No One Can Know

by Lucy Kerr

  “When I’m campaigning against a spirited young man promising strong tomorrows? Raise the question of my health, and I might as well hoist a white flag along with it.”

  “But … it’s like you said. Why waste your time, if you know there’s not much left?”

  “I don’t consider my time in office a waste,” he said. “But it’s hard. I’ve always had my eye on the next election, always hedged my bets, always played it safe. That time’s over. I want one more term, just one. I want the chance to really fight for what I believe in. I want to leave a legacy.”

  “Well,” I said, “it looks like you’re going to get your chance, sir.”

  He dipped his chin. “Thanks to you.”

  “I don’t know about that. But …” I watched the rise and fall of his chest, heard the rattling breath. I looked at Grace Fisher, her mouth tight with sorrow. “Don’t waste it, okay?”

  *

  When I left Grace’s office, Deputy Anderson was waiting for me in the hall, clutching his ever-present notepad along with the backpack I’d left in the cabin. “Deputy MacLean radioed over, ma’am. I’m supposed to drive you home and get your statement.”

  “Can I give my statement to Deputy MacLean? I had some questions for him.”

  “He said to tell you he has a stack of paperwork taller than you to finish, and he’ll find you later.”

  I bit my lip, the pang of disappointment surprisingly sharp. Inside the backpack, my phone rang. I fished it out, wincing at the number of voice mails.

  “Sorry,” I said. “It’s my sister. I accidentally left her at the search site. She’s probably calling to … hold on.”

  I didn’t bother with a greeting. “I’m sorry! We found Trey and we’re—”

  “Where are you?” she demanded, voice an octave too high.

  “The hospital,” I said. “Someone was supposed to fill you in.”

  “All I know is that they found the baby, and Steven was arrested. Whatever.”

  “Whatever? Steven’s—”

  She cut me off. “I don’t care. Riley’s missing.”

  I froze.

  “Did you hear me? She’s gone. Matt said Riley was in a snit all day, but he dropped her off at the chili fundraiser on his way to the hospital, and according to Mom, she disappeared. We’ve searched the church, we’ve checked the house from top to bottom, and we’ve called all her friends. Nobody’s seen her. She’s gone, Frankie. What if she was kidnapped too? What if Steven took her?”

  For once, I could offer reassurance. “Steven’s in custody. He didn’t take Riley.”

  She drew in a shaky breath, tried unsuccessfully to mask her panic. “You don’t know that! What if he’s hidden her somewhere, same as he did with Trey?”

  “I really don’t think …”

  “My daughter is missing,” she said, her voice breaking. “You need to call Noah. Maybe they can get the searchers back out to Henderson’s. He knows Riley, and he’ll listen to you. Call him right now.”

  Noah listened to everyone. It was part of why Riley was so taken with him. Even in the middle of an investigation, he’d taken the time to talk to her, unfazed by her grumpy mood.

  Matt said she’d been in a snit all day too.

  She’d been in a snit a lot lately. I pictured Riley, standing in the doorway, listening to me talk about moving out, refusing my hug. Riley, faking sick, falling asleep in class, listless and surly every morning I’d come home from work.

  Riley’s snits were because of me. Or rather, my absence.

  “I know where she is. It’s not Steven, I swear. She’s safe.”

  “What? Where? How do you know?”

  “Instinct. Deputy Anderson’s going to drive me to her right now.” Travis stopped pretending like he wasn’t eavesdropping and nodded eagerly. “I’ll text you as soon as I’ve got her.”

  “A text?” she shrieked.

  “Plus she’ll call you herself,” I said. “Give me fifteen minutes.”

  “Do you promise?” she demanded. “Frankie, where is my child?”

  Rather than answer, I hung up the phone and turned to Travis. “How fast can you get me downtown?”

  “Your statement …” he said, looking torn.

  “Travis, do you really want to tell Noah MacLean that you couldn’t help locate a missing child because you’re worried about paperwork?”

  “No, ma’am,” he said, and we headed for the car.

  Thirty

  “You can drop me off here,” I said when we pulled up in front of the store. “Tell Noah I’ll be around tomorrow if he wants to grab my statement then.”

  “I should come inside with you,” Travis said. “Last time I was here, it was a crime scene.”

  “It’s not a crime scene. Not until my sister gets here, anyway,” I assured him and climbed out of the squad car.

  It was easy enough to let myself in the back door, opening it slowly enough to avoid the usual squeak. The alarm had been deactivated—for once, that was a good sign.

  The store was dark; only the light from the streetlamps outside pierced the gloom.

  I stood in the silence until my eyes adjusted, worry niggling at me. Had I misjudged? Was Riley truly missing?

  But as I shuffled past the back counter, I spotted her, curled on the floor in front of the stairwell, head pillowed on her backpack, one of the buffalo-check blankets from our display wrapped around her. The cat, looking bedraggled as I felt, sat nearby, washing its face.

  Mindful of Charlie’s panic, I sent a text promising we would call in a little bit. Then I knelt and jostled Riley’s shoulder. “Hey, kiddo. Rise and shine.”

  She bolted upright, and the cat disappeared down one of the aisles.

  “Aunt Frankie?”

  “You sleepwalking these days? We’ll have to start tying you to the bed.”

  She scowled at me. “I was running away, not sleepwalking.”

  “What a relief. I’d hate to see you trying to cross Center Street in your sleep.” Admittedly, there wasn’t that much traffic down Center Street even on a busy day. “What are you doing here?”

  “Mom and Daddy were talking about you moving out because the house was too small for all of us. And you and Deputy Noah were saying that you were going to leave.”

  “You were eavesdropping?” She nodded. “You get that from your mom, you know. But that’s not all you’ve been listening in on, is it?”

  She looked away, gaze skittering around the darkened store.

  “Did you know Grandma doesn’t listen to her emergency scanner anymore? She says they’re too careful about what they say over the radio, so there’s no point in listening.”

  “That’s not true,” Riley protested. “They still …”

  “They still tell you what calls are going to the hospital, don’t they?”

  She scowled.

  “You’ve been listening to the scanner after everyone goes to bed, haven’t you? That’s why it’s turned on in the mornings. And why you’ve been so sleepy.”

  Her eyes filled, shiny even in the dim light. “I don’t do it every night.”

  “No,” I agreed, smoothing her hair from her face, keeping my tone gentle. “Just on the nights I’m at work.”

  Which explained why she was only grumpy on the mornings after my shift.

  Her tears spilled over. “I wanted to know what you were doing. I miss you.”

  “Oh, Riley.” I wrapped my arms around her and squeezed, envisioning her skinny little form hunched over the radio, the volume turned low so she wouldn’t wake the rest of the family, desperate to maintain a connection with me. “I miss you too. Coming home to you is the best part of the day. But you can’t stay up all night, sweetie.”

  “I know,” she said, her voice muffled against my shoulder. “That’s why I decided to move in with you. The house will have room for Rowan when she comes home, and you wouldn’t be lonely.”

  “You decided to do this without telling your parents or Grand
ma?”

  “Mom was out with you, Daddy was with Rowan, and Grandma was busy handing out chili.” She frowned. “Everyone has something to do except me. Everyone has someone to hang out with except me.”

  “I see.”

  “I don’t take up that much space,” she added. “I only brought one backpack, because you have a lot of stuff.”

  “Riley,” I said, “it’s true that I was thinking about moving in here. But not because of you.”

  She lifted a shoulder, chin wobbling. “Then why?”

  “Because … you know how Rowan’s crib used to be yours?”

  She nodded.

  “You grew out of it, didn’t you? If you tried to sleep in there now, your feet would stick out through the bars, and your arms would be all squinched. You’re too big for it. So you got the top bunk, and that fits a lot better, right?”

  “You fit in the bottom bunk,” she protested.

  “I know, but living in the same house I did when I was a kid … it makes me feel like a kid. And I’m not one anymore. I’ve outgrown that house.”

  “This one’s smaller,” she said.

  “It is. It shouldn’t fit me, but I think it might.”

  She shook her head, vehement despite her drowsiness. “I want to move in with you.”

  “Yeah? How come?”

  “Because you’re fun. We can do stuff together. You can help me with my homework.”

  “Your mom and dad would miss you.”

  “No, they wouldn’t. They have Rowan.”

  “Rowan’s not you,” I said. “She can’t talk, she can’t play soccer, she won’t even be able to taste-test cookies for, like, a year. They need you around.”

  “So do you.”

  I sighed. “That’s true. You’ll have to visit a lot, which won’t be a problem since you obviously feel comfortable walking here by yourself. And this way we can have actual sleepovers. With movies, and popcorn, and cookie dough.”

  “Mom says it’s not safe to eat raw cookie dough.”

  “That’s why we’ll save it for the sleepover. My house, my rules.”

  She considered this, wiped her nose on her sleeve. “Can I stay tonight?”

  I nearly blurted yes, then thought better of it. “Let’s call your mom and ask. She’s pretty worried.”

  “She probably didn’t notice I was gone,” Riley grumbled. I showed her my phone.

  “See all those missed calls? She noticed. She’s worried sick.”

  “She’s going to be mad, isn’t she?”

  I helped her up, feeling a million years old. “Oh, yeah. No getting around that.”

  “Can’t you call her?”

  “I’m not the one who ran away,” I said. “Get it over with, and then I’ve got an idea.”

  Glumly, she took the phone from my hand. While she wandered the store, her voice small and apologetic, I shucked off my coat and turned on the lights.

  She handed me the phone, head bent.

  “You knew she was there?” Charlie asked, her voice clogged with tears.

  “I had a feeling. Can she stay over?”

  “She ran away, Frankie. We shouldn’t reward her with a sleepover.”

  “She’s feeling neglected, which is partly my fault. This is more in the line of an apology, not a reward.”

  “I want her back here bright and early tomorrow,” Charlie said with a sniffle.

  “Why not make her open the store?” I suggested.

  “Because she’s eight.”

  “So? We did it when we were her age.”

  “With help,” she reminded me.

  “Well, I am going to be living right upstairs. Riley and I will open. You can come by and dispense justice after breakfast.”

  Charlie sighed. “I’m letting it slide. This time.”

  We hung up, and I turned to find Riley wiping her eyes—and nose—on her shirt sleeve again. “First things first,” I said. “Tea. And a tissue.”

  We trooped upstairs, got provisions, and just as Riley was burrowing into the couch, I jerked a thumb at the door. “Come on, you.”

  “You said I could stay!”

  “Yeah, but there’s something we need to do.”

  Downstairs, I led her behind the counter. “Your mom let you work this machine yet?”

  “Mom doesn’t let me run any of the machines.”

  Somehow I managed not to roll my eyes. “This one is a little tricky, but you might as well start learning. Step one: get a key.”

  I pulled out the oversized brass key that opened the door to the stairwell. “Step two: get a blank. This one’s big, so we need a specialty blank.”

  I walked her through the process, relishing the feel of her hand beneath mine as we cut the new key, breathing in the familiar scent of hot metal. When it was done, I held it up to the light, brushed off the brass shavings. “Looks good, right?”

  She took it from me and mimicked the gesture, face solemn. Then she nodded approval.

  “Try it out,” I instructed her. While she fitted it in the lock and twisted, squeaking in triumph when it worked, I cut a length of ball chain.

  “Excellent,” I said when she returned, face flushed with pride. Carefully, I threaded the key onto the chain.

  “What are you going to do with it?” she asked.

  “Nothing.” I held it out to her, the key swinging like a pendulum. “It’s yours.”

  Eyes shining, she breathed, “Mine?”

  “You’re welcome here whenever you like,” I said. “This way, even if I’m at the hospital overnight, you can still get inside. But—” She made a grab for the key, and I lifted it out of reach. “You have to promise that you always tell somebody at home. No more running away.”

  If the words sounded slightly hypocritical to my ears, so be it.

  “Promise?” I asked.

  “Promise,” Riley said.

  “Good. Now time for bed.” I nudged her up the stairs. “You’re opening tomorrow.”

  Thirty-One

  Riley passed out in the back bedroom almost immediately. I should have followed suit, but sleep proved elusive. Finally, I gave up and tiptoed into the kitchen for a fresh cup of tea and slightly stale doughnuts.

  Where would Trey go now? I wondered. And how would his new family, whoever they were, explain this to him someday?

  I looked around the tiny apartment, overflowing with everything I’d brought back from Chicago, despite my attempt to neatly arrange the boxes. The prospect of maneuvering around them for the next three months did not appeal to me. I could imagine all the bruises on my shins from knocking into boxes, the coffee I’d splash down my shirt when I tripped. I’d be as much of a disaster as Costello had suggested. Maybe it was time to find a home for everything, including myself.

  No more running away, I’d told Riley. I should heed my own advice.

  I’d managed to unearth a fresh set of sheets and a spaghetti strainer when my phone chimed with a text message.

  Noah. You awake?

  No, I typed back.

  Light’s on.

  I have company. There. Let him wonder.

  Riley’s not company.

  I sighed. No secrets in Stillwater. Although Noah, it seemed, was harboring some of his own.

  The realization was enough to send me downstairs in my pajamas, throwing on the heavy fisherman’s knit cardigan that had been my father’s. I went up on tiptoe to peek out the back door. Noah was leaning against the porch railing, rumpled and gray with fatigue.

  “Please tell me you didn’t come here for my statement,” I said, pulling him inside. “It’s the middle of the night.”

  He lifted a shoulder, let it drop, and the weariness in the gesture made my heart ache.

  “First thing in the morning, I’ll go to the station. Charlie can cover the store. You need sleep.”

  He tugged on a lock of my hair. “That your professional opinion?”

  I closed my hand over his. “Yes.”

  “
Gotta finish it.” He handed me a legal pad and a pen. “Get it all down, Frankie, everything that happened from the moment you left me at the scene. You and Charlie, why you split up, what you saw, everything Steven said, right up until I arrived.”

  With a sigh, I brought him upstairs, showed him Riley sleeping in the bedroom, and then pointed to the couch. “Will you nap while I do it?”

  “No. But I’ll take a cup of coffee.”

  “It would be criminal to give you caffeine now,” I said. “At least rest your eyes.”

  He nodded, and within minutes his breathing had evened out. The words came faster as I moved deeper into the story, details returning in full force, my hand moving quickly over the page. I’d written plenty of notes and reports in the ER, but rarely did I have cause to tell an entire story. It was harder, this way, to compartmentalize. To lock away the fear and dread, to focus on the bare facts of what had happened. The emotions were interwoven with the words, impressions melding with events.

  It was morning by the time I got to our trip through the woods. My hand slowed.

  Steven had been about to tell me something. I’d asked why Kate hadn’t simply gone to the police, and Steven’s expression had turned amused. Coy, almost. He’d given Noah a look just before answering me.

  He’d never answered, though. He’d tripped, and Noah had sent me ahead to the ambulance with Trey.

  Now I wondered if he’d really tripped at all.

  Noah had never been anything but forthright with me from the first day I met him. Maybe my impression was wrong. I’d been exhausted, it had been dark, my adrenaline spiking and my attention focused on Trey. It was possible I’d misinterpreted.

  One way to find out.

  I nudged Noah, and he came awake instantly, head snapping up and scanning the room. “Done?”

  “Almost.” I kept my voice low and casual, like I was idly reminiscing. “Do you remember me asking Steven about why Kate didn’t turn him in? In the woods, on the way to the ambulance?”

  He shifted, stretched, but there was a restlessness in the movement that made my stomach tighten. “I remember.”

  “Steven tripped, I think.”

  “Yeah.”

  “He did trip, didn’t he? There must have been a tree root?”

  Noah didn’t reply, just watched me, still and quiet.

  “He never answered my question,” I pressed. “About why Kate didn’t go to the police.”