It almost always did.
The fact that it sometimes didn’t pay off made the whole thing all the more thrilling. If it were easy, it wouldn’t be a challenge. His heart wouldn’t be racing like it was right that moment.
Maisie’s dad went deeper into the garage, hidden by a car. The little girl herself moved closer to the sidewalk. The toy Hummer’s wheels went halfway over the cement this time.
It was getting close to time. Soon he would talk to Maisie again. Maybe convince her to come for the present. Or maybe just build more trust. It might take a few days.
Patience. That was all it would take. Then all his hard work would pay off.
Her dad reappeared, tools in hand and got back to work on the motorcycle, turning his back to the yard and his daughter.
The miniature Hummer now pulled off the grass entirely and rode over the sidewalk as she circled back to the yard.
Her dad didn’t even notice.
Maisie continued widening her path until she rode up and down the sidewalk, not even bothering with her yard except to turn around. There was no reason, not when her dad was so engrossed with the motorcycle and the mom hadn’t come out in a while.
At first, she stayed directly in front of her house, not crossing the clear lines marking the edges of her property—longer grass on both sides indicated where Maisie’s yard ended and the neighbors’ began. But then she began inching closer and closer each time she turned around until she was crossing over on the neighbors’ yards.
Her dad turned around when she rode on the driveway. “You’re supposed to stay on the grass.”
“This is more fun.”
“Your mom wouldn’t like it.”
“Please,” Maisie begged.
He frowned. “Just don’t go in the road.”
“Yay!” She tore down the driveway and to the sidewalk, barreling down past the property line.
Maisie was heading away from Tony, but she turned around in the neighbor’s yard soon enough and flew past her house again, squealing and giggling.
Her dad didn’t turn around, nor did her mom so much as peek outside.
Maisie passed the next house and didn’t slow as she went past another house and another.
It was time for him to make a move. He looked around for anyone who might be looking his way.
Nobody was.
He rose and stretched his legs. The road was quiet, other than the sounds of the toy Hummer’s engine and of the hammering from Maisie’s garage. Her dad was completely engrossed with the motorcycle.
Maisie turned around and headed back toward her house.
The front door swung open.
Tony ducked back behind the shrub.
Maisie’s mom appeared. “Maisie!”
“She’s riding on the sidewalk.” Maisie’s dad didn’t look away from his project.
“I don’t want her on the street,” the mom objected.
“She’s on the sidewalk. I’m watching her.”
The mom crossed her arms and stepped into the yard, watching Maisie.
The little girl waved as she passed in front of the yard. “Daddy said I could ride out here!”
Her mom scowled but didn’t object. She watched as her daughter went up and down the sidewalk a few times, then turned to her husband. “You’re not watching her if your back is to her.”
“I can hear her!”
“If anything happens to her, it’s on you. Just know that.”
“She’s fine.”
Maisie’s mom glared at him. “I have to get back inside. I wish you’d watch her.”
“Our neighborhood is perfectly safe, and I am watching her. I can hear her just fine.”
They had a few more words, before the wife stormed back into the house, muttering to herself then slamming the door.
Meanwhile, Maisie continued her path up and down the sidewalk, traveling a little farther each time.
Tony waited a minute, then rose to his feet again and strolled inconspicuously in the direction of his car with the present inside. He just needed to cross the street to reach it now.
Maisie was inches from it, her blonde hair flying behind her.
He crossed the street and checked to make sure his car was unlocked as he passed it. It was. The balloon and present were all in the backseat, eager to leave and have Maisie join them.
She turned around, now five houses away from her own.
The man waved and leaned against his car as she neared.
It took a moment for recognition to cover her face. She waved back and then zoomed past, barreling toward her house and passing it.
He didn’t move from his spot, though he was ready to jump out of sight the moment one of Maisie’s parents showed up at the edge of their property.
They didn’t.
Maisie went pretty far away before finally turning around and heading back his way.
“Come inside, Maisie!” Her mom’s voice drifted his way.
The little girl waved as she rode past her yard and neared him again.
“We need to go meet Grandma and Grandpa! Put that truck away, Maisie!”
Tony swore under his breath. So much for his big opportunity. He’d been so close.
Patience, he reminded himself. There would always be tomorrow. Or the next day, or the day after that. Each day was a new opportunity to make himself more familiar to the girl. To finally bring her to his cabin.
He opened the back passenger door and pulled out the pink balloon.
Maisie slowed as she approached, a questioning expression slowly crossing her face.
The man handed it to her. “Here, have this before it stops floating. Happy birthday, Maisie.”
She grasped it, her eyes wide. “Thanks, mister.”
“Tony.” He smiled widely. “You’d better get back to your mom before you get in trouble. Go on.”
Maisie managed to turn around and barrel down the sidewalk without letting go of the string.
He watched until she turned onto her yard and disappeared from sight. Then he got into his car and drove away, already making plans for next time.
Doubts
Genevieve paced the condo, unable to stop staring at the door.
“Would you sit down?” Her mom glared at her.
“No! Where is dad?”
Mom sighed. “Fishing. You know that’s how he deals with stress.”
Genevieve shook her head. “He can’t do this! Not when there’s an active police investigation. He’s making it hard on those trying to prove his innocence.”
“The truth always prevails.” Mom turned back to her crossword puzzle.
And that was exactly what was starting to worry Genevieve. Could her dad actually be the killer? She hated to think that, but he didn’t leave her any reason not to. If he wasn’t guilty, why would he disappear like he had been? All it did was make him look suspicious.
She continued pacing. If she, his daughter, suspected him, then how much more did those working on the case?
They were already giving him the benefit of the doubt because of his relation to Genevieve, but that could only go so far. As her mom had pointed out, they needed to get to the truth, and soon. Every minute the serial killer ran free, young girls remained at risk.
“You’re driving me crazy.” Mom gathered her pen and crossword puzzle. “I’m going to bed. Tell Dad he can wake me when he gets home.”
Genevieve nodded. She didn’t say anything as her mom made her way to the master bedroom. She only continued pacing, now stopping each time she passed the window facing the parking lot.
“Where are you, Dad?”
She checked her phone for any calls or texts. Nothing from anyone.
After more pacing, she checked on Tinsley. The girl snored from the bed.
Genevieve would love to be able to sleep so soundly. Ever since all this had started, she had been sleeping fitfully, waking often.
It felt like it had been at least a week, but it had only been t
wo days. Two days since this whole mess started.
How was that possible?
She went back to the living room, leaving Tinsley’s door open just a crack. After some more pacing, she finally plopped down on the futon and scrolled through the newsfeed on social media, distracting herself with cat videos and news around the world.
A serial killer had been caught on the East Coast after a flood had swept through a neighborhood and led authorities to the killer’s lair in the basement.
Hopefully the murderer who was using her parents’ backyard as a cemetery would be caught soon. And with any luck, it wouldn’t be her dad. She could just hear the whispers if it did end up being him—the father of a police officer. People would ridicule her for not seeing the signs.
But there hadn’t been any. Not until she and Tinsley had dug up the bones.
Stop!
She took a deep breath. Her dad wasn’t a killer. The man was as loving and kind as they came, giving to a fault. He was just making some dumb decisions now. That was it. That, and Genevieve’s wild imagination connecting unrelated dots.
She set her phone aside and closed her eyes. Exhaustion set in, squeezing every inch of her body. Her muscles ached. Even her skin burned.
The fog of sleep overcame her and she started to drift off, floating away from the living room. Darkness remained and her feet pressed onto the ground.
Genevieve looked around. She couldn’t see much. A faint light came from the distance, way up in the sky. It was the moon, and it illuminated the tops of black spruce trees.
Woods. Not just any woods. The woods.
She recognized the path. It was the exact place where her life had nearly ended. Where she had been terrorized.
Pine cones and twigs crunched. Someone was coming her way.
Genevieve sat up, gasping for air.
It took a moment for her to realize she was in Nick’s condo, far from the forest. Her tormentors were in jail. Ineligible for parole.
Her dad stood by the door, hanging up his jacket. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
She took a deep breath and held it for a moment. Her whole body shook. “Where have you been?”
“Fishing.”
“Dad, that has to stop. If you won’t listen to me as your daughter, please listen to me as an officer of the law. No more fishing until all of this is over. When you go fishing by yourself, you have no alibi. You look guilty, no matter how innocent you are.”
“I appreciate your concern, but it isn’t necessary. Your mom knows this is how I deal with stress. So should you. I’m sticking close to home. Coming back here every night. Sometimes I travel and fish in Montana or Idaho for up to a week at a time. I’m not doing that now.”
“You should be doing everything you can to prove your innocence. Right now, you’re just giving the authorities reason to question you.”
“The captain says he believes me.” Dad gave her a look that clearly asked if she believed him, too.
She wanted to. More than anything. He was making it hard.
Really hard.
“Just wait until this mess is behind us. That’s all you need to do. I’m worried about you.”
He lumbered into the living room and stood next to the futon, staring down at her. “Why don’t you come with me tomorrow? You can see that I’m just fishing. It’ll set your mind at ease. You can even be my alibi. All problems solved.”
“You know I can’t. I need to take care of Tinsley.”
“We both know your mom will watch her. She’ll be thrilled we’re having father-daughter time.”
Genevieve shook her head. “I’m not leaving her alone with Tinsley. With everything going on, Tinsley could have a meltdown. I don’t want Mom having to deal with that on her own.”
“Tinsley seems to be doing better than ever.”
She jumped to her feet and glared at him. “How would you know? All you’ve been doing is fishing! If that’s what you’ve actually been doing.”
“You don’t think I have been?”
“I wouldn’t know. Nobody would.”
“Your captain found me fishing. That isn’t enough proof for you?”
“After hours of searching! After you wouldn’t answer your phone.”
Dad sighed. “We’ve been over this, Genevieve. I didn’t hear it. Honest mistake. Do you want to accuse me of something?”
“I just don’t want to see you wrongly imprisoned. It happens. Especially when people make themselves look guilty.”
“I’m not.”
“Dad, please consider finding a new way to de-stress yourself. That’s all I’m asking. Something where there are lots of witnesses. Take up bowling. Get a pedicure. Anything with people around.”
“A pedicure? You want me to have my fingernails painted?”
“That would be a manicure. No, lots of men get pedicures. They’ll soak your feet, massage them, clip your nails. No colorful polish required. It’ll be relaxing and there will be plenty of people around to see you.”
“I’m no sissy. I’ll stick with fishing. Goodnight, dear.”
“Dad—”
He kissed her forehead and went to the master bedroom without another word.
Comfort
Alex lifted Zoey off the couch and carried her to the bedroom. Her head rolled onto his shoulder, but she didn’t wake. They’d watched several movies and eaten tons of ice cream. He hadn’t left her side except to get more snacks or to use the bathroom.
She had snuggled close to him, practically clinging to him the entire time. So unlike her. Zoey was the strongest, most independent woman he’d ever met.
It infuriated him that she’d been violated so badly that it had changed her. He was mad at himself for not seeing the signs earlier, but he’d attributed her jumpiness to the abduction. And with as busy and tired as he’d been with academy, he hadn’t noticed she’d pulled away physically. But now looking back, he saw all the signs of her backing away from him.
He wanted to kick himself for not seeing anything sooner, but it would be pointless. At least he knew now. He could give her the comfort and protection she needed. The monster who had done this to her was behind bars, and he hadn’t killed Zoey. She was still alive. That was something Alex was beyond grateful for.
He settled Zoey into the bed, tucking the covers around her. She mumbled something but didn’t wake. He brushed a few strands of hair from her face and kissed her temples.
He started to climb in next to her, but realized he wasn’t sleepy even though he should have been. His mind wouldn’t stop racing now that he knew just how brutally she had been violated.
Alex went out to the living room and found his phone on the coffee table. Two new texts.
Unknown: Flynn still wants to see you.
Unknown: He’s waiting.
Anger ripped through Alex.
Alex: Who is this??
The little dancing dots showed the other person was responding.
Unknown: Doesn’t matter.
Alex: Where is Flynn?
Unknown: You know.
Alex: Do I?
Unknown: Yes.
Alex: He wants me to visit him in prison?
Unknown: He really wants to talk to you.
Alex: Why?
Unknown: You gonna leave him hanging?
Alex: He deserves to hang.
Unknown: Funny. Not.
Alex: Who are you??
Unknown: None of your concern.
Alex: Why does Flynn want to see me?
Unknown: Why do you think?
Alex: When? Where?
Unknown: Soon. You know where.
He wanted to throw the phone across the room.
Alex: I’m gonna block you.
Unknown: I wouldn’t do that.
Alex: Why not?
No response. No message, no dancing dots.
Alex: Hello?
Nothing.
Now he really wanted to chuck the phone. He waited a full minu
te before heading into the bedroom.
What he needed to do was to stop engaging the unknown texter. He was probably doing exactly what he wanted. For all he knew, the texter was just messing with him. Had no connection to Flynn, whether in jail or not. Alex had three priorities—Zoey, Ariana, and the academy. None of those involved Flynn, other than the fact that Flynn had abducted Ariana and was now supposedly locked up for it and for killing the other girls.
But if he wasn’t… then he was Alex’s concern. And he’d definitely seen Flynn several times since he was supposed to be in prison—at the funeral, at the middle school, and at the convenience store. He was either getting in and out of a maximum security facility or someone was in there in his place.
He held his thumb over the button to block the mystery person, but then didn’t press it. Instead, he stuffed the phone into his pocket and tiptoed into Zoey’s room.
Alex climbed into the bed, careful not to wake her, then pulled her close. She mumbled something but didn’t wake.
He lay there, kissing the top of her head every so often and letting his mind run.
After a while, Zoey tossed and turned, pushing the blankets off. Alex pulled them up over her, but she twisted out of them again, still sleeping.
He gave up and decided to cover her after she fell into a deeper sleep. She rolled onto her side, and the curve of her stomach became more profound.
Alex stared at it, a heaviness squeezing his chest. He hated that someone else’s baby was growing inside of her. More than that, he hated how it had gotten there.
A mixture of emotions ran through him, some irrational and some rational—jealousy, fury, fear, doubt, and a few others he couldn’t identify.
He wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life with Zoey. That was all he’d ever wanted. He hated Dave for what he’d done to not only Zoey, but their dreams.
Talking
Nick pulled the cinnamon rolls from the oven and placed them on top of the stove.
“Are they ready?” Hanna jumped around behind him. “They smell so good!”
“They need to cool.” He closed the oven and slid off the mitts. “You can help me frost them in a few minutes if you’d like.”
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