She hears a knock on the door and looks up from her computer—she works from home as a bookkeeper; the dining-room table acts as her office. She doesn’t get many people knocking on her door during the day. It might be the police again, going up and down the street, about that missing girl. She opens the door and sees a woman she doesn’t recognize standing there. “Yes?” she says.
The woman shows her a badge, but she barely gets a chance to glance at it. Gwen immediately thinks something’s happened with Adam. She’s had so many complaints over the years.
“I’m Detective Gully,” the woman says, “Stanhope Police. May I come in?”
“Yes, of course,” Gwen says, her heart pumping faster.
“We’re investigating the disappearance on Tuesday afternoon of Avery Wooler.”
Gwen nods. This isn’t about anything Adam did, then, it’s just routine—they’re probably seeing if they missed anything. The uniformed police officers were already here the night Avery Wooler disappeared, but she’d had nothing to tell them. She hadn’t seen anything, and neither had Adam. Gwen leads the detective into the living room, and they sit down.
“I understand you have a son, Adam,” the detective begins.
Oh, here we go, Gwen thinks, immediately on the defensive. Years of this have worn her down. It’s about your son, Adam . . . How many times has she heard that? “Yes,” she says tightly. “What about him?”
“Did he know Avery?”
“I think that’s highly unlikely.” She can’t remember him ever mentioning her; she’d never seen her with him. He’s much older than the missing girl. “Adam keeps to himself.”
The detective sighs. “We’ve learned that Avery told a friend that she had a boyfriend—someone older than her. And someone has mentioned seeing Avery with Adam recently,” the detective says gently.
“Oh, really? I doubt it. He’s not her boyfriend. Who said so?” She doesn’t bother to disguise the bitterness in her voice.
“I’m not at liberty to say.”
She shakes her head. “No one around here understands Adam. This is a small-minded town. I’ve been thinking about moving, but I’ve got Adam in a good special school near here, so . . .”
Detective Gully nods sympathetically.
“Adam is a gentle boy at heart. He would never harm anyone.” And it’s true, she knows it. Despite the tantrums, the loss of control, the meltdowns, he wouldn’t actually harm anyone. He’s not made that way.
“Even so, I must ask—where was Adam on Tuesday afternoon, do you know? From around four o’clock on?”
“He was home with me,” she says. “I picked him up from school. We usually get home shortly before four.”
“I understand he has a drone,” Detective Gully says. “Does he use it a lot?”
“Yes,” she answers. “It’s his current obsession.”
“Does it have video capability?”
“Yes.”
“I’d like to see the footage,” the detective says. “We might see something we’ve missed.”
Gwen nods and says, “Adam was outside in the back flying his drone that day, until it started to rain. But if he’d seen anything, he would have said something. And I’ve asked him. He didn’t see anything.”
“I’d still like to have a look.”
Gwen explains, “He doesn’t like anyone to touch his things—especially his drone and his laptop. He has autism; he gets upset.”
“I understand,” Detective Gully says. “But can you bring Adam and his drone and his laptop to the station when he comes home from school today?”
“Okay. Yes, of course.”
“Thank you. “I won’t take up any more of your time.”
Gwen watches the detective’s back as she walks to her car, then closes the door.
* * *
? ? ?
Gully drives back up Connaught Street and parks outside the Woolers’ house. She glances across the street at the Seton residence, thinking about Gwen Winter and how different Alice’s and Gwen’s experiences of motherhood have been.
Gully gets out of the car and approaches the Wooler residence. Bledsoe is at the station, directing the investigation. They are both inclined to dismiss as a prank the anonymous claim that Ryan Blanchard picked Avery up in his car. They have no corroboration of it, and his attorney shut them down pretty smartly. The boy seemed frightened, but who wouldn’t have been? Gully’s following up on the “boyfriend” angle. She wants to talk to Michael again. It’s just possible he might know something about this older boy, if he even exists. He might be a figment of Avery’s imagination, or a lie. Gully suspects Michael didn’t go to school today, not when it’s all over the news that his father has been questioned about his sister’s disappearance—and changed his story. Poor kid.
When Gully arrives at the Woolers’ door, Erin answers. Her face is tear-streaked and wild looking. She stands there looking at Gully for a moment as if she’s staring out from the edge of an abyss.
“What is it?” Erin asks. “Do you have any news?”
Of course, Gully thinks, she’s terrified that every time someone comes to her door, it’s to deliver bad news. Gully wonders if there will ever be good news. She says calmly, “No. Not yet. May I come in?”
Erin turns away in despair and walks inside, leaving Gully to enter and close the door behind her.
“I kicked William out,” Erin says. “He told me everything he told you—all of it.”
She looks ghastly, Gully thinks, like a tragic character in a Shakespeare play, beset by too many troubles.
Erin says, “I feel like I don’t know him at all.”
Gully feels terrible for this woman, living through the worst thing that can happen to any parent—a missing child—only to learn that her husband has been lying to her. “What did he tell you?”
Erin says wearily, “He told me he was home, that he saw Avery. That he left her here alone. That he’s been seeing another woman, and that he was with her in a motel. That’s why he wasn’t at work.”
Gully nods sympathetically. They haven’t been able to trace this woman—all they know is she has a pay-as-you-go phone, and she didn’t pick up when they’d called it from William’s burner. They’d like to talk to her, if only to see if she can help them better understand William Wooler and what might have happened that day, but he isn’t talking. After a respectful pause, Gully asks, “You don’t have any idea who it might be?”
Erin shakes her head. “No idea at all,” she says, and seems to shrink, becoming smaller in front of her.
Gully leaves the armchair and comes over to sit beside Erin on the sofa, resting a gentle arm on her shoulder. “You must be strong, Erin.”
Erin looks at her and nods. “I know. I have to think of Michael.”
“Actually, I wanted to talk to him. Is he home?”
She nods. “No way he was going to school.”
Gully really wishes she didn’t have to do this. She says gently, “A friend of Avery’s told us that Avery said she had a boyfriend. Someone much older than her.”