‘This way,’ I said.
We drove past Main Street and I considered asking David to stop briefly, so we could check if Nikki had gone back to the bookstore or her apartment. Get Greg’s address out of her. But I decided it was unlikely. We would just be wasting time. I looked out for Wyatt too, but he wasn’t at his usual spot beneath the statue.
We cruised along the road that ran parallel to the woods. The junkyard was ahead.
‘This must be it,’ I said, pointing to the right turn on to Paradise Loop.
David turned and we drove slowly, looking for someone to ask. Then I spotted them. Two small children, around six years old, playing out on their front lawn. They had to be the kids who had told Frankie and Ryan about the rabbit and the buried-alive cat.
‘Stop the car,’ I said.
I got out and went over to talk to the children. They were playing Jenga, concentrating hard as the boy tried to pull out a block from near the bottom of the tower. His sister clapped her hands with glee as it wobbled and almost fell.
‘Hi,’ I said. Two large pairs of eyes turned towards me. David stood on the edge of the lawn, watching.
‘I’m looking for a friend of mine,’ I went on, keeping my voice light and friendly. ‘Buddy and Darlene’s dad. Can you tell me which house is theirs?’
The girl pointed to the house next door. An unassuming, detached house surrounded by a white picket fence. The Stars and Stripes flew at the top of a flagpole out front, and there was a basketball hoop attached to the wall.
‘Have you seen them today?’ David asked.
‘Uh-uh.’ The girl shook her head.
‘What about last night?’
‘I don’t think so,’ said the boy, though he didn’t seem too sure.
I glanced at the house. There was no sign of life. I assumed Greg hadn’t turned up to work today. I imagined he must have called in sick, maybe blaming it on a bad burger from last night’s barbecue.
‘Okay, thanks,’ I said to the children.
We approached the house, going through the front gate. It was well oiled, no squeak. The sky was looking increasingly overcast but the birds were singing, fluttering between the treetops. A normal summer’s day in small-town America.
The birds weren’t the only things fluttering. My stomach was like a butterfly house. Now we were here, I wasn’t sure what to do.
‘What are we going to do?’ I asked. ‘Knock?’
David looked as tense as I felt. There was a small car, a red Hyundai, parked outside, presumably Greg’s.
‘I’m going to go round the back and take a look first,’ David said.
I followed him down the side of the house, through another well-oiled gate into a neat garden. I peered through a rear window into the kitchen. It looked totally normal, a few dishes piled in the sink, a loaf of bread on the counter. There was something else on the counter too. Leaning closer I realised it was candy, sweets in shiny wrappers, as if someone had torn open a bag and let it scatter.
‘This doesn’t feel right,’ I said. ‘I don’t think they’re here.’
But David ignored me. He tried the back door.
It opened.
‘Wait,’ I whispered, but he went inside and I followed.
It was silent inside the house. I could hear my own breathing.
David took a knife from the block on the counter, examined it, then took a sharper one. I noticed that the largest slot in the block was empty.
The kitchen door was open, and we went through it into a hallway that led to the living room. There was more candy scattered on the floor here. There were two PlayStation controllers on the couch and the case for Resident Evil 7 lay on the carpet. Two open cans of Coke sat on the coffee table. Next to them was an item I knew. Frankie’s Hydro Flask. I’d recognise its aquamarine colour anywhere.
I picked it up, turned it in my hand. It sent a chill through me. This was evidence that linked this family to my daughter, and it indicated to me that they were either stupid or indifferent about getting caught. Because they were already long gone? Our children already dead?
I had to hold on to the back of an armchair for a second while I gave myself a pep talk. This was not the time to give up. I followed David back into the hallway and stood at the foot of the stairs.
‘There’s no one home,’ I said quietly.
But David was already going up the stairs. Again, I followed. We reached the upper floor.
‘Look,’ I whispered.
The closest door was pulled to, though not closed. The handle was smeared with something dark.