Chapter 12
TWELVE
“Mrs. Russell? Quinn Russell?” an anxious female voice asked as soon as Quinn answered.
“Speaking.”
“Mrs. Russell, my name is Ruth Watley. I’m the head here at Primrose Nursery School. I’m sorry to disturb you, but we have you listed as the emergency contact for Max Wyatt.”
“Yes, I’m his aunt. What’s happened? Is Max all right?”
“Max is absolutely fine, but understandably emotional. His father did not come to collect him. All the other children have already left.”
“Logan didn’t show?”
“We waited and waited, but Mr. Wyatt didn’t turn up, and we need to lock up.”
“Did you ring him?”
“Yes,” the woman said irritably. Of course they’d called him. That would have been the first thing they had done. “We rang his mobile several times, and we texted. He did not ring back.”
“Please tell Max I’m on my way. And if you hear from my brother, kindly ask him to phone me.”
“Of course. Thank you, Mrs. Russell. Max and I will wait for you.”
Quinn dashed downstairs, grabbed her bag and car keys, told Gabe not to hold dinner, and sprinted out the door.
It was nearly seven o’clock, and Logan usually collected Max at six.
Logan had been something of a wild child in his youth and had been known to go on multiple-day benders, but this was so unlike him these days.
He was a devoted father and had never forgotten to pick up Max or missed any important appointments or special days.
Quinn called him several times on her way to the nursery school, but he did not pick up, and the texts had not been read.
The next time she rang, she was informed that his mailbox was full, which meant that he had not picked up his messages in several hours.
Probably not since Emma had texted him earlier that afternoon and he had responded.
Although Quinn had managed to hit every red light on the way, she made it to the school in under twenty minutes. Ruth and Max were playing a game, but as soon as he saw Quinn, a tearful Max threw himself into her arms and buried his face in her thigh.
“Where’s Daddy?” he cried. “I want my daddy.”
“Daddy had something very important to do, but I spoke to him, and he said you can have a sleepover with Alex. How does that sound?”
Max gazed up at her, his little face streaked with tears, suspicion and excitement warring for dominance in his expression.
He looked so much like Logan that tears sprang to Quinn’s eyes.
He had the same thick black hair and hazel eyes, and when he finally smiled he wore that familiar look—one that suggested he was keeping the most wonderful secret and could scarcely wait to share it.
“Daddy said I could have a sleepover? He will come tomorrow?” Max pressed.
Quinn nodded, suddenly unable to speak. She hated to lie to him because, whereas some children would be happy to spend time with their cousins and wouldn’t bother to question the reasons too closely, Max was a sensitive, anxious child and would continue to fret.
She was beside herself with worry, but she didn’t want to pass on her fears to her nephew, who was already on edge, his eyes seeking reassurance.
“Yes,” Quinn promised. “Daddy will come for you tomorrow. Get your satchel and coat.”
Max ran towards a row of colorful cubbies, and Quinn turned to Ruth.
“Thank you so much for waiting with him,” she said. “I’m sorry it took so long.”
Ruth tilted her head to the side and studied Quinn’s tense face. “Is Mr. Wyatt all right?”
“I don’t know,” Quinn said. “This is so unlike him.”
“He’s a great dad. I had hoped he got stuck on the tube or had to work late, but, even if that had been the case, he would have phoned to let us know.”
“I wasn’t able to get in touch with him,” Quinn said. “And I’m really worried.”
“I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation.”
Quinn detested platitudes, but what else could the woman reasonably say?
She had stayed late already and probably longed to get home and enjoy what was left of her evening.
Quinn didn’t want to detain her any longer, so she took Max by the hand and led him to the car, now grateful that she still had Mia’s child seat in the boot.
As soon as he was securely buckled, she guided the car into traffic and headed for home.
Max, who had exhausted himself with worrying and was nearly ready for bed, fell asleep, his head lolling to the side and his hand clutching the strap of his bag as if he were afraid to let it go.
Gabe stepped outside as soon as the car pulled up. “What happened? You left so fast.”
“Logan never showed, Max was upset, and the woman who waited with him needed to lock up. I couldn’t get hold of Logan, Gabe.”
Gabe took that onboard but didn’t say anything. Instead, he opened the back door, unbuckled Max, and carefully lifted the child into his arms. Max immediately woke and wrapped his arms around Gabe’s neck.
“Hello, Uncle Gabe,” he said sleepily.
“Hello, mate. Are you hungry?”
Max nodded.
“Then you’re just in time.”
“Can we watch a film after dinner?” Max asked.
“What time do you normally go to bed?” Gabe asked, even though he knew perfectly well.
“Eleven o’clock,” Max replied without missing a beat.
“Somehow I don’t think that’s true.”
“Ten o’clock,” Max cried, now enjoying the game.
“Nah, I don’t think so,” Gabe replied.
“Nine o’clock.”
“Probably more like eight,” Gabe guessed.
“Half eight?” Max pleaded.
“If it’s OK with Aunt Quinn.”
“Is it?” Max asked, turning to her.
“Just this once.”
Quinn grabbed Max’s things and followed them inside. She was both worried and furious with Logan. If something had come up, she would have gladly collected Max, but the fact that Logan hadn’t bothered to notify anyone had really rattled her.
Where the hell was he, and what was she supposed to tell Max if Logan didn’t show tomorrow morning?