The Missing

by Melanie Florence

  “My . . . our . . . our friend is missing.”

  “Okay.” He started typing on his computer. “Name?”

  “Mia Joseph.” He glanced up at me, then back to his computer screen.

  “Age?”

  “Seventeen.”

  “When was the last time she was seen?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure. But I talked to her around midnight. She had a fight with her mom and someone was picking her up.”

  He stopped typing. “Have you tried calling her parents?” he asked.

  “Yeah.” I glanced over at Jake. “We went there first. They don’t know where she is. They’re the ones who kicked her out!”

  “Her parents kicked her out?” he asked. “Why?”

  “Why does this matter?” I asked, getting frustrated. “Just find her!”

  “Have they kicked her out before?” he asked.

  “No! I don’t think so,” I told him.

  “But she’s run away before,” he stated, leaning back in his chair.

  “She doesn’t run away! She goes to the rec centre sometimes. Just to get away from her stepfather.” It was taking all of my self-control not to dive over the desk and throttle him. Why wouldn’t he help me? I looked at Jake pleadingly.

  “Her stepfather gets . . . handsy. So she takes off for a day or two to get a break. It wasn’t like that this time. She got into a fight with her mom and she kicked her out,” Jake told him.

  “Right!” I broke in. “She called and said someone was picking her up and she was going to lie low for a day or two to figure things out.”

  “Who picked her up?” Perkins asked.

  I shrugged. “She didn’t tell me.” I stopped and looked at the floor. “I should have asked her.” I looked up and caught Perkins looking at me sympathetically. I was surprised. Especially since I had yelled at him at the school.

  “Listen, you can file a missing person report but she’ll be considered a habitual runaway.”

  “But she always answers her phone or lets me know she’s okay. And I can’t reach her!” I looked at him pleadingly. “If she’s okay, then why can’t I reach her?”

  “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Look, I can file the paperwork. That’s not a problem. Let’s start there.” He tapped away at his keyboard again.

  We gave him all the information we could come up with but we had no idea who had seen her last or where she had gone. I took Perkins’s card and we left. As we stepped back out into the sunshine, I squinted and shaded my face with my hand, reaching into my bag for my sunglasses. Jake held the car door open for me and I settled myself back into the passenger seat. The sun was beating through the windshield. As soon as Jake got in and started the car, I put the window down and leaned out, like a dog on the highway.

  “Where to now?” Jake asked, pulling out of the parking lot and accelerating so my hair began blowing and whipping around my face. I pulled my head into the car and tried to smooth it back down away from my face. I pulled a strand out of my mouth before answering.

  “Let’s try the rec centre,” I said. Jake nodded and signalled, then made a left-hand turn towards the river.

  Chapter 21

  Safe Haven

  The rec centre was more than just a place for homeless kids to stay or teens to crash when they got into fights with their parents. It was a sanctuary. Kids could come and spend an hour or a few days — whatever they needed. It didn’t matter where they came from or what they did on the street. They could get a hot meal, a shower and a bed if they needed it or come in and play basketball or pool or watch TV. No judgment. No questions asked. It was a much-needed haven in our community.

  I hadn’t spent much time there myself, but Mia had taken me a few times to hang out and play board games when she didn’t feel like going home. It was clean and there were lockers where you could keep your stuff safe. Overstuffed sofas and chairs were in the main room along with tables where you could play cards or do your homework.

  Michael was a tall, unimposing guy who had a smile on his face every time I saw him. He had run the rec centre for years and treated every kid as if he or she was the most important person in the world. That’s why they came back and that’s why they talked to him when they felt as if they couldn’t talk to anyone else. Mia adored him, and when she brought me to the rec centre with her, he had made me feel incredibly welcome.

  When we pulled into the parking lot, I saw Michael shooting hoops with a few boys who were significantly shorter than he was. He did an easy layup, his long braid flying behind him, and passed the ball to one of the kids. He looked up as Jake and I approached, and I waved.

  “Tanisi, Feather. Good to see you,” he called, catching a pass and dribbling it before passing to another kid.

  “Hi, Michael,” I replied. “Namoya miwasin. It’s not good,” I repeated. “Could I talk to you for a minute?” Michael was Cree, like me.

  “Yeah, of course. Boys, I’ll be back in a few.” He waved to a small boy wearing a Toronto Raptors jersey who was watching from the sidelines. “Thomas, can you do me a favour and sub in for me? Take it easy on them though, okay?” He ruffled the boy’s hair. Thomas grinned at him and ran onto the court. Michael grabbed a bottle of water and sat down at a nearby picnic table. He smiled at me and nodded at Jake, holding out his hand. “Hi, there. I’m Michael.” Jake reached out and shook it.

  “Jake. How’re you doing?”

  “Good, thanks. So what can I do for you?” he asked, chugging his water and then wiping the sweat off his face with his sleeve.

  “Did Mia come here last night?” I asked, my fingers crossed for his answer.

  “Last night? I’m not sure. Definitely not before eight o’clock. I left then and she wasn’t here.”

  “No, it would have been later. Sometime after midnight.”

  “Ah. Well, I wasn’t here but we lock the door at ten.” He looked between Jake and me.

  “So she wouldn’t have been able to get in after that?” Jake asked.

  “No. Well, she could have,” he said.

  “How?” I asked, leaning forward.

  “We have a policy in place now. With all the missing and murdered Indigenous girls . . . we have an emergency number on the door. If anyone, girl or boy, feels threatened, they can call and whoever is on duty at night will answer. If we have a spot for them, it’s theirs.”

  “And if you don’t have a spot?” Jake asked him.

  Michael shrugged.

  “It hasn’t been an issue yet. There was one night we were full and a girl called after hours. She said she thought someone was following her under the bridge. She said she could hear his footsteps and hear him breathing, but when she called out, he wouldn’t answer. It scared her so she came to the centre.” He took another drink from his water bottle. “We didn’t have a bed but she was really freaked out. I gave her a blanket and pillow and let her sleep on one of the couches.”

  “That was nice of you,” Jake told him. “So how can we find out if Mia came last night? Do you have a sign-in sheet?”

  Michael shook his head.

  “No. We used to but the kids didn’t like it. They left fake names so we got rid of it. But I could ask Larry. He was here overnight.”

  “Could you call him now?” I asked.

  Michael looked at us, puzzled.

  “Mind if I ask why?”

  “We haven’t been able to reach her since she left her house last night. She’s not answering her phone. She was supposed to call me this morning but I haven’t heard from her.” I sighed deeply. “No one has.”

  A shadow of concern darkened Michael’s features. “What about her parents? Have you spoken to them?”

  I nodded.

  “They’re the reason she left. I convinced her to talk to her mother . . .” My voice cracked. Jake put an arm around m
e as Michael raised his eyebrows questioningly.

  “She was having problems at home,” Jake said. “And it was escalating.” He looked over at me. “Feather told her that she should talk to her mom, but they got into a fight.” Although vague, his description was accurate.

  “And now we don’t know where she is. Could you please call and find out if she made it here last night?” I begged.

  Michael nodded and quickly fished his cell phone out of his pocket. He scrolled through his contacts and then held it up to his ear. And waited. “Voicemail,” he mouthed.

  “Yeah, hey Larry. It’s Michael. Listen, can you call me back as soon as you get this? I’m trying to find out if Mia Joseph was at the centre last night. It’s really important that you get back to me as soon as you can, okay? Thanks a lot.” He hung up and looked over at us. “He’s probably asleep. If you want to give me your number, I’ll let you know as soon as I hear from him.” I gave Michael my number and watched to make sure he put it in his phone correctly. “Please call me as soon as you hear from him,” I pleaded.

  “I will. Let me know if you hear from her in the meantime, okay?” We promised that we would and headed back to the car.

  “Where do you want to go now?” Jake asked gently.

  “I don’t know,” I told him. I was at a loss. I had no idea where to look for her. “Can you drop me off at home? I need my laptop.” He nodded and signalled, turning towards home.

  Chapter 22

  The Only Moving Thing Was the Eye of the Blackbird

  This one, this little blackbird, had fallen into his lap unexpectedly. He wasn’t ready. He didn’t cover his tracks like he usually did. But he couldn’t resist her. She was a fighter.

  He liked that.

  He smiled.

  He may not have been able to cover his tracks but he had an ace up his sleeve. He almost couldn’t believe his luck.

  He picked up his phone and dialed a number, drumming his fingers on the table and humming as it rang.

  “Hello?” He straightened up in his chair, smiling. “I just saw a boy dragging a girl into his car. Yeah, he hit her too. I think he had a knife. He got away before I could do anything. Yes, I can describe the car. I wrote down the license plate number too.”

  Chapter 23

  Cold Cases

  “I keep forgetting your brother is home.” Jake nodded towards Kiowa’s car as he pulled into my driveway.

  “Yeah. I guess he’ll be heading back to school in the next day or two.”

  “What has he been doing since he’s been back? Studying?” he asked.

  “I have no idea. I haven’t seen that much of him. Other than having dinner together most nights, he hasn’t really been around much. Hanging out with some of his old friends, I guess.” I shrugged. The whereabouts of my brother and his social circle were hardly at the top of my list of things to worry about right now.

  “Are you coming in?” I asked him, opening the car door.

  “I think I’ll go talk to Ben. He knows where Carli went when her foster mom’s place got too loud. Maybe he can help us come up with some places to look for Mia.”

  “That’s a really good idea,” I told him. If anyone could help us figure out where Mia may be hiding out, it was Ben. “Maybe you could take Matt with you?” I suggested, trying to subtly play peacemaker. I watched that look of distaste cross his face again before he smiled.

  “Yeah. Maybe.” I already knew he wasn’t going to call Matt. I tried to shrug off my unease.

  “Call me after you talk to Ben.” I turned my head so his kiss landed on my cheek. I saw the hurt on his face as he backed out of the driveway.

  I opened the front door and walked into an eerily silent house. Despite the silence, it didn’t feel empty for some reason.

  “Kiowa?” I called out. No response. I walked through the kitchen where there was a fresh pot of coffee steaming on

  the counter. Weird. I kept walking, calling to Kiowa. I stood

  in the centre of the deserted living room and threw my hands up. Maybe someone had picked him up. I shrugged and walked back towards the kitchen. I passed the door to the garage and stopped. I heard the low murmur of my brother’s voice. I walked closer to the door, unable to make out what he was saying or who he was talking to. Then I shook my head. It wasn’t any of my business. I started to walk away when I heard him yell. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. Kiowa never yells.

  “Well figure it out! I need to know what happened!” The door flew open, hitting the wall hard. I jumped backwards. Kiowa stormed into the house, holding his phone against his ear. He stopped dead when he saw me. “Just call me when you know something,” he muttered into the phone. He hung up and looked at me. “So,” he said. He looked awful. He was pale and unshaven, his eyes red-rimmed.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “Yeah. Well no,” he said, running a hand over his sandpaper chin. “Maybe something I ate,” he mumbled.

  “Coffee probably isn’t the best idea then,” I said mildly.

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “Who were you yelling at? Sounded serious.” I glanced down at his phone. He didn’t meet my eyes as he pulled his phone away from my gaze.

  “It was nothing.”

  “It didn’t sound like nothing, Ki.” I bent over, trying to get him to look at me. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”

  “No! Of course not.” He finally met my eyes and I could see he was telling the truth. I relaxed slightly.

  “Then what is it?” I asked. He looked like he was debating what to tell me.

  “It’s . . . something at school I have to deal with.” He looked away. That usually meant he was hiding something. I sighed. Everyone seemed to be hiding something lately.

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” I asked him. He shook his head, and then gave me a quick, one-armed hug.

  “Thanks, but no. Unfortunately I don’t think there is.” He scratched at his face again and walked past me into the kitchen. I turned and watched him take a mug out of the cupboard and pour himself a cup of black coffee. He carried it out into the backyard with him and fell heavily into a chair, sipping at it and staring at the fence.

  His phone rang, forgotten on the counter where he had left it. Without thinking, I picked it up just as Kiowa burst into the room and nearly dislocated my arm tearing it away from me.

  “Hey!” I glared at him.

  “Don’t touch my stuff!” He stormed out of the kitchen but paused at the doorway to his room and turned back to look at me. “Sorry,” he muttered before answering his call. “Yeah.”

  I rubbed my arm and tiptoed towards the door, wishing I had seen who was calling before being manhandled by my brother. He had his back to me, mumbling quietly into his phone. I idly picked up a magazine and leafed through it, watching him.

  “Yeah, okay. Thanks.” He stood for a second and looked around his room, clearly unaware that I was watching him. He walked over to his closet and shoved his phone under the sweaters that were sitting on the top shelf. What on earth? He closed his closet and I quickly stepped away so he couldn’t tell I was spying on him. If I’d had any doubt that my brother was hiding something, it was gone.

  But I had Mia to worry about right now. And something was going on with my brother too. Once I found Mia, I wouldn’t be so quick to let him and his hidden phone off the hook.

  * * *

  I grabbed something to eat and headed into my bedroom, closing the door firmly behind me. I sat down on my bed, opened my laptop and looked at the screen. The background was a picture of Jake and me hugging, with Mia photo-bombing us in the background. I smiled at the face she was making, her fingers pulling at the sides of her mouth with her tongue sticking out. I opened the Internet browser and stopped, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. I wasn’t exactly sure what I was looking for or where to start.


  I took a deep breath and typed in “missing and murdered Indigenous women” and hit enter. Holy shit! 225,000 results? I guess I’d start with Amnesty International since I actually knew who they were. I sat and read for the next hour, my snack sitting forgotten beside me.

  Over a thousand women and girls, all murdered right here in Canada in just over thirty years. Even though I had heard my mother tell me the numbers, it still shocked me. And 105 were still missing. I think what really stopped me in my tracks was the realization that Carli was now on that list too. The articles on the CBC website were just as terrifying. There were 230 unsolved cases and so much violence. And I guess Carli was 231. Violence in the lives of these women and girls before they were killed or went missing. More violence that destroyed their lives or ended them entirely. Some of the women were prostitutes and drug users. Some were simply girls who disappeared without a trace. Walking to school. Leaving the mall. And some of them were just hanging out at the wrong place at the wrong time.

  All those families left behind without answers. I wondered if we’d ever have any answers about Carli. Would Ben ever have any closure? The police didn’t seem very interested in finding out the truth.

  And where was Mia? Please God, I breathed, don’t let her be number 106. I scrolled down and saw face after face staring back at me from the screen.

  Missing.

  Missing.

  Murdered.

  Missing.

  Murdered.

  Murdered.

  I glanced down at my phone. Mia, where the hell are you?

  * * *

  I dialed Jake as soon as I closed my laptop. The second I heard him pick up, I launched into a monologue about what I had found out.

  “You won’t believe this!” I told him. “I started searching online and Mia and Carli . . . they’re just the tip of the iceberg, Jake. I knew there were a bunch of Indigenous women missing or killed, but I didn’t know it was this big! The RCMP released a report on the missing and murdered Indigenous women, right? Yeah, I know. But listen. So the report came back and there have been over a thousand deaths, Jake! Yes, that many!” I was pacing around my bedroom now. “And 105 women still missing. Well . . . Carli was 106 until they found her. And . . . I guess Mia is 106 now. If she’s actually missing. No. I haven’t heard anything from Michael. But Jake . . . why aren’t newspapers reporting more of these disappearances? How can there be so many unsolved murders in one group? Why doesn’t anyone care? Why isn’t someone doing something? Why are they letting more girls go missing?”