“Oh, she hung out with friends. Then she visited my parents in West Virginia.” Her voice was sing-songy as she tilted her head back and forth, giving the impression Beth selfishly took off on random vacations. “She just wanted to make a point. She says we’re too strict.” She rolled her eyes. “What teen doesn’t say that? It’s called parenting.”
“I understand. It must be so hard knowing...” I mustered the courage to say it. “Knowing she’s pregnant.”
She closed her eyes, shook her head back and forth, and then looked at me directly. “There isn’t any way she could hurt us more.”
I tried not to be judgmental, but if Beth didn’t want to live at home right now, I doubted it was just to hurt them. Who would torture themselves out of spite like that? Probably not a young, helpless teen.
“You sound absolutely sure she left on purpose,” I said.
She rested a hand on her hip and shifted her feet. “I’m sorry, what was your name again?” Uh oh. I wanted to keep asking questions, to keep her talking as long as the kids were happy worm hunting, but I’d gone too far.
“Nicole. And I’m the one who’s sorry. I’m interrupting your day. And I’m being nosy. I just feel awful about your daughter.”
“Beth’s a smart girl. She’ll come home.” She reached for the doorknob.
“I hope so,” I said truthfully.
“Thank you,” she said, cutting me off. “I’ve got to go. I’m glad you found your earring.” The door swung closed and I almost put my foot in it.
“Sonja?” I said loudly. She stopped and looked through the small opening that was left.
“What?”
“Let Gina know if anyone can help, okay?”
“I will. And please thank her for her note.” The door closed firmly.
I glanced at the kids to make sure they were okay. They were, but I couldn’t say the same for the Myers’ mulch, which had become a worm excavation site.
“Stop digging, guys, and start cleaning up. Fill in the holes.” I walked over to help.
While talking with Sonja, I’d inadvertently tuned out Jack and Sophie. I hoped my subconscious was paying attention...that I would have noticed if either of them wandered off...but I wasn’t sure. Finding someone else’s child isn’t more important than taking care of your own, I chided myself. Mommy guilt washed over me in a hot sweat.
I cleaned the kids’ hands with bottled water and wipes (their fingernails remained a disaster) and showered them with hugs, kisses, and compliments while we carried our belongings back to the van. Please God, I begged, don’t ever let me lose one of them.
“Enough, Mom! We get it,” Jack giggled.
“Get what?” I teased, giving him another hug. “What do you mean?”
“You love us!” said Sophie.
“Oh, you do get it,” I said, hugging her too. “Good!”
The kids spent the afternoon at camp, and I spent it confirming information. Yes, April told me, Beth had run away twice before, just like her mom said. The first time she went to a party and walked around a twenty-four-hour store, refusing to go home in protest against her early curfew, which only made her parents stricter. The second time, she surprised her grandparents with a visit to their West Virginia home, pretending her mom had suggested the trip. The next morning, Sonja had called, and the jig was up. Beth was sent home—with a few new outfits and some cash—and told not to inform her parents of the gifts. Grandma and Grandpa sympathized with Beth’s teenage frustrations, but they didn’t want to anger their daughter, April said, so Beth stayed quiet.
“Do you think Beth could be there now?” I asked.
“No way,” April said. “Her grandparents would never hide her this long. They love her, but can you imagine how pissed her mom would be?”
April had to be right. Would grandparents do that to a daughter they loved?
“And they weren’t even hiding her that time? Beth tricked them?” I confirmed.
“Totally. They had no idea. They were mad. But they got over it.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Eleventh grade, over spring break.”
“So she didn’t miss school?”
“No. She wouldn’t have missed school. I mean, we’ve skipped classes and stuff, but she would never leave school like everyone says she did now. We’re about to graduate.”
“Why did she run away back then? What was so upsetting?”
“Her parents are just way overprotective. They don’t let her do anything. I think she just couldn’t take it anymore. She needed freedom.”
“If they’re so protective, how did she go to parties?”
“Lying. Spending the night at my house. Sneaking out.”
“I understand.” I’d done the same things. I clung to the hope my kids never would. “Do you remember which city her grandparents live in?”
“I don’t know. I think it’s some town where you can gamble.”
“Do you know their names?”
“No. Just Nana and Grandpa. That’s what she called them.”
“Okay. And can you think of anyone, anyone at all, who might be involved, whether Beth’s a runaway or not?”
“You mean like Marcus?”
“Anyone.”
“Marcus is the only one who would have a reason.”
“And that would be...”
“Not wanting to have a baby.”
After camp, a neighbor with similar-aged kids invited Jack and Sophie over for dinner and a movie—not my favorite kind of playdate since it involves no playing, but I let it slide because I loved the other family, the movie was harmless, and picking up the treadmill without kids was a giant bonus. Kids, heavy electronic objects, and my anxiety—not a good mix.
Gina and her strikingly attractive husband—one of those fit guys who would always look spry—moved the treadmill with ease. They didn’t even need my help except to open the trunk. I hoped when I hit my fifties I’d be in shape and upbeat too. The treadmill will do it, I told myself. I’ll get in shape for the first time. Maybe I’ll even lift weights! I’ll be able to outrun bad guys no problem. Just the idea of keeping up with my kids might be incentive enough. At least I hoped so.
“Did you have fun at the park this morning?” Gina asked before I left.
“We did. Thanks.” I handed her $100 in cash.
“Excellent. I hear you spoke with Sonja,” she said.
“Oh, yeah,” I replied nervously. “Did you talk to her too?”
“She stopped by this afternoon. I guess you mentioned something about my helping?”
“I said you were concerned, and that I thought the neighbors would like to help. I hope that’s okay.”
“It’s great,” she said with enthusiasm. I’d forgotten to expect that from her. “I was so surprised to see her at my door. I’ve been dying to do something, and you know I wrote her a note about it. Thank you for getting her out of the house and down here.”
“She doesn’t come out much, huh?”
“No, and it’s such a devastating situation. I think they need others, don’t you? I mean we all do.”
“Absolutely. The more people who can help, the better.” That was a fact. “She told me she appreciated your note. What did she have to say?”
“Well, she still didn’t want much help. But she did give me a flyer to copy and hand out. She said to leave the rest to the police.”
My mind was racing. I had to see that flyer.
“She only gave you one?”
“Yes,” Gina said. “But I’ll make more.”
“I’d love to help with handing them out or putting them up. I can take a copy with me and make extras.”
“Sure. That’s nice of you. I’ll be right back.”
; I waited in the minivan, air conditioner blasting, inspecting the loading job through the rearview mirror. The back seat was folded down, and the hatchback was tied closed. Andy had promised to help me get the treadmill through the basement door, but I was having second thoughts about where to put it. The basement was cold and uninviting, not somewhere I’d want to jog every day, and my bedroom was warm and cozy. If I had to see the treadmill when I woke up, taunting me, wouldn’t it be hard to ignore? So that’s where it should go. My eyes returned to Gina’s house.
When she bounded down the front steps with a smile on her face, waving a stack of papers, my heart sang. This was more than a way to publicize Beth’s disappearance. It was an excuse to knock on doors and ask questions. I wasn’t good at it, but I was determined, and hopefully that counted for something.
“Here you go. I went ahead and made a bunch.” She divided the stack and handed me half.
“How about if I do that side of the street while I’m here and my kids aren’t?” I asked. “It will be easier.”
She laughed. “Sure. Did I give you enough?”
I counted nine. There were twenty houses on the street, including Gina and Beth’s. Nine was perfect. I took that as a good sign.
“Just right,” I said.
“Hold on.” Gina held up a hand. “I have an idea. How about if we go together? It’s a nice evening, and I could use a walk.”
“Okay,” I said. I hoped her familiar face would open doors—and mouths.
Ten
Gina was a talker, and I love talkers. Wait. Let me qualify that. I love talkers who discuss interesting things, and since Gina and I chatted about parenting, food, vacation spots, and the neighborhood, I wasn’t bored during our hour together. I also found it easy to keep quiet, particularly about personal subjects, which I wanted to avoid. I did reveal I had a degree in forensic psychology, and that after seeing Sophie through preschool, I wanted to catch criminals and support victims.
“How fascinating,” Gina enthused. “So today’s a good start. Now I know why you wanted to help so much.”
Sort of, I thought while I nodded.
A few residents who answered their doors were shocked to hear there was a missing teen on their street. Most had already spoken with the police. Everyone eagerly accepted a flyer and promised to look out for her. Because Beth was pregnant, people recalled seeing her walk to the mailbox or down the street, but that was about it.
The only neighbor who said she knew Beth personally was Molly, a redhead, stay-at-home mom on Beth’s row, the one I’d seen through the window with her infant. She greeted Gina with a hug and explained that Gina was like a surrogate grandma, since Molly’s relatives lived far away.
I smiled and let Gina do the talking.
Molly had tried to befriend Beth, offering advice, hand-me-downs, and anything else Beth needed. Beth had been polite but unresponsive, except for once, when she asked what childbirth was like. Molly had a baby boy and a four-year-old girl, and both deliveries had been difficult, so she tried not to worry Beth.
“Giving birth is the most incredible thing I’ve ever done,” she said she told Beth. “You’ll do great. I know it.”
“How did she react?” I asked.
“She didn’t say much. Just ‘Oh, that’s good’ or something. But she loved looking at Michael.” She indicated her pudgy baby, lying face-up on a play mat, batting black-and-white shapes that hung above him. “Anytime she’d see us, she’d come right up and ask how he was doing. She’s a good girl. I can’t believe she’s missing.”
“Did she seem like someone who would run away?”
“I don’t know,” Molly said thoughtfully. “Her parents seemed okay. They would say hello and stuff, but that’s it. You know how they are, Gina, right?”
“Very private,” Gina agreed.
“Yeah.” Molly wrinkled her nose. “Nothing seemed wrong, but it didn’t seem right either. Not happy. I didn’t think much about it. But you know, what if she didn’t run away? I mean that’s really scary.”
“She was with that one friend a lot,” Gina blurted, as though she’d just remembered this detail. She looked at Molly. “Remember? The one with long, dark hair?”
“You’re right. She came by a lot,” Molly said. “Hopefully the police have talked to her.”
I assumed the girl was April but wasn’t sure how to confirm it.
“Do you remember anything else about her? Like her name or what she drove?”
They looked at each other. “Not really,” Molly said. “She was about Beth’s size. Pretty.”
“Did the police talk to you?” I asked.
“Yeah. But I didn’t see or hear anything out of the ordinary. And neither did my husband. I wish we had.” Her shoulders slumped.
“Same with us,” Gina added.
“Well, if you think of anything else, the number for the police is right here.” I pointed to the flyer. “By the way, do you know where she was planning to deliver? Which hospital?”
“King County General,” she said. “Same as me.”
The ring of my phone interrupted the conversation. Just as my finger hit the “answer” button, my mind registered the name on caller ID. Dean.
“Hi, Dean,” I said, turning away from Gina and Molly to concentrate. “I’m...” I floundered for a creative explanation but came up empty. “Talking to some people right now. What’s going on?”
“I have a little information for you. When’s a good time to call back?”
“Well,” I glanced at Gina’s hands. She was still holding flyers. “I’m not sure. Can I call you back soon? Or is it something urgent?” If he had big news, I wanted it now.
“No. Not at all. Give me a ring when you’re done.”
“Will you be at this number? The one you called from? It’s on my caller ID.”
“Probably,” he said. “It’s my home number. But you can try my cell too.”
He started giving me the number, but I wasn’t ready.
“Oops. Hang on a second.” I asked Molly for a pen and jotted down the digits. “Okay. So I’ll call you in a bit. I have a few things to tell you, too.”
“Sounds good,” he said.
“And you can always email me if we miss each other,” I added.
“Got it.” I swear I heard a smile in his voice. Could he tell I was tongue-tied?
We said goodbye and I turned to Gina and Molly, who were staring at me.
“Everything okay?” Gina asked.
“Fine,” I said. “Just a friend. He’ll call back.”
“Your face is bright red.” Molly said.
No wonder it felt like I’d stuck it in an oven. “I am a little hot. Whew!” I fanned myself.
“Or maybe he is?” Gina said with a laugh.
Oh my. I didn’t want my crush to be obvious. I just hoped I had a better poker face with Dean.
We left Molly’s and headed for the opposite end of the street, where we had one more home to visit. Gina warned me that Don Palmer, a crotchety old man, would be eager to talk, but not necessarily about Beth. She was right. His curtains parted as we approached, and he opened the door before we knocked.
“What can I do you for?” he asked Gina from his porch. I was hopeful, and a touch apprehensive, because his home was near the neighborhood entrance, where he could see everyone come and go. For all I knew, he’d seen me on my last two visits.
Gina introduced me, passed him a flyer, and asked if he knew Beth.
“Course I do,” he chastised her. “The pregnant girl.”
I felt for Beth. Once a teen is pregnant, I wondered, does everyone call her “The Pregnant Girl”? What was next? “The Girl With the Baby”?
“That’s right,” Gina started, but Don wasn’t done.
“Don isn’t happy with a few things,” she understated.
I got straight to the point. “Has Beth caused any problems herself?”
“Not unless you count setting a poor example,” he said. “Which I do. What about all the young ones on the street, seeing a teen knocked up, parading around? The world’s going to pot.” He waved a hand in disgust.
“The world is a scary place,” Gina allowed. “And I know how much you care about the neighborhood. That’s why we’re here. Neighbors helping neighbors!” I wondered if appealing to his sense of community would work. “This girl ran away—or disappeared for some reason,” Gina continued. “And we’re handing out these flyers to help her parents, seeing if anyone saw or heard anything that could help find her. We want to keep the neighborhood safe, you know.”
Don set his jaw and considered this for a moment.
“She walked a lot in the evenings. About this time,” he offered. I held my breath and waited for more. I actually liked old Don for a moment. “By herself. To the five-and-dime.” He pointed at a convenience store across the street.
“Did she spend long there?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Never noticed her coming back.”
“You never saw her walk back?” I asked. I was genuinely surprised. Don seemed so observant that if he hadn’t seen it, maybe it hadn’t happened.
“Young lady, it’s not my job to keep track of everyone and everything.”
I stifled a smirk and smiled gratefully. “Of course,” I said. “You can only do so much.”
“Tell us one more time,” Gina said. “Did she go to the store? Or just in that direction?”
“All I’m saying is I saw her cross the street.” He pointed at the store again.
Finding Sky (A Nicki Valentine Mystery Book 1) Page 13