KnockOut Read online

  “When I woke up and called her, she didn’t answer. She wasn’t here.” Her voice hitched, and she abruptly rose and began pacing the small sitting room. “She simply wasn’t here in the room, she wasn’t playing in the hallway. I ran downstairs to Mrs. Daily, and she hadn’t seen her, but of course she’s in and out all the time. She and I went out to ask everyone, but no one had seen her.” She still didn’t meet his eyes, and why was that? He couldn’t help wondering. “When we couldn’t find her, I came to you.”

  “You should have come to me immediately,” Ethan said, angry with her because she’d wasted valuable time. She shook her head, still not looking at him. He thought about black bears and bobcats and the four-thousand-plus acres of wilderness, dense with oak, hickory, maple, and pine trees, all clustered close together. He thought about the ditches and gullies and the Sweet Onion River, deep enough to drown an adult, and he thought of one little girl, alone and lost, and turned it off. It wouldn’t help. She said then, “Autumn’s sick. She hasn’t had her pill today. She’ll be fine, but she does need the medication. Today and tomorrow.” And she shut her mouth, shook her head. He wanted to ask her exactly what was wrong with her daughter, but he saw tears sheen her eyes, her hands clenching and unclenching, and didn’t push it. He asked other questions, but she couldn’t tell him anything useful. Or she wouldn’t; he really didn’t know which it was.

  It was time to get serious with her.

  Of course the little girl didn’t have to be in the wilderness. She could be anywhere, but he didn’t think so, or someone would have spotted her. They’d searched every building and house in Titusville. No sign of her. And that left the wilderness. She had to have a pill today and one tomorrow. He wished he’d asked Mrs. Backman what was wrong with her.

  Had she wandered off? And that brought him back to whether someone had lured her away.

  She’s dead.

  No, he couldn’t, wouldn’t, allow himself to think that yet. Not yet.

  It was hot during the day, but now at nearly nine o’clock at night, when summer darkness finally hit, the temperature began its nightly drop to the forties. It was getting colder by the minute. Ethan turned on the Rubicon’s heater, felt the rush of hot air on his face.

  When he pulled into the driveway of his 1940s bungalow, tucked into a mess of pine trees a half-mile outside Titusville, the first things he heard were Lula’s and Mackie’s loud, desperate meows punctuated by Big Louie’s ear-piercing bark.

  He loaded up the cats’ food bowls while both of them weaved frantically between his legs, talking nonstop. He fed his patient Big Louie, then took him for a quick walk. Then, just eight and a half minutes after he’d arrived, he drove into Titusville to report to Autumn’s mom that they hadn’t found her daughter yet. He had to get more information out of her, like what was wrong with Autumn, and where her damned husband was.

  He hated it.

  4

  EVERY LIGHT AT Gerald’s Loft was on. It had quickly become the search center, where Ox had patiently handed out assignments, gathered reports, and called Ethan periodically.

  Inside, Ethan saw Gerald Ransom and Mrs. Daily, brother and sister, refilling the giant coffee urn, laying out heaps of Oreos donated by Mavis at Blinker’s Market. There were still a good two dozen people wandering around the Victorian entry hall with its dark paneled walls and florid red cabbage-rose wallpaper, and in the sitting room across from the reception area, loaded with so many knickknacks that Ethan’s mom always said dancing on water might be easier than dusting that room without breaking anything.

  Pete Elders of Elders Outdoor Gear spotted him, and slowly everyone turned to him, many of the faces lived-in, seamed, and weathered, all with the same expression—hope. Conversation died.

  Ethan simply shook his head and saw their collective hope dissolve. He thought the air felt suddenly heavier. He searched the group but didn’t see her.

  “Where is Mrs. Backman?” he asked Mrs. Daily, a large-boned, buxom woman, formidable in her man’s tie and black suit. She dwarfed her brother Gerald.

  “I sent her upstairs, Sheriff, before she passed out on the floor. The girl’s a mess. No wonder. I tried to feed her, but she threw up. She was out searching until Tommy Larkin hauled her back here.”

  He turned to the group. “Thank you very much for all your hard work today. Whoever can make it, we’ll begin the search again tomorrow morning.”

  “Coffee’s here and free,” Mrs. Daily called out, saw her tightfisted brother start to shake his head, and stared him down.

  Ethan turned to walk to the stairs, then said over his shoulder, “We’ll find her.”

  He heard Cork Thomas, owner of the Bountiful Wine Shop, say, “To answer your question, Dolly, I haven’t seen Autumn in three, four years. She was just a toddler the last time she visited Tollie, cute as a button. Tollie carted her around everywhere right on his shoulders. She’s gotten big, and so bright she is. Those eyes of hers look right into your soul. She’s smart. Surely she wouldn’t have climbed into some stranger’s car. Damnation, where the blazes is she?”

  “What a shame Tollie’s out of town until next Tuesday,” said Tuber Willis, owner of the local nursery and a tulip fanatic.

  “It wouldn’t have happened if Tollie’d been here, that’s for sure,” Pete Elders said.

  Ethan stood stock-still. He couldn’t believe this. Everyone knew Mrs. Backman and her daughter except him? What was Tollie Tolbert to her? Why hadn’t anyone said anything? Well, duh, maybe for the simple reason they assumed you already knew everything they did, being you were born and raised here. They forgot you’ve been back for only a little more than three years. And gone for a whole lot longer before that, back for only short visits. Fact was, though—and he frowned—Mrs. Backman had given him the distinct impression this was her first time in Titusville. Had she out-and-out lied or simply tiptoed to the line? And why?

  He heard low-voiced conversations pick up as he climbed the wooden stairs with its center strip of Berber carpeting.

  Her door opened before he got to it. Joanna Backman looked pale as a quarter moon that had finally cleared the mountains, her eyes bruised-looking and swollen from crying, as if she was waiting to hear the worst. Her gaze held not a flicker of hope. Her hands were fists at her sides.

  “Mrs. Backman,” he said, walking up to her. “We haven’t found Autumn yet, but we will, you’ve got to believe that. Do you hear me?”

  “I hear you,” she said, her voice a dead monotone, and took a step back into her room. She continued to walk backward, away from him. When her knees hit the bed, she sat down, her head lowered. He walked over to her, looked down at the top of her head. Her hair was a dull, dark brown with a thick hank hanging along the side of her cheek, the rest pulled back in a straggly ponytail. She wore old jeans and a wrinkled white shirt, and her long, narrow feet were bare. She was tall and looked thin. Well, no wonder.

  He said, “Listen to me, you’ve got to keep optimistic. I will find her. Now, I know you’ve given this a lot of thought today.” He paused a moment, considered his words. “What more can you tell me that would help us find your daughter, Mrs. Backman?”

  “Nothing, Sheriff, nothing. I’ve told you everything I know.”

  His cop antennae blasted red at the crackling lie, but he’d been well trained and kept his voice calm. “I see. I guess we’ll just have to start at the beginning, then. Talk to me, Mrs. Backman.”

  Her head whipped up. “Just what do you think I haven’t told you about Autumn?”

  He pulled the big paisley wing chair toward the bed and sat down. He said patiently, “You told me Autumn is ill, that she had to have one pill a day for a week. That leaves today and tomorrow. What will happen if she doesn’t get the full dosage?”

  “The ear infection won’t be completely knocked out, I suppose, but in terms of symptoms, maybe she’d have headaches again, earaches, and a high fever.” She shrugged. “I really don’t know. It’s never been an iss
ue before.”

  She looked over at him, met his eyes a moment. He saw despair and something more, something buried deep, something that scared the crap out of her.

  “I’m told you’re always with Autumn. Think. Did you see anyone who perhaps looked too interested in her?”

  “No.”

  “Everyone says she’s very outgoing, friendly, really cute.”

  “Yes, that’s true,” she said, and began twisting her hands together.

  Ethan left his chair, came down on his knee in front of her. “Look at me.”

  Slowly she raised her head, and he looked into eyes bluer than the sky in the middle of summer. “I can think of one very big thing you neglected to tell me.”

  She became Lot’s wife, didn’t move a single muscle, didn’t blink.

  “It appears that everyone but me knows you and knows Autumn. Why did you imply to me that this was your first time visiting Titusville?”

  She had the gall to shrug. He wanted to jerk her up and shake her. “I didn’t tell you because it wouldn’t have helped. Besides, it’s none of your business.”

  To keep himself from grabbing her, he jumped to his feet, took a step back. “None of my business? Are you nuts? Think, woman. Someone took your child and you’re telling me it’s not important that people here in Titusville know her? That they could come up to her and say, ‘I remember you, you’re Autumn, right? Long time no see. Hey now, aren’t you a big girl now?’ That didn’t occur to you?”

  “No. That’s not what happened.”

  He wanted to strangle her. “Why are you playing games with me? This is your daughter’s life in the balance here.”

  She leaped to her feet, her fist headed for his jaw. He grabbed her wrist. “Not smart to hit the law, ma’am. We don’t take kindly to it. I strongly suggest you tell me some of the truth now. For your daughter. I want to find her, Mrs. Backman. I want to find her alive.”

  She jerked away from him, crossed her arms over her chest, and rubbed her hands up and down her arms, as if she was freezing. She probably was, from the inside out.

  “Talk to me, Mrs. Backman.”

  5

  SHE OPENED HER MOUTH, then she slowly shook her head. She still wouldn’t look at him square in the face.

  He realized she was afraid, not only for her child—there was something else too. Worse, the fear had frozen her. He knew from a good deal of experience that she wasn’t going to tell him anything, probably couldn’t get her brain together enough to figure out her options, at least not tonight.

  Ethan pulled a card out of his shirt pocket, wrote his cell number on the back, and handed it to her. She didn’t want to take it, but he was patient, simply stood there with the card held out. She took it. He said, “You know, as unlikely as it seems to you right now, you can trust me,” and he turned and left her room without another word. As he closed the door behind him, he heard her deep, harsh breathing.

  He paused a moment in the hallway, praying she’d come running out of the room to catch him, but she didn’t.

  He gave a little wave to the dozen people still in the reception area and nodded to Mrs. Daily, who was standing next to the now empty cookie platter.

  He was home in seven minutes. When he walked through the front door, Lula and Mackie raced to him, meowing their heads off, Lula trying to climb his leg. He knelt down and let Big Louie lick him to his heart’s content, then went to the kitchen and fetched treats for all of them.

  “Big Louie, here’s a bone for you. Think of it as your dental floss.” He started tossing kibble, a game they played every night. The cats ran their paws off to grab the treats out of the air, like kibble Frisbee. He tossed the kibble farther and farther, and watched Lula rip across the wood floor, skid, and bat at the treats, then eat them off her paws. Mackie liked to leap into the air to catch his. “Why won’t the woman talk to me, guys? I’m the law. She’s supposed to trust me. Well, I know why, now don’t I? She’s scared out of her wits. I just wish I knew what her problem was.” He sighed, threw out more treats, listened to Louie gnaw and grind down on his bone. He threw the last treat to Lula, high, six feet behind where she was crouched, and she flew to grab it out of the air. “Enough, guys,” he said, dusted his hands on his jeans, and stood up. “Do you know what? I’m going to find Autumn despite her.”

  He heard something, a slight shuffling sound that wasn’t just a house noise in the night. Ethan didn’t move a muscle, then slowly drew his Beretta and fanned it around him, eyes and ears on full alert.

  Nothing.

  He said, his voice soft and calm, “Is anyone here?”

  Nothing for a moment, then a soft, “It’s only me. I was watching you and the cats. They’re wonderful and so fast. Can I play with them?”

  He spun around to see Autumn Backman standing in the doorway, her long brown hair straggling out of a ponytail, her jeans and T-shirt rumpled. She wore orange sneakers on her small feet. In twenty years, he thought, she’d be the picture of her mom.

  “Are you all right?”

  She nodded.

  “How long have you been here?”

  She looked at him, her big blue eyes unblinking. She was afraid of him too? “If you don’t talk to me, how will I find out anything?”

  She stared down at her sneakers, frowned. He saw that one of the laces was coming undone. But she didn’t move. She said, “You’re the sheriff.”

  “Yes, I am, and I’ve been out with about fifty other people looking for you for hours and hours. I’ve been scared for you. Did someone try to take you and you got away?”

  Slowly she shook her head. She still wouldn’t look at him. Just like her mother. But at least the daughter trusted him enough to come to his house to hide out. From whom? From what?

  Ethan walked slowly to the little girl, aware that Big Louie, Mackie, and Lula were hanging back, watching. They’d known she was here and yet they hadn’t been hiding as they usually did from strangers, Big Louie included, all three under his bed, three twitching tails never quite all the way under. He came down on his knees in front of her, as careful as could be not to frighten her.

  “Why did you come here, Autumn, really?”

  “Since Uncle Tollie isn’t here, I decided to come here so you can protect me.”

  But if someone came inside while I was out looking for you, I wouldn’t be here to protect you. No, no, keep it simple. “Who would I protect you from?”

  That was too much; he saw that immediately. She shrank back, wrapped her arms around herself. She looked ready to fold in on herself. Lula meowed. The little girl looked up. Mackie meowed, Big Louie barked, all three now a line behind him.

  “They’re nice,” she said.

  “They’re varmints,” Ethan said, but with a smile and a laugh, and was pleased to see her arms drop back to her sides. “Lula is a calico. See all the black and gold splotches on white? She’s so independent, I have to make an appointment with her before she’ll give me the time of day. Now, as for Mackie, he’s the big orange-and-white tabby, so big you’d think he could go bring down his own dinner, but he’s also a wuss, lives to eat and sleep and have me rub his ears and tell him how handsome he is. As for Big Louie, he’s a black Labrador, tough and so sweet you want to hug him all the time. He and the cats get along—what a surprise, but it’s true.”

  She said, “Lula? Mackie?” Ethan watched them stop their slinking and bound toward her. Independent Lula, to his surprise, began to rub herself against Autumn’s legs. As for Mackie, he had no shame. He stretched out his full length against her, his paws on her chest. She laughed and picked him up, then staggered before Ethan could steady her.

  He said, “Why don’t you call me Ethan?”

  She shook her head. “Mama said I was to stay away from you. Far away.”

  Now that wasn’t much of a surprise. “Did she tell you why?”

  The little girl whispered, “She said no way would you believe us.”

  “But you came here anyway
.”

  “Yes,” she whispered, and he saw a small white hand stretch out toward Big Louie. “He’s bigger than me.”

  “Yeah, he is, but you know, he wouldn’t hurt you unless you tried to steal his dog bone. Then it’d be close. Would you like me to call your mother, Autumn?”

  “If you do, she’ll come out here and he’ll come and she’ll try to stop him and it could be really bad.”

  She was rubbing Lula’s back as she arched against her hand, purring with lots of horsepower. Mackie swatted at Lula. Lula whipped around and hissed at him.

  Ethan said, “Come on, you guys, don’t be rude around Autumn. That’s a pretty name—Autumn.”

  “My daddy wanted to name me that. He’s dead.”

  “I’m sorry. Was he ill?”

  She shook her head. “It was bad, real bad.” Slowly she held out her hand to Mackie, who turned slinky now, twisting and turning around her, teasing her. Big Louie nudged her shoulder. Ethan said, “Listen, you guys, how can I get to know Autumn if you’re all trying to take over?”

  She laughed, a very small laugh but still a laugh, and he found himself smiling in return. “Are you hungry? This trio sure was. You watched me play kibble Frisbee with them?”

  She nodded. “They’re good.”

  She fell silent, looked profoundly worried.

  He wanted to ask her why she hadn’t come out then, but he knew why. She’d been too scared. He said, “I can make hot chocolate. I think I’ve got some Fig Newtons.”

  She licked her lips. He had her. He held out his hand. And waited. It seemed like a year, but at last she put her hand in his. He rose. She walked beside him into the kitchen. “Why don’t you sit down and play with the varmints while I work. Are you hungry?”

  She nodded.

  Ethan thought about her mother. Another five minutes, he thought, get the little girl to tell him what was going on first. And he knew to his boot heels that whatever was going on with her mother, it wasn’t good. “You know, I’m hungry too. Why don’t I see what’s in the fridge?”