“…on a recent event that’s happened in Nappanee, Indiana,” a male newscaster was saying. The town name jolted in Margot’s chest. Nappanee was a stone’s throw from Wakarusa. If she got into her car now, she could be there in under fifteen minutes. “Early this morning,” the newscaster continued, “five-year-old Natalie Clark was reported missing by her parents. According to her mother, Samantha Clark, the girl disappeared from a crowded local playground. Mrs. Clark had been feeding her youngest, an infant, when she looked up to check on Natalie and her son, but Natalie was nowhere to be found.”
A photo of the missing girl flashed on the screen, all teeth and wild brown hair, and suddenly everything fell into place: the anxious look on the pharmacist’s face, the woman’s phone call and her mention of the Jacobs family. Margot hadn’t misheard her after all. And now she knew what Linda was going to say even before the woman turned to her to say it.
“It’s happening again. January Jacobs. Her murderer is back.”
THREE
Krissy, 1994
Krissy stared with blank incomprehension at Robby O’Neil’s face. His features—small, dark eyes, ruddy cheeks, slick lips—swam in her vision. This man, whom she’d known her entire life, looked suddenly and completely unfamiliar. But more confusing than that was why Robby O’Neil was at their front door in the first place.
Only twenty minutes earlier, when Krissy had come downstairs and spotted the words on their wall, she’d woken Billy with a scream. Both he and Jace had run down the stairs at the sound. Jace’s twin sister, January, had not.
Those words—That bitch is gone—had flashed in Krissy’s mind as she and Billy frantically searched the house for their six-year-old daughter, and when they didn’t find January anywhere, they’d called 911. So the police were supposed to be the ones knocking on their door—not their old pal from high school. Robby’s presence here, at 5:30 a.m. on this torturous, bizarre morning, cast the whole ordeal into a strange, surreal light. Krissy had gone to kindergarten through high school with Robby O’Neil, had watched as he’d stumbled through current event presentations in social studies, had listened to her friend Martha gush about how dreamy he was.
By her side, Jace tucked his face into the folds of her robe and Krissy put a hand on his back. Then she took it off. Before she could work out what to say to Robby, Billy approached from behind her. “Hey, Robby,” he said, leaning through the doorway to shake his hand. “Thanks for coming.”
It was then, as Krissy’s eyes flicked over Robby’s uniform, that she realized he was the police. Of course, some dark part of her brain had known that—he’d been an officer in Wakarusa now for years—but it seemed like a cruel practical joke that when she called the police because her only daughter was missing, this was what she got: Robby-couldn’t-even-give-a-current-events-presentation-O’Neil.
“No problem,” Robby said with a look of exaggerated concern, as if he thought what he’d been called for was an overreaction but was treating it as if it wasn’t because they were old friends.
It made Krissy’s face burn. She’d stood beside Billy as he’d told the 911 operator that their house had been broken into, that their daughter had been taken.
“Why don’t you, uh, why don’t you come in?” Billy said. “Kris?” he added, giving her a look. “You wanna step back so Robby can come in?”
Krissy felt a jolt of anger toward her husband. Why was he acting so goddamn calm? Their daughter, their January, was gone, and here he was trying to make their guest feel welcome? But she knew deep down Billy wasn’t doing it because he was calm; he was doing it because he was a people pleaser, down to his bones. She knew that, just as she was, Billy was the opposite of calm. When he’d rushed down the stairs that morning and had caught sight of the words scrawled on the wall, he’d stopped so abruptly it was as if he’d run into some invisible barrier. His face had widened with shock and horror. He’d given Krissy a searching look. Then, later, as he’d phoned the police, his whole body had shaken.
Billy led them through the entryway to the kitchen, Robby following behind, Krissy with Jace clinging to her robe bringing up the rear.
“So, you guys can’t find January?” Robby said, his voice still light. It grated on Krissy’s nerves.
“She was taken,” she said. “Somebody broke in.”
Robby shot a glance at her over his shoulder. He looked surprised but also confused, as if she couldn’t possibly mean what she was saying. After all, nothing truly bad ever happened here in Wakarusa. His eyes flicked over Jace. “Jace okay, though?”
The question was innocent enough, but it made Krissy’s breath catch. She hadn’t known what to do with Jace while they waited the agonizing minutes for the police to get there. She’d considered pretending nothing was happening, tucking him back into bed, but the thought made her skin prickle with fear. Her daughter was gone, and now Krissy was terrified to let her son out of her sight. There was a buzzing energy emanating from him like a force field. What did he think was happening?
Krissy looked Robby in the eye. “Jace is fine.”
They passed through the doorway into the kitchen, and Krissy could see the exact moment Robby registered the words on the wall and realized he’d underestimated the situation. Just like Billy’s had, his eyes widened and his mouth went slack. Krissy ducked her head, unable to look. She already knew what she’d find if she did. She glanced at Jace and saw his eyes squeezed shut, his face half buried in her robe.
Robby cleared his throat. “I think my supervisor should know about this,” he said, tugging a radio from a holster on his belt, then walking a few steps away to call it in, his voice hushed and urgent. When he turned back around, he gave Billy and Krissy the grave look she’d been waiting for. “My supervisor Barker’s gonna be here soon.” He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple jumping. “In the meantime, have you checked the house for January?”
Krissy wanted to scream. Did he think they were morons? But before she could answer, Billy said, “It was the first thing we did.”
Robby nodded. “Okay, okay. Huh. Well, let’s go ahead and do another sweep together, yeah? It’s possible you missed something given your…” He hesitated, looking for the right word. “State.”
Billy shot Krissy a glance that didn’t quite meet her eye, and she shrugged. “Fine.” She knew January was not in the house—it wasn’t as if she and Billy had simply missed her, as if she’d been playing some overly tenacious game of hide-and-seek—but Robby was the expert here. She wasn’t going to contradict him.
With Jace still glued to Krissy’s side, the four of them walked slowly through the downstairs, stopping in each room so Robby could open cabinets and palm pillows, as if their six-year-old daughter could possibly fit behind one. He kept asking if anything was missing and Billy and Krissy kept telling him no. When they circled back to the kitchen, where the stairs to the second floor were, Robby stuck his hands on his hips, jutting his chin toward the steps. “Do you mind if I…”
“Of course,” Billy said without hesitation.
Robby led the way, grabbing the banister hard with every step. Billy followed him and Krissy followed both, holding Jace’s hand tightly in her own. Upstairs, Robby continued his search, opening every door and cabinet with such gusto that Krissy suspected he was acting out some brave rescue scene he’d envisioned in his mind: He’d thrust open their linen closet door to find January curled in a ball, scared and lost in her own house, he the gallant hero, she the victim of nothing that couldn’t be recovered from with a little chicken soup and a warm bath, Krissy and Billy the silly, dramatic parents. She swelled with annoyance.
But when they made it to Jace’s and January’s rooms, across the hall from each other, Krissy’s heart started to pound with such ferocity it drove all other emotions out of her. She stood between the doorways, unable to look through either. These rooms were where her babies should have been but weren’t.
After Robby had finished looking under beds and flipping back blankets, they made their way downstairs again. Now, the only place left to go was the basement.