He carefully lifted her up onto the bathroom counter. “Don’t let the blood scare you. I’ll fix you up. How’d you scrape your knees and elbows?”
A tear trickled down Abby’s cheek. “I was running down to the dock to tell Hawk that Mama wanted him to come home—and I tripped on a tree root.”
Daddy tilted her chin. “You’ve got a scrape there too. You never do anything just a little bit. You always do it up big.”
“Mama says I’m a drama queen.”
“You’re just sensitive. That’s part of what makes you special. Does it hurt?”
Abby nodded. “A lot.”
“I’m going to need to flush those abrasions with an antiseptic.”
Abby clutched his arm. “No, it’s going to hurt!”
“It’ll sting.” Daddy wiped away her tears with his thumbs. “But only for a few moments. It has to hurt some in order to get better. Don’t be scared. You can hold on to me. You trust me, don’t you?”
She did trust him. Abby studied his face and his kind eyes. If he had told her to jump off a bridge and he’d catch her, she would have done it. Daddy always told her the truth without sugarcoating it. And he had never given her reason to doubt anything he said …
Abby blinked to clear her eyes. When her father lay wounded and bleeding, no one was there for him. Had he died right away? Or had he lain where he fell, in pain and unable to move—and afraid for Riley Jo?
She curled up on her side, her cheek pressed to the ground. “I’m so sorry, Daddy,” she whispered. “We tried so hard to find you.”
Losing her father was the biggest hurt of Abby’s life. But there was nothing she could pour on that wound to make it better except maybe the truth of what really happened. But whose truth? Just when she thought she had solved the mystery that had consumed the last five years of her life, she was left to die alone with even more questions.
Kate rode in the passenger seat of her dad’s Toyota Corolla and perked up as they pulled into the Sycamore Apartments in Foggy Ridge.
“You try to spot Jay’s truck,” Kate said, “and I’ll look for my Odyssey.”
Kate searched carefully as her father drove slowly around each of the three buildings and then back to the entrance.
“Nah, Jay’s truck isn’t here,” Dad said.
“Are you sure? My Odyssey isn’t here either.”
He nodded. “I’m sure. But there’re plenty of empty parkin’ places. They could just be out somewhere together.”
“Why would Jay be out? He called in sick.”
“I don’t buy that any more than you do.” Dad looked over at Kate. “Maybe they’re still up on the slope. It won’t be dark for a while yet.”
Kate folded her hands in her lap. “I know Abby was upset about the remains and adamant that her father and sister are still alive. But I didn’t sense that she was angry with me. I don’t understand why she doesn’t call or answer my text messages.”
“Now don’t you go thinkin’ the worst.”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Kate said. “Every time one of my children is two minutes late, my heart is in my throat. I don’t think I will ever feel comfortable with them out of my sight until Virgil figures out what happened to Micah and Riley Jo—if he ever does.”
“Have to trust the Lord.”
Kate stared out the window and let the silence speak for itself.
“It’s not God’s fault, Kate. It’s nobody’s fault. Whatever happened, happened. There’s nothin’ you could’ve done differently that would’ve prevented it.”
Her dad’s comment caught her off guard, and she felt surprisingly defensive.“I never said I could’ve prevented it, but the Lord could have. Forgive me, Dad. But I’m not having this conversation with you again. You know how I feel, and you’re not going to change my mind.”
Dad pursed his lips and started to say something, then didn’t.
Kate glanced over at the clubhouse. “Why don’t I go over to the office and see if anyone there knows where Jay lives? Maybe his mother is home and knows where the kids are.”
“Good idea.” Dad pulled over in front of the clubhouse and into a parking space.
Kate opened her door. “I’ll be right back.”
She walked up the steps and through the front door. She saw an arrow directing her to the office and found it just as a bottle brunette in a red dress was locking the door.
“Sorry, the office is closed,” the sixtysomething woman said. “You can call the night number.