forty-six

Mrs. Bishop takes us back into the party and discreetly mentions possibilities. As we walk, she points out pictures or antiques, as if that explains why we’re talking on the move—part conversation with her son and part tour for his guest. I don’t have a moment to think about Cadence; I’m too busy trying to keep up.

“And this painting is Eugène Delacroix. A very minor one, obviously.”

“It’s gorgeous,” I say.

“I like it. The play of light always impressed me. My grandmother found it too…active. Too intense. She kept it upstairs, but I had to bring it down. To your left, Winter, the gentleman seated?”

“No, the man in the conservatory was thinner.”

“He had more hair, too,” Jude says. “No sign of balding.”

“Jude, do you remember Mr. Cleaver? Your history teacher? He retired this year. I’m hoping he’ll take a spot on the historical society board. Now, if you head left, Winter, there’s another painting there, one I’m not nearly as fond of but Peter adores.”

And so it goes. She finds four men that roughly match my description. None are the guy from the conservatory. Of course I doubted he would still be here—I only hope comparing him to others has helped refine our description, Jude’s memory and mine tweaked as we compare my assailant to other men.

After we make the rounds, Mrs. Bishop speaks to both guards. Neither recall seeing a man matching our improved description.

That’s when Cadence slams back to the front of my mind, and I’m overwhelmed by the need to get away from this party.

Jude notices and says, “Mom? I think Winter’s had enough. I’m going to take her home.”

Mrs. Bishop blanches at that, and I feel a pang of guilt. She’s gone out of her way to help, and I know that’s for Jude. He’s worried about me, and so she’s taking it seriously. And now, despite her efforts, he’s about to leave again. I’m not surprised when she says, “I need to speak to you, Jude.”

“Can I call later? I really need to—”

“It’s important, and it will only take a few minutes. We’ll go into the kitchen and make Winter some tea. That might help her feel better.”

He sighs, softly, and glances my way.

“Tea would be great,” I say, though it’s the last thing I want. This is how I’ll repay Jude’s kindness—prodding him, just a little, toward reconciliation with his family.

We go into the kitchen, where staff scurry about. Mrs. Bishop says, “I’d like tea for Jude’s guest when you get a moment, Maria. We’ll be on the back side patio.”

As it turns out, the back side patio is different from the back main patio, where guests are mingling. The side one is off to the east, hidden by bushes.

“You can sit here, Winter,” Mrs. Bishop says. “Jude and I will be right—”

“I’m not leaving her alone after what happened earlier, Mom.”

“Yes, of course,” she says quickly, as if she’d forgotten, and there’s an uncharacteristically anxious note in her voice as she says, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. You absolutely should not be alone, Winter. I’ll ask Maria to sit with you. I just need to speak to Jude about his brother.” She turns to him. “You’re concerned, and I’ve been ignoring those concerns. I want to talk about them.”

Jude goes silent before saying, carefully, “You mean my concern that he’s missing.”

“Yes. He texted to say he couldn’t make the party. I texted him back earlier and he hasn’t replied, which isn’t unusual, but…after what you said, it makes me uneasy.”

“Then there’s no need to speak away from Winter. She was the last person to see him. She was trying to help him when he disappeared.”

Jude tells a pared-down version of the story.

“Why—why didn’t you tell me?” she says when he finishes.

“I tried. You wouldn’t even entertain the possibility Lennon was missing. If I told you the whole story, you’d have just jumped to the drug-induced-psychosis conclusion even faster.”

“I…” She trails off. Then she says, “Have you gone to the police?”

“We’ve tried.”

He’s halfway through that explanation when Maria brings tea, and Mrs. Bishop seems about to wave her off and then forces herself to wait until it’s served, and watches the woman go before telling Jude to continue.

When he is done, she seems to barely be listening. I can tell her mind’s already elsewhere, like her son again, thoughts racing off ahead of her. She rises and starts for the house, as if forgetting we’re still there. Then she stops and turns abruptly.

“You’ll stay here tonight. At the house. Both of you. Winter? If you need me to speak to your family to do that, I will. I’m going to make some calls.”

“If it’s the police, Winter—”

“Not yet. You’re right that we need more. I’m going to telephone Lennon’s friends and make sure he’s not with them.”

“He’s not. I’ve already—”

“He’s made other friends since he finished school. You know how he is. I’ll also double-check that my texts definitely came from Lennon.”

“They didn’t. They couldn’t. I have Lennon’s phone. I’ve had it since—”

“I’ll get this sorted,” she says, as if not hearing him. “Please don’t tell your father just yet. He’ll worry himself into a state. Let me look into this. Your brother will be fine. Just fine. This missing girl…” A sharp intake of breath and she comes back, shoulders poised, more herself as she says firmly, “She will be fine. This is all a mistake.”

“Mistake? Mom, what—?”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish before she’s gone, door shutting behind her.

“She doesn’t believe me,” he says. “She still doesn’t believe me.”

“She’s…” I shake my head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know your family, and I shouldn’t presume.”

“No, go on.” When I hesitate, he says, “I need more data here, Winter. Give me your opinion.”

“She’s been telling herself you’re overreacting about Lennon. Now she hears the whole story, from your lips, and she realizes she was wrong. Very, very wrong. Which means her son has been kidnapped for days and she’s brushed it off. She can’t deal with that, so she’s still telling herself there must be a mistake. You just said you need more data. So does she. That’s what she’s getting, and we have to let her do that.” I meet his gaze. “It’s a start.”

He shakes his head. “We needed a start three days ago. Now we need answers.”

“Hey, here are the lovebirds,” says a voice, and Jude winces as Roscoe comes through the door.

“Not now, Roscoe. Please. Winter and I need—”

“Miz Bishop says some perv bothered you in the conservatory, right, Miss Crane?”

My head jerks up. “Yes. Did you remember seeing him?”

“Nah, sorry. But I thought I’d do a little detective work, so I went in and poked about, see if he”—a wry smile—“left a clue or something. Instead, I found something you left. Looks like a bus ticket. But it’s a different first name. I figured either you bought it for someone or Winter is your nickname.”

“What’s the name on the ticket?” Jude asks.

“Cadence. Cadence Crane.”

I snatch it so fast he jumps, and I apologize. Or I mean to. I’m not sure I even get the words out. I’m busy reading the bus ticket. From Lexington to Reeve’s End. Dated this afternoon. With Cadence’s name.

My hands shake as I look up, and Jude’s already escorting Roscoe to the door, saying, “Thanks for bringing that. Winter thought she lost it, and she was freaking.”

“Where did you find it?” I say, getting to my feet.

He looks at me like this is a trick question. “Uh, the conservatory?”

“She means exactly where?” Jude says.

Roscoe looks confused. “On the piano. In plain sight. I figure you took it out and then forgot it when that guy came in. Can’t blame you. Asshole. I’ve been going through the security footage, hoping to see him, but there’s nothing so far.”

“Keep looking,” Jude says. “Please.” He lowers his voice and says, “I want Winter to feel comfortable here, and that encounter left a really bad impression.”

“No, sure, totally get it. I’ll keep at it.”

Roscoe leaves, and Jude comes back.

“He bought a ticket for her,” I say. “A ticket for Cadence to come home.” Angry tears fill my eyes and I fling the ticket. “Why is he doing this? Why taunt me? Why torture me? I didn’t do anything to him. I don’t mean anything to him. If he wants to take me, just take me. It’s not like I haven’t given him enough chances.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Why? Because he’s lurking in the bushes, waiting for an invitation? Because I’ll give him an idea he can’t possibly have considered? Hey, that’s right, I could just kidnap her. Kill her, like I killed her sister. Why didn’t I think of that?”

Jude puts his arms around me, and I try to fling him away, but if Jude doesn’t want to be flung, he isn’t going to be. He just hugs me and says, “I don’t want you to say it because I don’t want to think it. That’s all. As for why he’s doing this? I have no idea, Winter. But I’m going to ask you to do something for me. Call your father.”

“What?” I back from his grip as it loosens. “Why? You know what he’s going to say when I tell him? Well, that’s what she gets, taking off like that.”

Jude shakes his head. “I don’t think so, and I don’t think you do either, but I’m sure as hell not defending him. Nor would I ask you to call and tell him she’s gone. That has to be done in person. What I’m asking…” He trails off and seems to consider. Then he says, “May I have his number? Please?”

“What for?”

“Do you trust me, Winter?”

I don’t answer that—I just rattle off Bert’s cell number, and Jude says, “Can you step inside, please? Just past the door, where I can see you, okay?”

I want to argue, but he’s using his just-being-reasonable voice, and as upset as I am, I know this time he really is just being reasonable. I lean against the window, arms crossed. When I hear him say, “Mr. Crane? It’s Jude Bishop,” I realize this glass isn’t going to block the conversation. But when I move away, he taps the glass, motioning for me to stay there.

So I listen.

“It’s about Cadence,” he says. “Please don’t hang up, Mr. Crane. This is important.”

I tense. He wouldn’t tell— No, he said that had to be done in person.

“I believe Winter asked if you knew how to contact her. You said you did not. However, you also know Winter is looking for my brother and Edie Greene, and that the reason she’d be asking is because she’s worried about Cadence. I think you still care, at least a little. Maybe enough to find out how to contact Cadence and tell her Winter’s worried. Tell her to get home and speak to her sister.”

I stop breathing. I just stop.

“Yes, sir, I understand. I’m going to put Winter on, and I’d like you to tell her that. Just a second.”

He opens the door, and I nearly fall. I right myself, and he’s holding out the phone and I’m backing away, my eyes filling with fresh tears, those tears flying as I shake my head vehemently.

“Winter, I need you to speak to your father.”

I keep shaking my head. He hits a button and says, “Sir, please tell Winter what you just told me.”

There’s a pause, and I keep backing away, but Jude catches my hand. He doesn’t hold it tight. Just catches it.

“Winter?” Bert says.

“Please go ahead, sir. You’re on the speakerphone.”

Bert sighs and says, “Okay, fine. Win? You asked if I had contact information for Cady. I didn’t. But I figured Cady’s friends would know. One gave me the number. I called. Cady hung up on me. I called back and left a message saying you were really worried because Edie Greene might have been kidnapped, and of course that got you thinking about Cady, and she needed to contact you somehow, tell you she was all right.”

“And when was that, sir?” Jude prompts.

“I started calling her friends right after you left.”

“So you spoke to Cadence this afternoon.”

“Yeah. It might take a while for Cady to figure out how she’ll get in touch, but she will, Winter. I’m sure she will.”

And she did. She hopped on a bus to come see me. She just never made it home.