.

  “I know you guys just moved here, but how about a pic on your cell phone?”

  But Nova kept shaking her head. “I can’t believe it. I d-don’t even have one picture of my little girl. How insane is th-that?” She looked spacey now, and once again, I wondered if she might be using drugs.

  “Don’t worry, ma’am. We’ll get one. Maybe from a family member, or friend? Or if you could just pull up one of your albums on Facebook or Instagram…that will work, too.”

  “No,” Nova said, firmly, her eyes zeroing in on mine.

  “No?”

  How could this woman not have any pictures of her own daughter? It seemed completely unfeasible, but if she really was afraid of her husband maybe she did leave everything behind…

  “I wasn’t allowed to have a Facebook profile. I-I don’t even know what I-Instagram is, honestly. M-Martin was j-jealous. Controlling. He’s d-dangerous, I told you…”

  Yes. He was dangerous. That was about the only thing she’d made clear so far. I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something else—something she wasn’t telling me.

  “Family or friends with pictures…?”

  “I don’t really have any family. And any fr-friends I had…w-well, that was w-way before I married M-Martin.”

  Surely, she had pictures at her house in Tennessee, I considered. But Tennessee was a day’s drive away, and I needed something now.

  “What about pre-school or daycare? Any photos on file they could fax over to my office?”

  Nova cleared her throat. “Lily isn’t in pr-preschool yet. M-Martin wanted me to homeschool her. Can you believe that? Homeschool! M-Me! I don’t even b-believe in that crap…” she snapped, looking angry again. Her arms hung loosely at her sides, but she was shaking. As helpless as she seemed, I honestly felt the same.

  “Keep trying to call him, okay? And this time leave a message,” I urged, heading out to the front yard.

  I walked around the front and back of the property. There was a backdrop of woods behind the house, but the trees were thin and sparse, so it was easy to see through the wooded space. I called out, “Lily!”, but instantly felt silly as my own voice bounced back in my face.

  It was eerily quiet out here. And as I walked around the entire house and yard space, I saw no signs of a child. My stomach churned. Something feels so wrong about this…

  After going around three times and circling through the woods, I combed the ground in front of the house.

  If Lily was hiding, she would surely have come out by now.

  No pictures. Only new clothes and toys. It was like a child hadn’t even been here, I thought, spinning around in circles. I closed my eyes and pictured my niece, Chelsea. Her room was like a landmine of toys, my sister’s house a jungle gym of playthings. But Nova’s house was scrubbed clean, not a toy or stray article of clothing in sight.

  But she did say they just moved here, I reminded myself.

  There was a blue Celica parked at the side of the house, which I assumed belonged to Nova. I peered in through the passenger window. There was no little girl hiding inside.

  And no car seat in the vehicle either, I noted. How did she get Lily here without a car seat?

  No toys or clutter in the backseat. Nothing. Almost like the child doesn’t even exist, I thought, curiously.

  My eyes floated across the field to the Appleton Farm. If I remembered correctly, Clara Appleton owned all this land. She was probably the one renting out the house to Nova.

  Maybe the neighbor saw something…anything that could help me find this faceless child…

  CHAPTER THREE

  The Neighbor

  CLARA

  Cradling a cup of coffee in my hands, I watched Officer Ellie James through the dining room window as she stood in front of the cabin next door.

  I heard Nova Nesbitt scream this morning. But still, I did nothing to help her.

  My new tenant had sent me the first month’s rent and a security deposit last month, and she had arrived just yesterday as planned. It was late when she got in, much too late in my opinion, but maybe she got lost or turned around on her drive into town.

  I’d been tempted to go over and talk to her, to introduce myself, but I’d refrained. Landlords are known for being nosy. I didn’t want to be like that. But it did feel strange having a neighbor again. With my oldest daughter in Texas, I’d grown accustomed to the quiet and lonesome life on the farm. Knowing that another human being was only a few strides away was a strange, yet welcome, feeling.

  Last night, I’d watched the lights in the cabin pop off and on, wondering what Nova was up to. And then this morning, I’d been awake, toasting bread like I did every morning, when the jarring scream had ripped the air.

  And now the police are here…

  As the owner of the property, I probably should have gone over there and seen if something was wrong. That would have been the normal thing to do. Any sort of terrible thing could have happened related to the house—a fallen fan, a rusty nail…

  But the last thing I wanted was contact with the police.

  Hot coffee sloshed out the sides of my cup, dribbling between my fingers and down my arm. My mind drifted across the field to the old rickety barn at the back of the property. It used to house cattle and horses, back when Andy was here. But now it was empty. Well, except for one thing…

  My hands shook uncontrollably until I lost my grip on the mug completely. It hit the floor with a dull thud just as I saw the young officer crossing the field straight toward my house. I wrung my now empty hands together, trying to steady the tremors.

  The milky brown stain at my feet spread out like a halo around the unbroken mug. It reminded me of blood. Dark, thick, unrelenting blood…

  Smoothing my favorite flannel shirt, I took a deep breath then went to the front door to meet her. Why does she want to talk to me?

  I opened the door before she could knock, forcing a smile as I did. I recognized Officer Ellie James—she was the spitting image of her mother, Barbara. Barb and my late mother, Carol, used to hang around when they were younger. But I doubted that Officer James knew that fact or cared about it.

  “How can I help you, officer?” I croaked, then grimaced at my own voice. After a decade of not smoking, I’d recently started up again. And it was obvious from the scratchy tone of my voice. I tried to swallow the lump that was forming in my throat, but it felt like a fishbone was lodged in my windpipe. Probably cancer from the cigarettes already, I lamented.

  “You own the cabin next door, is that right, ma’am?”

  Surprisingly, Officer James looked more nervous than I felt. She was young, and pretty, too, with a soft, freckled face. But she was wearing too much makeup, in my opinion, the lines of her
eyeliner drawn out in a way that reminded me of an Egyptian princess.

  “I do,” I said, clearing my throat. “Everything alright over there?”

  “When did Nova and Lily move in?” she asked, dodging my question.

  “They came in late last night. From Tennessee. Quite a drive, you know? I was asleep. But I heard the car door, and I saw the lights go on over there.”

  “Did you see anything else? A child outside? Any other cars on the property?” Officer James held a small notebook in one hand, and with her other hand, she flicked her pen open and closed.

  A sudden memory fluttered through my mind, then dissolved.

  “Um, yeah, I did. Woke up around one in the morning, I guess it was. A second car was out there. Thought it might be her boyfriend, or someone helping her move. Not my business, you know? But I did think it was a little late for visitors…”

  “What sort of make and model was this second car?” Officer James looked alert now, and she started writing something in that notebook of hers.

  “I couldn’t say. Too dark. Aren’t any flood lights out there, you know? And the porch light wasn’t on either. I heard the car pull in and the door slamming shut. Never saw a child. I guess it might have been a truck I saw…”

  “Did you see anyone get out of this truck? This is important, ma’am.”

  I closed my eyes, thinking. “I only looked out there for a second. Didn’t want to look like a peeping tom. I think they were wearing a hood. Like a hoodie sweatshirt. And they were carrying something. Maybe she was carrying her daughter in her arms. Not sure though. Why? Something happened?”

  “Your new tenant’s daughter is missing. Please, if you see anything, or think of anything else, call me.” She snapped her notebook shut then dug around for a business card. “Oh, and we may need to come back and search your property. All this land, if it comes down to it. Right now, we’re still waiting to hear from the husband.”

  I tried to keep a straight face as I nodded obediently, but my throat felt like it was closing up completely. Despite feeling like I couldn’t breathe, I was itching for a cigarette.

  Officer James added, “Most likely, the husband took her. They recently split up. Divorces are so messy…” The young officer bit her lip, as though she’d said too much, then handed me a stiff business card.

  “I will call you if I do. Thanks.” I closed the door, letting out a long whoosh of breath.

  I listened to the sound of the patrol car pulling out as I straightened up the kitchen. Cleaning was one thing I liked to do when I got nervous. Smoking was another.

  Back in the kitchen, I gathered up the mug, discovering that a small chunk of ceramic had come loose. I threw it away, then went into my bedroom to search for some sort of carpet cleaner. Anything to take my mind off smoking, and the jarring police visit.

  The stain would be hard to get out. Usually, I was careful, rarely needing cleaners to fix my mistakes.

  I stopped for a moment to smooth out the edges of my bedspread, my fingers trembling. My pack of Camels was tucked away in my bedside drawer, within reach.

  But instead, I picked up one of the stuffed bunnies my husband made for me, squeezing it tightly to my chest.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The Mother

  NOVA

  I guess it all started on the day I was born. Choices. I tend to make the wrong ones. Specifically, I’ve always been drawn to the wrong people, and it started with my mom and dad. Mama didn’t want me. Even before she met me, she wanted to get rid of me. Somehow, my dad talked her into having me, but when she left the hospital after giving birth, she didn’t take me with her.

  I guess I should have been grateful toward him. If not for him, I’d be a goopy mass of medical waste. But truth was, he didn’t really want me either. Sometimes, I wondered if I would have been better off if mama would have gone with her choice, instead of his.

  A psychiatrist could psychoanalyze me pretty quickly—I was that cliched patient, the one who made it easy to set forth guidelines and criteria for dysfunction—mama left me, and daddy abused me, so I was destined to choose shitty partners as a result. Simple as that. My entire psychiatric profile wrapped up in a neat little bow.

  But there weren’t any warning signs when it came to Martin, not really. He was sweet, tender even, for those first two years we dated…but looking back, he wasn’t the only bad choice I made. In high school, I chose the wrong friends. My dating life before Martin was a nightmare.

  How could I have chosen so wrongly? How could I have been so blind?

  Moonlight slithered through the open window above my bed. I had an upside-down view of the stars. There were so many of them, more stars than I’d ever seen from my window back home in Tennessee.

  They made me feel insignificant. And that’s exactly how I wanted to feel when I brought Lily to the cabin—like particles of dust in the wind, floating around unseen and unkept. Forgotten.

  Why couldn’t Martin just forget us? Why couldn’t he let us go?

  Back in Granton, our home was like a battleground. But I guess, for Martin, it wasn’t so bad because he was the one waging war. I was just a casualty.

  And now Lily is a casualty too.

  I could still taste the bottle of wine I’d drank before bed. Turning on my side didn’t help. I curled my knees to my chest, fighting back the urge to throw up.

  It wasn’t morning, but it wasn’t night, I could tell from the slant of the moon. It must be two, maybe three, in the morning now? Where is my daughter? Is she sleeping? Is she safe?

  My mouth watered with nausea as I fumbled around with the covers, searching for my cell phone in the dark. Instead I found my pack of Listerine strips. I slid one out and tossed it on the back of my tongue. I’d gotten into the habit of using them. Martin preferred fresh breath at all times.

  I’d called Martin’s phone nearly a hundred times today, asking him to call me back. Begging him to bring me my daughter. There was no point in keeping my location a secret anymore—he obviously already knew we were here. He’d taken my Lily. Oh, god…Lily…

  I’d expected him to answer the phone, to demand that I come home if I ever wanted to see her again. But the calls went straight to voicemail.

  He’s not going to give her back.

  I was too drunk to cry and too drunk to panic. My limbs felt numb and I hated myself for enjoying the nothingness I felt inside.

  My entire soul was numb.

  I’m like a chunk of ice, pieces chipped away.

  How much of me is left? Is there anything worth saving if I don’t have Lily?

  What if he took her and moved away, just like I tried to do? What if he decided that he didn’t need me anymore? Now he can focus on Lily—a younger victim, a younger me…

  I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I leapt from the bed and ran for the bathroom, barely reaching the commode before vomit sprang from my mouth and nose.

  What am I going to do? How will I get Lily back?

  I’d tried to reach that cop on her phone, but she hadn’t been available.

  Dammit. I’ve lost Lily, and no one can help me save her. Not even the police.

  An Amber Alert wasn’t issued. The cops wouldn’t return my calls.

  What else can I do?

  Wiping the back of my mouth with my robe sleeve, I drifted down the hallway and back to my bedroom. Suddenly, I felt sober again. Dark shadows danced on the walls. I stared at one; it looked just like the dark silhouette of a man.

  Panic slammed against my chest as I flipped on the bedroom light.

  Nothing. No one is in my room.

  I yanked the covers off the bed, my cell phone smacking the floor as it fell out of the crumpled blanket.

  I stared at the screen, squinting sleep and drunkenness from my eyes, willing Martin to call me…to give her back…

  I’d searched the woods and wandered around the property today, feeling helpless. But I couldn’t look for long because every time I tried to go outs
ide, invisible walls came crushing in and I couldn’t breathe…

  But hunger is a disgusting thing—after a while, it supersedes all rational thought. I’d barely eaten in two days, so I’d gone out to the supermarket at dusk. I’d ran up and down the aisles, like a madwoman, breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth, finally settling on some booze and peanut butter.

  I thought that by the time the sun went down, Martin would call or show up.

  But he never called. He never came.

  I couldn’t protect Lily in Tennessee, and I can’t protect her now.

  Martin wouldn’t give her back unless he wanted to, and they were probably long gone by now.

  Maybe I’m like mama and I never should have had a kid in the first place. At least not until I had a partner better than Martin.

  The tiny black phone in my hand was foreign. My white iPhone I’d left behind was larger, and much more capable. I squinted down at the tiny screen. No missed calls, but there was one text message. My heart leapt as I clicked on it, praying it was from Martin.

  My eyes stung with tears as I saw who it was from. Al.

  Al: You told me to wait at least 24 hours before texting you on this number. I hope you’re okay…I’ve been so worried about you.

  I laid back down on the bed, clutching the phone like an old friend. A message from Al was like salve on an open wound. I typed out a message in response, then erased it.

  What if it’s not really Al? What if it’s Martin trying to trick me?

  Al and I had been talking for almost a year, but we hadn’t communicated over text until now. Usually we just chatted online. But I’d confessed I was leaving Martin and had texted my new number. I’d warned Al not to message me on it until I was far away from Granton.

  Martin frequently looked through my cell phone and checked my internet history. He checked my emails daily, too, although no one ever emailed me anymore.

  Knitting was my one hobby he seemed to support—probably because his own mother used to knit—and he never minded when I looked up ideas or asked for advice in my knitting chat room. That’s where I’d met Al. I didn’t really care much for knitting, but it was the one place I had a friend.