Chapter 6: Cry a Little

The gate at the bottom of the spur road was a steel bar painted yellow.

Nolan stopped his truck behind it and left the engine running.

Four cars were already parked on the far side, nose to tail, with their lights on in the snow.

People stood around them in puffer jackets and beanies, holding their phones up.

Some wore hats with Brooke's face on them.

I counted forty before I stopped.

"Let me go first," Nolan said.

"No."

"They're a crowd. Crowds are not good at listening."

"Then they'll listen to me." I opened the door. "I'm the one with the recording."

I got out in his borrowed coat and my dry clogs.

The cold struck my face, and the whole crowd turned at once.

Somebody shouted, "That's her!"

Phones came up in a line.

Brooke stepped out from the white SUV with her ring light already clipped to her sleeve.

Her face was pink from crying, and her hat was set perfectly.

"Callie," she said, and her voice broke on it. "Oh my God. Oh, thank God."

She came forward with her arms out.

I held up one hand, and she stopped.

"Don't," I said.

"Sweetheart, I know you're scared."

"I'm not scared."

"Is he making you say that?" She looked over my shoulder at Nolan, who had come up beside me. "Sir, I'd like you to step away from my sister."

"She's standing on her own," Nolan said.

"That's what people say."

A murmur ran through the crowd.

A woman in the third row lowered her phone, then raised it again.

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