Hidden Falls (17 page)

“First of all, we don’t know he’s trying not to be found, and second, I have to get inside his head. Try to think like he thinks. And the falls or the lake seem like the best place to do that.”

She had a point.

“Just give me a minute to change into jeans.” Nicole pushed the swinging door from the kitchen into the hallway.

Ethan heard the rhythm of her feet taking the stairs. He started to put the trash in the bin under the sink before remembering that an empty house wouldn’t have any trash service. Though it had been unoccupied for years, everything in this house was exactly as Ethan remembered it, down to the collection of red and yellow wooden roosters on the shelf above the sink. Nicole’s father must have decided to decorate from scratch in his new home. Perhaps there were too many memories in Hidden Falls, like the ones that pressed in on Ethan.

He wandered into the living room and found the major pieces of furniture covered in drop cloths, but their shapes and positions evoked the evenings he and Nicole sat on the couch to watch TV while they did homework. The dining room furniture was exposed and dense with dust. Ethan stood with both hands in his pockets, remembering Nicole’s pile of cookbooks on one end of the table. What had become of them?

He took one hand out of a pocket, put a finger in the dust, and stacked two sets of initials. NS over EJ.

Ethan heard Nicole’s steps on the stairs and moved to the foyer. “That was fast.”

“No time to waste.” Nicole squatted and tightened a shoelace on a running shoe. “I’m not sorry I went to church, but I’m ready to get moving.”

“How was everything at Our Savior?”

“You should have come.” Nicole hooked her keys around a belt loop.

Ethan shook his head. “I don’t do that anymore.”

“Maybe you should.”

Ethan regretted asking about the church. “Let’s take your car.”

“You don’t want to go through the fence?”

Ethan wasn’t eager to be spotted in the neighborhood, much less in his parents’ backyard crawling between loose boards. “You’re the same size, but I kept growing during college.”

“Fine. We’ll drive around the block. But then I want to hike so we can look carefully.”

“Let’s stop at my car,” Ethan said. “My camera might come in handy.”

Fetching the camera and driving around the wide block took less than five minutes.

Nicole parked as close to Quinn’s house as she could get. “How do we get in?”

“Maybe we don’t.” Ethan winced at the blade Nicole’s eyes threw at him.

“That’ll make it hard to find any useful information.” Nicole opened her door and got out. “The place looks the same on the outside.”

Ethan circled the hood of the car to stand next to her. “Normalcy means something, doesn’t it? He wasn’t planning to leave.”

Nicole cocked her head. “Why do you suppose he always locked up?”

“You locked your house when we left.”

“I’ve been polluted by living in a city. Plenty of people in Hidden Falls wouldn’t even be able to tell you where their house keys are, but even when Quinn is inside the house, he keeps the door locked.”

Nicole paced toward the house, slipped between bushes, and pressed her face against the front window.

“Do you have X-ray vision to see through closed drapes?” Ethan stood behind her.

Nicole slapped his shoulder with the back of her fingers.

A teenage boy in running gear pounded the pavement down Quinn’s street. “Now there’s a man after my own heart,” Nicole said.

At the sight of them, the boy stopped and, with his hands on his hips, let his chest heave while he eyed Nicole and Ethan.

“I suppose you’re wondering what we’re doing.” Ethan had no plan for how he would answer that question.

“Looking for Quinn, I guess.” The boy used the sleeve of his sweatshirt to wipe sweat from one side of his face. “He’s not here, is he?”

“Nope.” Nicole stepped away from the window.

“Too bad. He could have helped me smooth things over.”

“You’re in trouble?” Ethan asked.

“Seriously,” the boy said. “I’ll never live down knocking over the video booth at the banquet last night. My parents were mortified.”

“Oh,” Nicole said, a knowing grin coming over her face. “You’re Zeke Plainfield.”

“Does the whole town know it was me?” Zeke squatted and tightened a shoelace. “There are no secret identities in this town. If you’ll point me to the nearest hole I can jump down, I’ll be on my way.” Zeke took off down the street.

Nicole turned to Ethan. “I think Quinn has a secret.”

“And this secret explains his disappearance?”

“It’s a workable theory,” Nicole said. “Now we have to test it. Isn’t that what you scientists do?”

“I agree.”

Nicole narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re full of surprises.”

Ethan took three steps back and tilted his head to survey the upper level of Quinn’s house. “Ever since I saw him last night, I’ve been thinking about something Quinn once said that I never understood.”

“I need more than that to go on.”

Ethan shrugged. “There isn’t much more. He knew I didn’t get along with my parents. One day when I was whining about it, he said that as estranged as I might feel, I had no idea what it felt like to truly be separated from people you love.”

“I’ll bet that was the end of that.”

“Pretty much. I didn’t dare ask what he meant.” Ethan wished he had.

“He told me once how he used to play in the water sprinkler with his little brother,” Nicole said. “But millions of kids do that every summer. All I ever knew about his family is that they were back East somewhere.”

“So we grow up running to Quinn like he’s the parent we wish we had, and this is the best we can do?” Ethan spread his arms wide. “
Maybe
he had family somewhere between here and the Atlantic Ocean?”

They stood silent. A car swished past on the road behind them, and a crackling swirl of leaves blew up in its wake.

Finally, Nicole spoke. “Like you said last night, we were kids. We were so hungry for what he gave us that we didn’t really see the world through Quinn’s eyes.”

“Do you think he was—
is
—happy?”

“Yes,” Nicole answered without hesitation. “He helped—
helps
—people because he wants to, because he cares if they’re happy. And he has his faith. It’s real.”

Ethan clamped his reply closed. He wasn’t going down the faith trail.

2:19 p.m.

Jack Parker was starting to wonder what, precisely, his son did the night before. Colin was seventeen—closer to eighteen. Maybe Jack didn’t want to know what Colin and his friends did. Next year at this time, Colin would be away at college, and Jack wouldn’t see that his son looked slightly hung over at lunch on Sunday. The girls had gotten up and gone to church, but even Gianna gave Colin a wide berth these days and hadn’t knocked on his door in the morning. Colin didn’t say more than “I need the butter” for the entire meal when the family gathered in the formal dining room with its tall windows and wide crown molding. This was the room that sold Gianna on the house. She didn’t seem to need much of an excuse to serve family meals in the dining room. Jack preferred the kitchen, figuring that since they spent a small fortune renovating it, they ought to use it.

Eva had come home for breakfast. The swim party last night turned into a sleepover, so she looked tired, but she made an effort to be pleasant. Thirteen-year-old Brooke chattered about the shopping spree her friend’s mother took them on the night before and the chocolate-covered shortbread squares they baked. Perhaps Brooke’s brightness was a sign that she didn’t blame him for isolating the family in this small town. Gianna wouldn’t tell Brooke directly that she didn’t think the girl was ready to stay home alone in the evenings, even at thirteen. Somehow, Jack realized, Gianna made sure Brooke had something enticing to do whenever everyone else was out.

“I was going to tell Quinn I wanted to help at the health fair,” Brooke said as Gianna began stacking dishes. “Now I guess I should tell Lauren.”

“If that’s what you want to do,” Gianna said, “let her know. I’ll make sure you can be there.”

“Quinn will be back before Saturday, won’t he?” Brooke said.

Jack and Gianna glanced at each other.

“What about school tomorrow?” Eva asked. “I can’t give my family genealogy presentation to a sub.”

“Quinn has many friends.” Gianna laid the fifth dinner plate in her stack. “I’m sure he’ll be fine. It’s not something we have to fret about. Let’s just enjoy our Sunday.”

Colin unfolded out of his chair. “I have homework.”

Jack watched his son slink from the room. No “excuse me” or “thanks for dinner.” No taking dishes to the kitchen. It might as well have been Jack saying, “I have to work.”

The guilt made Jack stand up and lift the stack of plates and silverware Gianna had assembled. “I’ll do the dishes.”

When Gianna caught his eye, she looked stunned. Other than her blinking eyes, nothing moved.

“I know I haven’t cleaned up in about a hundred years,” Jack said, “but I will today.”

“Well, I
have
been looking for time to catch up on my scrapbooks.” Gianna’s face lit up.

“Then go on,” he said. “I’ll take care of this.”

Gianna scooted her chair back. “If there’s anything you don’t know what to do with, just leave it on the breakfast bar.”

Jack wasn’t sure whether to be relieved at this instruction or insulted. Gianna was already predicting he wouldn’t know his way around the kitchen. Every time he emptied the dishwasher—usually under unexpressed duress—she later remarked about finding an item in an odd place. And by
odd
she meant
wrong.

Eva picked up two empty serving bowls, and Brooke took the bread basket with the cross-stitched liner that draped an autumn leaf pattern over the rim of the basket. It was the perfect accent for the season and the room, Jack observed. That was Gianna. The perfect accent.

“Go,” he said again. “Spend the afternoon doing exactly what you want to do.”

Gianna smiled, and Jack bent to kiss her.

She stroked the side of his face. “Thank you.”

He was making an effort. It didn’t come naturally, but he was trying. Jack carried the plates into the kitchen. When he returned for the glasses, Gianna had left the dining room. In the kitchen, in addition to tableware, Jack faced the cookware required to produce a Sunday meal featuring meat, potatoes, salad, two hot vegetables, and rolls.

Folding up the sleeves of the dress shirt he had worn to church, Jack started in. Someone turned on the television in the other room and changed channels every eight seconds. Jack rinsed and scrubbed and loaded the dishwasher with Gianna’s voice in his head at each task. He was pleased to leave nothing on the breakfast bar, and only twice did he put something in a cupboard without being certain the location was correct.

Having fulfilled his family duties and successfully lightened Gianna’s mood toward him, Jack went upstairs to change clothes. The master bedroom stretched across one end of the house and included space Gianna used for whatever was her current project. Jack had never seen the need to keep up with what the scattered craft elements meant. Rather than working at her table, though, Gianna was asleep on the paisley chaise lounge with a quilt pulled up to her neck.

Good. She wouldn’t miss him.

Outside, Brooke was playing with the puppy in the yard. The Airedale had a green chew toy between her teeth, and Brooke gripped its edges and shook it. Roxie’s tail wagged.

“Hi, Dad.” Brooke grinned.

She could be a calendar photo, Jack thought. A fresh-faced girl in a sweater playing with a puppy in a yard of fall leaves.

“Looks like you’re having fun.”

“I wish we’d gotten a puppy a long time ago.” The dog released the toy, and Brooke tossed it several yards away. Roxie scampered after it and, panting, brought it back.

“Mom is napping,” Jack said. “If she wakes up and wonders where I am, will you tell her I went for a walk?”

“Yep.” Brooke dropped to her knees and snuggled the puppy against her face.

Another calendar shot.

Jack was going to have to do something about the leaves in the yard, but not today.

He was aiming for his office. Jack would have preferred to live farther out of town in a newer subdivision. They could have avoided all the remodeling mess and expense of the last few months. But Gianna had wanted a house with character, so they bought a home built in 1906, knocked out a couple of walls to create the great room, and modernized the kitchen and bathrooms. From the outside, the old house maintained its stately charm and suggestion of gracious living.

Jack hated it. But Gianna was happy—with the house. She was less happy with Jack.

One advantage of living in town was that Jack could, in all honesty, say he was going for a walk and end up at his office in an old brick structure one block north of Main Street. He had inherited a number of loyal clients when he purchased the suite of offices and took over the law practice. He also handled the occasional real estate transaction. But Jack wanted something he could dig his teeth into.

A storeroom in the suite of rooms that housed his practice contained dozens of crates of old files. One by one Jack carried them to his desk, where he could sit in his high-backed leather chair and sort through folders looking for a random document or a handwritten note that might lead to a legal challenge that would make his heart race like the old days. Jack loved Gianna, and he loved his kids, but he was choking on the pressure to accept mediocrity and think it was a good life.

Now Jack wondered if his old files contained any records related to Quinn. One clue. That’s all it would take to bring some excitement to practicing law in Hidden Falls.

2:58 p.m.

Liam Elliott hardly knew Jack Parker and surprised himself by lifting a hand in greeting, much less waving him over when he entered the Fall Shadows Café.

It was an impulse, and perhaps a desperate one.

Liam pushed away his plate with the remains of his roast beef sandwich and sweet potato fries. He came in for a late lunch after waiting as long as his stomach could take for Jessica to call. The baby shower for her coworker was supposed to start at ten thirty. Liam wasn’t sure what a room full of women found to do for more than four hours. Last night Jessica had been eager to spend most of the day with Liam, so why hadn’t she found some way to duck out sooner? He kept his phone on the table to be sure he wouldn’t miss her call, but what was the harm in a little strategic conversation while he waited?