KnockOut

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 shirt 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, ear-aches, and a high fever.” She shrugged. “I really don’t know. It’s never been an issue 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.