Lisa Gardner - Gone

“Dougie’s an angry little boy. I wish I could tell you why. I wish I could tell you how to fix him. All I know for sure is that Dougie is very, very mad. At the world, at the foster system, and even at me. And right now, according to the experts, he would rather be angry than be loved.”

“I met him this afternoon,” Kimberly said.

Peggy Ann arched a brow. “Well, at least you look like you’re in one piece.”

“He was playing with a beetle, out in the rain, enjoying the mud. I thought I could talk to him about Rainie Conner. The minute I mentioned her name, however, he became furious.”

“Really? Last I’d heard, she was one of the only people he tolerated.”

Kimberly tilted her head to the side. “You don’t know?”

“What?”

“Rainie has been kidnapped.”

“Oh no.”

“We’re concerned that Dougie may know something about it.”

“A kidnapping ? He’s only seven. I mean, if he’d burned down her house, I’d understand. But kidnapping?”

“According to Laura Carpenter, he knew Rainie was missing before anyone told him.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Which is why I went to see him.”

“And did he give you an explanation?”

“No. But I got the impression… The way he said some things didn’t sound like a seven-year-old boy talking. It sounded like a boy repeating something an adult had told him.”

Peggy Ann’s turn to frown. “You think maybe he knows the person who kidnapped Rainie?”

“I’m not sure yet. But I think he does know something. Can you think of other close friends he might have? Anyone in which he would confide?”

“I don’t get involved in the day-to-day. You’d have to ask Laura-”

“Nothing personal, but I don’t think Laura Carpenter is that close to Dougie.”

“Maybe Stanley?”

“I haven’t met him yet.” Kimberly was silent for a moment. “What about the abuse charges Dougie made?”

Peggy Ann sighed. “Off the record?”

“Off the record.”

“If I thought Dougie was in any real danger, I’d pull him out of that house in a heartbeat. I have noplace to take him, of course, but I’d figure something out. I’ve followed up with both Stanley and Laura Carpenter; I can’t find anyone who has an unkind word to say about them, and I did find about half a dozen boys from the high school football team who swore Mr. Carpenter helped them turn their lives around. And I’ve visited Dougie multiple times; I’ve never seen any sign of bruising on him, nothing to suggest violence. Given his troubled past…”

“You think he’s lying.”

“I think Stanley Carpenter’s ‘tough love’ approach feels like war to Dougie. But it may also be the only hope Dougie has left.”

“Do you know if Rainie had made any conclusions?”

“I haven’t seen any report.”

“Rumors?”

Peggy Ann frowned, shook her head. “I haven’t heard any rumors, either. Last I knew, she was still investigating.”

Kimberly nodded, sat back. Quincy had hinted that Rainie was beginning to think Dougie’s case had merit. When she’d talked to Laura Carpenter, however, she didn’t seem to know anything on the subject, and neither did Peggy Ann. The real question in Kimberly’s mind wasn’t what Rainie had concluded, but what others thought she had concluded. By all appearances, however, Rainie had played things close to her chest.

Kimberly sighed now, frowning, trying to think of what to pursue next. “Was Dougie in school?”

“First grade.”

“Can you give me the name of his teacher? Maybe he or she will know something.”

Peggy Ann got up and moved toward the table, which Kimberly could see also doubled as a desk. “Mrs. Karen Gibbons is her name. I’m sure she won’t mind you giving her a call. For the record, however, Dougie isn’t exactly the teacher’s pet.”

“That’s what I figured. What about a psychologist? Now that he’s at the Carpenters’, is he going to appointments?”

“Not that I know of, but again, Laura could tell you more.”

Kimberly had talked to Laura briefly after her run-in with Dougie. From what she could tell, Laura didn’t know anything. Really, honestly, didn’t know anything, which Kimberly had thought was an interesting trait in a foster mom. It was as if Stanley had wanted to take in a foster child and Stanley had designed a program for a foster child and Stanley now had a foster child. Laura was simply along for the ride.

Kimberly hadn’t seen any outward signs of bruising, but in her personal opinion, Laura fit the profile of an abused wife. She wondered if Rainie had thought the same.

Peggy Ann finished copying a name and phone number down on a sheet of notebook paper. She handed it over to Kimberly.

“Is it still raining outside?” Peggy Ann asked.

“Drizzling, yeah.”

“Did you look? Maybe he took a coat with him, or umbrella, hat and gloves.” The woman’s tone was wistful. She was worrying about Dougie again, and Kimberly understood that Peggy Ann would not be sleeping tonight.

“He was last seen in sweatshirt and jeans,” she said quietly. “We have the sheriff’s office out searching for him now.”

“I see,” Peggy Ann said, but still she frowned. “Wait a minute. If the sheriff’s office is looking for him… Didn’t you say you were FBI?”

“We don’t really think he’s lost,” Kimberly said as kindly as she could. “We believe he may have been kidnapped.”

Peggy Ann stuffed her hand into her mouth. “Oh no.”

Kimberly rose out of the chair. “If there’s anyone else you can think of for me to speak with…”

“I will let you know immediately.”

“And if for some reason you should hear from Dougie-”

“I will let you know immediately.”

Kimberly was at the door. Peggy Ann remained standing in the middle of the room. She looked forlorn now, shoulders slumped in her oversized sweatshirt, a few strands of dark hair tangled around her pale face.

“Peggy Ann, if we do make contact with Dougie,” Kimberly asked abruptly, “can you think of anything we can say to him, anything or anyone that might get his attention? Does he have a favorite toy or an invisible friend? Maybe a memento from his mother?”

Peggy Ann gave her a sad smile. “What do you think he used to start the fire in the Donaldsons’ garage? He gathered together all his personal possessions-his clothes, his toys, his pictures of his mom-and he set them aflame. Every last item. There’s not even a portrait of his own mother left.”

Kimberly honestly didn’t know what to say.

Peggy Ann smiled forlornly. “I hope for his own sake Dougie has a matchbook tonight.”

“Why?”

“Have you checked the thermostat? It’s dropping into the low forties. And if he’s already cold and wet…”

The rest didn’t need to be said. “We’re doing everything we can,” Kimberly reiterated.

Peggy Ann wasn’t fooled. “And yet when it comes to Dougie Jones, all that we can do is never nearly enough.”

Tuesday, 9:01 p.m. PST

KINCAID KICKED OFF THE TASK force debriefing by having Shelly Atkins go first. It was a subtle but effective dig at the Bakersville Sheriff’s Department, as Shelly had already admitted she had nothing to report.

“We’ll go round the table,” Kincaid announced at promptly nine p.m. “Catch everyone up on where we’re at with our individual efforts. Then we’ll discuss protocol for tomorrow’s exchange. Shelly, what do you have?”

Shelly, sitting across the table from Kincaid, blinked in surprise. She stared at Detective Spector, sitting to Kincaid’s right, then at the hostage negotiator, Candi Rodriguez, sitting on Kincaid’s left. Finally, she sighed, knowing an ambush when she saw one, and got on with it.