Chapter 6 - Willa Disappears
I called Willa back immediately.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
A third time.
Voicemail.
Grant grabbed his keys.
“We’re going.”
Lena stopped him.
“No.”
Grant stared at her.
“She may be in danger.”
“That’s why we call the police.”
“They’ll take twenty minutes.”
“And if Orson wants Caleb to violate the court order, showing up is exactly what he needs.”
I hated that she was right.
I called 911.
Two patrol cars were sent to Orson’s house.
I remained on the phone until an officer contacted me.
Willa was not there.
Orson claimed she had left before he returned.
Her car was gone.
Her phone was off.
Nobody knew where she was.
For the next three hours, I imagined every terrible possibility.
At noon, I received a text.
Not from Willa.
From Orson.
STOP DRAGGING EVERYONE INTO YOUR BREAKDOWN.
I forwarded it to Lena.
She told me not to respond.
At 1:13 p.m., Willa’s car was found in a grocery-store parking lot.
Empty.
Her phone sat under the driver’s seat.
Her purse was inside.
Her keys were missing.
That was when police treated her as missing.
The news spread quickly.
By evening, reporters stood outside Orson’s house.
He came to the door and gave a statement.
“My niece is a troubled young woman.”
I watched the broadcast from my living room.
“She has struggled with anxiety for years.”
I almost threw the remote.
Orson continued.
“Our family hopes she returns safely.”
Then the reporter asked whether Willa’s disappearance had anything to do with the custody dispute involving Juniper.
Orson sighed theatrically.
“My son is grieving.”
My hands tightened.
“He has never fully recovered from losing his wife.”
Grant reached for the remote.
I stopped him.
I wanted to hear every word.
Orson looked directly into the camera.
“We love Caleb.”
A chill moved through me.
“But sometimes loving someone means recognizing when they are no longer capable of making healthy decisions.”
The broadcast cut back to the studio.
I laughed once.
Grant looked at me.
“What?”
“He’s doing it again.”
“What?”
“Building the picture.”
Caleb Mercer.
Grieving widower.
Angry.
Unstable.
Paranoid.
Assaulted his sister.
Claims fabricated evidence.
Now cousin disappears.
If Willa remained missing, who would they blame?
I already knew.
Lena called ten minutes later.
“Do not leave the house.”
“Why?”
“Police may want another statement.”
“Do they think I did something to Willa?”
“I don’t know.”
“That means yes.”
“It means we prepare.”
Juniper sat on the floor building a block tower.
I lowered my voice.
“They’re going to say I made her disappear.”
“Possibly.”
I closed my eyes.
Then Juniper spoke.
“Willa went to the yellow house.”
I looked at her.
“What?”
She stacked another block.
“The yellow house.”
Grant crouched.
“What yellow house, June Bug?”
“Grandpa’s other house.”
I stared at her.
“Grandpa doesn’t have another house.”
“Yes, he does.”
She sounded completely certain.
“What does it look like?”
“Yellow.”
“Where is it?”
“Near the horses.”
Grant and I looked at each other.
“Have you been there?”
Juniper nodded.
“With Aunt Tabitha.”
My pulse began racing.
“When?”
“When Daddy was at school.”
I was a teacher.
That could mean almost any weekday.
“What did you do there?”
“Waited.”
“For what?”
“Grandpa talked to the man.”
“What man?”
“The one who looked like Daddy.”
Evan.
I grabbed my phone.
“Did Evan live there?”
Juniper shrugged.
“He gave me juice.”
Grant whispered.
“Jesus.”
I called Lena.
Then I called the police detective assigned to Willa’s disappearance.
Juniper’s description was vague.
Yellow house.
Horses.
Orson.
Evan.
The detective asked whether my father owned rural property.
As far as I knew, no.
Then Grant remembered something.
“Your mother.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
“Didn’t she inherit land?”
My mother, Lorraine, died eleven years earlier.
She had inherited a small farmhouse from an uncle.
Orson always claimed he sold it after her death.
I searched county property records online.
The parcel had never been sold.
It had been transferred.
To a limited-liability company.
Mercer Holdings.
Same mailing address as Orson’s accounting firm.
I sent the information to police.
They obtained enough information to visit the property.
I was told to stay home.
For two hours, there was nothing.
Then my phone rang.
Detective Alvarez.
“We found Ms. Willa Mercer.”
I nearly collapsed.
“Is she alive?”
“Yes.”
Grant closed his eyes in relief.
“Is she hurt?”
“She’s shaken.”
“What happened?”
“We need to interview her.”
“Was she being held?”
A pause.
“We found her inside the farmhouse.”
“Alone?”
Another pause.
“No.”
My pulse jumped.
“Who was with her?”
“Evan Mercer.”
The cousin from the fake video.
“Where is he?”
“He ran.”
I stood.
“Ran where?”
“We’re looking.”
Then Alvarez said something I did not expect.
“Mr. Mercer, there’s more.”
“What?”
“We found recording equipment.”
My throat tightened.
“Recording what?”
“Your daughter.”
Silence swallowed the room.
Alvarez continued.
“There’s a room staged to resemble part of your living room.”
I stopped breathing.
“And we found multiple costumes matching clothing you own.”
Grant whispered a curse.
The fake video had not been improvised.
They had built a set.
Then Alvarez delivered the worst part.
“There are several videos already labeled by date.”
“What dates?”
He read the earliest one.
September 12.
May you like
Two days before Elise died.
---
