Chapter Twenty-Seven

CHELSEY STEPS FROM THE BLACKS'house and paces in the backyard, grass folding under her shoes, panic swelling in her chest. She fishes her phone from her pocket and dials.

"Detective Calhoun," Dr. Fischer answers after the first ring.

"Cerise, Ellie is missing," Chelsey says, voice somber.

"No," Dr. Fischer exclaims. "How? How… how are her parents?"

Chelsey looks at the house. "Not good." She sees Kat through the window, body rigid, arms crossed as if she is holding herself together. Chelsey swings around to face the street.

Dr. Fischer sighs. "I understand why."

Chelsey checks her watch. It is 10:15 a.m. now. She has started a new timeline. Ellie has been gone two hours and thirty minutes, give or take a few. She had with her a backpack and all the ingredients for a pipe bomb. Chelsey can get a warrant for the phone data, but that takes hours. And to do that means acknowledging Ellie is a threat to herself, to others. Chelsey needs to know why first.

She has a theory.

In her mind's eye, Chelsey sees the birch tree postcards. The thick felt-tipped numbers on the back. Evidence that Ellie was being watched after she came home. With that revelation, more puzzle pieces begin to fit together. Ellie had been acting cautious and vigilant—because she's had to be cautious and vigilant. She knew someone was keeping tabs on her. No wonder she hadn't wanted to talk to Chelsey to aid the investigation.

Other details slide into place. Chelsey thought Ellie had escaped or been left for dead. But there wasn't any physical evidence to support that theory. No fresh bruises. Neat nails. What if Ellie hadn't fought her way to freedom? What if she'd been… returned? It is ridiculous. Chelsey is a fool to even entertain the notion. But the idea sparks inside her, burning through her mind like wildfire.

"I'm hoping you can give me some more information. What you two talked about," Chelsey says to Dr. Fischer. Something in her chest tightens—a twisted knot of desperation and fear. "I believe Ellie's life is in danger. She was being followed by someone, and they could be tracking her now." And… and once Chelsey goes to Sergeant Abbott with this, Pandora's box will open. Any mention of a pipe bomb and the anti-terrorist unit will be involved. An all-points bulletin will be broadcast. Cops in every adjacent county will be searching for Ellie. Ready to rain down hellfire. "No detail is too small."

It is quiet on the line for a moment. A heavy silence. "Ellie is suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. Our conversations were very introductory. We only had a couple of sessions. She said she felt like she was someone else, which is common with sexual assault victims," Dr. Fischer emphasizes. "We did some art therapy during our last session. And Ellie completed two drawings. I showed you those." Dr. Fischer stops. "Did I tell you she called the girls her sisters?"

It takes an enormous effort for Chelsey to stay upright. She slides back to yesterday. Sounds like you'd do anything for your sister, Ellie had said. I would. I would have done anything for her, Chelsey had replied. I understand, Ellie said, and her whole heart had been in that statement.

Anything? Like give up her life? Is Ellie trying to save someone? Willa, maybe. I kept her safe, Ellie had said. Is Ellie still trying to keep Willa safe?

"Her sisters. You sure?"

"Yes," Dr. Fischer says firmly.

Chelsey thanks Dr. Fischer and hangs up. Ellie was kept with other girls. She called them her sisters… Chelsey's mind races. Inside, the Blacks are waiting, and they will have to continue waiting. Tick, tick, tick. Chelsey feels the seconds dwindling. She flexes her hands, steadying herself. She reenters the house and tells Jimmy and Kat she will be back. That she has to go to the station. She has to report Ellie now. Put out an APB on Kat's car. The driver is armed. But dangerous? Chelsey isn't sure. It will kill Chelsey to place Ellie in the hands of others. Her only hope now is to find the girl first.

Please, Ellie, she thinks. Don't do something we'll all regret.