Anna J. - Gone In The Night

She aimed her gaze at the oversize glass-and-wood front door, quickly determining that her entire house would probably fit in the tiled atrium. She knew of the Vandermonts in passing; Matthew Vandermont was a big-time lobbyist while his wife was one of the top real estate agents in the region. She also knew they’d both come from very humble beginnings, which explained their dedication to providing the numerous scholarships at various private schools, including their daughter’s.

“Mr. and Mrs. Vandermont are with their daughter and her friends in the sitting room. Just there, off to the right,” Deputy Sutherland said. “My men are still trying to get a feel for the property. It’s more extensive than we expected, but we should be able to get an organized search underway soon.”

“How extensive exactly?” Allie stopped just outside the doorway to get her bearings. The home was elegant but with homey touches, family mementos, framed certificates of achievement, and photographs from vacations, events and gatherings that included not only the Vandermonts but their daughter’s friends, as well. Warm, Allie thought. Welcoming.

“There’s at least four acres of wilderness leading down to Folsom Lake,” the deputy explained. “And I do mean down. No fence line to speak of and the property lines are a bit skewed given recent construction projects. No telling what direction the girl might have gone in. I was about to call in reinforcements and have them bring up the search dogs to help.”

“Hope,” Allie said as diplomatically as possible. “The girl’s name is Hope and you’re right. More officers can’t hurt.” Self-doubt crept in around Allie’s practiced interaction with law enforcement. Had she misjudged Hope’s recent excitement about this long-awaited sleepover with her three best friends? Or had Allie been so distracted during their last session that she’d missed warning signs the little girl planned to run away? While Hope had become increasingly withdrawn in the months since her parents’ contentious separation had turned into a vicious custody battle, her spirits had lifted considerably with the arrival of her uncle Max. Other than her three best friends, talking about her hero firefighter uncle was the one thing guaranteed to bring a smile to her freckled face. “I’m sure your team will find her safe and sound,” Allie replied in an encouraging tone. “Hope is a smart girl. If she got lost, she’ll know enough to stay put until someone finds her.”

“At least we aren’t having to deal with harsh weather,” Deputy Sutherland agreed. “I’ll go make the call. You all right with them?”

Allie peered into the sitting room that glimmered in the same glitz and glamour as the outside façade. “I’ll be fine, thanks. Mr. and Mrs. Vandermont.” Allie set her bag on the floor by the door. The sitting room was decked out in hues of gold and white. The lush carpeting, glass coffee table, enormous French glass doors leading to a backyard with a pool and that large expanse of land reminded Allie of the house Simone, one of her own best friends, had grown up in. Sophisticated, rich. Isolated. But again, where Simone’s house had all been for show with nary a hint of emotional attachment, here she saw a celebration of family. As detached and remote as Simone’s parents had been, the Vandermonts exuded concern and warmth as Allie approached them. “Thank you for calling me. I can only imagine how worried you must be.”

The last words nearly froze in Allie’s throat as she focused on the three girls sitting between the handsome couple. She’d seen photographs of the girls, of course. Mercy, Portia and the Vandermonts’ daughter, Willa. Hope talked about them incessantly during their sessions, something Allie herself could relate to given her own relationships with her two best friends. But seeing the three of them here, together, without Hope...

She had to remind herself to breathe.

“Hello, girls.” Allie didn’t recognize her own voice as she rounded the table to crouch in front of them. Willa, all thick blond hair and debutante blue eyes, clung to her mother in a way that made Allie question who was comforting whom. Mercy, a strawberry blonde, conveyed a familiar edgy defiance that Allie could see masked a good amount of fear. And then there was Portia. Allie blinked as she took in the girl’s slight frame, pale complexion and a pixie cap of dark, dark hair. Allie touched the edge of her own cropped cut. Unease bubbled inside her. “I’m Dr. Hollister, but you can call me Allie. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“We know who you are,” Mercy told her as Mr. Vandermont tightened his hold on a trembling Portia. “Hope talks about you a lot. She likes you.”

“I like her, too.” Allie couldn’t shake her apprehension. Having the three of them look at her as if she held all the answers had her relying on her years of education and training as a psychologist. That was hard enough. But, together, they also reminded her of one of the worst days of her life.

Allie took a slow, deep breath and pushed the past where it belonged: out of reach.

Keeping everyone involved calm and focused until Hope was found was the order of the day. That, and finding Hope, was all that mattered.

“The girls are the ones who suggested we call you,” Mrs. Vandermont said, her round, kind face easing Allie’s mind. With blond hair, a clear genetic connection to her daughter, she was dressed in gray yoga pants and a T-shirt, pedicured red toes stark against the white of the carpet. It was evident by Mrs. Vandermont’s expression that she was focused on the girls—all the girls. “Thank you for driving all the way up here. I’m sure we’re overreacting and that this is just a matter of Hope getting lost—”

“Please don’t give it another thought, Mrs. Vandermont.” Allie held out her hands to Mercy, who, as far as Allie could tell, was trying her best not to rely on the support her friend Willa was attempting to provide. She squeezed Mercy’s hands tight in a silent gesture of understanding. “I’d always rather have someone overreact than assume. Deputy Sutherland is going to be bringing some additional help to search for Hope.”

“I should make some coffee, then.” Mrs. Vandermont squeezed her daughter’s shoulders before she pushed herself to her feet. “That would be all right, wouldn’t it?”

“More than all right,” Allie said. “Girls, would it be okay if I talked to you about what’s happened in the last day or so? Just in case there’s something the police officers need to know.”

“Dad?” Willa leaned over to look at her father. “You can go help Mom. We’ll be okay.”

Mr. Vandermont glanced at his daughter with more appraisal than disapproval. “Are you sure? Mercy? Portia? You, too?”

“We’re sure.” Mercy let go of Allie’s hand to wrap a solid arm around Portia’s frail shoulders. Portia twisted her hands together and gave a weak nod.

“I won’t ask them any questions,” Allie explained at the hesitant expression on his face. As a certified children’s therapist trained to treat kids who had been or were going through traumatic experiences, she wasn’t allowed to pose any. But she could give them an opening to talk. In Allie’s experience, listening was the most important thing she could do. “I promise, if we run into any issues, I’ll come and get you.”

“All right.” Mr. Vandermont kept his blue eyes pinned on the three girls as he raked restless hands through his hair and followed his wife out of the room.

Allie stood up and walked the few steps to the padded straight-back chair at the end of the coffee table. She needed some distance; she needed to see how they were with one another, on the off chance something was going on here other than a friend who had wandered off. “Hope has been telling me about this sleepover of yours for a while,” Allie told them. “She was very excited about it. Were you all, as well?”