Page 29 of Trapper Road

“But we could talk to her about what happened,” he argues.

“I already have.”

Vee crosses her arms. “Twenty bucks says Mandy didn’t tell you everything about what happened that day.”

She’s almost certainly correct and she knows it. She presses her argument. “She’s not gonna be straight with you. Not the way she would be with kids her own age. Let us talk to her and Willa. Let us find out if they’re hiding something. I mean, you want this girl found, right?”

“I’m not willing to find Juliette at the risk to you two.”

“What risk? You saw Mandy. She’s as gentle as a kitten.”

I look at her pointedly. “The answer is no. You can help with the case, but background research only. In fact, I was hoping you two could help look into their social media accounts. See if anything stands out to you. Given your age, you might have a different perspective than the rest of us.”

“So the lame boring shit,” Vee grumbles.

“Sometimes it’s the lame boring shit that solves the case,” I tell her.

* * *

I booked two adjoining rooms at the only motel in town, figuring Vee could decide whether she wanted to sleep in the extra bed in my room or Connor’s. She chooses Connor’s, saying, “No offense, Ms. P, but you’re old and stuff. I don’t want to have to go to bed at like eight.”

I don’t bother pointing out that I’m usually the last one in bed at home. They retreat to their room to watch TV and I settle onto the bed in my room with my computer. I listen to the recording of my interview from earlier and type up notes. I’ll double-check everything against the file and earlier interviews, but I don’t expect there to be any discrepancies. In reality, the best hope we have is that approaching everything with a fresh pair of eyes might make some overlooked details stand out. It’s a long shot, but if it means finding Juliette it’s one worth pursuing.

My phone buzzes with an incoming text from Lanny. I leap for it. I’ve texted her a few times today but have only gotten brief answers back letting me know she’d made it to campus and had checked in at the admissions office. This time she’s texted a photo of her with her arm thrown around the shoulders of another girl. Lanny’s dressed in her usual black clothing, although she’d toned it down a bit for this trip. The other girl is the opposite, decked out head to toe in florals and pastels.

She’s the kind of girl Lanny would usually roll her eyes at, but the smile on my daughter’s face looks genuine.

Below the picture she texts: “My ‘roommate’ Heather. She’s awesome. Psych and Chem double major. Totally brilliant. There’s a party tonight at one of the row houses. I plan to accept drinks from strangers and drink myself into oblivion. Ta!”

I bolt upright, my heart going into overdrive and am about call her when another text arrives. “Obvs just kidding! Duh. Don’t worry, I’ll be careful. Love you!”

My fingers itch to respond, telling her she absolutely can’t go to that party, but I know I can’t do that. She’s nearly eighteen, almost a legal adult. I need to learn to give her space to be her own person.

Even though all I want to do is wrap her in bubble wrap and protect her from the world. I want to do that with both my kids.

I force myself to respond with a chipper, “Have fun, honey! And be safe!”

Then I close the connecting door to Connor and Vee’s room to dampen the sound of their TV and call Sam. I need someone to talk me down. He answers on the second ring. “Why do kids have to grow up so fast and want to go to parties and not just stay home where it’s comfortable and safe?”

He chuckles. “You heard from Lanny, I take it?”

“She’s on the way to what sounds like a frat party.”

“Do you want me to tail her and make sure she’s okay?” He says it half jokingly, but I also know that if I said yes, he’d do it. I want so, so badly to say yes.

Instead, I sigh and grudgingly say, “No.”

“She’s a good kid,” Sam reminds me. “You raised her well. She knows to be careful.”

“I know. I’m just worried that I spent so much time protecting her from the horror of her father that I didn’t hammer in just how dangerous the world can be.”

“She knows, Gwen. Trust me,” he assures me. “We talked about it on the ride up here.”

“What did she say?”

“That she’s excited about going somewhere where she can be more anonymous. Meeting new people who don’t know her backstory or who her father was. You know, being a normal teen.”

Hearing those words causes my heart to ache. I hate Melvin for doing this to my kids.