She didn’t trust him. She started her car, determined to crash into both vehicles if necessary in order to create enough space to get her Camaro out from between them, but she didn’t have the chance.
Peter picked up a rock and bashed in the passenger’s-side window just as her car jumped forward and struck his bumper. The impact threw her back against the seat, but she reached for the gearshift, planning to reverse and punch the gas again when Peter climbed in through the passenger side and held her hand in place so she couldn’t.
A second later, Joe dragged her from the car.
22
When Isaac went by Claire’s house, her car wasn’t there and the place was locked. No one responded to his knock.
He jimmied open the back door—it still had to be fixed from before—but couldn’t see that she’d made any progress on the cleanup. Everything looked exactly as they’d left it, giving him the distinct impression that she hadn’t even been at the house.
He’d dropped her there four hours ago. She must’ve taken off immediately after.
He wished he could contact her by cell phone, but that wasn’t possible in Pineview. No one had reception. Usually, Isaac didn’t have a problem with that. He liked the community’s laid-back lifestyle enough to sacrifice this modern convenience, but being unable to communicate with Claire meant that all he could do was perform a very random search.
The thought that something terrible had happened, or might happen if he didn’t find her fast, took center stage in his mind. Someone had most likely kidnapped and killed her mother. Someone had followed her to the studio several days ago. Someone had broken into her house only the night before last.
God, he should never have let her come here. Why had he? He hadn’t liked the idea from the beginning…?.
But maybe he was jumping to conclusions. Since her car was gone, chances were she’d simply changed plans and driven over to make peace with her family. Or she’d gone to Laurel’s. Laurel had asked her to come over last night, hadn’t she?
Telling himself not to panic too soon, he strode next door to see if her sister had heard from her.
“Leanne?” he called as he knocked. After yesterday’s confrontation, he hoped she wouldn’t ignore him. “It’s Isaac.”
To his relief, she opened the door almost immediately. She’d probably heard his truck when he drove up and was already aware of his presence. “You want me?” she said with false sweetness.
Too concerned about Claire to bother with niceties, he scowled. “Cut the bullshit. Where is she?”
She jerked up her chin. “Where is who?”
Was she joking? “Your sister, of course. Who else?”
“How would I know?” She spread her hands wide. “She’s not talking to me at the moment, remember? She basically flipped off her whole family when she went home with you.”
Was Leanne holding back? What if no one knew where Claire was? “That wasn’t what she intended, so don’t take it that way. Why not cut her some slack?”
“Cut her some slack? What about me?”
“She’s going through a hard time.”
“Maybe we all are.”
He caught hold of the door as she attempted to close it. “Claire was supposed to be at the house, cleaning up. You must’ve seen her.”
“I don’t notice everything that happens, or I’d know who broke in.”
“That was at night. When I brought her here this morning it was daylight, and you seem to notice most of what happens during the day.”
She blew out a sigh. “Fine. You want to hear what I know? As soon as you drove away, she got in her car and left. That’s it.”
Why hadn’t she mentioned that she was going somewhere else? “Where could she have gone?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. Probably better. You’re her new confidant.”
He ignored this latest jab. “Call your parents. Call Laurel. Call anyone you think might’ve seen her. And call my house to see if she went back there for some reason.”
“She’s not at my parents’. I spoke to them only two hours—”
“Just make the calls!” he broke in.
“Why should I do anything to help you?”
“You’re not helping me!”
“Fine!” Her grimace let him know she resented his demands, but she left the door open and rolled into the kitchen.
Although he couldn’t make out what she said—by design or she would’ve used the phone in the living room—he could hear the drone of her voice while he paced on the stoop. He was still fighting his gut reaction, telling himself there had to be some innocuous explanation for Claire’s absence, when Leanne came back, but before she even opened her mouth, the look on her face kicked his stomach into his throat. Genuine concern had replaced her snide expression.
“No one’s seen her,” she said. “And there’s no answer at your place.” Her throat worked as she swallowed. “You don’t think—”
He didn’t wait for her to finish. “Call 9-1-1 and get the sheriff involved,” he said as he jogged to his truck. Maybe, just maybe, she’d returned to his house and fallen asleep. Or she’d gone back to her mother’s studio…?.
He hoped that was it. But in his heart, Isaac didn’t believe the problem was that simple. She was somewhere she wasn’t supposed to be.
“What did you do with her?” Mouth dry, heart pounding, Jeremy nearly wet his pants as his father lifted his head. Confronting him like this was asking for trouble—asking to have his father knock his block off like the men in prison would do if he was ever sent there. Especially because his father had been drinking. He reeked of alcohol, still held a bottle loosely in one hand.
But Jeremy had to ask, had to know. Claire meant everything to him and always had.
“What did you say?” His father’s words came out a disbelieving whisper.
Jeremy swallowed hard. “Claire. She’s m-missing. I—I heard about it at Hank’s. Everyone’s looking for her.”
His father glared at him, forever it seemed—until Jeremy waved a hand in front of his face with a tentative “Hello?”
The life was back in his eyes. “Just stay out of it, you hear?” He took a long swig of the scotch he liked so well. “That’s all you’ve got to do—stay the hell out of it and keep your damn mouth shut.”