p.m.
She was suffocating under the weight of all the solicitude being piled on her.
Just now it was her big sister adding another layer.
“Honey, you can’t stay here all day,” Molly entreated, her green eyes dark and worried. “Why don’t you come on back to our place where things are a little more quiet and rest for a while?”
“I can’t leave right now,” she said firmly.
“Our house is just down the road. You know Daniel will let us know the minute they find him.”
She deeply appreciated her sister’s stubborn optimism, but she still wasn’t willing to leave the house. Not until Cam was found.
“You go, Mol,” she replied. “I know you’re exhausted from that press conference.”
Megan couldn’t help thinking Molly was the one who looked as if she needed to rest. Her pretty soccer mom of a sister looked ravaged, totally wiped out by the stress of this ordeal.
Guilt pinched at her. Had she asked too much of Molly to put her in front of the cameras?
“I’m fine,” Molly answered. “I only hope whatever I said to the media will somehow help us find Cam.”
“It will.”
She hugged her sister, thinking how much she owed her. Molly had been there any time Megan needed her, a quiet, steady source of strength and support.
Megan had been twelve, Molly nineteen—a freshman in college—when the cancer that had ravaged their mother for more than a year ultimately took Carol Kincaid’s life. Megan could never forget that her sister had left school and returned home to Boston to care for her and Kevin, their brother who had been fourteen at the time.
When other girls her age were busy with boyfriends and algebra finals and trips to Cancun for spring break, Molly had been home with them doing laundry, fixing lunches, helping with homework. She never complained, but Megan knew it couldn’t have been easy on her.
A year later, they were all barely beginning to find their way through the grief over their mother’s death when the unthinkable happened—their police officer father was struck and killed by a drunk driver while he was standing on the side of the road giving a routine traffic ticket.
With patience and love, Molly had pulled her and Kevin through the devastating pain. Completely on her own, her twenty-year-old sister had kept their little family together for three years until Kevin left for college.
By then she’d started dating a handsome young law student. Megan didn’t think her sister ever would have married the love of her life until Megan reached adulthood if she hadn’t interfered.
One night when Molly had been busy in the kitchen, she had taken Scott Randall aside and told him bluntly that if he wanted to marry her sister, Megan would be happy to go live with friends for the remaining two years of high school so they wouldn’t have to start married life with an annoying teenage girl underfoot.
Scott had been surprised at first at her bluntness, then had laughed, hugged her, then pulled out of his pocket the ring he planned to give to Molly that very night.
Together, the two of them had worked for two weeks to convince Molly there was no obstacle to her marrying the man of her dreams.
They had all grieved together on 9/11 when their New York firefighter brother had died running into Tower One of the World Trade Center. And Scott and Molly had packed up their family and come to stay for a month in San Diego after Rick’s death.
She knew she relied on her sister’s strength too much. At some point she needed to stand on her own.
But not now. She couldn’t survive this without her sister’s help—and she knew Megan would use up every bit of her emotional reserves if she didn’t convince her to rest.
“Go on home and take it easy. Scott and the kids need you and so does Hailey. I’ll let you know how things are going here.”
Molly looked torn. “Are you sure?”
She nodded firmly. “Go.”
“All right. I’ll take a few hours to check on things at home and make sure nobody’s set the house on fire. You take care of yourself while I’m gone, promise? You need to rest and eat something, honey.”
“I will,” she lied.
Her sister kissed her cheek, and the worry in her eyes took Megan’s breath away. Somehow, seeing the edge of panic in her sister who was usually so calm and in control seemed to magnify Megan’s own gut-wrenching fear.
After her sister left, she crossed to the window above the sink and looked out at the mountains behind her house. As the weather forecasters had warned, a hot, dry wind blew down the mountains, rattling the branches of the crabapple tree outside her kitchen window and fluttering the heads of the daisies and columbines in her flower garden.
People were coming and going in every direction. Megan had never felt so helpless.
This was the first time she had been completely alone since she had called the police and then Molly in the early hours of the morning. It had been hard enough keeping her fear under control in the presence of others. She found it impossible when only in the company of her own terrible thoughts.
Where could he be? Was he safe? Why hadn’t they found him yet?
She knew there were several theories buzzing around the command center. There were no doubt some—like Agent Davis—who suspected she had harmed Cam in some way and then had reported him missing to cover up her heinous crime.
Though it stung to know people might be so cynical, she couldn’t really blame them. She supposed it was logical to look at those closest to the child in cases like this. Knowing that, though, didn’t make the shame of those suspicions any easier to bear.
She knew there were also those who believed Cam might have wandered away. If that was the case, why hadn’t they found him yet? The mountains were vast, but he was just a nine-year-old boy. He couldn’t have wandered that far.
Still, that was far easier to digest than the third alternative, that someone had taken him out of his bedroom for reasons she couldn’t even bear thinking about.
She had no enemies in Moose Springs, no one willing to exact revenge on her through her child. She knew only a few people—some clients, some of her sister’s friends, a handful of people she’d met at church. If this had been a random act, why target Cameron?
Please keep him safe, she prayed silently as a thousand doubts and fears stampeded over her.
“Mrs. Vance? Are you okay?”
She opened her eyes and saw with some degree of consternation that the grim-faced FBI agent had entered the kitchen. He had changed from his suit to jeans and a black T-shirt with FBI on the back and he studied her with an odd look in those icy blue eyes—a strange mix of concern and reluctance, as if he hadn’t expected to find her here.
“No. I’m sorry, but I’m not okay.” She didn’t
