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When her knees hit the bed, she sat down, her head lowered. He walked over to her, looked down at the top of her head. Her hair was a dull, dark brown with a thick hank hanging along the side of her cheek, the rest pulled back in a straggly ponytail. She wore old jeans and a wrinkled white shirt, and her long, narrow feet were bare. She was tall and looked thin. Well, no wonder.
    He said, “Listen to me, you’ve got to keep optimistic. I will find her. Now, I know you’ve given this a lot of thought today.” He paused a moment, considered his words. “What more can you tell me that would help us find your daughter, Mrs. Backman?”
    “Nothing, Sheriff, nothing. I’ve told you everything I know.”
    His cop antennae blasted red at the crackling lie, but he’d been well trained and kept his voice calm. “I see. I guess we’ll just have to start at the beginning, then. Talk to me, Mrs. Backman.”
    Her head whipped up. “Just what do you think I haven’t told you about Autumn?”
    He pulled the big paisley wing chair toward the bed and sat down. He said patiently, “You told me Autumn is ill, that she had to have one pill a day for a week. That leaves today and tomorrow. What will happen if she doesn’t get the full dosage?”
    “The ear infection won’t be completely knocked out, I suppose, but in terms of symptoms, maybe she’d have headaches again, earaches, and a high fever.” She shrugged. “I really don’t know. It’s never been an issue before.”
    She looked over at him, met his eyes a moment. He saw despair and something more, something buried deep, something that scared the crap out of her.
    “I’m told you’re always with Autumn. Think. Did you see anyone who perhaps looked too interested in her?”
    “No.”
    “Everyone says she’s very outgoing, friendly, really cute.”
    “Yes, that’s true,” she said, and began twisting her hands together.
    Ethan left his chair, came down on his knee in front of her. “Look at me.”
    Slowly she raised her head, and he looked into eyes bluer than the sky in the middle of summer. “I can think of one very big thing you neglected to tell me.”
    She became Lot’s wife, didn’t move a single muscle, didn’t blink.
    “It appears that everyone but me knows you and knows Autumn. Why did you imply to me that this was your first time visiting Titusville?”
    She had the gall to shrug. He wanted to jerk her up and shake her. “I didn’t tell you because it wouldn’t have helped. Besides, it’s none of your business.”
    To keep himself from grabbing her, he jumped to his feet, took a step back. “None of my business? Are you nuts? Think, woman. Someone took your child and you’re telling me it’s not important that people here in Titusville know her? That they could come up to her and say, ‘I remember you, you’re Autumn, right? Long time no see. Hey now, aren’t you a big girl now?’ That didn’t occur to you?”
    “No. That’s not what happened.”
    He wanted to strangle her. “Why are you playing games with me? This is your daughter’s life in the balance here.”
    She leaped to her feet, her fist headed for his jaw. He grabbed her wrist. “Not smart to hit the law, ma’am. We don’t take kindly to it. I strongly suggest you tell me some of the truth now. For your daughter. I want to find her, Mrs. Backman. I want to find her alive.”
    She jerked away from him, crossed her arms over her chest, and rubbed her hands up and down her arms, as if she was freezing. She probably was, from the inside out.
    “Talk to me, Mrs. Backman.”

5
    SHE OPENED HER MOUTH, then she slowly shook her head. She still wouldn’t look at him square in the face.
    He realized she was afraid, not only for her child—there was something else too. Worse, the fear had frozen her. He knew from a good deal of experience that she wasn’t going to tell him anything, probably couldn’t get her brain together enough to figure out her options, at least not