Not Her Daughter: A Novel

by Rea Frey

  He’d done it. The bastard had actually called it in.

  It hadn’t even been forty-eight hours, and he’d called it in. “I’m sorry, what? Are you serious? A missing child?” I channeled every bit of high school drama I could and started laughing. “Oh my God, what a little shit.”

  “Excuse me, ma’am?”

  I placed my hands on my hips. “This is all one giant misunderstanding. We used to share this cabin. My ex and I. I come up here all the time. I still have the keys. See?” I scooped the set of keys from the kitchen counter and dangled them in front of his face. I dropped them back on the counter and fake pouted. “I needed to get away. I knew he wouldn’t be here, so I came. But he showed up anyway. With another girl.” I widened my eyes. “Naturally, I was irate. He called me crazy, told me to get out of here, which I was just about to do. We both calmed down and started talking. He told me about that missing girl report because of my job—I work with children—so you can imagine all the things I see. He also told me in the same breath to leave or else. He didn’t specify what the ‘what else’ could be, but now I know.” I tapped my foot on the carpet and crossed my arms. “I just can’t believe he would say such a ridiculous thing to get me out of here. To lie like that. I guess he was desperate.” I was talking too much, but I couldn’t stop.

  “Do you mind if I look around?”

  “By all means.” I pulled the door all the way open, and the hinges yelped in protest. “I was literally just about to get on the road.”

  He went from room to room. I prayed there were no lingering stuffed animals or a tiny lost sock crumpled in a corner somewhere. What if he checked the trash cans? The car?

  “You keep a pretty tidy place here.”

  “I didn’t want to give him a reason to get angrier than he was.”

  He looked at me, at my blond hair, short and wavy, with bangs. “Well, the clerk’s description of the woman was a brunette.”

  I fingered my hair. “What does the little girl look like? I’ll definitely keep an eye out.”

  “Brown hair. Five years old. Gray eyes.” He looked at the stairs leading upstairs and down. “You don’t mind if I just finish going through the home and take a look around the premises?”

  I swallowed. “No, of course not.”

  He went upstairs, then down, and I counted the seconds in my head. I was dying to get to Emma, to let her out of that shed, to get the hell out of here. I could just make out the edge of the shed from the back window. What if she started screaming when she heard voices out there?

  He circled back to the living room and jiggled the patio lock.

  “Here, let me get that for you.”

  His radio squawked, and he hit the button. “Immediate backup requested at 4426 McCreary Lane. Possible domestic. Are you in range, over?”

  “Copy that. On my way.”

  He turned back to me and pointed the end of his flashlight, unlit, toward me. “You stay out of places that aren’t yours, you hear?”

  “Yes, sir. Won’t ever happen again.”

  He meandered back to the front of the house and out the front door, studying my car again, his eyes lingering on the license plate. I’d have to change it. Where would I change it? He said something into his radio, and I watched as he pulled out of the gravel drive and rolled safely toward the main road.

  When he was gone, I sprinted out the back door and down to the shed, slipping the bolt off the lock with shaking fingers. I blasted into the darkness. “Emma, are you okay?”

  She was crouched in a tiny ball in the corner, still counting, the phone flashlight in a tight stream beside her. “Can I come out now?” She uncurled. “Is it safe?”

  I pulled her into a hug. “I am so, so sorry about that. There was someone here I didn’t know, and I just wanted you to be safe. Are you okay?”

  “I’m okay.”

  “Let’s get you out of here.” I picked her up and folded her trusting body against my chest.

  “Your heart is beating so fast.”

  “Is it?” I steadied my voice and carried her up the backyard to the top of the stairs. I smothered her hair with kisses and murmured my apologies. I relocked every door, wiped down every surface, took her to the bathroom, and cautiously walked her to the car.

  “I thought we were going to leave in the morning?”

  “Well, you know what? I thought it would be fun to do a little night drive instead. So we can see the stars and the moon. How about that?” The adrenaline drenched my body like the strongest caffeine. I fastened her in her car seat and reversed down the drive. We were on the main road in minutes.

  “Can you put the radio on?”

  I found a suitable station and watched her mouth the words to a pop song from the back, shaking her little fingers and clapping off beat. Despite my nerves, I smiled and sang with her, but all I could think about was the officer.

  He’d seen me. He’d seen my car. He’d seen my license plate.

  Now, it was a hunt for us both.

  * * *

  I gripped the wheel, the radio on something low and classical. Emma hummed in the background, lost in play. I’d driven straight through the night, one thought plaguing me with every mile: Ethan turned me in. He hadn’t waited the forty-eight hours like he’d promised. He hadn’t kept his word.

  The ramifications slashed my conscience and tethered every breath. This wasn’t make-believe; it was a child, and there was more at stake than a breakup, a business, or defaulting on a mortgage. I cleared my throat and reached for my water. I struggled with the bottle top, not wanting to remove my other hand from the steering wheel. I watched the speedometer, unwilling to get caught for any reason, especially speeding.

  I’d been checking the Montana news updates obsessively since we’d left. Had the cashier’s threat led to another lead? Had the officer reported my car?

  “Which place are we going to again?”

  “Valentine, Nebraska.” Emma had chosen Valentine for its name, and I’d chosen it for its obscurity. With a population of 2,700, I hoped we were relatively safe from almost three-week-old Washington news.

  “I’m excited.” She flipped her floppy puppy over in her hands. “I know Pinky is excited.”

  “Pinky? Is that what you decided to name him? I like that.” I watched my speed, my foot smashed hard on the pedal. I was seven miles per hour above the speed limit and eased up almost too much, looking for unmarked police cars or cruisers parked between highway bushes. “Do you have a real puppy at home? I forgot to ask.”

  “My dad is ’llergic.”

  “Allergic?”

  “To the spit.”

  She started barking at her puppy, and the two of them were off on an imaginary tangent.

  I turned the music higher and focused on the road. According to the map, we had three hours to go before our first destination. My back hurt. I was exhausted. We’d stopped three times, and she was wiggling again in the back. “Do you need to pee?”

  She nodded. We pulled over at the next rest area and my body struggled to unfold from the driver’s seat. I waited outside of the stall while she peed, looking at my wrecked complexion. I fixed my bangs and stared at my lopsided bob. My phone dinged. I hoped it wasn’t a work emergency, or my father. I pulled up the new email, a Google alert: Possible Sighting of Missing Washington Girl Rocks Four Corners

  “Oh my God.”

  “What?” Emma flushed and came out to wash her hands.

  I read the short update hurriedly, soaking in every detail. The cashier’s news was official. They did not have the make or model of my car (yet), but authorities were still scoping out the area in hopes of validating the claim.

  Would the cop be able to track me from Four Corners to Bozeman to Valentine? We both had different hair now—authorities were looking for two brunettes—and that would help. But I had to think of something to buy us more time.

  “Nothing, honey. Ready?”

  “Don’t you need to pee too?”r />
  I shook my head and hurried her back to the car. Only a few hours and we’d be in Nebraska. We’d be safe.

  * * *

  The keys to the cottage were left for us in the mailbox, a lucky arrangement I was thankful for in these small parts. I’d found an Airbnb that required no human contact, just keys in a box. We stayed in for an entire week, resting, eating, and keeping a low profile. I kept tabs on what was happening, if any of the leads had turned into anything substantial. They hadn’t.

  After the dust had settled, we ventured out and drove to Main Street, which was nothing more than a block of shops and a diner. I was confident with Emma’s new haircut, floppy hat, and summer tan that no one would recognize us. Together, we looked like a family. The bell tinkled above the door as we stepped inside. Dirty linoleum and the smell of bacon and eggs drenched the booths.

  “Just anywhere, hon,” a plump waitress said. She had a pencil tucked in the waist of her apron. She worked a dirty white rag across the surface of a table by the window. I chose a booth near the back, and she was over in moments, offering us menus and flipping over a mug on the table. “Coffee?”

  “Yes, please.” The light brown water sloshed around in my cup. I shifted in the ripped booth, the leather sticking to the backs of my thighs.

  “Doesn’t that smell good?”

  “Mmmhmm,” Emma said, busy coloring the children’s menu with the three peeling, stubby crayons left in a cup on the table.

  “Em, do you know what today is?”

  “No. What?”

  “Today is the Fourth of July. Independence Day. Do you know what that means?”

  She tapped her crayon against her head. “Hmm. I’m not sure. What?”

  “It means that a really, really long time ago on this day in 1776, we adopted the Declaration of Independence. It’s when we officially became the United States of America and weren’t part of the British Empire anymore.”

  “That sounds like fun. Are we a part of that too?”

  “Yes, we are.” I laughed. “And it is fun, because there are usually parades, barbecues, and fireworks.”

  She looked up. “Is there going to be fireworks? Can we go?”

  “Sure, why not?” I’d already checked to see if there was a fireworks celebration and figured we could blend in with the sea of people to enjoy one homegrown holiday in a small town. She deserved that.

  “And I’ll get to see real live fireworks?”

  “You will.”

  “Yippee!” She finished her first picture. “This is for you. Do you like it?”

  “It’s beautiful.” She’d drawn two stick figures with yellow hair, holding hands.

  “It’s me and you.”

  “Oh, Em, I’ll keep it forever. Thank you.” I cleared the emotion from my voice, folded the picture, and tucked it into my purse. “What do you think you want? Pancakes? Eggs? Bacon? Waffles?”

  “Waffles! And bacon!” Emma exclaimed, while scribbling outside the lines of her next picture. “What’s bacon made from?”

  “What do you think bacon is made from?”

  “Is it from a cow?”

  “No.”

  “A chicken?”

  “It’s actually from a pig.”

  “Like a real pig?”

  “Yep.”

  “Like a real pig that goes oink oink?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Just like that.”

  She thought about it, her crayon raised. “Well, I love bacon so much, I just want to eat a pig’s whole face.”

  “Well, that might be kind of hard on your tummy.”

  She giggled. “Are you going to get bacon too?”

  “I’m not sure yet.” I was suddenly starving.

  “Are you ready?” The waitress walked over and looked back and forth between us. “You two from around here?”

  “No, just passing through.”

  “You should come to the square tonight. Going to be plenty of fun for the little ones.”

  “We were planning on it. Thank you.”

  She scribbled our orders and refilled my coffee.

  “Are we still going to the waterfall after this?” Emma asked.

  “Yep. That’s why we need to eat up, okay?”

  I’d gotten Emma one pair of tennis shoes, which were purple and a size 11. I hoped they’d hold up if there were slippery rocks to climb. It was unseasonably hot for the beginning of July, and I already had our water, sunscreen, and snacks packed in a cooler in the car.

  We ate in comfortable silence, the diner filling with regulars, happy, familiar conversation passing from booth to booth. I ate all of my eggs, toast with honey and butter, fried potatoes, and two pieces of crispy bacon. Emma ate half of her waffle and offered me the rest. I took a bite, diving into the sickly sweet batter. I left the waitress a big tip and slugged back my fourth cup of coffee before we headed out to Snake River Falls.

  “Are there going to be real snakes there?” Emma asked, as I buckled her in.

  “No, I don’t think so. That’s just what it’s called.”

  “But there could be snakes?”

  “Well, we’re going to be outside, so I guess there could be. Because that’s where snakes live. But you don’t need to worry about them.”

  “But they scare me.”

  “I know they do, but most people are afraid of snakes. And you know what?”

  “What?”

  “Snakes are actually scared of you because you’re so much bigger than they are.”

  “But they’re so fast. And they have those tiny, mean teeth, like dolphins.”

  “Do dolphins have tiny teeth?”

  “Yes, they’re like this little”—she smushed her index and thumb together—“but they’re like super-sharp and can tear through human flesh and things.”

  “Well, I don’t think we have to worry about any dolphins.”

  “But the snakes, we do.”

  “How about this: I’ll keep my eye out for snakes, and you just focus on the waterfall. Deal?”

  “Deal.”

  A short ride later, we were at the mouth of the falls, parking the car and making sure we had everything we needed before heading up. Minivans lined the lot, some with patriotic stickers. I left the cooler, uncertain how far we’d have to climb. I grabbed Emma’s hand and off we went, exploring nature in the heartland of Nebraska.

  * * *

  That night, we were sleepy from sun and exercise. The waterfall was exceptional. I’d convinced Emma to wade near it with me, both of us splashing in the cold water and drying ourselves on a nearby rock. We ate our sandwiches by the lake, and then went back to the Airbnb, rummaging for something patriotic to wear so we’d blend in.

  We walked to the town square and stood on a street corner as a small parade marched by. A high school band, decked out in red, white, and blue uniforms, blasted off-key tunes. There were a few baton twirlers, which captivated Emma. I hoisted her onto my shoulders, and she screamed and clapped with the commotion.

  “Where are the fireworks?”

  “Not until dark. I thought we might get ice cream first?” I lowered her to the ground and we walked to a small cart by the square. I got us each a scoop of strawberry on a sugar cone. We had to eat fast from the heat, as we moved with the throngs of townspeople toward the open lawn.

  I’d brought an extra blanket from the house, and I spread it out, while Emma stood and stared directly into the sky.

  After the sun set, bursts of color sprayed into the night, and Emma reached her hands up as though she could catch them, like rain. She clapped as every new firework went off.

  A little girl sitting next to us offered her a sparkler. Emma turned to me, a question in her eyes, and I let her take it, as the small stick sizzled and lit her entire face. She danced around with the girl, as her parents watched and laughed, and I relaxed back in the lush grass of the small town square.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I felt someone watching us. I turned to see the waitress from the
diner staring and whispering something to a man beside her. I lifted my hand in a wave and she waved back, but she wasn’t smiling. I told myself I was being paranoid; that her whispers had nothing to do with us. They couldn’t.

  “Watch, Sarah. It’s like a sparkly monster!” Emma wagged her stick in the air in giant, cursive loops until all the sparklers were gone and she was begging for more. She climbed into my lap as the fireworks continued. The sky exploded in vivid colors, each one louder and more elaborate than the last. The sparks showered over us, filtering through wispy clouds and disappearing in shapeless plumes of smoke. Emma cheered, and I pulled her closer, her sweaty limbs stuck to mine.

  I glanced to the left again, but the couple was gone. I scanned the grounds but didn’t see them. I ignored the prick of worry, pulled Emma closer, and enjoyed the rest of the night.

  * * *

  We were on the road before sunrise. Emma was still asleep, her lips chapped from too much sun. I glanced at my phone and noticed several new texts. I needed to call Brad.

  It had been thirty days since I’d taken Emma from the woods. Only thirty days and yet … thirty whole days. I thought of my own path to get here. Would I be able to find me if I were a detective? Would I be able to connect the dots from her to me?

  I checked the time. It was early, but I knew Brad would be up, drinking his espresso and trying not to freak the fuck out that the boss was still out of the office. I slipped in my earbuds and cleared my throat as I dialed.

  “Could it be?” Brad gasped as his greeting. “You’re actually calling instead of emailing?”

  “Very funny. Hi.” I concentrated on using a soothing voice, flicking my eyes from the road to the mirror, not wanting to wake her.

  “I’m sure you are calling to tell me you’re two seconds away from the office, right? Because it’s been a month since we’ve seen your pretty face. Which means something has to be going on beyond spending fake time with your dad. Are we folding? Did you sell? Did something happen? Talk! Where are you?”

  I’d forgotten how rapid-fire Brad could be, how intense. Spending the last month with a child had left me drastically out of practice for his sharp edges and snarky tone.