wondered what it would be like to live in such a home. Hell, he couldn’t even afford the taxes on a house like this, never mind paying for the heat and utilities.
“She’s our only child, Detective,” Briggs said. Tears streamed down his cheeks. “You need to find her as soon as possible. I’m begging you.”
“We’re doing our best, Mr. Briggs.”
“My wife and I are worried sick over this. Felicia’s heavily medicated and barely able to function.”
“Please give her my regards.”
“Yes, of course.” Briggs paused for a moment. “Willow has such a promising future ahead of her. Please bring her home before anything bad happens.”
“Is this promising future your plan or hers?”
“Oh, definitely hers. No question about it. I started her in acting classes when she was a young girl, but since then, all of Willow’s interest in performing has come from her. She fell in love with the stage and hasn’t looked back.”
“Nice to have goals in life.”
“You have to have a lot of drive to succeed in this cutthroat business,” he said, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. “Besides, she comes from good genes.”
“Oh?”
“Martin Scorsese’s my second cousin.”
“Loved Taxi Driver.”
“I’m a Goodfellas guy myself, but Taxi Driver’s a classic.”
“Briggs doesn’t sound Italian.”
“My great-grandfather’s name was Briggliotta when he first arrived at Ellis Island. I’m sure you can figure out the rest.”
“Shortened for convenience.”
“You got it,” Briggs said, pointing at Karl’s name tag. “Bjornson. Is that Swedish?”
“It is, even though it has only one s, like the Norwegian version of the name. Somehow my family lost the extra s.”
“I love Ingmar Bergman.”
“Never heard of him.”
“He’s a Swedish film director. The Seventh Seal is one of my favorite films of all time.”
“Don’t think I’ve seen any of his movies.”
“Then you really should, because he’s a genius,” he said. “Were you born in Sweden?”
“No, my ancestors emigrated from there in eighteen seventy and settled in New Sweden, Maine.”
A woman’s voice called for Briggs.
“Excuse me, but I have to take care of my wife now. Please do whatever you can to find my daughter.”
Karl shook his hand and thanked him for his time. That was a strange way to end the conversation. Karl made his way to the door. Before closing it, he took one last look at the inside of the house and saw Gil Briggs sprinting back up those crazy stairs, seemingly suspended in midair.
ISLA
SEEING THAT RAISIN’S NUMBERS WERE FINE, SHE PUT THE TEST KIT away and sat next to him on the couch. The normal routine consisted of testing Raisin at least twenty times throughout the day. Keeping track of Raisin’s glucose levels was a life-and-death ritual, something that had become second nature to her. In the event she went outside or got stuck on the phone, Raisin had been taught to take and analyze his own numbers. When at school, he made frequent trips to the nurse so she could check him out. The worst and scariest moments were when he suffered a blackout or seizure.
She sat with Raisin and watched TV, trying to control her growing anxiety over her daughter’s whereabouts. Thank God Raisin had a calm and gentle nature and never seemed to get too rattled about anything. It worried her that he hadn’t asked about Katie yet. Was he in denial? Or maybe he just didn’t want to talk about her disappearance. Scout stood up and looked at her with his big brown eyes before settling down, in what she liked to call his seal posture.
Her phone buzzed. She knew it was a fellow parishioner responding to her request for help. Tomorrow morning they planned to meet and begin a search for the girls. The cops had begun their own search, but with a force of five, they could hardly be expected to cover much ground. All the officers on the force had volunteered their time to look for the two girls, as had officers from some of the surrounding communities.
Canned laughter came from the TV, and Raisin let out a series of giggles. Along the floor were Scout’s bringsels. Scout had been trained to pick up common, everyday objects with his mouth—bringsels—and bring them to her in the event Raisin’s blood sugar spiked. There were also bells on hooks scattered throughout the rooms, which Scout could gather in his mouth and ring if alerted.
The missing James boy flashed through her mind. No, she didn’t want to go there and allow negative thoughts to dominate her thinking. She remembered seeing his distraught mother weeks afterward and