“Ada’s just called. She left a voicemail. She never does that.”
My stomach knots like a noose. “Play it. Now.”
Jake fumbles with his screen, and I pray for a smart remark, a cheeky ‘fuck you.’ Anything that means Ada’s okay.
What comes through is Ada’s voice, flat and strained, barely holding its shape.
“Jake. Hi. Hey. Sorry for calling. I don’t know if you’re around, but I can’t get onto Cece, and I don’t know what’s… There’s just so much shit happening. Everything’s so fucked up?—”
She breaks off with a tiny sob.
“Christ,” Davissays, as Jake stares, dead-eyed, at his phone.
“Someone slashed my tyres. Cece’s tyres. I’m in Cece’s car. I went to the pub near Thompson Farm.”Her voice hitches. “And now everyone’s mad at me, and I don’t know?—”
A violent slam, metal on metal, makes all four of us flinch.
“Shit,”Ada hisses.“Gotta go. Someone’s here. Outside the car. I’ve gotta?—”
The line goes dead.
Jake pounds a thumb on his screen, and I know he’s trying to call her back. I hold my breath and hear the phone beep, cold and uncaring, “The person you’re calling isn’t available?—”
“Fuck!” Jake says, pressing the button again. “What the fuck is going on?”
Davis whips out his own phone, and a new dial tone echoes across the bar.
“Hi! It’s Cece! Leave a message—” her cheery voice blares tinnily from the phone speaker, and his face goes pale.
“Go,” I whisper.
“Aggie,” Des says, pulling me in closer.
I push him away and roar loud enough to rattle every window in the bar. “Go! Go find my girls. Now!”
Jake and Davis are already on their feet.
“I’ll drive,” Davis says, grabbing his keys. “I only had one drink. Do we have somewhere to stay in Pukekohe?”
“Yeah, my nan’s. We’ll leave now, grab some clothes, and we can be there in a couple of hours.”
“What about Cece?” I ask Davis. “Are you gonna tell her you’re coming?”
He shakes his head. “Not yet. You’re right, I’ve been pushing too hard. I’ll make sure she’s safe, but I don’t want her to know I’m there. I’ll tell her how I feel when the time’s right.”
“Good boy,” I say.
“Thanks, Aggie,” Davis says.
“Yeah, thanks!” Jake calls from the doorway. “We’ll keep you posted.”
“Drive safe, love,” I tell Davis. “And call me as soon as you find them.”
“Of course.”
He rushes after Jake, and I stand, listening until I hear the rumble of Davis’s car, then I turn to collect the abandoned glasses and garlic bread platter. “They’re fine,” I tell myself. “Everything’s fine.”
The person outside Ada’s car was just some do-gooder offering to help her change her flat tyre. A flat tyre she got from running over a rock because no one could have slashed her tyre. Why would they? And Cece’s not answering her phone, but that’s because she’s having a nap or sharing a wine with the blond flower-sender. They’re both fine. Everything’s fine.
