Emily Locke 01 - Final Approach

won’t be missed for a while.”
    Amazing—but I couldn’t see how it fitted into Mattie’s abduction. My friends Keith and Nora Shelton had had no drug issues. What about Casey’s parents?

Chapter Twenty-two
    Shortly after eleven, Jeannie was on her third margarita and I’d switched to Aquafina and taken it To Go. Last I’d seen, she was nestled at the bar with a couple of guys on either side, watching college basketball, eating pretzels, and swearing at the flat screen TV in a hole-in-the-wall bar we’d found on East Broad. There were two men, one Jeannie, but as far as I was concerned, the guys were outnumbered.
    I walked the beach alone, my socks shoved in my sneakers, carrying my shoes in one hand as I stepped ankle-deep through frigid waves. Unable to think clearly, doubting my instincts, I trudged over the sand listening to waves and gulls and noise in my head, smelling the stale aroma of dead fish, and wishing I had a jacket.
    My thoughts returned to Vince. I’d misjudged the only man I’d allowed myself to care for since Jack. Or, maybe I’d only misjudged a man I thought I could care for eventually. After all, we’d spent so little time together, really, and time spent together under contrived circumstances probably only counted as half of actual time, anyway.
    But, while Karen Lyons had identified Trish, and Mark had an incriminating rap sheet, the only case against Vince was that he hadn’t mentioned being related to either one. In particular, it seemed strange he hadn’t told me his cousin worked at the same drop zone. Then again, he didn’t know I knew her. I remembered the cold look they’d exchanged the day Vince came to jump with me. Being on bad terms could explain the omission. If Vince had nothing to do with Trish and Mark’s schemes, maybe I hadn’t misjudged anything.
    Either way, he knew I wasn’t who I’d pretended to be, and now I was anxious and preoccupied with whether Trish and Clement knew that too.
    Mark Townsend was a real problem. He was solidly linked to Mattie Shelton’s abduction, and peripherally linked to Casey’s by his relationship with Trish. It was Mark I’d asked for help in the restaurant the day I found Mattie. Mark was the manager who’d delayed the tab to give the police time to arrive. But, when they finally came, the bogus adoption agent was gone. Surely, Mark had arranged that getaway.
    Had it also been Mark who’d threatened me? Broken into my house? Played the trick that prevented my deposition from making it to court?
    It couldn’t all be him. How many were with him? At least enough people to work in two states at the same time, maybe more. I wondered whether I was uncovering a sinister conspiracy or deteriorating into a frantic and paranoid nut.
    Later, in my motel room, I drew a bath and undressed, feeling slightly flushed. My clammy skin and warm face could be the work of the margaritas, I told myself, or maybe the result of coming in from chilly night air.
    Richard said he hadn’t put much stock into the threats he’d received until the boat wreck. Thinking of that again nauseated me, and I felt warmer still. I sat on the edge of the tub and watched it fill, steamy water rushing from the tap, crashing into the basin, filling and filling. I focused on my breathing, tried to get a grip.
    One point tormented me, clawing and scratching past Vince and Richard, and Mark and Trish. I knew what it would do to me, and tried to stop it, but couldn’t.
    Only one casket was laid out at my family’s memorial. Annette’s tiny body was never recovered. If Mark Townsend’s people were behind the boat wreck, was it possible she was alive? Had she been sold over pancakes at some roadside diner as Mattie had so nearly been?
    I fell to my knees on the cold, cracked tiles of the motel bathroom and vomited into the toilet. And when my stomach was empty, the tears wouldn’t stop.
    ***
    I sat on the side of my bed, wrapped in a towel, and stared at Annette through the opaque sleeve of a photo booklet I’d pulled from my wallet. TV noise carried through the wall, and I was jealous that my neighbor could relax and I could not. It was Monday now, 12:09. I kissed her picture and tucked it away.
    In a few hours, Vince would take the borrowed plane back to Tulsa. If I met him at the airport, I might be able to figure his role in all this. But my fake job started this morning. That stupid lie ended my tenure at the drop zone. Even though Vince knew the