“Can you bring the reunion down to the pub, so we can call the police?”
I led them through the back door to McPhee’s and maybe, yeah, I was expecting a little bit of a huzzah and parade—even a single note of surprise?—to be bringing Marisa back from missing-poster gone.
Instead? Lourey stood up from the table where I’d left the band. Their patience with me was at an end.
“We’re going,” she said. She motioned for the rest of them to gather their things. “You’re not serious about this.”
“There’s alotgoing on here right now,” I said impatiently. “But I’m serious. I even have a song. The beginning of one, at least. Hey, look, right here.” I pulled the crinkled bit of paper out of my pocket and waved it in front of their faces.
“And lyrics?” Suzy said.
Shanny and Rooster looked toward me, hopeful.
“Just some placeholder ones…”
“Are they aboutdogs?” Lourey said.
“Is that the song I liked?” Sis said. “Yeah, that one. It definitely should not be about dogs, though.”
“You’re not helping,” I said.
“We’re taking the gear,” Lourey announced. The girls pulled theircoats off wall hooks, their purses and backpacks off the backs of their chairs. They headed down the hallway toward the storeroom.
“Don’t leave, okay?” I yelled after them. “I’mserious, I— Okay, you guys sort the gear and I’ll come convince you not to take it. We’ll call it inventory.”
Across the room, Alex had clocked Marisa. Oona reached in and took the beer from his stalled hand before it spilled, and placed the drink in front of Lumpy Jim. All the Jims were at their stations, Quin and his trustworthyelbowpatches. They all turned on their stools to see what was happening. Pascal peered over the pass-through. The TVs had the pregame up, but the sound was a little high in the nearly empty room. No other customers had come in?
“Slow day for a Sunday,” I said. “Except I just found, uh, Marisa. Tied up. Next door.”
“Tied up?” Oona said. “Are you joking?”
I was watching Quin out of the corner of my eye. The hand he’d had on his pint glass dropped to the bar, but he stayed where he was, eyes shifting around at everyone else. Silent Jim said, as usual, nothing.
Lumpy Jim leaned across him. “You mean, held hostage?” Lump said. “Doll? Like a Liam Neeson movie?”
“Alex, can you get two glasses of water, please?” I said.
The specific request unlocked him, but he reached for a rag and started cleaning the bar surface. Oona grabbed glasses.
“Alex, you remember Marisa. Her daughter, Sicily.” I herded them toward the seats at the corner of the bar so they could still cling to each other. Silent Jim moved down a stool to make room for Marisa. Oona placed ice water in front of her as though turning the glass just so would make up for the situation.
“If there’sanythingelse you need,” Oona said. Then she pivoted almost hungrily toward Sicily with the second glass. “So you’re Doll’s…”
“Sister?” Sis said.
“Do you go to school? How old are you?”
Sis looked at me, then her mother. “I’m… eighteen.”
I smirked at her. Bingo. That number, I believed. “Can we get a couple of cheeseburgers out of Ned?” I asked. “Pascal?”
“He’s not here,” Pascal said. “I guess he’s late?”
Or he’d decided to leave us hanging on one of the busiest days of the season. I looked around. Whatshouldbe one of the busiest days. “Everyone else must be late, too,” I said.
It was weird. But someone was at the vestibule now. I saw Ned’s face framed in the porthole window, an expression I didn’t read as remorse.
This was it. Alex would need to have that chat with him, and if he quit, so what?
