“He reported her missing to build a paper trail that she’d run off,” Walter said.

“That way, if Mary called the county, he could say the child had a habit of wandering.”

My stomach went cold.

“He set it all up,” I said.

“He planned every minute of it,” Walter said.

He swung the truck onto our street, the tires crunching over the frozen slush packed against the curb.

Trevor’s black pickup was idling in the driveway with the driver’s door hanging open.

Colleen stood by the front porch steps holding a red plastic storage bin, her silver charm bracelet jingling as she lifted her arm toward the house.