Page 68 of Hometown Girl

Sketches of farm animals hung all around. She touched the image of a horse, squinted at the detail. Not bad. Especially for a child.

So, the Pendergasts’ daughter had been an artist.

On the distressed white dresser sat a framed photo of the Pendergast family—all three of them. Happiness danced in their eyes. Beth hated that the end of their story didn’t reflect that same emotion.

A chill shot through her as she opened the closet door and saw all the little clothes, neatly folded on shelves or hanging up on the rack. Little shoes met her where she stood.

The tragedy of Fairwind rushed back. The girl—Jessica—had gone missing the day after the Whitaker family had been at the farm for the Fairwind Market. She could still remember her parents discussing it in hushed tones while she and Ben pressed their ears to the door of their bedroom.

“They don’t have any leads at this point,” her father had said.

“This is just terrible. Who would do such a thing to a little girl?” her mother asked, her voice cracking with empathy for poor Mrs.Pendergast.

“They’ve got search parties going ’round the clock,” her dad said. “I’m going to see if I can help.”

Her mother must’ve made a face, the kind her father could read without any words. “What is it?” he asked her. Beth imagined him sitting beside her on the bed.

“That could’ve been one of our girls.” She’d cried then, and Beth had decided she’d heard enough.

For weeks, volunteers had gathered near the old farm, searching for the little girl who’d been kidnapped from her own yard. Fairwind had shut down for the rest of the summer, and the newspaper ran stories for weeks speculating on what might have happened to Jessica Pendergast.

But to this day, no one knew.

Beth shuddered now, remembering Sonya’s prayer carefully, probably tearfully, written in the old prayer book. She couldn’t imagine what that poor couple had gone through, to one day have a daughter and the next day—not. No wonder the farm hadn’t survived many more years after that.

God, why?

Beth tried not to obsess over questions that had no answers. Questions likeWhy would Michael destroy what we had?OrDid he ever love me at all?OrWhy did You have to take Daddy before I could make things right with him?But this new question begged to be asked. How could a loving God allow something like this to happen to someone who obviously loved Him so much? Sonya’s words were faith-filled and peaceful. She hadn’t deserved this ending. How many people had this tragedy destroyed?

Several years after Jessica had gone missing, Sonya passed away. The town cried, “Death by a broken heart,” but maybe she’d been sick. Whatever the case, after her death, Mr.Pendergast became a shut-in—and not a very nice one, though who could blame him? Beth didn’t imagine she’d be very cheery either if the two people she loved most in this world died so many years before their time.

According to local gossip, Harold never recovered. Visited the police station once a week with new theories and “evidence.” Everyone brushed him off like he was crazy.

And maybe he was.

But wasn’t anyone sympathetic to what the man had been through? It didn’t take long for the stories to spread—for him to be painted as a wildly crazy man stuck in the past.

Beth wondered if anyone had shown him kindness or empathy.

Or had he spent years wondering why the entire town of Willow Grove—a place that was supposed to be safe and welcoming—preferred to forget what had happened, as if it were a blemish on an otherwise spotless record?

Mr.Pendergast had become the butt of a town joke. Shame settled on Beth’s shoulders. Why had this never occurred to her before? She’d been every bit as guilty as the rest of them, wanting nothing more than to pretend something so tragic had never happened. Not in her hometown. Not here.

The pain of that betrayal was almost palpable. They’d all let this family down.

On the top shelf of the closet, Beth spotted a little wooden box. Overcome with curiosity, she stood on her tiptoes and pulled it down. Inside she found a heart-shaped rock, a friendship bracelet and a faded photograph of a little blond girl with long braids standing next to a dark-headed boy. Both grinning, both holding freshly caught fish.

She turned the photo over.J + D.

Beth stared into the little girl’s eyes. As if she might be able to tell her something the police didn’t already know.

“What happened to you, Jessica?” Beth whispered.

Footsteps on the creaky staircase drew her attention to the hallway, quickening her pulse, as if she should be afraid of getting caught. Molly appeared in the doorway, and Beth released the breath she’d been holding.

It wasn’t like she was trespassing—why did she feel like she was?

“What are you doing in here?” Molly’s eyes widened.

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