She’d be better off at the Bliss Bed and Breakfast. Owned by friends of my parents, it’s the far better choice. But it’s also more expensive. And something about the duct tape on Vienna’s backpacks makes me think she might not have much money.
Well,I decide,the easiest way to find out where Vienna’s staying is to ask.So, as I near the center of downtown—well, the small strip of stores and one traffic light that constitutes downtown Bliss—I pull out my phone and call the station.
I’m expecting to get the runaround when I ask to be put through to Officer Nelson, and that’s exactly what I get. The officer who answers—Matt Gillis—tells me in a harried tone, “It’s crazy out there tonight. Accidents everywhere. You want to talk to Officer Nelson, come in tomorrow.”
But I know Matt Gillis, because he’s been by my garage to look at my collection of vintage snowmobiles before. Even offered to buy one of my Yamahas, but at significantly less than I wanted. Before, I gave him a flat no. But now…
“I’ll give you the 1972 Yamaha for six K,” I tell him. “That’s less than you offered. Just put me through to Officer Nelson, and it’s yours.”
A minute later, with a verbal deal made, he connects me with Sage.
“It’s Caleb Davidson,” I tell her without preface. “I need to know where you brought Vienna. She forgot to get her purse from me, and I want to get it back to her right away.”
A silent beat passes before she replies, “And you didn’t bring it by the station,why?”
“You guys are busy with the weather. I can get to her quicker.” At least, that’s what I’m telling myself.
I’m surprised by her laugh. “If you say so.” Then she adds, “I brought her to the B and B. You’ll still have to convince the Millers to let you talk to her at this time of night. They’re very protective of their guests.”
True. But they’ve also known me since I was in diapers. And they’re still friends with my parents, even visit them once a year in Florida. So I’m hopeful the Millers will grant me a favor.
And they would, if Vienna were there.
“I’m sorry, Caleb,” Mr. Miller says after I make my request. “But we don’t have a Vienna here.”
“Maybe she registered under a different name?” I suggest. “She has light brown hair and hazel eyes and she’s maybe… five-three or five-four? Petite. She would have been wearing a red puffer coat.”
His response is immediate. “Nope. We haven’t checked in any new guests today. And we don’t have anyone who looks like that. Maybe she’s staying somewhere else.”
Well, shit.
If she’s not at the B and B, where is she?
Turning left at the traffic light—blinking red, as it always does after nine PM—I start driving towards the Blissful Sleep Motel over on the west side of town. I can’t imagine why Vienna would leave the B and B and walk the half mile to the motel, but there’s nowhere else in town to stay.
Maybe she realized it was too expensive?
Maybe she changed her mind about staying in Bliss at all?
But I have her purse. With her wallet in it. The Millers might have let her stay with a promise of paying later, but would Kellogg Waters, the owner of the Blissful Sleep Motel? Would a hotel in any other town allow it?
I don’t think so.
And I’m worried.
No matter how many times I tell myself on the way to the motel that I have no reason to be, that Vienna’s not my problem, that she’s an adult who can take care of herself, it doesn’t make me stop worrying.
Then I arrive at the Blissful Sleep Motel to find the sign boldly proclaiming that it’s closed until April.
“Shit!” I curse as I pull into the deserted parking lot, my tire tracks the only marks in an otherwise pristine sheet of white. “Where the fuck is she?”
I shift my truck into park and scan the lot, as if Vienna’s red coat is about to magically appear. But it doesn’t. Because she’s not here. And I have no idea where she might have gone.
“Shit,” I repeat, as that sensation of off-ness grows even stronger. My gut twists the same way it used to before a mission went sideways; my body knowing before my brain that something was about to go terribly wrong.
Right now, something’s wrong.
I know it.
