The Face of the Earth

by Deborah Raney

“Are you sure this is the route Jill took?” Shelley stared intently out the passenger side window. “Is there any other way she could have come?”

  He gave a humorless chuckle. “This is Missouri after all. There are probably a dozen different ways she could have come, but I don’t know why she would’ve gone any way but the Interstate. It’s the only route we’ve ever taken to Kansas City. And she was in a hurry to get home . . .” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Why did you ask that?”

  She shook her head. Rather emphatically, he thought.

  “No reason. I’m just trying to think of every possible angle. She has to be somewhere.”

  Mitch nodded, staring out the windshield and to the left, past the ditches and into the woods beyond where the trees were still fully clothed in green leaves barely tipped in autumn’s yellow and gold. Even on this gray Saturday, he could peer into caverns of winter darkness beneath the outspread branches. “Her car is the same color,” he said, not realizing he’d spoken aloud until Shelley looked at him, her brow furrowed.

  “Her Camry is that same gray color as the woods. It would be a miracle if we could see it in there.”

  “Then we’ll pray for a miracle.”

  He’d been praying for just that, but if Jill was out there somewhere in the vast acreage flanking this ribbon of highway, how would they ever find her? Jill, where are you? Please, God . . . Show us where to look.

  For almost an hour, they drove along in silence, he and Shelley each scanning their respective sides of the four-lane highway. He kept the speedometer below sixty and cars whizzed past them.

  Today’s weather was similar to yesterday’s––overcast but not foggy––and the sun tried valiantly to shine through the veil of clouds. There’d been no precipitation, and the temperatures weren’t cold enough for the roads to get icy. Still, if she’d been stranded somewhere overnight, it would have been freezing. He tried to imagine Jill making this drive yesterday. Tried to think the way she might have thought. That brought a smile.

  “What?” Shelley tilted her head, eyeing him.

  “I was just . . . thinking. Trying to think like Jill. You can imagine how that’s working out.”

  Shelley’s laughter was a welcome distraction. “Jill always said you two had personalities like oil and water, never mind the whole ‘men are from Mars’ thing. But . . . I’m sure you’re right that she took the Interstate. I’m not sure I would have, but she––”

  “Why not?” He tapped the Cruise button again. “You think she might have come another way?”

  “I just know that sometimes, especially in the spring or fall, I like to take the back roads. See something new, just get lost in thought or sing at the top of my lungs and not worry about causing other drivers to crash laughing.”

  He grinned at the image.

  But Shelley winced. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “What?”

  She frowned. “Making jokes about accidents.”

  “Oh. I didn’t even give that a thought. Frankly, I could use a few jokes about now,” he said wryly. But despite his words, he sobered. He couldn’t even let himself think about what the future might hold. What his kids might have to face before this day was over.

  He looked at the clock on the dash. “We’d probably better head back. I want to be there when the kids get home. I don’t know what else to do. I feel . . . torn.”

  “Mitch, if we could see where Jill went off the road––if that’s what happened––so can the police. They’ll find her. Right now, your kids need you.”

  “I know.” At the next exit he slowed and eased off the Interstate. Weekend traffic was picking up, and he started to turn off onto the exit ramp.

  But Shelley pointed to a highway billboard. “Hey, slow down.” There was excitement in her voice. “I’ve been there before . . . with Jill.”

  He pulled the Saturn over to the side of the road and followed Shelley’s line of vision to a sign advertising a colony of antique shops.

  “The antique shops?”

  “Yes. Jill talked me into stopping there when we were coming back from that bed-and-breakfast weekend a few years ago. She loved the place. In fact, that’s where she bought the green dresser that’s in your dining room. That was when I was driving the Escape, and we just barely managed to get that dresser in the back.”

  “Oh, sure. I remember. You helped her refinish it, didn’t you?”

  She nodded, looking as nostalgic as he felt.

  “I kind of remember her telling me about the place. We were always going to go back and explor––” He clipped off the word. Would they ever get a chance to do all the things they’d meant to do together?

  The look Shelley gave him said she was having similar thoughts.

  “I gave her such a hard time about buying all that junk,” he said. “Most of it any normal person would have tossed in the trash. But she so seldom spends money on herself . . . And she always managed to turn trash into treasure.”

  He turned the car around again and headed in the direction the sign pointed. “Do you think she might have come this way?”

  Shelley craned her neck to look up at the billboard through the windshield. “Maybe. We took county roads all the way back to Sylvia that day. It was fall. A little later in the year than this, I think. I remember the leaves were turning . . . Really pretty. Jill loved it.”

  “It’s a long shot, but . . . Maybe she decided to come this way again. Check out the stores again . . .”

  Shelley frowned. “If she left Kansas City after one, I don’t know if the shops would have still been open by the time she got here . . .”

  “No,” he agreed. “Probably not on a Friday afternoon before a holiday.”

  “She might not have thought of that though. Do you think she would have taken the same back roads home?”

  “I don’t know.” He’d always felt like he knew Jill almost as well as he knew himself. Now, he wasn’t sure about anything.

  They wound through gravel roads deeper into the woods. They were on the fringes of a conservation area and houses were few and far between.

  Shelley looked up at the canopy of trees overhead. “It’s a lot denser and more overgrown than I remember. It would be easy to get lost out here. And without her cell phone . . .”

  Mitch heard hope in her voice. And even as he wondered how far these acres of trees stretched, he dared to entertain hope himself. These roads were washboard-rough and only wide enough for one car in places. She could have gotten the car stuck or even gone off the road. It was a long shot.

  But at least it was a shot.

  Chapter 8

  “She doesn’t look familiar.” The proprietor of the antique mall slipped off cat-eye glasses and handed the photo of Jill back to Mitch. “But we get a lot of people through here on a weekend, especially with the holiday. Doesn’t mean she wasn’t here. You said it was last night?” The woman looked from him to Shelley and back again. “May I ask what this is about?”

  “Yes. This is . . . my wife. She was driving home from a conference in Kansas City last night and she . . . didn’t arrive home when we expected her.” Mitch hadn’t considered that showing Jill’s photo around would mean he’d need to explain why he was asking questions. Neither had he considered that having Shelley with him would feel a little awkward.

  Strangely, a forgotten memory surfaced. When the kids were in high school, Jill had offered Shelley a ride home from an out-of-town basketball game. But at the last minute, Jill hadn’t been able to attend––he couldn’t even remember why now. But he did remember how awkward it felt walking out of the high school to the parking lot beside Shelley, and realizing that they were getting looks from other Sylvia fans, who must have wondered why he and Shelley were getting in a car together––alone––to make the hour-long ride home.

  He and Jill had always been careful about appearances. Knowing the damage small-town gossip could do, and given their positions in the school system, they’d ch
osen not to travel––or even have lunch––alone with a member of the opposite sex if they could help it. But until the inquisitive looks he’d received that night, he’d never felt uncomfortable with Shelley. His interactions with her had always involved Jill, and the close friendship the two women shared made Shelley seem more like a sister to him.

  He didn’t owe this stranger any explanations, but he sensed her curiosity, and in light of the suspicious attitude that the detective had shown toward Shelley, he wondered if it had been unwise to bring her along. He didn’t need witnesses who could testify they’d seen him and Shelley alone together an hour from home. But after all, they were searching for Jill.

  “Have you called the police?” the woman asked, sounding a little incredulous.

  “Yes. The authorities are looking for her.” He thanked the proprietor for her time and started to leave, but turned back. “Are any of your employees here today that were working yesterday? Would you mind if I spoke with them?”

  “I’m sorry, but my weekend staff is all that’s here today.”

  Mitch wondered if she was telling the truth, but he certainly couldn’t fault her for being cautious. “I understand,” he said. “Thank you very much for your time.”

  Her demeanor softened at that. “I could keep the photo if you like”––she reached for it––“and ask when they come in Monday if anyone remembers her.”

  He clutched Jill’s photo to his chest. Why hadn’t he thought to bring copies? “I’m sorry, this is the only one I have with me. And I’m sure she’ll be back by Monday.”

  “Of course. I certainly hope so. I could make a photocopy if you like.”

  “Yes. Please,” Shelley said. “That would be great.”

  “Yes, thank you.” He reluctantly turned the photo over to the woman, and the two of them waited by the cash register while she went into a back room.

  She came out a few minutes later with a stack of color copies of Jill’s photo. “Thought maybe you’d be talking to others who’d need a copy to keep.”

  “Thanks so much.” He took the copies from her. “Oh, I’m sorry. Can I pay you for the copies? I . . . I’m not thinking straight.”

  “Well, of course you’re not. And you don’t need to pay me. It’s the least I can do. I’ll say a prayer you find her quickly.”

  He held the door for Shelley and they got back in the car, immersed in their separate thoughts.

  He drove slowly, winding along the rough back roads. His neck ached from craning to peer into the dense forest on either side of them.

  Shelley was quiet beside him, rubbing her own neck. He could almost see the hope seeping out of her with every mile that drew them closer to home. He felt the same.

  He called Evan’s cell phone around noon and drove a little faster when he realized the kids were in danger of beating them home. He didn’t want them to come home to an empty house.

  The thought brought him up short. No matter how many people crossed the threshold, their house would feel empty until Jill was found.

  His cell phone rang and he whipped it out of his pocket. “Yes?”

  “Mitchell? What is going on?” Jill’s mother.

  “Miriam. Hello. What do you mean?” Surely she couldn’t know.

  “I couldn’t sleep so I took my coffee in to the computer. I was on Facebook, and Katie had written something about her mother being missing? I don’t always get the things these young people write about, but Katie sounded serious. I called the house and no one answered. Jill’s not answering her cell phone. Please tell me this is some sort of joke.”

  Mitch sighed into the phone. What had Katie been thinking to post on Facebook? “I wish it was a joke, Miriam. I was going to call you, but I didn’t want to wake you before we had any real news.” He broke the news to her as gently as possible. After Miriam settled down, they agreed there was no reason for her and Bert to make the trip to Missouri yet.

  “I think I won’t say anything to Bert until I really have to,” Jill’s mother said. “He hasn’t been well at all.” It sounded like there was more to that than Miriam was willing to reveal just then.

  “Well, don’t let him watch TV then,” Mitch said.

  “Mitch? Is this that serious? Why do you think it would make the national news? Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  “No, Miriam. We’re praying Jill shows up before the story makes the news at all, but if it should, I wouldn’t want to risk it for Bert’s sake. He doesn’t get on Facebook, does he?”

  “Oh, heavens, no. He doesn’t even know how to turn the computer on. And he can’t hear the TV, but I’ll monitor him.”

  Mitch tried to encourage Jill’s mother before he hung up, but his words rang false even in his own ears. Beside him, Shelley looked stricken, as if hearing him tell Jill’s mother had made what was happening all too real.

  When they pulled into the driveway a few minutes later, Evan and Katie were in the driveway waiting. Seeing them, he felt at once comforted and bereft. Having the kids home made it all too real that Jill was not.

  TP yipped his pleasure, jumping up on Evan and Katie in turn, whining, and licking Katie’s face. Watching them made Shelley miss Audrey desperately. She wished she’d called her daughter home, too. At the same time, she prayed it never became so serious that she’d have to call Audrey home. But she’d lost a lot of the hope she’d been hanging on to back on those forested roads she and Mitch had just driven.

  Katie laughed and let TP wash her face with his pink-black tongue, but when Mitch nudged the dog out of the way and took his kids into his arms, Katie burst into tears and clung to her dad. Shelley could see that it was everything Mitch could do to hold it together himself.

  “Dad?” Evan’s voice cracked. “They still haven’t found her?”

  Evan had stayed in Lawrence over the summer and Shelley hadn’t seen him since last Christmas. His voice was lower than she remembered, and he’d filled out, no longer the lanky athlete.

  “No, bud. Nothing yet.” Mitch reached up and ruffled Evan’s hair as if he were still a little boy.

  “I don’t get it. How could she just disappear? What do they think happened?”

  “I wish we knew. We literally don’t have a clue.”

  She caught Mitch’s eye. “I’ll leave you guys alone,” she said quietly. “I’ll be at home if you need––”

  “No. It’s okay. Please stay. Unless you need to get some sleep.”

  “No. I––I’d prefer to stay. Thanks.” She was glad. It would have killed her to go home and sit alone, wondering what was going on.

  Mitch ushered them all into the family room and plopped onto the sofa with a kid on either side of him.

  While he filled them in on the search and everything leading up to now, Shelley put water on to boil for tea and hot cocoa. She could still hear their conversation, but being apart from them in the kitchen made her feel less like an intruder on this intimate family gathering.

  She stirred a cup of hot chocolate and added it to the tray she was preparing. When the drinks were finished, she carried the tray over and set it on the coffee table.

  “Thanks, Shelley,” Mitch and Katie said in unison.

  “Do you guys want something to eat? I’d be glad to make some sandwiches.”

  They all declined.

  “I’m not hungry,” Katie said, putting a hand to her stomach. “How’s Audrey liking school this year?”

  “It’s going real well. Thanks for asking, Katie.” It touched her that Jill’s daughter would think to ask about Audrey at a time like this. And perhaps she was imagining it, but Evan seemed very interested in her reply. She had dared to entertain hopes that Audrey and Evan might get back together one day. After they both finished school. Now, something about Evan’s interest made Shelley wonder if he and Audrey had been talking.

  No doubt news about Evan and Katie’s mom was all over cyberspace. There was no keeping anything secret in this age of social media.


  Secrets. Her mind swam with conversations she’d had with Jill. Recent conversations. There was no reason to share them. Least of all with Mitch. And she’d promised Jill she wouldn’t. That whole thing with her ex had no bearing on this.

  But what if it did? The things they’d shared in confidence had seemed petty at the time. Even frivolous. For fifteen years, she and Jill had shared everything––like two teenagers whispering and giggling together. They’d often compared their friendship to that of sisters.

  It had been no different the night Jill shared that her old boyfriend had contacted her. Shelley could tell Jill was flattered by his attention, but she’d never entertained any serious intentions of accepting the guy’s invitation.

  She knew the decision Jill had made, but what if something had changed her mind? What if she’d gotten to Kansas City and decided––

  No. Not Jill. Jill would never have done anything to put her marriage in jeopardy. Shelley bit her lower lip. If she was wrong about this, she would never forgive herself. But if she breached Jill’s trust and said something to Mitch, Jill might never forgive her.

  Maybe she could tell the authorities. Ask them to keep her confidence and not say anything to Mitch. But there was no guarantee they would do that. And telling the police might even put the news on the front page and embarrass Jill to death. Embarrass the whole family.

  Besides, the last thing Shelley wanted to do was talk to that detective from the Highway Patrol. He intimidated her. And she didn’t appreciate the way he looked at her––as if she knew things she wasn’t telling.

  She curbed a sigh. She’d always loved having a friend with whom she could share her deepest hopes and fears, but right now, she hated being the keeper of Jill Brannon’s secrets.

  Chapter 9

  Monday, September 6

  “It shouldn’t even be a case,” Evan Brannon lurched off the sofa and shouted at the TV. A local news anchor had just referred to “the case of a forty-year-old Sylvia woman who went missing Friday” on the noon newscast.