“There you go. Lots of meals, then. Maybe make them Mama’s peach cobbler. That’s how I reeled in Beau back in the day.”
“I would try that except we haven’t had much time together.” He explained briefly the situation with Chloe Lockhart, and Kimmy replied with a stretch of silence on her end.
“I’m so sorry for that girl,” she said in the Virginia twang that they both shared. “But Reed, every missing child can’t be your responsibility.”
He chuffed. “Now you sound like Sarit. Besides, it’s Ellery’s case. I’m just unofficially consulting at this point.”
“Uh-huh. Sure. So, let me guess … this isn’t actually a social call?”
He felt his ears go hot as she called him on his true motivation. “I’d like to swing by Philadelphia tomorrow or Tuesday to talk to a couple of people. I have Tula with me, though, and…”
“Save it. You know I can’t get enough of that girl. I’ll bring my two and we’ll all get mani-pedis or something.”
“Thank you,” Reed said with relief. He looked to Tula, who had ceased playing on the jungle gym and now seemed to be making clover crowns for her new friends. Lisa Frick’s parting words rang in his ears. I hope wherever she is, there’s someone like my mom willing to fight for her. “I, ah, I was calling for another reason, too. I may need your professional advice.”
“Oh?”
“Sarit may be moving to Houston, which would mean taking Tula with her. She hasn’t said anything to me directly, but Tula indicated Sarit has been house-hunting there recently. I gather her boyfriend has a new job. Can she just do that? Take her so far away from me with no negotiation?”
“I’d have to see the terms of your custody agreement. You have joint legal custody, but she has primary physical custody, yes?”
“Yes.”
“And you’ve been abiding to the terms faithfully, is that correct?”
“Of course,” he said automatically. Then doubt crept in. “What do you mean?”
“I mean you’ve been following the agreement as it’s spelled out. Child support, visitation, et cetera, all on time and as scheduled.”
“Well, I … uh…”
“Reed,” she said with resignation. He heard the squeak of her leather chair as she leaned backward, could picture her taking off her glasses to pinch her nose.
“I pay on time,” he told her. “Always. Visitation is a little more complicated. I travel for work and now there’s Ellery…” He could feel a chill come over him as he said the words. If Sarit could use Ellery against him, she would.
“Reed Alexander Markham, you haven’t been ditching your daughter to go bone your girlfriend.”
“No. Look, I get dinner with Tula on Tuesdays and then every other weekend with her, plus some vacation time. The total time I’ve seen her hasn’t changed a bit—it just doesn’t always happen exactly as scheduled. Ellery’s been training in her new job and she doesn’t have much flexibility, so it’s been easier to juggle the weekends with Tula. Plus, I still have to travel for work at times.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Kimmy replied, not sounding pleased.
“You have to help me.” He forced a smile as Tula caught him looking at her. She grinned in return, showing off the dimple she’d inherited from him. “I can’t lose her.”
“You know I will go to the mat for you and Tula. But Sarit’s in a strong position here, so you should think carefully about how hard you want to fight.”
He didn’t have to think about it. “As hard as possible.”
“Okay. I’ll look into your options, but Reed, you have to remember…”
He closed his eyes. He didn’t want to hear whatever came after.
“In a fight, someone always gets hurt, and it’s not always who you’d expect.”
8
Ellery stood next to Dorie by the wall of the Lockharts’ pristine living room, careful not to lean against the wallpaper lest she leave a sweat stain on it. The number of bodies in the room, combined with the camera lights, had raised the temperature on what was already a humid summer day and Ellery regretted her long-sleeve shirt. Teresa Lockhart sat on the gray couch with her husband shoulder to shoulder. Her face was pale and her eyes fixed and unblinking. “I love Chloe with all my heart,” she said to the bouquet of microphones in front of her. Her monotone was hard to hear even in the otherwise silent room. “We miss her and we want her to come home. If someone saw her playing in the park and wanted to spend time with her, I understand their motivation. Chloe is a beautiful, loving girl. But she needs to come home now. We won’t ask questions. We won’t point fingers. We just want Chloe to be safe. Everyone makes mistakes sometimes, even parents. Even children. This mistake is not too late to fix if Chloe can just come home.”
Ellery released her breath when Teresa finished. Reporters asked questions, but Wintour shut them down, with an assist from Captain Conroy. “Is it just me,” Dorie muttered to Ellery amid the chaos, “or was that kind of terrible?”
“She’s no actress,” Ellery murmured back.
“I get more emotion from the teenager giving me my cheeseburger in the drive-thru.” She jerked her head in the direction of the back of the room. “Come on, I see the nanny’s here. We can ask her about the boy with Chloe in those pictures.”
Ellery threaded her way through the bodies in the room, glancing back to see Teresa shrug off Martin’s hand from her shoulder. Yes, she’d been robotic in front of the cameras, but Ellery didn’t share Dorie’s disdain. Dorie hadn’t ever been under those bright lights, blinded while the cameras flashed away at your moment of weakness, like jackals closing in for the kill. We just want your story! the reporters always shouted. You need to tell your side! They persisted until you gave in to their questions. You’d try to set the record straight. Only then, too late, you’d realize your mistake. Once you gave it up, the story was no longer yours.
Margery did not look thrilled to see them headed her way. “I heard about the text,” she said, her voice bitter. “You’re not here to accuse my husband of sending it, are you??”
“Did he?” Ellery asked, just because.
Margery’s mouth fell open. “No.”
“Did you?” Ellery didn’t believe this possibility, either, but as she said the words it occurred to her that Margery was both the last person seen with Chloe and the only outsider to have an up-close view of Teresa Lockhart’s parenting.
“Of course I didn’t. I can’t believe you would even suggest such a thing.”
Ellery nodded. Margery was a fifty-something granny with stretch pants, sensible shoes, and a pristine white cardigan. She did not look the part of a child kidnapper, and Ellery couldn’t imagine her using text-speak in any case. “What did you think of Teresa Lockhart’s TV appearance?”
Margery glanced over her shoulder before answering. “I pray that works to bring Chloe home,” she told the detectives. “Mrs. Lockhart doesn’t even like having her picture taken. This must be torture for her.”