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    And it was past time that Lucy delved into the specifics of Tommy’s wife’s disappearance. If it was going to impact his work, she needed to know more about Charlotte Worth.
     
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    LUCY WAITED FOR the others to clear the hallway before attempting the steps. Going down was always more painful than going up, but she refused to use the house elevator. Every step was rehab, she told herself as she gritted her teeth against the pain and slowly hobbled down the staircase.
    She grimaced as her weight settled onto her left leg. Days like today, she regretted abandoning the cane, but it felt like too much of a crutch. Honestly, it didn’t even decrease the pain—instead, it alerted other people to hover and try to help, which was, in its own way, just as painful.
    Since coming to work at Beacon Falls she’d cut back to only one physical therapy session in the morning, and then Nick helped her with stretches and a massage at night. But the damaged nerves around her ruined ankle had appreciated the neglect even less than they had the extra strain of the rehab sessions. Valencia had offered Lucy use of her pool in the residence wing’s solarium; maybe Lucy could start swimming over lunch.
    As she reached the bottom of the steps, she let out a wry laugh. Here she was worrying if accepting her boss’s offer would be too intrusive, while at the same time they were about to go digging through every private detail of Sarah’s past to try to rebuild her life. Talk about intrusive. She hoped Sarah realized what she was asking for.
    She waved to Missy, the receptionist, and went out in search of Tommy. She spotted him near the tall wrought iron tripod with its eternal flame, looking out over the river gorge to the rolling hills and farmland east of Beacon Falls. He’d stopped pacing, but the worry hadn’t left his posture.
    “Burroughs was right,” he said without looking at her as she drew near. “I shouldn’t be on this case.”
    Lucy mirrored his posture and simply nodded. Waited.
    “Wednesday, it will be a year since Charlotte—” He swallowed. “What good have I done her? Leaving the ER, coming here to work her case after the cops gave up. At least Burroughs agrees with me, that something happened to her. The other cops, the PIs we hired, they all think she left me. That I must be some terrible ogre, must have done something horrific for things to be so desperate that she’d abandon Nellie. They say all the evidence points that way.”
    Finally he turned to her, despair tightening his face. “No one seems to understand that the so-called evidence is just facts we twist, trying to make sense of it. Evidence isn’t truth. I know my wife. I know her truth. She didn’t leave. Not because she wanted to.”
    “Her life was stolen from her,” Lucy said. “One way or the other. From you and your daughter as well.” She let her words hang for a moment, the spring breeze scattering them across the gorge. “Just like Sarah Brown’s.”
    His posture straightened and he rocked on his heels. “You want me to stay on the case?”
    “I think you can help her. TK and I will work with Sarah directly. But you’ve got a good eye for details, for evidence that doesn’t add up. I suspect that’s why you were such a good pediatric ER doctor. After all, most kids can’t tell you what’s really going on with them, and most parents are too upset, trying to create a story that makes sense of a world where their child could be sick or injured. I know that’s how I was when my daughter was sick.”
    He nodded, still not making eye contact.
    “Is the press hounding you about Charlotte’s anniversary?” she asked.
    “Not just the press. Her folks think it’s important to remind the public, keep her story out there in case someone remembers or sees something new.”
    “It’s their way of feeling like they’re not powerless.”
    “But we are. Nellie, this morning, she asked me why I couldn’t bring Mommy home.