Patricia touched the sheriff’s arm. “What about my girl?”

He turned his attention to her. “No one can be on the lake with the thunder and lightning.” He hesitated as though he were making up his mind whether to continue. “We have another problem,” he finally said. “One of the fishermen was up early before the storm to check the traps and found them empty. There were muddy footprints all over the docks: kids’ footprints. They must’ve fooled with the traps and let the snappers out sometime last night.”

“Why? Who would do such a thing?” Patricia asked.

“Kids pulling a stupid prank would be my guess.”

All the blood rushed to Jo’s head. Caroline, she thought. It would explain the wet clothes, the dirty sneakers in her bedroom. She pinched her eyes closed. Why would Caroline do it? Her daughter knew she wasn’t supposed to touch a fisherman’s traps. Did Caroline even know what they were using the snappers for?

“How do you know the turtles didn’t just get out?” Patricia asked.

“Not possible unless they locked the trap doors behind them.”

He continued. “It’s a darn good thing the rain held off until now, or we never would have seen the footprints.”

Patricia nodded.

“I wanted to stop by to let you know they’ll have to trap more turtles,” he said. “That is, if you still want them to. I can put an end to it if you say so, and we’ll let the recovery team continue as they have been.”

Patricia was quiet. The only sound was the splattering rain on the roof and the occasional clap of thunder. After awhile, without looking at him, she said, “I want them to do whatever it takes. I want my daughter found.”

“Okay.” He put his hat back on and turned toward the door. “I’ll let the men know.”

“Wait,” Patricia said. “I’m coming with you.” She chased after him, leaving Jo all alone on her knees in the kitchen.

*   *   *

As soon as the sheriff and Patricia were out of sight, Jo rushed back to The Pop-Inn, the pouring rain drenching her for the second time that morning. She pulled open the screen door, letting it slam behind her. Kevin sat at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee. He looked like hell.

“Forget your umbrella?” he asked, and smiled, but he must’ve seen something on her face, because he immediately furrowed his brow. “What’s wrong?”

She didn’t have time to explain. She darted into Caroline’s bedroom. Her daughter wasn’t in bed. She plucked the wet dirty clothes off the floor. She searched the room for the muddy sneakers. They were nowhere to be found.

“Where’s Caroline?” she called to Kevin, and tossed the dirty clothes into the sink. There wasn’t time to take them to the Laundromat. She turned on the faucet.

“She took off on her bike a little while ago,” he said. His voice was deep and raspy from a night of drinking and smoking and singing. “I didn’t think she should go out in the storm, but like mother like daughter.” He leaned against the wall outside the bathroom door, sipping coffee. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

She didn’t know where to begin; Patricia asking about Billy, the sheriff, or that Jo suspected Caroline had released the fishermen’s snappers. Instead she said, “Do you know where she went?”

The screen door slammed.

She pushed past him. “Caroline,” she called, but found Gram instead.

Kevin walked up behind her, and she suddenly felt trapped between the two. She pulled on her wet cotton shirt, which stuck to her breasts and constricted her chest, the collar tightening around her neck.

“Is someone in the bathroom?” Gram asked. “I hear water running.”

Kevin shot out of the kitchen to turn off the water so the sink wouldn’t overflow. Jo backed away from Gram. The distance was enough to open her throat and allow the air to return to her lungs. She pulled her damp hair from her face.

“Where’s Caroline?” Gram dropped a bag onto the table.

“That seems to be the million-dollar question,” Kevin said, returning to the kitchen. “What’s in the bag?”

“Sneakers,” Gram said.

“But how…” Jo started to ask, but Gram held her hand up to stop her. Someone must’ve tipped Gram off. Maybe that was why she had been on the phone earlier.

“I don’t know anything for sure,” Gram said.

For once, Jo and Gram were on the same side. She peeked into the bag at a pair of white sneakers. Caroline would have to get them a little dirty so they wouldn’t look so new. “Where are her old ones?” she asked.

“I tossed them,” Gram said.

“Will someone please tell me what’s going on?” Kevin asked, and set his coffee mug down in the sink. He folded his arms and looked back and forth between them.

Johnny walked into the kitchen, scratching his head. His dark hair was almost to his shoulders, and the way it swooped to the side was a reflection of Jo’s own hair, albeit a more masculine version yet with a hint of something feminine, too. Jo knew the girls his age thought it made him look sensitive.

“Why is everyone looking at me?” Johnny asked, and yawned.

“Have you seen your sister?” Gram asked.

“Why? What did she do?” He opened the refrigerator door and grabbed a gallon of milk. Then he pulled a box of cereal and large bowl from the cabinet, plucked a spoon from the drawer, and sat at the table.

“She didn’t do anything,” Jo said. At least, she hoped. “But we need to find her.”

“Try her phone,” Johnny said through a mouthful of cereal, milk dripping from his chin.

“I can’t get a signal.” She looked at Kevin. “Will you take Johnny and search the colony? I’ll check to see if she’s at the lake. Gram, you wait here in case she comes home.”

Johnny dropped his spoon. “In the rain?”

“The storm is almost over,” Kevin said and gave Jo a worried glance. “Are you ever going to tell me what’s going on?”

“Later,” she said. “Just go.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Kevin walked beside Johnny. The sun broke through the storm clouds. The rain slowed to a drizzle. There must have been a rainbow somewhere, but the trees in the colony were as big as giants and centuries old, blocking much of the view of the sky except for the occasional glimpses between branches.

Johnny stuffed his hands into his pockets. His hair covered his face. It was hard for Kevin to read his expression, but he could sense the boy’s angst. The silence between them felt strained and uncomfortable. Kevin was sorry for it, knowing he was partly to blame. He had no idea how to cross the invisible divide that kept Johnny separate from him, or even if he wanted to.

“Maybe she’s at the ballpark,” Kevin said, knowing how much Caroline loved to play ball. Why she would be in the park in the rain he couldn’t say. But the kids often hung out in the dugouts for the lack of anything better to do. It’s what he might’ve done at her age.

He continued. “You know you’re a pretty good ballplayer. Good enough to get a baseball scholarship if you wanted to go to college.”

“Really?” Johnny said in his cocky voice. “We’re going to talk about this now?”

“Do you have something else you’d rather talk about?”

Johnny sighed. “No.”

Kevin lit a cigarette. Life would be easier if Johnny went to college and moved away. It was a selfish thought, but one he had often and believed to be true. He wondered if maybe it would give his marriage a fresh start, a new beginning, or as the kids say a “do-over.”

He had rarely been alone with Johnny when he had been a toddler running around the backyard with his baseball bat, let alone the teenager he had become, the man he would be. Kevin had spent a lifetime on the road in his rig. It had been easier to stay away than deal with the tension at home, the guilt he felt whenever he looked at Jo and Johnny, the mother and son who were getting along fine without him. He admitted it was what he wanted. A part of him was afraid of Johnny. Hell, Kevin was just a kid himself when Johnny was born.