The previous owner—an investment group from New York—could never turn a profit, and to come close required them to pay attention only to the most egregious maintenance concerns. During the last few years that the group clung to Tinder Valley, the cabins and the grounds slowly perished as paint peeled, windows cracked but were never repaired, the dock skewed from sunken posts and missing boards, weeds and grass grew without restraint, and the beach bred a dense carpet of litter. The New York group eventually manipulated bankruptcy laws to free itself from the land. Finally, in a flurry of back-and-forth negotiations, the bank seized the land and the cabins and auctioned them off to the county. A three-year revamping plan was laid out by the county board to restore Tinder Valley to the majestic family-vacation spot it was always meant to be. The current clientele, however, until the revamp could get underway, were fishermen. And they cared little about aesthetics as long as the satellite dish worked and the toilets flushed.

Kent Chapple had long stopped believing a refurbished and rebuilt Tinder Valley could repair his family. He had stopped hoping to someday bring his wife and kids here to fish and kayak, laugh, and play board games, and drink wine with his wife on the cabin’s front patio while the sun set across the water. That was an image he’d once held, but it was so far away now that he could no longer conjure it. Instead, he came to the actual Tinder Valley—ruined and weed-choked—to find something he could not find at home. He came to fill a void that was vacant and gaping the longer he stayed bound to his failing marriage.

But there was someone else now. Someone he’d allowed himself to think about. It was possible. The idea was not that crazy. He was, he convinced himself, worthy of her. She was new. She had different tastes and different interests and she was unique in her ways. He found himself thinking of her often. Maybe it was time to make that life change he was so desperate for. He felt certain doing so would allow him to focus on his happiness. Perhaps he’d stop making bad decisions. She’d come along at just the right time.

He parked his car outside cabin forty-eight. It was on the corner of the riverbank, set back from the water and more secluded than the others. It was dark. Only every third or fourth lamppost was lit. He preferred it dark and quiet. Standing from his car, he removed his duffel bag from the backseat along with a container of food and supplies. He headed for his cabin and felt, as he always did, the weight of the world leave his shoulders as he approached the front door. His blood vessels dilated and his skin flushed with warmth. Could this work out? Could these feelings be a regular part of his life?

He walked up the front stairs and pushed through the door.

CHAPTER 38

“It’ll be okay,” Megan said. “It’s a long time coming, and I think this will help both of us.”

Livia sat in the passenger seat of Megan’s Jeep Wrangler as they drove through Emerson Bay. “How so?”

“People don’t really know me. Some people know the girl from before the abduction. Because of the book, lots of people know the girl from the interviews and on the pages. But I’m not really either of those people. My dad, before all this happened, was the only person who totally understood me. We’ve lost that connection over the last year. I think this will help us.”

“I hope so,” Livia said.

A few minutes later, they pulled to the front of the Emerson Bay Police Department, where her father had served as sheriff for the past twelve years. Together, Livia and Megan walked up the stairs and into the building. A few people who would normally have protested two women walking unfettered through headquarters waved when they recognized Megan. When they arrived at Terry McDonald’s office, he was busy with paperwork.

“Hi, Daddy,” Megan said.

Terry looked up with surprise. “Hey. What’re you doing here?”

Livia looked over Megan’s shoulder and caught the sheriff’s eye. She saw a sense of recognition in his expression. He stood slowly.

“Daddy,” Megan said. “This is Livia Cutty. She’s Nicole Cutty’s sister and a medical examiner in Raleigh.”

Livia followed Megan into the office. “I’m completing my fellowship.”

Sheriff McDonald walked from behind his desk, his belt and holster jostling as he approached his daughter and Livia. “Under Gerald Colt?” he asked.

“Correct.”

“I know Dr. Colt. We’ve worked together on a few cases.” He shook Livia’s hand. “I’m sorry about your sister,” he said with a soft voice, holding her hand.

Unexpectedly moved by the remorse she heard in Sheriff McDonald’s voice, Livia swallowed hard. “Thank you.”

Terry turned to Megan. “What’s going on?”

“Livia and I have been reviewing details about my case, from the night I disappeared and the night I escaped.”

“Honey,” Terry said in a controlled voice. “We agreed this was a topic best saved for your sessions with Dr. Mattingly.”

“It has been, Daddy. But Livia, through her work in Raleigh, found some things we need to talk to you about.”

“What things?”

“She’s made some connections between my case and two other girls who have gone missing. And, we don’t know, maybe others. She came to me with her findings and together we’ve gained some leverage and made some progress. But we need help, Daddy.”

Terry McDonald stared at his daughter and then lifted his gaze to Livia. There was something in his eyes that took Livia a moment to define. But then it clicked. She made the connection to her own father, realizing every father who had lost a daughter to abduction likely carried a similar look of fright and guilt in his eyes. With Terry McDonald, though, there was something else. Something rooted, Livia was sure, in the fact that his daughter had been found, while Nicole and these other girls were lost forever. Had her own father appeared in the doorway, Livia got the sense that Sheriff McDonald would break down and cry.

“Other missing girls?” he finally asked.

Livia nodded. “Possibly, yes.”

“You’re working with detectives in Raleigh on this?”

“No, sir. Just myself and . . . Megan’s been a big help, as well.”

Terry McDonald looked at his daughter, then back to Livia. “Let’s see what you’ve come up with.”

They sat at the desk and Livia pulled from her bag each of the documents she had collected over the past few weeks. They spent an hour cross-referencing the information that tied Nancy Dee and Paula D’Amato together, and then spent time on the links to Megan’s case—the ketamine and the burlap fibers. Finally, Livia presented what she knew about Casey Delevan, who had arrived on her autopsy table at the end of summer. She revealed the profiles of Nancy Dee and Paula D’Amato discovered in Casey’s abandoned desk drawer, and told Sheriff McDonald everything she knew about the Capture Club. She revealed her guess that Casey played a role in the disappearance of the girls and was also present the night Megan and Nicole were taken from the beach party.

They covered the leg fracture and that it matched the height of Nicole’s car bumper. Livia left out the tuft of Casey’s shirt found under Nicole’s car, and her theory about the barbecue set with the missing fork and the piercings to Casey’s skull. To present everything she had found would be to implement herself, and Megan, in evidence tampering. If it meant finding the answers she was so desperate for, in the end she would do it. For now, she’d use everything else she had to gauge Sheriff McDonald’s willingness to help.

She presented her case for an hour while Terry McDonald listened with patience. When Livia finished her argument, he asked the same question his daughter had.

“But this fella is dead, right?” He pointed to Casey Delevan’s picture. “He showed up in your morgue. So what are you looking for, Dr. Cutty?”

“Casey was killed more than a year ago. The last time he was seen was the weekend Megan and Nicole disappeared. Nancy Dee’s body was found six months before Megan and Nicole were taken. But Paula D’Amato, who had been missing for more than two years, just turned up in Georgia. Dead for roughly two days, according to the ME down there. If we all agree these cases are connected, then there has to be someone still out there who killed Paula. Someone who was keeping her. Who abused her. I don’t have all the answers, Sheriff. Just enough questions to make me suspect something is happening out there that needs to be sorted out. Enough questions so that I can’t sleep at night. And enough suspicion to make me think there’s someone who’s still taking girls—other sisters and daughters.”

Terry McDonald was silent as he studied the documents laid out before him. “How did you find out about this club? The one that does the mock abductions?”

“We talked to an old club member. He confirmed that Casey and my sister were members.”

“When you say ‘we,’ who does that include?”

Livia looked at Megan.

“We talked to him together, Daddy.”

Terry folded his hands and took a deep breath. “Megan, how long have you been doing this without my knowledge?”