Her?
Felicity?
Sidra?
Either way, my gut drops. I’ve made a mistake. An unforgivable one. Cherise said she saw Baptiste with Sidra after Sidra was supposedly kidnapped. Petra jumped to the obvious conclusion—Baptiste was lying—but I’d wanted to believe otherwise. Yes, there’s a selfish part of me that wants Abby’s parents to be horrible people who do not deserve her, so I can keep her. But there’s another part I only recognize now. The part that wants the best of all possible endings to this story by that little baby getting back to loving and capable parents. I want her to have good parents who love each other and love her and are beside themselves with panic at her disappearance.
That’s the part that decided Baptiste isn’t guilty. Not Baptiste and not Sidra. Neither of them killed Ellen. Neither of them got rid of their baby. Neither of them planned this fake kidnapping to get rid of us. They might be young and naive, but they are good and honest, and they deserve their little girl back. That is who I want them to be.
Then I hear Baptiste telling Dalton to “get away from her” and I realize I’m wrong.
As I work this through, I run. I don’t stop running. Then I hear a woman’s voice say, “Put the gun down, you son of a bitch,” and I’m so caught up in my thoughts that I think it must be Sidra, talking to Dalton, and this means she is just as culpable—
No, not Sidra.
My mind replays the voice, and there is no question who I’m hearing, even before Petra says, “Lower that damned shotgun or I put a bullet through your lying-bastard head, boy.”
I see Dalton now, just ahead. Others are with him, but they’re only meaningless figures until I’ve found Dalton and confirmed he’s on his feet, apparently unharmed.
“Petra, no,” Dalton says. “Everyone just hold on.”
I burst through the trees. The shotgun barrel turns on me.
Petra barks, “Don’t you dare!” echoed by Dalton as he pulls his own gun, swinging it on Baptiste. Then we all freeze, guns pointing everywhere, and a voice says, “Stop, everyone please, stop.”
It’s a girl’s voice, high and tight with fear. I follow it to a stranger, rising from the ground near Dalton as she claws off a gag. A girl no bigger than me, with long black curls. She staggers in front of Dalton, and Petra snaps, “Stop right there,” but Sidra ignores her.
Sidra makes it to her husband, and he nearly drops the gun in his lunge to catch her. The muzzle is down, thankfully, and Petra doesn’t fire as Baptiste grabs Sidra and the shotgun slides to the ground beside them.
“Put the gun down,” Dalton says to Petra. “Everything’s fine.”
“Everything is not fine,” she says. “These two tricked—”
“No one tricked anyone,” Dalton says. “I found Sidra. I was freeing her when Baptiste showed up, and he misinterpreted. Sidra, did I kidnap you?”
She shakes her head. “He was helping me, Baptiste.”
“Did Baptiste kidnap you?” I ask.
Her eyes round. “Of course not. I … I don’t know who did it. Someone grabbed me at the camp and put something over my eyes.”
“Then how do you know it wasn’t Baptiste?” Petra asks.
Sidra’s eyes flash. “I do not need to see my husband to know him. It was a man. I’m sure of that. He spoke to me, but his voice was distorted. We were walking but we kept stopping, and he’d tie me up. Then he’d leave and come back. He’d left me again when this man found me and said he was from Rockton and he was with you, Baptiste.”
“He is,” I say. “Your husband just panicked.” I turn to Baptiste. “Have you ever lent Lane your shotgun?”
His face screws up, as if he’s misheard.
“Lane from the Second—”
“Yes, I know Lane,” he says impatiently. “He is my friend, and yes, I have loaned him our shotgun, but I don’t understand—”
“That’s the gun that was used to kill Ellen.” I don’t know that for certain, of course, but they’ll never realize that. “Someone—”
“No!” Sidra says, and she wheels, and I think she’s spinning on me to deny it, but instead, she faces the forest and shouts, “Lane!”
“That … That’s…” Baptiste blinks, looking lost. “Lane wouldn’t…” He trails off, unable to finish. Then he looks at me. “This gun? This gun was used…”