Chapter 10 - Lake Mercer
Lake Mercer was four hours north.
Daniel said Chloe’s mother used to take her there every summer before she died.
There was an old church camp on the eastern shore and a row of cabins that had been closed for years.
Detective Owens contacted local authorities before anyone moved.
By noon, they found a record.
A woman using the name Claire Sutton had rented cabin six for three months.
Eleven months ago.
Then she vanished again.
Daniel gripped the edge of the table.
“She was there.”
Owens nodded.
“At least someone using that name was.”
Mark asked, “Any forwarding address?”
“No.”
But there was one more thing.
The cabin owner remembered her because she paid cash and spent every morning at the same diner.
A waitress there still worked weekends.
We drove north the next day.
I almost stayed home.
Ethan needed normal.
School.
Breakfast.
His own bed.
But normal had already been broken.
Denise took him for the weekend, and I went with Mark and Daniel.
The diner smelled like coffee and fried onions.
The waitress was named Joanie.
She looked at Chloe’s photograph for less than three seconds.
“Claire.”
Daniel’s knees nearly gave out.
“You knew her?”
“She came in every morning. Sat in the back. Read newspapers. Barely talked.”
“When did you last see her?”
Joanie thought.
“Late November.”
“What happened?”
“A man came in.”
Mark leaned forward.
“What man?”
“Older. Gray hair. Fancy watch.”
Calvin Ross.
Every muscle in my body tightened.
“Did he talk to her?” Owens asked.
Joanie nodded.
“She looked terrified.”
Daniel whispered, “Did she leave with him?”
“No.”
Hope flashed across his face.
“She went out the kitchen door while he was in the restroom.”
Joanie smiled faintly.
“I drove her to the bus depot myself.”
Daniel grabbed the counter.
“Where did she go?”
“She didn’t tell me.”
Then Joanie walked into the back office and returned with an old Christmas card.
“She mailed this six weeks later. No return address.”
Inside was a photograph of a lighthouse.
On the back, Chloe had written:
Still breathing. Still fighting. Tell no one.
Daniel stared at the picture.
Mark whispered, “I know that lighthouse.”
I turned to him.
“Where?”
May you like
He looked at me.
“Maine.”
