All the Little Liars (24 page)

“Did you tell Dad what had happened? With the Mob men?”

“I was so angry I didn't say a word,” she admitted. “I just wanted to get out of town. And if they came back and beat the shit out of him, well, that wouldn't make me cry. I'd visited the Harmony commune before, when I was a girl, and I'd liked it then. I'd been exchanging e-mails with them about staying there, at least for a month. Like a retreat. A breather. So I could decide what to do with my life.”

Sounded like she, too, had been at the end of her rope.

“Why didn't you tell Phillip what you were going to do? You could have called him. Or texted him.” I tried not to sound accusatory. I don't think I succeeded.

“He would have tried to get me to call the police,” Betty Jo said frankly. “I love Phillip. But he has a streak of … righteousness, I guess. I was feeling stifled. I just had to get away or die. The bone busters showing up at the house just made me more determined.”

“You couldn't have left Dad a note?”

“I did,” she said. “I attached it to Phil's coffee cup with Scotch tape. But I didn't tell him where I was going, just that I would get in touch with him when I felt safer. I thought he might pester me, so I left my cell phone and bought a prepaid. I tried to call Phillip, but I guess he didn't recognize the number and he blocked it.”

“Dad said you had run away with another man.”

“Roe, Phil is quite a liar.” She looked at me as if I'd told her I believed in Santa Claus.

“I'm getting that picture.” I closed my eyes.

You can't really turn your back on the world. Betty Jo had tried that at the commune, but it hadn't worked. The world will track you down with bloodhounds baying at the bottom of your tree.

I'd extended that metaphor as far as I could, and I abandoned it.

“I wondered if I could stay with you,” Betty Jo said.

“No,” I said immediately, and caught a flash of relief on Robin's face. “Dad stayed with me, and it was a disaster. He's at a hotel now. You can stay with him, or in another hotel, or ask one of your friends here. But I just don't feel well enough to have a houseguest.”

I could see that she wanted to argue with me, perhaps to tell me she wouldn't be any trouble. Fortunately for us all, Betty Jo decided to beat a dignified retreat. “I understand,” she said. “I have a rental car. I'll go to the sheriff's department to see what I can learn, and then I'll find a place to stay.”

I nodded, unable to get up, unable to care about her plans. “You do that,” I said. I closed my eyes. I heard a murmur of voices as Robin showed Betty Jo out.

When I heard the door close on her back, I was delighted.

“What do you want to do now?” Robin asked.

That was a good question. I held up a forefinger to let him know I'd heard him. “Thinking,” I said. But I couldn't come up with a single thing, a clear idea, a direction. Instead, I fell asleep.

 

Chapter Fourteen

When I woke, I was completely disoriented. I couldn't understand why I'd been so tired, why I was so upset, and where I was. After a moment, I was sure I was on the couch in my own living room. The room was dark and gloomy with twilight. I couldn't hear anyone moving around in the house. Where was Robin? Working in his office? Phillip must be over at the Finstermeyers'. I'd have to ask Josh to dinner soon, because Phillip was probably eating Beth out of house and home.

Then I remembered I didn't know where Phillip was. The situation tightened around me once again. For some reason, I found myself thinking about an incident years ago, just after I'd inherited Jane Engle's house and property. Jane had left a message for me. She hadn't wanted it to be available to other people. Taking her cue from Poe, she'd left it in plain sight, in a letter rack. It had looked like a letter and been in the right place, and I'd only thought to check out that it was what it seemed to be after days. Almost too late.

My brain was trying to give me a clue by throwing up the memory of this incident. But what could it be?

Who could hide Phillip in plain sight? Clearly, that wasn't literally possible. But since Phillip hadn't been seen since his disappearance, and neither had his friends, there must be a connection. Since I knew my brother, I discarded all the wilder theories floating around Lawrenceton, theories Robin had seen posted on a chat site: that all the kids were drug users and their disappearance was due to a deal gone bad, that Phillip and Josh had owed drug dealers and had traded Joss and Liza for debt forgiveness. That Phillip was in love with Joss and Josh with Liza, and they'd all eloped to Mexico. That the kids had come across a meth lab in the woods and been killed by its owners. And on and on.

Sure, any of those things
could
have happened … but I knew the teens involved, and those things
hadn't
happened.

I went over the same knowledge again, searching for some insight.

Phillip and Josh had picked up Joss and Liza had asked for a ride. Fact.

Soon after they'd departed, Clayton and Connie had driven up, and after some conversation with his sister, he'd wanted to know where they'd gone. According to Kesha, he'd left Marlea in the parking lot and followed the black Camaro. Fact … maybe. Kesha was withholding something, but it didn't have to be anything significant.

But almost certainly, Clayton had directed Connie to follow Josh's car to the hair salon. In response to a text (probably) Tammy Ribble had walked out the back door to see Joss. And then, Connie had seen (or done) something so awful that a few days later, she had taken her own life.

Josh's car had been found out in the country. A shirt, maybe Josh's, had been found in another location, with an alarming amount of blood on it. And there was that terrible phone call from Phillip, not from his own cell phone, when he'd told me they were being held prisoner and that Josh was hurt.

Because of the car and the shirt, and the call, I was sure that the missing kids were being held in the country somewhere. God knows, there was still enough farmland around Lawrenceton to conceal a few people. But I'd seen evidence that the police and the sheriff's deputies were combing the area for remote structures. It seemed reasonable to conclude that if the kids had been hidden in a farmhouse or barn or some kind of shed, the law enforcement people—now including the FBI—would have found them. Or gotten a lead on them. Something.

I thought,
Then they're in town.
Or was that an absurd idea? How could four kids be concealed in a relatively close-knit town like Lawrenceton?

Okay, then. How could they?

Garages. Basements. Storm shelters. Toolsheds. Hothouses? (No, that was ridiculous.) Barns. Empty storefronts, which had been plentiful in the past five years; though they were beginning to come back to life now. But I was not thinking about the economic recovery today.

The most likely three candidates were a garage, an attic, or a basement.

This whole ordeal had been riddled with liars.

For the first time, I thought,
If Clayton isn't a victim, he might be a perpetrator.
What if the Harrisons are liars, too? What if there never had been a ransom demand? What if they knew all along where Clayton was?

How could I get into the Harrisons' house? And then I remembered that the older Harrisons were in Colorado. Their house would be empty. My brain caught fire with excitement.

I called my mother. “Didn't you sell the Harrisons their place?” I said. “I seem to remember that.”

If she was startled, she didn't let on. “Yes,” she said. “The mansion on Overbrook. And further up the hill, I sold the older Harrisons their house, too.”

“Do you remember the features of those houses?” I asked, keeping my fingers crossed. My mother was a walking encyclopedia of real estate in Lawenceton and its environs. She never forgot a property.

Though she sounded puzzled, she complied. “Okay,” she said, warming up to the task. “Dan and Karina's house is a four-bedroom, two living areas, chef's kitchen with eat-in area, dining room. There are, hmm, five bathrooms? And an entertainment room in the basement.”

I closed my eyes.
Thank you, God,
I said. “What about the older Harrisons' house?”

“It's about the same size. But instead of an entertainment room, they have a pool room in their basement for visiting grandkids.”

“Right. How big is that pool room?”

“At least twenty by sixteen, if I'm remembering correctly,” Mother said. “But I don't believe Dan's parents have talked about selling, and I would have heard. Do you think the baby will need that much more space?” I could tell she was smiling.

“So you think the basement room in Dan and Karina's house is that big?” I asked.

“Larger,” my mother said. “There's a huge storage closet for Christmas and holiday stuff down there, and there's the movie room. Roe, I'm getting worried. What's on your mind?”

“I was just thinking.”

“About what?”

I didn't want to show my hand, but I owed her that much. “I wonder if our missing kids are being held in a basement,” I said. “I was thinking of all the people involved in the case who might have a basement. Voilà!”

She drew in a sharp breath. “How could they be?” she said. “Right in town!” There was a moment of silence. “Well, the nearest houses are not close,” she said slowly. “Both lots are maybe three fourths of an acre.”

“How many people in residence in those houses?”

“Karina and Dan, of course. And normally, Clayton and little Marlea. The older brother, Bobby, is at college at Auburn. He's engaged to a girl from … oh, well. There's a cook. Comes every day. Not live-in.”

“And the other Harrison house?”

“Just Dan's folks. They travel a lot. They don't have a live-in maid, and neither do Karina and Dan. Right now, Lena and Tate have gone to Colorado to ski, like they do every winter,” Mother said. “Their other son and his family live out there.”

“So what help do the Harrisons have?”

“I actually know the answer to that!” My mother sounded pleased to find her knowledge was so thorough. “They use a maid service. The same company I use. I recommended them to Karina when she and Dan bought the house. Helping Hands,” Mom said. She added helpfully, “The ones with the pink smocks. I think Dan's mother Lena uses them, too. Just about everyone in that subdivision does.”

“Do they use anyone else, regularly?”

“They use one of the yard services, I'm sure,” Mother said promptly. “Either Garcia and Sons, or Landscaping Magic. Roe, it sounds to me like you're going to do something stupid. The police are competent, you know. Don't go acting like you have to rescue Phillip yourself.”

I didn't look as though I worked for Garcia and Sons or Landscaping Magic, but the maid service … I could do something with that. “Mom, don't worry,” I said. “I just have to find out everything I can about everyone involved. You know how I am. I like to have all the facts. If I ever learn anything that's really decisive, I'll call the police in a jiffy. Thanks, Mom, I have to—”

“Have you decided if you all come to us for Christmas dinner?” she asked quickly, stopping me right before I could hang up. I knew I owed her some conversation. So for what felt like an eternity, we chatted about the Christmas meal, when John's sons were arriving with their families.

“Mother,” I said, “I'll let you know in a day or two.” I knew that was shabby. But I couldn't even think about Christmas without my brother, burdened with the overwhelming uncertainty about his whereabouts and well-being.

“By the way, Betty Jo is in town,” I said. I didn't want Mother to run into the woman somewhere in Lawrenceton without being warned.

“Where did the police find her?” Mother had been really intrigued that no one could lay hands on my father's wife.

“On a commune,” I said. It didn't seem right to tell Mother Betty Jo's reason for taking off like she had.

“A commune,” my mother said with delight. I'd made her day.

“I have to go,” I said, trying to suppress my excitement at actually having something to do. I might have known I couldn't fool my mother.

“Roe,” Mom said sharply. “Don't go doing anything foolish. You talk to Robin right now, before you go running off alone.” She was serious as a heart attack.

“I'm going to talk to him right now, or at least as soon as I see him.” And I did.

After I'd hung up, I felt like getting off the couch. In fact, I felt a rush of energy. I went to our bedroom and picked up the strewn clothes and shoes. I realized that what I'd told Sandra Windham was true. Our house looked shabby and forlorn after a more than a week of neglect. When I'd picked up and made the place look tolerable, I went to my own laptop at my own small desk in the corner of Robin's office.

Where was he? I hadn't seen a note, and I hadn't checked to see if his car was gone. I'd do that next, I decided, after I retrieved the phone book to look up the older Harrisons' address. Lena and Tate Harrison. They were listed.

Turning to the Internet, I tracked down the maid service. Helping Hands was not an uncommon name for both temporary help services and cleaning operations, but I finally tracked down the right one. It was complete with pictures of smiling women holding mops and dusters. I realized I'd seen their zippy green cars around town, the distinctive logo on the side. After studying their pale pink smocks, I called the office number.

“Helping Hands,” said a woman briskly. “How may we assist you?”

“I'm picking up Lena Harrison's mail while she's on vacation,” I said. “She asked me to check with you. Lena's worried that she told you the wrong date to resume service.”