Chapter Thirty-Six
Beth had been sitting in the kitchen when she saw the squad car pull in. She imagined Molly had hitched a ride out to the farm, but when Bishop got out of the car alone, she realized this wasn’t a social call.
She met him on the porch, noticing the manila envelope in his hand.
“What’s wrong? You look freaked out.” Beth moved aside so he could come in.
“Remember how there was a witness to Jess’s kidnapping?”
He knew about Drew. Beth took a deep breath. “I already know, Bishop.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“I’ve been a little busy with a tornado and the crushing of my dreams.” She sat down at the table.
“Well, now you just sound like your sister.”
Beth rolled her eyes. “What is there to tell? He witnessed something terrible twenty years ago. He was a kid.”
“So why’s he here now?”
Beth had wanted that question answered so many times, but this time, she chose to trust. “I don’t know yet.”
“I think I might.” Bishop was paid to be suspicious. “He was at the station the day of the tornado. Nancy said he acted nervous. I think maybe he had something to confess.”
“Confess what? He was ten years old.” Beth thought about his face when she’d accused him of exactly what Bishop accused him of now. He’d been hurt by her betrayal. She had to believe the best about him.
“I don’t know. What if he was messing around and he accidentally knocked her on the head or something? People have died that way.” Bishop rested his hand on his holstered gun.
“I think he was a victim. A scared little kid who saw something terrible.”
“Then why would he come to see me?”
“I don’t know. You’ll have to ask him.”
“Ask me what?”
Beth turned and found Drew standing in the doorway behind her, eyebrows knit.
He’d entered through the side door. Beth sat at the table, her back to him, and Bishop stood, hat in hand, leaning against the sink opposite her.
They both turned and looked at him.
“Hey, Bishop.” Drew’s attempt at lightheartedness fell flat against the tension in the room.
Beth looked away.
“What’s going on?” Panic simmered inside him.
Bishop twisted the hat around in a circle between both hands. “Nancy said you were waiting to speak to me at the station. Before the storm.”
“That’s right.”
Bishop pushed himself to a full standing position and crossed his arms in front of him. “Care to have a conversation about that now?”
Drew’s eyes narrowed. Beth still avoided them. What was going on here? Did they think he’d gone to the station to confess his guilt?
Fists formed at his sides. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to talk to Beth first.”
Bishop glanced at her as if asking permission. She gave a slight nod.
“I’ll wait on the porch.” He left the two of them alone in the weighty silence of the farmhouse kitchen.
Beth stood and smoothed her white button-down over her jeans.
“Beth, what are you thinking?”
Her eyes darted to his, then back to the floor.
“I didn’t hurt her, if that’s what you think.”
Beth shook her head. “I know, Drew. I know you didn’t.”
He let out a sigh of relief. Thank God. “I wanted to tell you, I just . . . couldn’t.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and gave him her full attention.
It was time to let it go. Time to lay it down. And he knew it. He drew in a deep breath. “They never looked at me as a suspect. Not really. I was a kid. And I was knocked out cold.”
“Was it an accident?” Beth’s eyes searched his.
“No.” Drew took off his hat, ran his hand through his hair, then over his face. As if anything could stop the pain that pulsed through his body now. “I came up here to tell you. I just . . .”
He turned away, but before he could move, he felt her hand in his.
“I’m listening.” She sat down at the table and pushed out the chair across from her with her foot.
After a long moment, he sat. Wished he could leave. But one look at her told him he couldn’t. There was too much at stake.
He didn’t want to keep anything from her anymore.
“I was there,” he finally said after several silent seconds. “We were playing hide-and-seek.” He closed his eyes and, just like that, he was there, climbing the ladder to the old barn loft.
“It smelled like springtime. Hay and dirt and maybe an animal or two.” The loft had been off-limits, but Drew was old enough. He’d been on dozens of ladders.
Beth watched, eyes intent. Safe.
“I heard her come in. She’d been yelling my name.” He smiled at the memory. “I hid from her in the place I knew she’d be too scared to look. She hated that loft.” His smile faded. “But after a few seconds, I could tell something was wrong. I heard someone else in the barn. I knew right away she was in trouble.”
Her quiet expression urged him to go on.
“I wasn’t fast enough. I wasn’t smart or strong enough to help her.”
He hurried through the rest—coming down off the ladder, feeling the crack of metal on his skull, getting knocked out. Then, waking up to voices and stitches and questions from the police. “Everyone was convinced that, because I’d been in the barn, I’d seen his face. I was the only one who could help find Jess.” His eyes clouded then.
Beth reached across the table and covered his hands with hers. “That’s a lot of pressure for a little boy.”
He pushed his fist into his eyes and forced himself to hold it together. “The trouble was, I didn’t remember seeing anyone, but for days, cops were out here, pacing the floor, setting up interviews with therapists. One of them even tried to hypnotize me.” Drew only just remembered that.
“The worst part was knowing that I was letting my own parents down. And Mr. and Mrs. Pendergast.”
“Why didn’t you say anything—when you first got here?”
“I was such a coward, Beth.” Drew pulled his hands back into his lap and stood. “I should’ve come back years ago. Harold called me every year begging me not to give up trying, but I didn’t want to relive any of it.” He stood at the sink and stared out the window across the cornfield. How could there be so much peace here, in a place of so much tragedy? “It was selfish of me not to do that for him. For Jess.”
“It was wrong of them to put all that pressure on you,” Beth said. “Even adults wouldn’t be able to process what you saw. Did anyone tell you it wasn’t your fault?”
Her words stopped his breath for a split second.
She came up behind him, wrapped her arms around his chest and laid her head on his back. They stood like that for several seconds until finally the weight of his burden began to fall away.
He turned around and pulled her close, letting his chin rest gently on top of her head. He inhaled her, charmed by her sweet vanilla scent.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”
“It’s okay. I know it wasn’t easy.”
No. It wasn’t. And yet, he felt a sense of relief having gotten it all out. He inched away and studied her face. “There’s something else.”
“There is?”
“The day you found the room in the closet.”
Beth nodded, pulling just out of his grasp.
“I remembered something. A song came on the radio outside, and it was like I was there. I was ten years old again.”
Drew recounted the man in the stable. He’d seen him. He remembered him, but he didn’t recognize him. “What if this is the man who took Jess? What if Harold was right, and I’ve had the answer all along?”
She shook her head. “Don’t do that to yourself. You remember now.”
“I need you to help me with something.”
She raised her eyebrow. “Anything.”
Drew picked up her notebook and handed it to her. “I need you to sketch his face.”
Beth took the notebook, and for a second, she looked like she didn’t recognize it, didn’t know what to do with it. “You want me to draw the man in your mind?”
“That’s why I went to Bishop. To see if they had someone who could sketch it for me.”
Beth frowned. “I don’t think they do.”
“I didn’t think so, but I didn’t want to leave town without at least trying.”
“You shouldn’t have been leaving town at all.” She smirked.
He tugged at her hand. “You thought I was guilty. I thought I’d lost you.”
“I’m sorry for that.” Embarrassment whisked across her face.
“Will you help me?”
Beth stared at the blank paper. “I’ll try,” she said. “But I can’t promise you it’s going to come out right.”
Drew pressed his lips to her forehead. “It doesn’t have to be perfect.”
Her eyes found his. “And neither do you.”
Simple words had never spoken so deeply to his soul.