his forehead against the steering wheel, then banged his head against the hard plastic three times. Six phone calls now and he was no closer to knowing a single goddamn thing. And time was running out. Mac had known it, had been feeling it, since the mercury had started rising on Sunday.
Tomorrow Mac would check in with his Atlanta office, report the latest call. The task force could review, rework, reanalyze . . . and wait. After all this time, that’s about all they had left—the wait.
Mac pressed his forehead against the steering wheel. Exhaled deeply. He was thinking of Nora Ray Watts again. The way her face had lit up like the sun when she had stepped from the rescue chopper and spotted her parents standing just outside of the rotor wash. The way her expression had faltered, then collapsed thirty seconds later after she’d excitedly, innocently asked, “Where is Mary Lynn?”
And then her voice with that impossible reedy wail, over and over again. “No, no, no. Oh God, please
no.
”
Her father had tried to prop her up. Nora Ray sank down on the tarmac, curling up beneath her army blanket as if that could protect her from the truth. Her parents finally collapsed with her, a huddle of green grief that would never know an end.
They won that day. They lost that day.
And now?
It was hot, it was late. And a man was writing letters to the editor once again.
Go home, little girls. Lock the doors. Turn out the lights. Don’t end up like Nora Ray Watts, who ran out with her younger sister for a little ice cream one night and ended up abandoned in a desolate part of the coast, frantically burying herself deeper into the muck, while the fiddler crabs nibbled on her toes, the razor clams slashed open her palms, and the scavengers began to circle overhead.
CHAPTER 5
Fredericksburg, Virginia
10:34 P . M .
Temperature: 89 degrees
“ I ’ M READY, ” Tina said two inches from Betsy’s ear. In the pounding noise of the jam-packed bar, her roommate didn’t seem to hear her. They were outside Fredericksburg, at a little hole-in-the-wall joint favored by college students, biker gangs, and really loud Western bands. Even on a Tuesday night, the place was jamming, the people so thick and the bass so loud Tina didn’t know how the roof stayed on over their heads.
“I’m ready,” Tina tried again, shouting louder. This time, Betsy at least turned toward her.
“What?” Betsy yelled.
“Time . . . to . . . go . . .
home,
” Tina hollered back.
“Bathroom?”
“ HOME !”
“Oooooh.” Her roommate finally got it. She looked at Tina more closely and her brown eyes instantly softened with concern. “You okay?”
“Hot!”
“No kidding.”
“Not feeling . . . so well.” Actually, she was feeling horrible. Her long blond hair had come untangled from its knot and was plastered against her neck. Sweat trickled down the small of her back, over her butt, and all the way down her legs. The air was too heavy. She kept trying to draw deep, gulping breaths, but she still wasn’t getting enough oxygen. She thought she might be sick.
“Let me tell the others,” Betsy said immediately, and headed out to the jostling dance floor, where Viv and Karen were lost amid the sea of people.
Tina closed her eyes and promised herself she would not projectile vomit in the middle of a crowded bar.
Fifteen minutes later, they had pushed their way outside and were walking toward Betsy’s Saab, Viv and Karen bringing up the rear. Tina put her hand against her face. Her forehead felt feverish to her.
“Are you going to make it?” Betsy asked her. After screaming to be heard in the bar, her voice cracked three decibels too loud in the parking lot’s total silence. They all winced.
“I don’t know.”
“Girl, you had better tell me if you’re going to be sick,” Betsy warned seriously. “I’ll hold your head over the toilet, but I draw the line at puking in my car.”
Tina smiled weakly. “Thanks.”
“I could
Tomorrow Mac would check in with his Atlanta office, report the latest call. The task force could review, rework, reanalyze . . . and wait. After all this time, that’s about all they had left—the wait.
Mac pressed his forehead against the steering wheel. Exhaled deeply. He was thinking of Nora Ray Watts again. The way her face had lit up like the sun when she had stepped from the rescue chopper and spotted her parents standing just outside of the rotor wash. The way her expression had faltered, then collapsed thirty seconds later after she’d excitedly, innocently asked, “Where is Mary Lynn?”
And then her voice with that impossible reedy wail, over and over again. “No, no, no. Oh God, please
no.
”
Her father had tried to prop her up. Nora Ray sank down on the tarmac, curling up beneath her army blanket as if that could protect her from the truth. Her parents finally collapsed with her, a huddle of green grief that would never know an end.
They won that day. They lost that day.
And now?
It was hot, it was late. And a man was writing letters to the editor once again.
Go home, little girls. Lock the doors. Turn out the lights. Don’t end up like Nora Ray Watts, who ran out with her younger sister for a little ice cream one night and ended up abandoned in a desolate part of the coast, frantically burying herself deeper into the muck, while the fiddler crabs nibbled on her toes, the razor clams slashed open her palms, and the scavengers began to circle overhead.
CHAPTER 5
Fredericksburg, Virginia
10:34 P . M .
Temperature: 89 degrees
“ I ’ M READY, ” Tina said two inches from Betsy’s ear. In the pounding noise of the jam-packed bar, her roommate didn’t seem to hear her. They were outside Fredericksburg, at a little hole-in-the-wall joint favored by college students, biker gangs, and really loud Western bands. Even on a Tuesday night, the place was jamming, the people so thick and the bass so loud Tina didn’t know how the roof stayed on over their heads.
“I’m ready,” Tina tried again, shouting louder. This time, Betsy at least turned toward her.
“What?” Betsy yelled.
“Time . . . to . . . go . . .
home,
” Tina hollered back.
“Bathroom?”
“ HOME !”
“Oooooh.” Her roommate finally got it. She looked at Tina more closely and her brown eyes instantly softened with concern. “You okay?”
“Hot!”
“No kidding.”
“Not feeling . . . so well.” Actually, she was feeling horrible. Her long blond hair had come untangled from its knot and was plastered against her neck. Sweat trickled down the small of her back, over her butt, and all the way down her legs. The air was too heavy. She kept trying to draw deep, gulping breaths, but she still wasn’t getting enough oxygen. She thought she might be sick.
“Let me tell the others,” Betsy said immediately, and headed out to the jostling dance floor, where Viv and Karen were lost amid the sea of people.
Tina closed her eyes and promised herself she would not projectile vomit in the middle of a crowded bar.
Fifteen minutes later, they had pushed their way outside and were walking toward Betsy’s Saab, Viv and Karen bringing up the rear. Tina put her hand against her face. Her forehead felt feverish to her.
“Are you going to make it?” Betsy asked her. After screaming to be heard in the bar, her voice cracked three decibels too loud in the parking lot’s total silence. They all winced.
“I don’t know.”
“Girl, you had better tell me if you’re going to be sick,” Betsy warned seriously. “I’ll hold your head over the toilet, but I draw the line at puking in my car.”
Tina smiled weakly. “Thanks.”
“I could
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