firmly, although not unkindly, and the message came through loud and clear. Road rage kid or not, the cops werenât rushing to put a search party together. People went missing all the time, no reason to panic yet.
Easier said than done, Rennie thought as she headed to the car. The cops didnât know Max like she did.
Sheâd told him only fragments of her ugly story â few people knew all the details. The fact he hadnât pressed way back when they met was one of the things that had made her stick around to see what was behind his silly grin. It turned out he was a better man than sheâd thought possible. Almost too good to believe so soon after sheâd finished the court- ordered counselling.
But he had his own ugly story and he understood what it was like to be left alone, he knew about starting over and that trust was a hard- earned commodity.
*
Rennie drove back to Haven Bay, heading for Skiffs instead of home. If Max rang, heâd try her mobile first â and she couldnât face pacing the house, waiting for the cops to pull a finger out and dealing with Hayden when he woke up hungry and cranky.
She planned to call the hospitals herself but first she wanted to take another look around the car park in the daylight, see if she could find some hint to what had happened there last night . . . if anything had happened. She could also drink about a litre of Pavâs double-shot cappuccino. Heâd be at the cafe by now, despite the party and the late night. Trish might even make an appearance â and company from either of them wouldnât go amiss.
It was past nine oâclock when she turned into the main street. It was a warm, sunny Sunday morning, a little confused about whether it was late spring or early summer, not yet pumping out the Christmas heat, and there were more than a few Haven Bay residents now out enjoying it. There werenât enough shops or locals to generate a crowd but those that were there had their weekend faces on. Several adults chatted on the footpath, some little kids in sports uniforms were running about, there was a queue in front of the bakery and whatever club or school was taking their turn at the cake stall was doing an okay trade.
Rennie parked behind the strip and went back to where Max had left the car last night. Keeping her eyes to the tarred surface, she walked all the way around the blue sedan that was in the spot now, looking for scuff marks, stains, broken glass â anything. She got on her hands and knees, checked under the chassis, then beneath the cars on either side and in front.
âLost something, luv?â
An old guy in equally old shorts and T-shirt was standing above her, waiting to open up the blue sedan.
She stood, brushed her hands on her jeans. âYes, but itâs not here.â
When heâd reversed out, she squatted over a dark circle in the centre of the space, rubbed a finger over it, held it to her nose. Oil.
Her phone pinged with an incoming message. She grabbed it from her back pocket and shaded the screen with her hand.
Max home yet? It was James.
She wasnât sure sheâd ever had a text from him before last night. He and Max were close but her friendship was with Naomi. It wasnât that she didnât like James, more that theyâd never really taken to each other. She was wary and needed a good reason to make a friend; he had a face that was hard to read, was stand-offish, unresponsive and smart in a way that made her conscious of her own interrupted education. Sheâd wondered more than once what kept him and Naomi together. Naomi was effervescent and sensitive, while he was sensible and even. Maybe they balanced each other out.
And he was obviously concerned about Max. No. I listed him as missing person wth police an hour ago.
On my way to check the plant. Wll keep in touch.
MineLease housed and serviced its mine machinery at a plant outside Toronto, closer
Easier said than done, Rennie thought as she headed to the car. The cops didnât know Max like she did.
Sheâd told him only fragments of her ugly story â few people knew all the details. The fact he hadnât pressed way back when they met was one of the things that had made her stick around to see what was behind his silly grin. It turned out he was a better man than sheâd thought possible. Almost too good to believe so soon after sheâd finished the court- ordered counselling.
But he had his own ugly story and he understood what it was like to be left alone, he knew about starting over and that trust was a hard- earned commodity.
*
Rennie drove back to Haven Bay, heading for Skiffs instead of home. If Max rang, heâd try her mobile first â and she couldnât face pacing the house, waiting for the cops to pull a finger out and dealing with Hayden when he woke up hungry and cranky.
She planned to call the hospitals herself but first she wanted to take another look around the car park in the daylight, see if she could find some hint to what had happened there last night . . . if anything had happened. She could also drink about a litre of Pavâs double-shot cappuccino. Heâd be at the cafe by now, despite the party and the late night. Trish might even make an appearance â and company from either of them wouldnât go amiss.
It was past nine oâclock when she turned into the main street. It was a warm, sunny Sunday morning, a little confused about whether it was late spring or early summer, not yet pumping out the Christmas heat, and there were more than a few Haven Bay residents now out enjoying it. There werenât enough shops or locals to generate a crowd but those that were there had their weekend faces on. Several adults chatted on the footpath, some little kids in sports uniforms were running about, there was a queue in front of the bakery and whatever club or school was taking their turn at the cake stall was doing an okay trade.
Rennie parked behind the strip and went back to where Max had left the car last night. Keeping her eyes to the tarred surface, she walked all the way around the blue sedan that was in the spot now, looking for scuff marks, stains, broken glass â anything. She got on her hands and knees, checked under the chassis, then beneath the cars on either side and in front.
âLost something, luv?â
An old guy in equally old shorts and T-shirt was standing above her, waiting to open up the blue sedan.
She stood, brushed her hands on her jeans. âYes, but itâs not here.â
When heâd reversed out, she squatted over a dark circle in the centre of the space, rubbed a finger over it, held it to her nose. Oil.
Her phone pinged with an incoming message. She grabbed it from her back pocket and shaded the screen with her hand.
Max home yet? It was James.
She wasnât sure sheâd ever had a text from him before last night. He and Max were close but her friendship was with Naomi. It wasnât that she didnât like James, more that theyâd never really taken to each other. She was wary and needed a good reason to make a friend; he had a face that was hard to read, was stand-offish, unresponsive and smart in a way that made her conscious of her own interrupted education. Sheâd wondered more than once what kept him and Naomi together. Naomi was effervescent and sensitive, while he was sensible and even. Maybe they balanced each other out.
And he was obviously concerned about Max. No. I listed him as missing person wth police an hour ago.
On my way to check the plant. Wll keep in touch.
MineLease housed and serviced its mine machinery at a plant outside Toronto, closer
Similar Books
