Chapter 11 - A Promise Made Through a Wall

Elise pressed her back against the bedroom door. "Poppy isn't coming here," she called. "Adrian knows what you did."

Simone laughed from the hallway. "Adrian believes whoever sounds calmest. You ought to know that by now."

"He heard me."

"He heard a voice. People hear what they want at weddings."

Footsteps retreated. Elise waited until the downstairs door slammed, then turned the loose screw one final time. The window latch fell into her hand. She shoved the sash upward, wincing at the cold air, and climbed onto a narrow section of roof above the porch.

Below her, gravel crunched. Kent was walking toward the boathouse with a flashlight. If she dropped, he would see her. If she stayed, Simone would return.

Elise lay flat and dragged herself along the shingles, remembering the words she used when Poppy was frightened by thunderstorms: Fear is loud. Think anyway.

She found a gutter, lowered herself until her feet struck a rain barrel, and landed hard in wet leaves. A bolt of pain traveled through her bad ankle. She swallowed a cry and crawled beneath the porch.

From there she heard Simone and Kent arguing near the car.

"You promised this would be finished today," Kent said.

"It will be."

"The father isn't alone. Police are everywhere."

"Then find something he wants more than answers."

Elise dug her fingernails into the dirt. They were still talking about Poppy.

When the car left, Kent went inside. Elise made for the boathouse, pulling herself along the fence. Inside she found a cracked life jacket, fishing nets, and an old marine radio. She turned its switch. Nothing. The power cable had been cut.

A red emergency flare sat inside a rusted metal box. Elise took it and limped toward the lake. There were houses on the opposite shore. Someone might see the light.

Behind her, the boathouse door opened.

"I knew you wouldn't stay put," Kent said.

Elise raised the flare. "Then you know I'll use it."

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He looked toward the water, then back at her. His expression changed for the first time in thirty-nine days.

"Don't light that," he whispered. "The fuel tank's leaking."