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  “But is he smart enough?” Matt asked. “You interviewed him back then, so you must know him a little, right?”

  I growled loudly into the phone. “Stop it, will you, Matt?”

  “Stop what?”

  “I’m trying to find a kid here, and I haven’t slept much. I’m not in the mood for all of this.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to criticize your work or to bother you,” he said. “I was just wondering.”

  I exhaled and closed my eyes briefly. “I know. You mean well. I’m just under a lot of pressure here. Listen, I’ll call you later, okay?”

  I hung up, feeling a headache growing. I stared at the phone, then thought about what Matt had said. Why had I gotten so mad when he said it? Why had I reacted the way I did?

  There was only one explanation, and it wasn’t one I liked. Yet the traitorous doubt in my mind kept popping up and nagging me like it had done all morning. I didn’t want to admit that I didn’t fully think that Schultz had the kid. I tried to convince myself he did, but I didn’t believe it.

  Chapter 25

  “I know we’ve asked you this over and over again,” I said and looked into Mary’s exhausted eyes. I had asked her to answer a few questions before she and Peter went back out to search for Cole in the nearby areas.

  “But I’m asking you to try once again. Can you think of anyone who might want to harm you?”

  “But I thought you knew who he was?” Mary asked, her lower lip quivering slightly. “I thought you were looking for that guy…what was he…the lifeguard from back then? He had the trunks? You said so yourself last night that you believed he had taken Cole and that you were looking for him?”

  “We are,” I said. “That hasn’t changed. All the law enforcement out there is searching for him. I just don’t want to waste any time in case it isn’t him who has taken Cole—in case there is someone else, someone we haven’t thought about. It smells a little like revenge. One time could be a coincidence, you being in the wrong place at the wrong time, but twice? It’s beginning to seem like an act of deliberately wanting to hurt you and your husband. You’ve become a target somehow. I need to understand why.”

  “I…I don’t know,” Mary said. “As I’ve said before, I don’t know why anyone would want…”

  “Could Emmeret Schultz have a revenge motive?” I asked. “Do you know him from somewhere?”

  I showed her his photo from his driver’s license that we had pulled from the DMV. It was the same photo we had sent out to all law enforcement agencies in the entire state of Florida. Even the coast guard had been alerted, despite the fact that we were pretty far from the coast. He could have tried to escape by boat, trying to go to the Bahamas. And since he had last drowned the twins in a lake, we knew he might want to take Cole to some type of water. I knew they were getting the marine patrols ready to put out boats and divers in all of the lakes and rivers nearby, and the Coast Guard had told us they’d be patrolling along the Gulf Coast by Tampa and the East Coast by my home town, Cocoa Beach, up to Daytona and down as far south as Ft. Pierce. There would be choppers patrolling up and down any nearby coastal areas, and the police on land would turn each and every stone. The pay toll booths on the highways were instructed to keep an eye out for the vehicle and anyone looking like Schultz or Cole. Even gas station owners had been emailed the photos and told to contact us if they spotted them. All local TV stations were given the photos as well this morning and would be airing them all day if necessary.

  I was making sure the guy couldn’t lift an eyebrow without me knowing about it.

  “I remember him from the pool ten years ago,” she said, looking at the photo. “I remember him being there in the morning. I also remember him talking to the twins on several occasions while they swam—mostly to tell them to be careful by the edge of the pool or telling them to stop running. He did talk to Maggie one day for a longer period of time. I don’t know what they talked about, but back then, I figured it was okay since he was, after all, a lifeguard.”

  “Could he have been the one who told her he was a secret spy?” I asked.

  Mary shrugged, then looked briefly at Peter like she expected him to confirm what she was saying, but he stared into his coffee cup between his hands, his fingers tapping nervously on the sides.

  “Honestly, I don’t know. She just said she had met a secret spy; that was all. She never said who told her this, and we never asked since we just thought it was her imagination.”

  “It could have been him,” I said. I was grasping for anything pointing toward Schultz. I knew this to be true and did it anyway because I so desperately wanted him to have Cole. But the fact was, something was missing.

  A motive.

  Mary nodded. “Yes.”

  She stared at his picture, touching it with her finger. A hint of a frown grew between her eyes.

  “Come to think of it…” she trailed off, then pulled the picture closer.

  I looked at her intently, waiting for her to finish the thought.

  “Huh.”

  “What is it, Mary? Do you remember something?”

  “Those eyes,” she said and tapped at Schultz’s eyes in the picture. She lifted her gaze and looked at me. “I do think I have seen them somewhere before.”

  I moved to the edge of my chair. “Where, Mary?”

  She bit the inside of her cheek while looking down at his picture. “A boy. I think I know him from when I was a child. Oh, God, I think he might…I think he tried to…”

  “What, Mary, what?”

  “I haven’t thought about this for years, but when I was about thirteen years old, a guy who was a couple of grades above me tried to grope me. I was riding home from school on my bike, and he came from out of nowhere, then pushed me into a bush where he tried to…fondle me. I screamed, and an adult who was passing by helped me out and reported the boy. He was a senior, so he must have been eighteen by then. I told the police what had happened, and I never saw him again, and I tried to forget about it. I can’t believe I didn’t remember it was him last time. Oh, dear Lord, Eva Rae, do you think he’s trying to get revenge for what happened back then?”

  “He probably got into a lot of trouble for it,” I said. “It probably went on his record too, and next thing, he became a registered sex offender. Can’t have made his life easy.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying I was missing a motive for this guy to target you and Peter the way he did, and now you have provided just that. He probably believes you ruined his life that day, and when he saw you ten years ago with your happy family at the same resort where he worked, he might have decided to make sure to ruin your life too. He could be determined not to let you have any happiness, so that’s why he took Cole as well. It could be the explanation. Thank you, Mary, you did very well. I wasn’t sure it was Schultz till now. I couldn’t make it fit properly with the cruelty of the action of doing this to you twice, but now, I can.”

  She nodded as Peter sprang to his feet. “I can’t stand it anymore. Can we please just go look for our child? He could, after all, still be out there somewhere, not knowing how to get back to us.”

  I nodded, recognizing the need actually to do something when your child is missing. It was only natural, even though it was believed he was kidnapped and had not just wandered off.

  “Of course,” I said. “I’m done for now and will make sure this is put in the records. You did well, Mary.”

  I reached out and squeezed her hand gently. Their friends, James and Brittney Cork, got up to leave with them when the door to the room sprang open and Brad came inside, holding his phone in his hand. He looked at Mary and Peter, then raised his hand to stop them.

  “I’m afraid I can’t let you leave.”

  Chapter 26

  “What’s going on, Brad?” I asked.

  “Let’s go sit down; shall we?” he said, directed at Mary and Peter. “We need to have a talk.”

  “I want to
go look for my son,” Peter said, his voice growing shrill with anger. He puffed himself up. “We have waited for daylight for hours.”

  Brad exhaled. “I understand, Mr. Marshall. But we need to talk about this. Could you please have a seat?”

  There was a short power exchange between the two men that filled the room, but the depth and rigor of Brad’s voice made Peter Marshall back down. He growled, dissatisfied, then walked back to the couches. His wife followed him and sat next to him.

  “W-what is this about? Eva Rae?” she asked.

  I shrugged. “I haven’t been informed. Let’s just hear what Brad has to say.”

  “Yes, please, enlighten us. What can possibly be so important that my wife and I can’t go search for our son?” Peter asked.

  “I understand your frustration,” Brad said and sat down with his laptop. He tapped a few times, then turned the computer so they could see the screen.

  “This was published this morning in USA Today.”

  He handed me his phone, so I could read through the article. It was written by Fischer, of course. He had been a nuisance back then ten years ago as well, constantly writing stories about the Marshalls, making them look guilty in their own children’s disappearance. Back then, I had found him as repulsive as I did now. I couldn’t imagine how terrible it had to be for the Marshalls—not only to lose your children but then being accused of having killed them on top of it. Of course, they were suspects; all relatives and people close to the children were in the beginning, but nothing in our investigation pointed at them. And it didn’t now either. Of course, I knew that it would come, that some of the papers would write these stories. It was the easiest conclusion right now since this had happened for the second time. It had to have to do with the parents, right?

  It was just too easy for my taste and a little too sensational.

  I skimmed through the entire article, then looked up at Mary, who sat with a hand covering her mouth, reading through it all as well. I handed Brad back his phone.

  “Why didn’t you tell us, Mary?” I asked. “We should have known this.”

  She looked up. Her gaze held mine for a few seconds. I tried to remain calm. I wasn’t sure she could bear being yelled at right now, even though I was angry at her for not being straight with us. I had to tread carefully so she wouldn’t break down completely. She was a wreck right now, hanging on by a thin thread. I couldn’t be the one to push her over the edge.

  “Why didn’t you tell us you’d been under investigation for suffering from Munchausen by Proxy?” I continued. “From a disease that makes you harm your own children? You didn’t think that was important to tell us with what we’re trying to deal with here?”

  She shrank in her seat, her shoulders slumping. She looked so fragile; I felt like she could have snapped just by me looking at her too harshly. Her eyes hit the table in front of her, and she shook her head.

  “I…I didn’t think it was important,” she said. “Since it wasn’t true.”

  A frown grew between my eyes. “What do you mean it wasn’t true?”

  “It was something the doctor made up,” Peter broke in, “because he was angry with Mary. She ran to him constantly because she was worried about Cole. It’s only natural when you have lost two children that you’d be worried about the third one, the only one left. Mary was terrified because of having lost Maggie and Blake. Every little cough or anything out of the ordinary that Cole showed signs of would make her take him to the doctor. Eventually, he got tired of her and said he believed she was being hysterical. He accused her of hurting Cole on purpose because she came running with every bruise the boy got…because she needed the attention, he said. Cole suffered a great deal from stomach issues, and the doctor suspected that Mary had given him a laxative to make it look like he was sick. Once the investigation started, we were separated from Cole for a week while he went to live with our friends James and Brittney. This was before they moved to Florida. The idea was to see if his condition improved or not while being away from his mother, and it didn’t. We later found out Cole was just lactose intolerant, and that was why he had stomach issues. It was all just a misunderstanding and a doctor who thought Mary was being hysterical, which—if we’re honest—she was. But rightfully so when you’ve lost two children before.”

  Mary sent Peter a grateful smile and put her hand on his arm. He tried to smile in an attempt to comfort her.

  “Okay,” I said and looked at Brad. “We’re going to have to speak with some of the doctors who were involved back then. But right now, I’m gonna need you two to stay in the hotel room. No matter whether it is true or not, the story is out, and that means every reporter and probably a lot of people who have read the story will all think you hurt Cole somehow, Mary. It’s gonna be ugly if you step out there. They’re gonna follow you everywhere and ask you all the nasty questions they can come up with. That goes for you too, Peter; they’ll be all over you.”

  Mary exhaled and looked at Peter, then nodded. “Of course. We’ll stay here.”

  Their friend, James, came up to us. “Brittney and I will go out the back door and search. They don’t know who we are. They won’t follow us.”

  Peter looked up at him and smiled. “Thank you so much for all you do.”

  “No problem.”

  They left, and Brad pulled me aside. I poured myself some fresh coffee while he stood close to me, speaking with a low voice.

  “I’m not sure I buy it. What do you make of this?”

  I sipped my cup. “I don’t know. I can’t help thinking that if Mary suffered from Munchausen, then Maggie and Blake would have shown signs of it as well. There would have been doctors coming forward back then telling the same story. Try to put yourself in her shoes. The fear of losing another child must have been overwhelming.”

  “You’re making a valid point there,” he said. “I just…it’s hard not to think that something has to be very much off here if something like this happens twice, right?”

  “I spotted something way worse in that article,” I said, swallowing, hoping the caffeine would kick in fast. I was feeling the effects of not having slept all night. I was getting too old for this kind of life. For a second, I envied Brad his youth. His eyes were still vibrant, and he showed absolutely no signs of having lacked sleep.

  “What do you mean?” Brad asked.

  “The reporter described our “war-room” in detail, how we were sitting in the Marshalls’ luxury hotel suite by our laptops, working all night, drinking coffee, even the cookies we had been served by the hotel. That can only mean he was in here at some point, and we didn’t notice. The question is, who let him in?”

  Chapter 27

  THEN:

  Roy preferred to stay in his room. No one seemed to miss him much when he did, and even though he could hear their voices downstairs, laughing and having a great time, he pretended the best he could that they didn’t exist, that he lived alone. He couldn’t wait to move out one day and get a place of his own. He’d hang up pictures of him and his mother on the walls, and he’d play music as loud as he wanted to and not have to turn it down at eight because the little one had to sleep.

  The Little Maggot, he called her when no one was listening. He even said it to her face, but she didn’t seem to mind. She just giggled as usual and whined…oh, the constant whining. It drove him nuts.

  The Little Maggot seemed to like him, though. She’d come staggering into his room from time to time—without knocking, of course—laughing, trying to say his name. Roy didn’t understand a word that little creature said, and he didn’t want to either. He just wanted her gone, out of his life. He hated her more than anything in this world. She was everything that was wrong with his life. Ever since she came into his house, nothing had been the same. Ever since she showed up, his life had been miserable.

  Gosh, he hated her.

  He saw how his dad looked at her, and how his eyes changed when looking at Roy. To him, Roy was nothing but t
rouble. He had been called to the school several times now because Roy had gotten into fights, and one day, he was caught with a pack of cigarettes in his backpack during a random inspection. Roy’s dad had stopped even yelling at him or asking him to better himself. He just took him home and told him he was grounded, then left. It made no difference to Roy. He had no friends to hang out with anyway, and spending time in his room was hardly a punishment. He could deal with his dad’s anger if he’d even get that from him. That would at least be something. But he didn’t get anything at all—only the occasional look of disapproval, or the clicking of his tongue and shaking of his head. If it hadn’t been for Pamela stopping him, his dad would have thrown him out long ago; he was certain of it.

  One night, when he went to the bathroom late at night, he overheard them speaking with low voices in their bedroom, and he snuck up to the door that was left ajar and listened.

  “I don’t know what to do about him,” his dad said. “I’ve tried, Pamela. I’ve tried to include him from the beginning; you’ve seen me…I tried so hard at first. But it’s like he doesn’t even want to be a part of the family. He just gives me that look and walks away. I don’t know what to do.”

  “Give him time. It’s a lot to take in…losing your mom and then getting a new family. It’s not easy on him,” Pamela said.

  “I feel like I’ve given him all the chances in the world. But his mother spoiled him. I told her back then to stop, but she wouldn’t listen. The boy slept in her bed while I had to sleep in the guest room until he was eleven years old; can you imagine? Do you know what that does to a boy? He’s completely destroyed. I’m certain that she ruined him by doing that. That’s not how you raise a strong independent boy, in my opinion. And now it’s too late. I give up.”

  “Don’t say that, Mark. He’s your son.”

  He sighed. “I never really felt like he was. Roy was hers, you know? They were so close that there was no room for me. Every time I look at him, he reminds me of her, and I can’t stand it. She made my life miserable for so many years. I was never happy with her like I am with you. I don’t want to be reminded of that awful time of my life. She was sick, so I couldn’t leave her, or I would have done so many years earlier. But you don’t leave someone who is struggling with cancer, do you? I had to suffer through those years, and he reminds me of that. That’s why I can’t stand looking at him or having him around.”