Nic had looked up. She’d been on Route 7, heading north, back toward Hastings.
“I’m still here,” she’d said.
“You said you were coming home! Jesus, Nic—you promised. I’m coming to get you. I can get the next flight out…”
“I don’t need you to come get me. I need you to tell me the truth!”
“No, okay. The answer is no. I’m not having an affair.”
“But the late nights, the way you stopped looking at her… I was so sure. I told her! I told her the morning she left!”
“Oh, Nicole—no, no—this is not about you. It doesn’t matter what you told your mother that morning. She already knew the truth.”
“What truth, Daddy? What did she know?”
Another pause. A breath.
“That I couldn’t find my love for her.”
“But there were charges—at hotels…”
“Please, Nicole. This is so hard for me to say. Sometimes I just couldn’t come home. But there were no hotels. I never made any charges.”
It had sounded crazy, but yet Nic understood completely. She had stayed out all night when she could.
But then—
“Why were you in West Cornwall the day she disappeared. I know about that charge as well.”
His voice had changed suddenly. “What are you talking about? I was at work that night and then I went home. Went right to bed. You can ask anyone at the office… what is this about? What charge did you find?”
Reyes.Another lie? But why? How could she not have seen it? Or felt it? The thought had disgusted her.
“Promise me, Daddy. Promise me you don’t know where she is. On my life. On Evan’s life. Promise me right now.”
Thirty miles north of Hastings, Nic had found a shopping strip. It had employee parking in the back, hidden from the road.
Nic had climbed in the back seat and laid down on her side, curled in a tight ball like a child. She’d closed her eyes, and heard her father’s voice in her head. Over and over.
I promise.
It was morning now, and she called Chief Watkins. He came within the hour. He parked his truck two spaces over, the gray Silverado, then got out and walked to the blue Audi.
Nic turned on the ignition and opened the window.
“Are you okay?” Watkins asked.
Nic unlocked the door. “Can you get in?”
Chief Watkins went back to his truck, then returned with two Styrofoam cups. He opened the door to the Audi and climbed into the passenger seat. He wore the same uniform as the day Nic had returned to Hastings—just three days ago. Three days. So much had happened.
“Here,” he said, handing Nic a cup of coffee.
“What’s going on?”
Nic wiped her eyes which were sticky with exhaustion. She breathed in the smell of the coffee. Then took a long sip.
“Thanks for coming. I’m sorry if I was cryptic.”
