Page 51 of Trapper Road

“So you didn’t really know her all that well,” I point out.

She seems a little stung by the statement. “I mean, yeah, I didn’t know hersuperwell. But she was nice enough, and we had several conversations.”

“But in terms of whether she had any history with any of the other kids in the group…”

“I mean, yeah, no, that I wouldn’t know too much about unless one of the other kids brought it up. Sorry,” she adds with a shrug.

I find it odd that Walker would send me to Becky as the best person to ask about Juliette when she’d hardly known the girl.

“You mentioned a guy who had the job before you. Do you have his contact information?”

She squinches her face into a frown of regret. “Unfortunately, no. And don’t bother asking anyone at the church for it either. I tried that, and they were not interested in me reaching out to him. I told them I wanted to get his thoughts on the kids, know what sort of activities they’d been doing so I wasn’t repeating things, but Father Walker told me he thought it would be best if I went into the job without any preconceptions. Give every kid a clean plate to start with, as he put it. Which makes sense when you think about it.”

It sounds like a bullshit excuse to me, but I’m not surprised Becky accepted it without question. She seems like someone who takes people at face value and isn’t likely to assume subterfuge.

“Do you happen to know the last guy’s name?” I ask.

She tilts her head to the side, thinking. “You know, now that you mention it, Father Walker never said. He always just referred to him as ‘the last gentleman who held your job’ or something like that. But I think his name was Josiah because early on I remember one of the boys in the group complaining that I wasn’t as fun as Josiah was, which really hurt my feelings at the time, you know? But it did make me try harder to win them over, and I think I’m doing a good job of it.”

She’s cut off by the booming clang of a nearby bell. It’s quickly joined by others as both the Methodist and Baptist church bells duke it out in a discordant duel of sound. Becky jumps to her feet. “Oh goodness, that’ll be the end of my break.” She has to shout to be heard over the horrible clatter. “I’d better get back before those babies start waking up. You let one get squalling too hard, and it’ll wake up the rest, and then it’s just diaper changes one after the other like dominoes. Did you have any other questions? We can always meet again if you need.”

I smile. “You were incredibly helpful, Becky, thanks.”

She gives me another wide grin and clasps her hands together over her heart. “Oh good! That makes me happy. I’m so glad I could help. I’ve gotta run but have a great day, Ms. Proctor!” She waves before starting back toward the church.

Thankfully the bells have stopped their caterwauling, and I sit for a moment, enjoying the silence and letting my ears clear after the tsunami of sound they’d just endured. I make my way back toward United Methodist’s church offices and stop at the reception desk.

“Back so soon?” she asks. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m hoping you might be able to give me the contact information for the person who ran the Youth Group before Becky Eadies took over. I think his name was Josiah?”

Her smile tightens. “One moment please.”

Before long, Father Walker appears. “Is there a problem?” he asks. “Was Miss Eadies not helpful?”

“Oh, she was lovely, I was just hoping to speak with someone who knew Juliette a bit longer than she did.”

He straightens slightly, clasping his hands together in front of himself. “I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

My internal alarms are blaring that something is definitely amiss here. “Why’s that?”

“When he quit, he declined to provide us with updated contact information.”

“Why did he quit?”

Walker’s smile tightens. “I’m sure you’re aware of the sensitivity of HR matters. I think it best I not discuss that.”

Bullshit, but I let it slide. “What was his name? I’m sure I can track him down on my own. It’s what I do for a living after all.”

“I’m afraid I don’t recall.” I have to give him credit for giving me such a baldfaced lie with such a straight face.

I lift an eyebrow, dubious.

He returns my stare placidly. After a moment he adds, “Anything else I can help you with, Ms. Proctor?”

I have to remind myself that this is a small town, and I doubt the Larsons would be pleased to learn the PI they hired decked their pastor. Still, I want to launch myself at the minister and grab his lapels and scream at him that a teenage girl is missing. Whatever he’s trying to hide isn’t worth risking her life.

Instead I console myself with the fact that whatever Father Walker is hiding, I’ll find. Whether it’s related to Juliette’s disappearance or not, I plan to wipe that smug sense of entitlement off the man’s face.

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