“Whata beautiful day, isn’t it?” Collin, my neighbor, commented, calling from overthe fence that separated our yards.
“Hm,”I replied with a short nod, before bringing the steaming cup of coffee to mylips.
Hisgaze swept over my sunlit yard and the sprouting weeds highlighted within thegolden rays. I followed his eyes, knowing I should care more that my yard wason the brink of looking unkempt. Especially considering the position I heldwithin the town. As the Mayor’s legislative aide, I was expected to uphold acertain level of conduct when it came to appearances within the town. But Ireally didn’t have the space in my head to care. Not when my focus was entirelyon my sister and her whereabouts.
“Ryanand Paddy arecomin’ by later to do some yard work,”he mentioned casually. “Wouldyalike me to send themover to do yours as well? I’m sure they wouldn’t mind.”
“No,it’s okay.” I shook my head. “I’ll have TJ pull the weeds when he gets out ofschool.”
“Areyasure? I’d hate for theMayorto drive by and giveyaa hard time for—”
“Ireally don’t give a crap what thefreakin’ Mayorthinks of my yard right now,” I snapped, immediately regretting the harsh bitein my tone. Ashamed, I laid a hand over my face and shook my head. “God, I’msorry, Collin.”
“Oh,don’tyaworry about that, darlin’. What’sgoin’ on?” He wandered around his fence and into my yard,approaching with concern crowding the kindness in his eyes. “Is it your boy?”
Ishook my head and dropped my hand into my lap. “No. I mean, he’s a royal painin my ass, always. But that’s not what’s wrong. It’s …” I shook my head,blowing out a heavy breath at the realization that I was about to say it outloud. “It’s my sister. I think … I think she’s, um … I think she’s … missing.”
Hisred brows crumpled with worry as he came closer. “Grace? Didn’t she go toScotland?”
Inodded, swallowing at the growing lump in my throat. “She’s been gone for twoweeks now, and she was supposed to come home four days ago, but she never goton the plane. I got a text from her a couple nights ago but …” The persistentgnaw in my stomach bit down hard and I fought the urge to vomit. “I, I haven’theard anything from her since.”
“Rosie,”he said quietly, the faintest hint of alarm staining his melodic Irish accent.“I don’t mean to frightenya—”
“Oh,believe me,” I laughed without humor. “I’m already terrified.”
“Haveyaphoned the Scottish police?”
I’dbe lying if I said the thought hadn’t crossed my mind. I had already found thenumber for the Fort Crow Police Station, and it was waiting in a note on myphone. But I hadn’t gone through with it yet, while holding onto the foolishassumption that calling them would make this all that much more real. As ifdialing the number would solidify her permanent absence from my life.
Ishook my head. “Not yet.”
“Yashould,” he said firmly, and with a stuttering bob of myhead, I replied, “I know.”
Butlater, as I sat in my ex-husband’s kitchen with his wife and our son, the threeof them seemed to remain in state of denial. With the phone in my hand, readyto dial, they told me to wait, insisting that Gracie was just having fun, forthe first time in her methodical, careful life. But careful, I told them,should never involve ignoring your worried family for days, and especially notwhen you’re by yourself, in a foreign country.
“So,call, then,” Tom said. “You’ll see she’s fine, and if that’s what it takes tomake you feel better, then go ahead.”
Alison,his wife, nodded in agreement. “It’ll put your mind at ease, at least.”
TJrolled his eyes. “God, this is so stupid.GiGiisfine, and you know it.”
“No,I don’t knowthat,” I pressed forcefully. “And neitherdo you.”
“So,then call! Jesus Christ, you’re notgonnashut thefuck up until you do it, anyway, so go ahead!”
“Don’tyou dare talk to your mother like that,” Tom fired back angrily. “Apologize toher right now!”
“No!She’s been doing nothing but stressing out over this for no fucking reason andI’m sick of hearing about it!”
Ipressed the edge of my phone to my forehead, squeezing my eyes shut as I said,“Please, let’s all just calm—”
Thephone rang, vibrating through the rings on my fingers, and I quickly looked atthe screen to see that it was my father. Without a moments’ hesitation, Ianswered with shaking hands, nearly dropping the thing on my way to say hello.
“Rosie,”Dad said, but he didn’t sound like Dad. He sounded like a man who’d justreturned,beatenand broken down, from the war of hislife. Unsure of how he was supposed to continue, and my heart began to drown inthe fear of what I knew was to come.
“Dad.What’s up? Have you heard—”
“Wejust got a call from Officer Kinney,” he said, his tone stiff and unwavering.He was a man void of emotion, too afraid to feel and too scared of what hemight find beneath the stone of his exterior. “He got a call from the Fort Crowpolice.”
