Page 49 of Last Seen

He starts to say something but bites it back. “I’ll leave you to it. Call me if you feel uncomfortable about anything. But I promise, no one will bother you here.”

Now that they’ve made sure I can’t leave.

She shakes the ice in her latte. “Thanks for the coffee.”

They stand in silence for a moment, then he nods once. “I’ll leave you to it.”

As he’s shutting the front door, she calls out, “I do appreciate the assist, Sheriff.”

“No worries,” he says, and then she’s alone.

She digs out her charger and plugs in her phone, then calls the hospital. They route her to her father’s room, and he answers the phone, a little breathless.

“Hi. Everything okay?” she asks.

“Yeah. They had me working on the crutches again. Are you okay? Code word?”

“I’m fine.”

“Halley . . .”

She laughs. “ Ailurophile . See? I’m all good, but I’m stuck here in Brockville for a bit.

Had some car trouble.” She is not about to tell him the truth about the Jeep being disabled.

He will lose his marbles. “They’ve put me up in a sweet little cottage, with its own golf cart so I can go buzzing around town.

Should be a couple of days before the Jeep’s fixed. The mechanic had to order parts.”

“I could have Anne come get you. You said it’s only four hours away.”

“No, that’s all right. It will give me a chance to learn more about Cat.” From the people who saw her last, but she doesn’t add it. “Anyway, I’m fine, and I will continue to check in. This town has a little bit of everything. I won’t get bored. Okay?”

“Okay, jellybean.” He’s quiet for a moment. “Have you heard from Theo?”

“Yes. Why?”

“He might have called.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“He’s worried about you, honey.”

“Little late for that,” she fumes.

“He said you moved out. Why didn’t you tell me?”

She sighs. “Because. Okay? I told you before, it’s complicated. Did he tattle about work, too?”

“The lab? He may have mentioned something ...”

Great. Thanks a hell of a lot, Theo.

“I don’t know what he said, but what I told you is the truth. The board fired me in retribution for the sexual harassment complaint I filed. I will deal with it when I figure out what’s happening here. I am not in any sort of mood for all the hovering you guys are doing.”

“Halley, I am not hovering—”

“No, you just spent your whole life lying to me.”

She realizes she is shouting. Damn it, she is done with all of this. She ratchets it back. “Listen. I need some time. I am furious with you, and I am furious with Theo, and I need some space. Please. No more check-ins and code words. I am not a child. I am exactly where I want to be right now.”

“You know that’s not true. And running away from your responsibilities won’t help a thing. You need—”

She does something she has never done in her entire life. She hangs up on her father.

He calls back immediately, and she lets it go to voicemail.

She is tired of pretending she’s okay. She is tired of being told what to do. She’s gotten herself into this mess, and she will find her way out.

She searches Donnata Kade’s name and is met with a long-form article from East Fifth magazine, of all places.

She thumbs it open, takes a seat at the kitchen table to read and finish her latte.

It is full of qualifiers— allegedly , supposedly , ostensibly .

But the gist of it is Donnata Kade was a decorated FBI agent until she was removed from the organization following a nervous breakdown brought on by what they call a phantom case.

She claimed a powerful, unnamed man was actually a serial killer in league with a cabal of other powerful men who were also killers.

Directing them who to kill, and where. It was a fantastical tale without merit, according to the FBI.

There was no proof, no evidence, and no way to bring a case against this person, but she wouldn’t stop.

She neglected all of her other cases, abused her powers as an agent to investigate on her own, until the FBI had no choice but to let her go.

She did not go gently, showing up at the homes of leadership and doing all sorts of other crazy things.

They had to cite her for harassment, and finally committed her to a psychiatric facility, claiming she suffered from a late-stage schizoaffective disorder.

This was fifteen years ago. The same year Cat went missing.

Obviously Kade is out in the world again; she was in Marchburg following the stranger. And possibly disabling Halley’s Jeep.

The article ends with a wild supposition—a former coworker “playing devil’s advocate” suggested that the former FBI agent was actually killing people in order to make her story hold water, though there was no proof of that, either.

Halley sets down her phone. Wow. Character assassination, or is the woman totally bonkers? No wonder the sheriff discouraged her from reaching out. Kade does sound a bit unhinged.

Having just been let go without real cause, though, Halley finds herself sympathetic to the woman. She understands what it’s like to have your entire world, your entire career, yanked away unfairly and without warning.

She finds the phone book—a cognac leather-covered listing of Brockville’s residents—and starts thumbing through.

The names are alphabetical; Esworthy is listed on the second page.

She dials the number and listens to it ring, then voicemail kicks in.

It’s automated, no personalized greeting.

She leaves her cell phone number and asks for them to call her back.

She could go to the Esworthys’ cottage herself and knock, see if there’s really no one home. A walk might do her good. A nap, maybe? She hasn’t slept more than a few hours, and those were fitful. She is wired, though. Sleep may be impossible. She is on overload—systemic overload.

Her phone buzzes, and she recognizes the number she just called. “Hello?”

“This is Cathy Esworthy. You just left me a message. Sorry I missed you, I was in the garden.”

“Thanks for getting back to me. I wanted to ask about your renter Donnata Kade. Have you spoken to her recently, or have a way I can contact her?”

There is silence, then a small sigh. “I’m afraid I don’t.”

“Maybe your husband—”

A deep voice responds. “We no longer have any contact with Donnata. It was a difficult decision, she was a friend of mine from school, and we tried to help her get back on her feet. But her accusations, her demeanor, were so disruptive, we couldn’t let it go on.”

“Mr. Esworthy?”

“Yes. You’re on speaker. We really don’t have any idea where she is now.”

Mrs. Esworthy chimes in. “Bruce and I moved here to have a quieter life, and she ... Well, I’m sorry to say this, but Donnata is severely mentally ill.

When she lost her job, we did all we could to get her help, but she wasn’t interested in treatment.

She was obsessed with her delusions. They were frightening, and to watch her be so consumed .

.. We haven’t seen her since she moved out. ”

“You mentioned accusations? Against whom?”

“That’s really all we know,” Mr. Esworthy says. “And unfortunately, we have to go. We have an appointment in Atlanta.”

“Right. Thank you for your time.”

She sets the phone back into its cradle. Thanks for nothing. Everyone is so tight lipped about Kade. It makes Halley wonder how delusional the woman really was. Where there’s smoke, there’s fire, right?

She explores the cottage, familiarizing herself with everything. A few minutes into her scrutiny, the doorbell rings. She looks out the peephole to see a kid with grocery bags. Damn, that was quick.

She opens the door, and the kid smiles. “Sheriff Brockton asked me to drop these off.”

“How much do I owe you?”

“Oh, nothing. Here you go.”

He hands off the bags and is back in his golf cart and buzzing away before she can get her wallet to give him a tip.

She goes back into the house, determined to unpack and figure out her next steps.

She pulls out the note, wishing she had a fingerprinting kit, something, anything, so she can do more than just stare at the word Help and wonder what the heck it is about.

Who in this supposedly idyllic town needs help?

And who would ask her, a total stranger, for it?

She tries to assemble all of the data she’s inputted into a coalescent timeline.

Cat killed her mother. She came to Brockville.

To the retreat. She went missing. Years later, her little sister finds out the truth and follows in her footsteps.

She finds that the perfect little town isn’t so very perfect after all.

The story. Cat’s story.

Oh God, she’s forgotten entirely about meeting Tammy Boone.

A quick glance at the clock shows it’s five to nine. Assuming the sheriff hasn’t canceled her appointment, she can make it if she hurries.

The golf cart fires to life with no issue. She consults the map, figures out the path she needs to take, and buzzes off.

And the monster smiles.