But they have been married for almost fifteen years. She can’t believe that he would do this. It’s impossible. Maybe the detectives are making it up about his being seen, trying to trap him in some way.
Erin watches from the living-room window, behind the curtain. She doesn’t want to be seen by the reporters outside. As time passes, she knows that one of two things will happen. Either William will come home with a reasonable explanation—perhaps the detectives will admit they invented the witness, to rattle him—or the detectives will come and tell her that he has confessed, and she will know what happened to her daughter.
A police cruiser pulls up in front of the house. She watches William get out.
* * *
? ? ?
Gully has spoken to the officers who interviewed Avery’s teachers at the elementary school. They all agreed that Avery is very bright, but there were behavioral problems, challenges. She was defiant. She told lies. The staff was pretty sure that an act of vandalism—stuffing a toilet in the girls’ bathroom with paper and causing a flood—was done by Avery, who claimed she’d seen another girl do it. But other than getting a better picture of what Avery was like, they got nothing. None of her teachers had noticed anyone hanging around the school that day or in the preceding days. No strange men skulking outside the school fence, following her home. No strange vehicles on the street. No one taking an interest in Avery.
In any event, they now know Avery’s father was in the house with her yesterday afternoon, that he was the one who hung up her jacket. If he’s telling the truth and didn’t harm her, then she must have left the house again and met with foul play. Gully knows Bledsoe thinks William Wooler killed his daughter and got rid of the body. But she’s trying to keep an open mind—at least until forensics is finished with Dr. Wooler’s car.
She’s just been to the Breezes Motel and discovered that the security cameras there haven’t been in working order for some time. They don’t know the identity of William Wooler’s lover. No one at the motel remembers ever seeing her, just him. The desk clerk recognized him. He used a different name and paid in cash. He was there yesterday afternoon, as usual, but the clerk didn’t know when he left. It would be good to talk to this other woman, Gully thinks, if only to learn more about William Wooler, his state of mind that day. Maybe his lover knows more than his wife.
Now she heads back to the Woolers’ neighborhood. Maybe she’ll learn something from Avery’s only friend, Jenna, who lives across the street. She must be home from school by now.
Gully parks outside the Wooler residence and walks across the street to the Setons’ house. She rings the doorbell and waits, thinking about what’s going on in the Wooler house behind her. She imagines William telling his wife what he told them. She can’t begin to imagine what Erin Wooler will feel then.
The door is answered by a woman in her late thirties, with a pretty, pleasant face. “Mrs. Seton?” The woman nods. Gully pulls out her identification and introduces herself. “I’m investigating the disappearance of Avery Wooler.” The woman’s face becomes serious. A girl with long dark hair approaches and stares at Gully from beside her mother. “And you must be Jenna,” Gully says, smiling warmly at her. The girl nods.
“Come in,” the woman says, opening the door wide. She leads her into the kitchen, and Jenna sits down at the table. “The police officers were already around and spoke to all of us yesterday. Unfortunately, none of us saw anything.”
Gully says, “I’m really here to talk to Jenna, if that’s all right?”
Jenna’s mother glances at her daughter protectively. “Would that be all right, Jenna? Are you okay talking about Avery?”
“Yes,” Jenna answers, but she looks nervous.
Gully sits down across from her while her mother watches them, leaning against the kitchen counter, arms folded.
“You’re friends with Avery, right?” Gully asks.
Jenna nods. “We’re in the same grade. In the same class.”
Gully smiles encouragingly. “Did Avery ever tell you anything she was worried about?” Jenna shakes her head. “Did she ever mention whether someone was bothering her?” She shakes her head again. Gully lowers her voice. “Did she tell you any secrets?”
Now Jenna hesitates, then says, “Yes. But they’re secrets, so I can’t tell you. I promised not to tell.”
Gully glances up at Jenna’s mother, who looks worried.
“You can tell me, though,” Gully says, “because I’m a police detective. And I’m trying to find Avery and bring her home safe. We’re all very worried about her.”
Jenna bites her lip and glances anxiously at her mother. “But you can’t ever tell Avery that I told you.”
“I won’t, I promise,” Gully says.
“Because if you tell her, she’ll kill me.”
“I understand,” Gully reassures her.
Jenna’s face turns pink. “She said she had a boyfriend.”
“A boyfriend?”
Jenna nods. “He’s older than us.”
“How much older?” Gully asks.
Jenna shrugs. “I don’t know. She wouldn’t tell me who he was.” She adds, “She liked to tease me like that.” Her skin flushes deeper. “But she said he did things to her. Grown-up things.”
Fourteen
When Michael hears his father come home, he creeps out of his room to listen unobserved, at the top of the stairs. He doesn’t know why the detectives came back for his father; he’d had his headphones on in his room and hadn’t even known the detectives were here, but his mother told him where his father was. He wonders if this is his fault, too, for telling the truth about his dad slapping Avery. It’s all his fault. He wants to run away. Be someone else. Anybody but Michael Wooler. But he’s been waiting, his headphones off, anxiously listening for his father’s return.
It isn’t hard to hear what his parents have to say, because they are raising their voices. He’s troubled to hear his father crying. He’s never heard his father cry. He’s even more troubled to hear him admit, through sobs, that he was home yesterday afternoon and saw Avery. That the police know. That they seem to think he had something to do with her disappearance.
“Did you?” his mother asks, in the coldest voice he’s ever heard. Michael almost passes out.
“What? Are you out of your mind?” his father rails. “Of course not! How can you even ask me that? I saw her, and I left again. We had an argument. I slapped her, that’s all. I felt terrible and I left. She was fine when I left her. I swear to you.”
“You lied to the police! You lied to me!” his mother screams. “How can I believe anything you say?” She turns the full force of her anger on him. “This is all your fault—you left her here, alone, and now she’s gone!” There’s a long, terrible silence, and then his mother cries, “What were you even doing here?”
His father says, his voice anguished, “There’s something else you should know.”
Michael wants to run back to his room and cover his head with his pillow. He doesn’t want to hear any more. But he can’t move; he’s frozen in place.