The woman opened her eye. “If you want to talk to someone, talk to me,” she said.
“Good idea,” Wylie said. “Talk.”
The woman stayed silent.
“Fine,” Wylie said throwing up her hands. “Hopefully help will come soon and then you won’t be my problem anymore.”
A ripple of fear crossed the woman’s face. “We don’t need help.”
“Doesn’t look that way to me,” Wylie said.
“Honey,” the woman said to the child. “I’m still cold. Can you go find me another blanket?”
“You know where they are,” Wylie said and the boy grabbed a flashlight and hurried up the stairs.
“Listen,” the woman said when the boy was out of earshot. “We’ll wait out the storm and then be on our way. That’s it, then we’ll be gone. No more questions. Do you understand?”
“Sorry,” Wylie shook her head. “I’m afraid I don’t work that way. Besides, the only person I’m concerned about in this scenario is that kid upstairs. And there is no way in hell I’m just going to let you leave here without knowing where you plan on taking him and that he’s going to be okay.”
The woman glared at Wylie, then glanced up at the staircase. “The man who is after us will do anything to get us back.” She sat up a bit straighter and winced at the shift in position. “And I will do anything, and I mean anything,” she said in a low, dangerous whisper, “to make sure that doesn’t happen. Even if I have to cut straight through you to do it.”
A cold current of dread coursed through Wylie and she fingered the gun in her pocket. She believed the woman.
The boy came down the steps, his arms filled with blankets. “Here, Mama,” he said proudly. “I brought you two blankets. Will this be enough?”
“Thank you, sweetie,” she said, still staring at Wylie. “That is just the perfect amount.”
25
August 2000
Margo Allen sat on a chair in her kitchen while her estranged husband, Kevin, paced the floor. The deputy that brought her home had suggested that she call a neighbor to come over and take their younger children while they waited for word. Margo shook her head. There was no way she was going to let her kids out of her sight. Four-year-old Toby was sitting on her lap playing with the silver cross on her necklace while ten-year-old Addie sat across from them, staring intently at her handheld video game.
After seeing the medical examiner pull into the Doyles’ drive, Margo nearly passed out. She had never felt such fear before in her life. It was as if someone had reached right down her throat and snatched her breath away. The sheriff wouldn’t say who was dead, only that it wasn’t Becky. The sheriff murmured a bunch of promises and then handed her off to another deputy, who was little or no help.
When she begged the deputy to take her to Becky, he had to admit that they had no idea where she was, just that everyone was doing everything they could to find her. Margo had lost it then and tried to run into the Doyle house. It took three officers to hold her back. She hadn’t meant to cause a scene; she just wanted to see for herself that Becky wasn’t in the house.
A deputy drove Margo home while another officer followed behind in Margo’s car. By the time they arrived at the small gray house on Laurel Street, it was to find her husband sitting at the kitchen table and the babysitter gone.
“Why haven’t we heard anything?” Kevin wanted to know. Like Margo, his eyes were red from crying. Someone was dead, Josie was whisked off to the hospital, and Becky had disappeared.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Allen, I’m sure the sheriff will touch base soon. Are you sure there is no one that you’d like me to call for you? A family member or a friend?”
Margo shook her head. She knew that she should call her parents but they lived in Omaha and would insist on making the four-hour drive. She wasn’t ready for that. She willed Becky to come bouncing through the front door, out of breath and apologetic for making them worry. Then Margo could call her mom and complain about how Becky was turning into one of those teenagers.
There was a rap at the front door, and Margo quickly stood and then sat back down. Becky wouldn’t knock. She stood in the kitchen doorway while Deputy Dahl went to answer the door. He went outside and several minutes later came inside with a woman Margo didn’t recognize. She introduced herself as Agent Camila Santos from the Iowa Department of Criminal Investigation.
“Have you found her?” Kevin Allen asked.