“Nothing.” I shake my head at the man holding a sound stick looking for sympathy. For God’s sake, I need to feel like I have a friend in the damn room. “I baked cookies for her family once, but she said her mother wasn’t feeling well and that I couldn’t take them over.”
Gretchen MacAfee sniffs at the thought. “And that didn’t set off any internal alarms in you, Mrs. Price?” Her lips contort until those viciously white teeth are visible.
“Not exactly.” Hell yes, it did. Everything about that little beast set off a damn alarm.
“It shows here”—she glances to her notes—“that there is no record in the state of Idaho at any school, public or private, of a kid who goes by that nickname—granted you did say it was not her full name. Has anyone outside of the two of you ever seen this child, Ota?”
My jaw goes slack at what she might be implying. “I don’t know, maybe the movers.”
“Funny you should say that.” She points a fiery red fingernail at me. “The police department did contact the movers, and not one of the young men who was present that day had any recollection of a second child around the premises.”
Holy shit. “They wouldn’t. She was in the backyard. She never went through the house.” My chest thumps wild like a herd of pigs begging for a lake to drown in.
James flinches and Gretchen must sense the fact that fight-or-flight has set in.
She takes a deep breath as if James and I had somehow exasperated her. “Let’s go to the phone lines. I believe we have some callers. Who do we have first?” A cue card is thrust her way. “Jessica from Phoenix. Hello, hon. How are you doing tonight?”
The audacity to shoot the shit with Jessica from Phoenix. I want out.
“Good, I’m doing great. How are you doing, Gretchen? I just want to say quickly that I love your show. I never miss it.”
Gretchen winks into the camera and it feels like treason. “That’s sweet of you to say. What can we do for you tonight?”
“My question is for Mrs. Price. First, I’m so sorry for your loss.” My stomach bottoms out because it sounds so final, so very morbid. “You mentioned that you were usually the one at home, but that you went out running errands. Why on that day? Do you think that whoever did this was prepared to take your daughter whenever the moment arose? I mean, if they meant to kidnap her, couldn’t they have lured her to the street and took her whenever they felt like it? It sounds like you were pretty loose with your daughter.”
My heart ratchets up my throat and into my ears as my entire body turns into one big pulsating bomb ready and willing to go off on whoever necessary.
“I don’t know what you’re trying to say.” I clear my throat in lieu of vomiting up an expletive. “I had to run a few errands, much like anyone else. We’re a normal family. My husband sometimes picks our daughter up and cooks dinner.” Liar. I can’t remember the last time James Price cooked me anything, let alone picked up our daughter other than that fated day. It was a day of firsts. I try to remember back to that morning. He distinctly told me I should take some time for myself—that I work so hard as a mother and wife. My lids snap open wide as I look to him with the realization. Does James know? Does he know what I’ve worked so hard to keep from him for the last six years? Maybe the only one not buying this we-are-a-normal-family bullshit is James.
He leans in, his dark brows sit over his eyes like a caterpillar. “My wife ran errands. I picked up our daughter. It was nothing out of the ordinary.” It wasn’t really. Only that it was.
“Why don’t we move along.” Gretchen takes the next cue card. “Next caller is from Nevada—Heather Evans. Let’s hear your question.”
I freeze. My body solidifies in fear and hate as every mixed emotion runs through me at once. Damn Jane for summoning her to life like the devil she is. Heather Evans can’t speak. Some people should have a muzzle welded to their faces, and she happens to be one of them.
“I’m feeling a little heated.” I give a quick tug to my mic, but not a body moves my way.
“Hi! Am I on?” The disembodied voice swims from the speakers. “Allison Greer is one of my best friends! Oh, heck—I guess it’s Price now.” You can hear the enthusiasm in her voice as if I were auditioning for Ms. America and she was here to cheer me on.
James gives my foot a slight kick without making eye contact with me. I hadn’t told him about Heather. Some psychotics are best kept under lock and key.
Gretchen leans into her mic. “Best friend.” She nods my way, amused. “I guess you would know her best. Can I ask—what kind of a person would you say Allison is? How would you describe her personality to someone you just met on the street? We’ve got a lot of viewers, and some of them are making hard judgments about her. What would you like to say to them?”
“I would say Allison Price, nee Greer is a guarded person.”
“What the hell?” I mumble to myself.
“Yes, she has her secrets. But, heck, we’ve all got a handful of those, now don’t we?”
Crap.
James looks over so fast I can hear his vertebrae cracking. “Who the hell is this chick?”
“We went to school together.” I clear my throat. “Heather and I were friends in high school. I’m pretty sure she means silly little high school boy crush secrets.” Shit. Shit. Shit.
Heather’s voice pitches before rising an octave. “Like I said, everyone’s got them. I’ve got mine. I’m betting that handsome husband of hers has his fair share, too. Not long after the two of them got together, they broke right up.” Holy hell—she is singing like a bird. “But look at them now!”
“Yes.” I inch my body to the edge of my seat. I need to rein this crazy train in before we collide with her big fat mouth again. “James and I are as happy as can be.” I can feel the sweat beading on my upper lip. And try as I might, I can’t catch my breath. “We’ve been very happy for a very long time. The focus here is on our daughter, Reagan. We love her very much and she loves us, and I know that she’s very, very frightened.” I jump forward, demanding the camera’s attention. “Honey, if you’re out there—please know that Daddy and I love you so much. We’re looking for you every moment. We will never give up!” Heather’s voice comes in faint and I see Gretchen swipe her hand at some tech guy sitting to the side. Good. I will keep talking and we will cap that shithole Heather calls a mouth. I look to Gretchen. “We’ve been so happy for so long we’ve even thought about another baby before this horrible thing happened.” James offers another tap to my foot, this one much stronger, a what-the-hell kind of a tap. “We’ve had some trouble and a friend referred me to IVF.”
“Shit,” James mutters almost indistinguishably. “Look, we just want our daughter back.” He leans into the one-eyed monster looking voyeuristically into our lives for ratings. “We are onto you and your stupid, silly little games. Whoever you are, you sick fuck, bring back our baby!”
Gretchen gives a pantomimed slit of the throat, and just like that, the lights go out overhead.
One interview down, one to go.
James pulls me upstairs in haste while the electronic switch out occurs in the living room. It feels clandestine, as if we were teenagers running up to my bedroom to hide our lust from my parents. My mother would have Bobbitted him if she caught us in the act of fornication. Lorena Bobbitt was as close to a deity as you could get in my mother’s eyes.
James lands us in the bedroom and slams the door shut with a kick. His eyes are wild with rage, his breathing uneven. “What in the hell are you thinking? Talking about more children? And we have never talked about IVF.” His voice is sharp as barbed wire and my ears pinch just hearing the pain in it. James has always wanted a brood—of his own, I would add, but he doesn’t really know the facts.
“I’m sorry. I panicked. She was some woman from my past and I just—I was spooked.”