22. Found
Chapter twenty-two
Found
The first phone call I answer at the fire station is from Mrs. Weaver.
She’s crying before she gets her name out, which makes keeping my nerves calm even harder. I have a pen in one hand, the receiver tucked between my shoulder and ear, and a half-filled incident sheet in front of me, block letters across the top.
NAME: ELEANOR BIE. AGE: 14. LAST KNOWN POINT: COUPLEVILLE FAMILY MEDICAL.
Every word on the page makes the hair on my neck stand up.
“Mrs. Weaver,” I say, keeping my voice level. “Slow down for me.”
“I saw a girl running near the florist this afternoon, Annie.” She stops to take a breath. “I should’ve called sooner, but I just heard about Ellie.”
“You gave us the information now. That’s what’s important.”
“But what if it was Ellie?”
“Then you helped us narrow where she was.”
She blows her nose and her crying subsides.
Around me, the fire station is full of motion. Wet coats hang from hooks. Boots track water across the concrete floor. Phones ring and stop and ring again. A deputy stands over a map with a firefighter and two volunteers, marking off places already checked.
I write down the information from Mrs. Weaver’s call.
“I should’ve known,” Mrs. Weaver says.
“No,” I tell her. “You saw a teenager running in town. That’s all. We see that all day, every day. You called when you knew there was a reason to call.”
“Do you need help over there?”
“We have the phone bank covered right now. But thank you.”
“I’m praying.”
My pen pauses.
“Good,” I say. “Keep doing that.”
I hang up and stare at the sheet for half a second too long before I place it in the stack to be logged.
Someone drops a folder beside my elbow. “Annie, can you log these, too?”
“Yeah.”
My hand reaches for them before I look up.
Mrs. Avery from the library puts a cup of coffee next to my forms. “Stop and take a moment, dear.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
I look at her.
Her face softens. “You’ve been here for hours.”
“Then I’m just getting started.”
“The teams are narrowing the active search. They don’t need every phone covered.”
“Then they’ll have extra help.”
“Annie.”
“I’m staying.”
She looks at me in earnest, then pats my hand and leaves me.
I do welcome the coffee and caffeine though.
I go back to logging the form information into the database: times, callers, locations, lead details. Every lead is logged, and then each is checked out and checked off in the spreadsheet. Red means the lead is closed. Green, still open.
There’s a lot more red on this sheet than when I came in. The page blurs for one second. I blink until the words return.
I’m doing something useful. That’s what I need.
Useful keeps my hands from shaking.
Useful keeps me from hearing Doc’s words and seeing the look on his face.
I can barely look at you and not see Ellie running.
The pen tip digs through the paper.
I stop and stare at the hole I’ve made in the form.
“Damn it,” I whisper.
A firefighter glances over. I fold the damaged sheet in half and start a new one.
Ellie is missing. That’s the only thing that gets focus right now. The pen bends in my grip. I put it down before I snap it.
“Annie.”
I look up.
Jake’s walking in, soaked with a clipboard tucked under one arm and a stack of forms in the other hand.
For one second, I think he has news. He sees that thought cross my face and shakes his head once.
“Nothing yet.”
“Where were you?”
“Marina. Docks. Boat sheds. Beach access behind the old repair place. Nothing.”
Nothing.
The word is good and horrible at the same time.
Jake sets the forms down. “Alvarez sent me back here to turn in notes and get warm before I do something stupid in the dark.”
“He does know you.”
His mouth moves into the smallest almost-smile. It doesn’t last.
“You running phones?”
“Yeah, but the calls are slowing down.”
He looks at the papers, then at my face. He leans one hip against the table. “You should take five minutes.”
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re busy. That’s not the same.”
“I’m useful.”
“You can be useful after you drink some water and take a lap.”
The phone rings before I can respond. I grab it. “Search line.”
A woman I don’t recognize says she saw a teenage girl near the waterfront before dark. I ask the questions. Jake doesn’t leave. He stands there while I write, listening without interrupting. Then I start asking my questions: time, direction, description, anything else.
I finish the call and add the form to the pile.
Jake picks up one of the tablets. “Are all of the leads marked on the map?”
“The last six have not been.”
“I’ll put them up. And yes, I will check off the box on the spreadsheet that says it’s been added to the map.”
“Thanks, Jake.”
He’s halfway across the room when Sheriff Alvarez steps through the open bay door, rain dripping everywhere. Every conversation stops and shifts around him.
I hold my breath.
He talks to one of the deputies first. Low voice. Short exchange. Then he looks toward me.
No. Please. Don’t look at me unless you know something.
He smiles and turns to the map, and the room starts moving again.
The phone rings, and Groundhog Day begins again: write, question, write, record, plot, repeat.
Again, and again, and again.
At some point, someone brings in a tray of sandwiches from the coffee shop. Jake sits down beside me and hands me one. “Turkey, and you’re going to eat.”
We stop long enough to eat when a deputy comes in and says the civilian teams are being pulled for the night. Patrols are staying out. Phone lines are staying open.
No one says what we’re all thinking.
Ellie’s on her own for the night.
“Annie,” Jake says. “Maybe we should go home. Just to get a couple hours rest. I’ll stay up beside the phone.”
“No.”
“You’ve been here for five and a half hours.” He rests his hand lightly on my shoulder.
I look at the clock. It’s after eleven.
That can’t be right.
“I’m staying until there’s news.”
“We can get news at home.”
“No,” I say, and my voice comes out sharper than I mean it to. “I can’t.”
He nods. “Then you get up and come outside for a few minutes. Fresh air will do you good.”
“But, I’m on phones.”
He looks at me, then the two other volunteers and a deputy also sitting beside silent phones and back to me again. “Really?”
“Jake.”
“Annie. I’m not taking you to China, just to the other side of the door. You need to relax.”
I push back from the table and we step out through the side door onto the patio. The rain has eased into a wet mist that collects on my hair and jacket. The bay doors are open around the corner, voices and radio static carry out into the night.
Someone says Ellie’s name, and I almost turn around. Jake catches my wrist.
I flinch and pull my arm back. He lets go immediately and looks down at my wrist.
The outside light catches the marks. Four darkening bands on the inside of my wrist. The shape of fingers.
Jake’s face darkens. “Did Doc do that?”
“No.” The answer comes fast.
His eyes snap back up to mine. “Well somebody did. Who?”
“A guy at the clinic this afternoon.”
For a second, he doesn’t move.
“You’re telling me some random guy did this to you.” He lowers his voice and steps in closer. “This is Coupeville. There are no random guys. Who the fuck did this to you?”
“Jake, let it go, please. Ellie is missing.”
“That doesn’t mean this didn’t happen.” His voice drops. “I’m asking you one last time. Nicely.”
“Ian.”
“Who?”
“Ian Danvers.”
“The developer?”
I shake my head and he turns to head inside. “What are you doing?”
“As I see it, I’m either going to get Alvarez or I’m going after this douche myself. Your call. I don’t really care either way.”
“No. You’re not.”
“Watch me Annie. You can be the victim. But I won’t stand here and allow this to happen.”
I grab his arm and yank him away from the door. “You can’t.”
He turns back to me. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
I look up into his eyes with a death stare. “It means you are going to have to trust me.”
Jake takes one step away from me, then stops. “I’m sorry, I’m going to need more than that to go on.”
“Ian is Portland.”
The words sit between us, ugly and small and not nearly enough.
Jake’s voice changes. “Ian Danvers is the guy from Portland?”
“Yes.” I pull my sleeve down over the marks. “He came to the clinic after hours. He wanted me to support the cannery project.”
Jake’s expression goes flat. “And he grabbed you over that?”
“He grabbed me after he got tired of me saying no.”
Jake can barely speak. “What happened?”
I don’t want to repeat it.
“Annie,” his voice is more stern and I know I can’t avoid it.
“I refused and he threatened to use Doc and Ellie, poisoning what was going on between us. Like I even know what the hell is going on between us.” I lean up against the wall.
“I told him he didn’t know what he was talking about. And then he got ugly. Accused me of pretending to care about her. Using her. Using Doc. Trying to get a family. He said really awful things.”
“Like?”
The wet air turns colder against my face. “Like I was playing mommy to Doc’s teenage brat.”
The words cut worse the second time. Jake’s eyes close.
“So wait, was Ellie at the clinic when this all went down?”
I press my fingers against my lips and look toward the open bay.
“I don’t know.” My voice cracks. I hate it. “She might have been. She was coming to ask about a school project, but I never heard her come inside.”
Jake looks toward the street again. “And Doc?”
I laugh once. There is no humor in it. “Doc saw Ian leaving. Found me in room two. Saw my wrist. Asked what happened when we started hearing Ellie’s phone ringing. Doc found it in the bushes.”
“And he lost it.” Jake understands before I say the rest.
“Yeah, it got ugly. He said he couldn’t look at me without seeing Ellie running.” I wipe rain off my cheek.
I think it’s rain.
“Annie.” Jake takes my hand. “I’m not excusing the behavior, but Doc was terrified. I don’t think he meant to hurt you.”
“He told me he knew I didn’t use Ellie. But everything had already gone sideways. He couldn’t separate it. Me. Ian. Ellie’s phone. The things Ian said. It all landed together.”