“Do you know where your sister could possibly be?”
“Nope. I’m not covering for her, if that’s your next question.”
“Aren’t you?” Mom said in a whisper.
“No, why would I?”
“Because she’s your sister.”
“Got news for you, Mom, the girl living in our house is not my sister.” A kid stumbled next to him, and Caleb reached out to help him up. “Look, she’s announced her plans to quit school, so let her go. Good riddance.”
“Caleb Ransom.” Mom snatched his arm. “We have to talk to her. This is serious. We can’t just let her go. Wander off to God knows where, get into God knows what kind of trouble? All kinds of horrible things are happening to young women these days.” Mom sobbed into her hand. “If anything happens to her . . .”
“Caleb,” Dad said, patting him on the shoulder, “if you see her, tell her we just want to talk.” His phone rang from his pocket. “Ransom,” he answered. “Chief Kelly, yes, thanks for calling.”
Mom waved good-bye and blew him a kiss as she followed Dad out of the Starlight.
So now they’ve involved the police. Cass had been gone a day and a half. Caleb guessed that’d be enough to worry a parent.
In the sound booth, he hopped on the internet and checked her Facebook wall. But she’d not posted anything since prom. Which he found interesting. He snooped her best friend Allison’s account. She had plenty of pictures from the summer—Allison smiling at the camera, tucked between her friends, having a blast. In the background of one picture was the Driftwood Door, a Shalimar dive for airmen and local fishermen.
Caleb scoured the images for a glimpse of Cassidy, but she wasn’t in any of them. Weird. Very weird.
Next, he called Jumbo, asked if his sister had spotted Cass in the wild. No luck there.
Back on the floor, Caleb tried to imagine where his sister might hide out. As crazy as she was right now, he knew her. She was a bit of a chicken at heart. Hated being alone. Didn’t like the dark. She might run, but no farther than Fort Walton to the west or Panama City to the east.
Thirty minutes before the end of the session, Caleb asked Mr. Caster if he could leave early. “There’s only a dozen skaters left,” he said. “I need to run an errand for my parents.”
“Go on, I’ll close up. Thanks for staying.”
Out in his truck, he considered his plan. Mostly that he didn’t have one. His gut told him if Allison had been frequenting the Driftwood Door, so had Cassidy.
In the fifteen-minute drive, he rehearsed some sort of “You got to stop this, Cass” speech in case he found her. If not, he’d deliver it to Allison if she was there. Neither one was old enough to be out drinking. Did they have fake IDs?
His phone chimed from the passenger seat with a couple of texts. At the next traffic light, he reached for his phone. He had one from Shift about upcoming football two-a-days and one from Emery.
Emery:
Could you come early, please? I need you.
Caleb:
Em, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?
Emery:
Everything.
Caleb:
Had to run an errand. Meet you at the stand of palms ASAP.
The light turned green, and he hit the gas, the Driftwood Door on his mind, but his heart pounded with the words,Turn around. Go see her. She needs you.
He was only two minutes from the bar. He could see the lights of the sign. Two minutes there, five minutes to talk to Cassidy, and fifteen minutes home, calling Mom and Dad on the way to let them know she was alive and well—if he found her—then off to see Emery.
In the parking lot, he squeezed his little S-10 between two monster trucks and headed inside. At the door, an oversized tattooed bouncer grabbed him by the collar.
