Magic Hour

Alice crouched on all fours, staring up at him through an opening in the leaves, breathing hard.

George took a deep breath, let it out slowly. Julia heard his resignation. It was over. At least for the day. Thank God. Maybe he’d give up.

He surprised her by starting to sing: “‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.’ ”

It was Julia’s turn to draw in a sharp breath. His voice was beautiful and true.

Alice stilled. As the song went on, repeating, she sat back on her heels, then got to her feet. Cautiously, she neared the plants and started humming along with him.

“You know me, don’t you, Brittany?”

At that, the name Brittany, Alice spun away and ran upstairs.

The bedroom door slammed shut.

George got to his feet. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he looked at Julia. “I used to sing that song to her when she was a baby.” He came closer.

Julia was going to say something when she heard a car drive up. “Who’s here, El?”

Ellie went to the front door, opened it. “Holy shit.” She slammed the door shut and turned around. “It’s KIRO TV and CNN . . . and the Gazette.”

Julia looked at George. “You called the press?”

He shrugged. “You spend three years in prison, Doctor, and then judge me. I’m as much a victim here as Brittany is.”

“Tell it to someone who’ll believe it, you selfish son of a bitch.” She tried to rein in her anger. It wouldn’t do any good to scream at him with the press right there. “You’ve seen her. Becoming the object of media attention could destroy her. You and I know what it’s like when they make you the story. There’s nowhere to hide. Don’t do that to Alice.”

“Brittany.” His gaze softened. She thought she saw true concern in his eyes. Or hoped she did. It was all she had to seize on to. “And you’ve left me no other choice.”

The doorbell rang.

“Do you really want to prove your innocence?” Julia said, hearing the desperate edge in her voice. As she said it, she thought: God help me. God help her. Then she looked at her sister, who nodded in understanding.

“I’ve spent a fortune trying to prove it.”

Ellie pushed away from the kitchen counter. “You have something you didn’t have before.”

“A small-town police chief on the case? That’s not gonna cut it.”

“Not me,” Ellie said, moving toward him.

The doorbell rang again.

“Brittany,” Julia said. The name tasted bitter on her tongue, or perhaps it was more than that; perhaps it was the taste of true fear and she hadn’t known it until now. “I think she lived in the forest for a long time. Years, maybe. If she did, your wife may have been held there also. Whoever took them might have left evidence behind.”

George went very still. “You think Brittany could lead us there?”

“Maybe,” Ellie answered. Julia could barely manage to nod.

“Is it . . . safe? For Brittany, I mean?”

Julia couldn’t have answered that question; not even for Alice. Her throat was too full of tears. This is wrong, even if it’s for the right reason.

“Julia won’t let her see the actual site . . . if we find it, that is.” Ellie’s gaze was steady. “You asked me to do my job, George. Was that another lie?”

Julia drew in a sharp breath. The room felt full of words unspoken, fear denied. A guilty man would say no. . . .

“Okay,” he finally said. “But we go tomorrow. No dragging it out.”