Without a Trace Read online

  “Nova and I don’t have a kid together.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  5 years earlier

  The Mother

  NOVA

  My eyes absorbed the dingy, gunmetal gray walls. The ceiling looked like Styrofoam, like that stuff they use in elementary school classrooms. I stared until my eyes crossed and my vision grew blurry, trying to ignore the fact that my legs were spread apart, and my feet were in stirrups.

  “You’ll feel a slight bit of pressure, and this might be cold,” Rachel warned, inserting the ultrasound camera. I pinched my eyes shut, feeling violated even though this sort of thing was supposed to be standard.

  “Okay, I can see the baby now. Let me snap some pictures, and I’ll be able to tell you if it’s a boy or a girl.”

  “I d-don’t w-want to know this time.” As a child, I’d developed a horrible stutter. But in my teens, I had been lucky enough to work with a speech therapist at my local high school. The embarrassing stutter was all but gone by the time I met Martin. Then, it had started up again.

  Rachel, a local midwife, was crouched on a stool between my legs. The camera probe didn’t hurt, but it reminded me of Matthew, my little boy.

  I’d spent the first twenty weeks of my pregnancy counting down the days until I could find out the baby’s sex. And when I learned it was a boy, I was ecstatic.

  I loved the baby in my belly right from the start. They say you can’t feel the baby move until you’re at least sixteen weeks along in your pregnancy, but I swear I started feeling Matthew kick around week ten. He was an energetic baby, always flipping, waking me up at night. He gave me indigestion. It was weird, but we had this connection only shared by us…Martin couldn’t touch it or take it away, even if he tried.

  Then Matthew died when I was twenty-two weeks along, less than a week after learning his sex. And lying here now, in this awful, stuffy room, I felt like I was betraying Matthew, as well as Martin.

  “It’s a girl, Nova. A girl!” Rachel squealed. She pointed at the ultrasound machine next to her bed. We were in her cramped apartment, which should have felt less clinical and safe…but it didn’t.

  For the next few minutes, she pointed out the baby’s head, heart, and hands. But I didn’t hear her, not really. All I could think about was Matthew, my sweet little Matthew. Why couldn’t it be him in my belly?

  Now I couldn’t even pretend it was him, reincarnated, because the baby was a girl. I hadn’t even realized I’d wanted this baby to be the new-Matthew in my belly until Rachel gave me this news…

  Martin will be thrilled to find out it’s a girl.

  My stomach churned, not from the baby but from the realization that she would have it so much harder in life because of her sex.

  Martin would have mistreated his son. But a girl?

  He’s really going to fuck her up…

  For the first time since finding out I was pregnant again, I placed a hand on my stomach and really considered the future with this new baby.

  Will this one last, or will I lose it again? And if she does make it out of the womb, will she be better off even though her father is a monster?

  “Please d-don’t tell anyone I was here,” I said, using a towel to wipe up some of the watery gel between my thighs from the probe.

  Rachel pushed the machine back and leaned on the edge of the bed. She opened her mouth, then closed it. Finally, she said, softly, “Does he really believe the last ultrasound caused the miscarriage? I could talk to him, explain…”

  “N-no. Please, Rachel. He knows I came to see you to get measured, b-but I promised no ultrasound.”

  “I understand.” She smiled, encouragingly. “Congratulations on your little girl. I’m excited to deliver this baby.”

  I smiled and nodded, but I couldn’t look her in the eye. If this baby made it to term, she wouldn’t be delivering it. My little girl would have to come into this world all on her own, with only me as her guide.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The Neighbor

  CLARA

  “A warrant? That really necessary?” My breath became lodged in my throat and my stomach did a few somersaults.

  A warrant.

  “Not as long as you’re okay with it. I promise we’ll try not to disturb your property. We need permission for the cadaver dogs to search,” Sergeant DelGrande explained.

  Cadaver dogs.

  “You really think someone had enough time to kill my tenant and bury the body, too? That seems a little far-fetched, you know?” We were standing on my front porch now, my mind still back at the barn. Specifically, it was stuck in the hidey hole with my husband’s rotting corpse inside. Cadaver dogs.

  No way could I let them search my side of the property, but if I refused, then they’d just get that warrant.

  “We didn’t find anything to indicate that a body was buried on the property, but there was a small hole, a couple feet deep near an elm tree in the woods behind the cabin. We’re willing to give the dogs a try even if they can’t produce results. We’re trying to find out what happened here, Clara. A little girl’s life could be at stake.”

  “I don’t understand. How’s it work?” I asked, my voice coming out shakier than I wanted it to.

  “The dogs are attracted to chemical compounds, particularly putrescine and cadaverine. When someone dies, they release chemicals in the air…well, you don’t need to know all that. But, my point is, the dogs pick up on the smell of death. Even if there’s not a body around, they’ll react if a death occurred in a certain place and we need to know if it did. The dogs can find the tiniest things, small bones or even bits of tissue…and we need something to go on.” Sam cleared his throat and went on, “Most likely, if the dogs do react, it will be inside the rental house. That’s where the teeth were found. That’s where the struggle most likely occurred. But, since you’re the owner of this land and the cabin on it, I must have your permission,” he further explained.

  “So, you won’t disturb my side of the land, the farm or my house, that right?”

  “Not unless the dogs pick up on something, and surely, they won’t pick up on anything here.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, I could tell he wanted to reel them back in. He covered his mouth with his hand. “I’m sorry, Clara. I’m such a moron sometimes. I didn’t even think about…about…”

  “Annie. My daughter’s name was Annie,” I said, my mouth twisted up with pain. I don’t know what it is with people and death—it’s like they’re afraid to say her name, or to bring her up to me. But that part hurts even more. She was my daughter and it kills me that I don’t get to talk about her.

  “Annie, yes. And she’s buried on the property, over by the marker you were sitting at earlier, correct?”

  I nodded stiffly. “Annie died near the barn. Right by it. Her grave’s only a few yards away from there. I will let the dogs come if it will help that family, but I don’t want them anywhere near Annie’s grave or the barn. Can you make sure of that, Sam? It’s where she died…it’s her final resting place…I just don’t want it disturbed, is all.”

  “I’ll talk to the dogs’ handler and make sure he knows that those areas are off limits. It’s been so long since Annie’s death, that I doubt they’d be able to pick up on the scent of…”

  “Her corpse,” I finished for him, with a bitter trace in my voice.

  Sam squeezed his lips together. “Yes. I think they are usually better at finding fresh bodies. So, you’re okay with this then?”

  Suddenly, he reached out and squeezed my hand. The gesture felt odd, and strangely, painful. I fought the urge to yank my hand away from him.

  “They’ll be here in about an hour.” Sam tipped his hat in an old-fashioned gesture, then turned to go.

  “Can I ask you something else? Why aren’t y’all going after the husband? It’s usually the husband, you know?”

  “Oh, we are. A few of my officers are in Granton right now searching the husband’s place. If he’s gui
lty we’ll find out soon enough, but we need to process this scene properly, too.”

  I nodded, a rush of relief rolling through me. As I watched his police car back out and disappear down the steep mountain road, an odd sense of calm washed over my body.

  If they find Andy’s body, then so be it. There’s nothing I can do at this point. I might go to prison for killing him, but I feel like I’m living in prison already.

  And if going to jail was the price I had to pay, then I could live with that. Because what happened to Annie couldn’t be undone. It was too late to save my daughter. The least I could do was help Lily Nesbitt.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The Cop

  ELLIE

  In grade school, I had a friend named Priscilla Todd. We became instant mates after she defended me from a fourth grader who said my belly was “pokey” and suggested to the entire lunchroom that I was pregnant with Mr. Hammond’s love child. I was only in third grade at the time. The whole thing was ridiculous, I know that now, but at the time, I was mortified. Not because of Mr. Hammond, but because of the curl of baby fat around my midsection. I’d never really paid attention to it before. But Priscilla Todd came to my rescue. She followed that bully all the way to her table, then right before she sat down, knocked her lunch from her hands by smacking the bottom of the tray. Mashed potatoes and lime green Jell-O exploded in her face, and the lunch room erupted with laughter. The only one still thinking about my pokey stomach was me. After that, Priscilla and I became best friends. I trusted her with my secrets and fell in love with our friendship. It wasn’t until fifth grade that she told me about the cancer. We were sleeping over at my house and it was nearly three o’clock in the morning when she told me. My best friend was dying. At first, I thought it was a joke. But then her face crumpled, and we spent the entire night crying in each other’s arms. Over the next few years, we skipped classes together, got suspended together, and spent every waking moment side by side. We knew each other. Like, really knew each other, in that bone-deep way only best friends can. What did it matter if I got a few Fs? After all, my friend would be dead soon. I just wanted to be by her side, at all costs. It wasn’t until we got into a fight over a boy in eighth grade that she told me the truth. The whole cancer thing had been a lie. A ploy to garner attention from her classmates, and me. I tried to forgive her but discovered I could not. Because it wasn’t the lie that bothered me, it was how she told it. I couldn’t forget the look of pure agony on her face as she confessed she was dying in fifth grade. She carried on with that lie for years and years, and that scared the hell out of me. That I could know someone so well and also, not know them at all.

  So, as I stood there, on the threshold of Martin Nesbitt’s home, I didn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth. As soon as he realized we were being serious, the color drained from his face.

  He looked and sounded sincere. But so had Priscilla when she’d spun her lie…

  “Why would she say we had a daughter when we don’t? I’m starting to get really worried now. Maybe she’s had some sort of schizophrenic episode…”

  “Does your wife have a history of schizophrenia, Mr. Nesbitt?” Studying his face, I kept trying to gauge how sincere he was.

  Martin swayed over to a sleek, funky-shaped chair and fell back in it. “No, she doesn’t. Well, she was pregnant several years ago. We lost the baby.”

  Roland raised one eyebrow at me.

  “How exactly did she lose the baby?” I pressed.

  Martin shrugged. “I wish I knew. Just one of those freak things, I guess. Her body rejected the baby. I was kind of relieved. I mean, at first, I was excited about the baby, but then it almost seemed like fate…I’m a realtor and at the time, Nova was talking about going back to school to get a degree. She was depressed at first, for a few months, but then we moved on. We talked about trying again in the future, but it never happened. Want the truth? After that, she became possessive. Controlling. She definitely wasn’t the sweet woman I married. Maybe losing the baby made her lose her mind…”

  Mike looked over at me and raised his eyebrows, as though he were wondering the exact same thing. I had to admit, this picture Martin was painting of Nova was completely different to the woman I’d met, and their stories weren’t jiving at all. Sure, Nova had seemed nervous and frightened. But not delusional…

  “Or maybe she just wanted to get back at me.” Martin narrowed his eyes and smirked. For a moment, I thought I saw his cool façade slipping…

  “Get back at you for what exactly, Mr. Nesbitt?” I pushed.

  “For wanting out of our marriage. She knew I wanted to end things,” he said, shrugging.

  “If so, that still doesn’t explain the blood and teeth we found in her cabin,” I said. But after I said it, I remembered what Chad said, about the blood being non-human. Could Nova have staged some sort of scene to get back at her ex…? That seemed far-fetched…but with her criminal record and the phony blood and her husband’s reports…it was hard not to wonder.

  “You said blood and teeth?” Martin stood up from his chair, running his fingers through his hair as he paced around in circles.

  “Is my wife dead?” He stopped moving. His chin trembled, and he looked about as sincere as it gets.

  But still, there are always Priscillas in this world, the chip on my shoulder whispered.

  “We don’t know, Martin. That’s why we’re here. We’re trying to find your wife and daughter.” Roland coughed when he got to the last part.

  “But I don’t know where she is! And like I said, I don’t have a daughter with anyone!”

  “Okay, Mr. Nesbitt, calm down. Right now, what I’m going to have you do is take a seat right there.” I pointed at the same chair he’d collapsed in earlier. The living room was swanky and neat, like your quintessential bachelor pad. My eyes traveled around the room. Again, like when I’d searched the cabin, I noticed how kid-free it seemed. My eyes were drawn to a small scattering of photos on the wall. Martin and Nova making a toast at their wedding. Martin and Nova perched on the back of a boat. No pictures of children.

  Martin sat down, but he perched on the edge of the seat, looking nervous.

  “This shouldn’t take too long,” Mike assured him, and I shot him a warning look.

  “Martin, there are a pair of shimmery orange sneakers in your backseat. The same description Nova gave us when she reported the child was missing. How do you suppose those got there if you don’t have a daughter?” I asked him.

  I was standing behind him as I asked the question, and he whipped around in a flash. “What the hell are you talking about?” Thick eyebrows bunched together, and I noticed him gripping the arms of the chair. His knuckles went pearly white, thick blue veins bulging out of his forearms. There was a twinge of anger in his big blue eyes.

  “When your wife reported your daughter missing, she gave us a description of the shoes Lily was wearing.”

  “Lily?”

  “Your daughter,” I said, through clenched teeth.

  “Supposed daughter,” Mike corrected, and I gave him an ugly stare.

  “A pair of shoes that fit that description are lying on the back floorboard of your truck. Who do they belong to?” I asked.

  “You must be talking about someone else’s truck. There aren’t any shoes in mine. Are you sure…?”

  “Is this your truck?” Taking out my cell phone, I punched a few buttons and pulled up my camera roll. I’d taken nearly a dozen pics of Martin’s truck and I’d tried to take as good of a shot as I could get of the shoes, despite the heavily tinted windows. I handed him the phone, showing him a side shot of the exterior on his truck. He stared at it for a few seconds, before nodding.

  “That’s definitely mine. But I don’t know anything about those shoes, officer.”

  “What about a toy rabbit? Nova found a stuffed rabbit in her daughter’s bed. Did you put it there?”

  Martin shifted around in his seat, uncomfortably. “Listen, N
ova doesn’t have a daughter and neither do I. And I didn’t even know where she was until now. I don’t know anything about a stupid little bunny.”

  I froze, remembering what Nova said he called his daughter. Little Bunny.

  Roland was already moving around, inspecting the kitchen, but I couldn’t take my eyes off Martin Nesbitt. “I never told you the rabbit was little. Do you like little bunnies, Martin?”

  Those wild eyebrows shot up again and I could see his jaw flexing through his cheeks.

  “Jesus. I just assumed since you said it was a ‘toy rabbit’ that it must be small. Sorry, okay? I don’t know anything about a rabbit. And the shoes, Nova must have put them there. Or I guess they could belong to my little niece, Kailey, but she hasn’t ridden in my truck in a long time.” He held his hands up, shaking his head. “Do I need to call a lawyer? It seems like your minds are already made up here, and I’m starting to feel uncomfortable.”

  “That’s your right to seek counsel, sir,” Roland called from the kitchen. He pointed his finger at Martin, then placed his other finger to his lips and looked at me. He was right. No reason to set off our suspect just yet. If he was guilty, we would find evidence to support it.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Nesbitt. If it seems like I’m being hostile, it’s only because I want to find your wife. And frankly, if I was confused before I got here, I’m really baffled now. You see, I’m new at this. And the last thing I want is a dead kid on my hands. Do you understand my predicament?” I blinked slowly and forced myself to smile with all my teeth. If I had to play nice to keep the lawyers at bay, I would do it. Let him think I’m stupid, if that’s what it takes, I decided.

  Martin gave me a sly smile. His eyes flickered down to my breasts then back up to my face. “I get it. I don’t have a daughter. However, I would like to find Nova, so that I can file for divorce. She’s obviously lost her mind.” A chill ran up my spine at the slight change in the tone of his voice.