“Your sister’s missing,” Deena said. “You’re afraid and worried. Anyone would be.”
Yes, Nadine. It’s normal to have feelings. Didn’t your alien handlers tell you that?
She dropped the book she was holding in her purse because she realized she was starting to fiddle with it when Deena’s eyes dropped to her hands. She had already forgotten the title.
“I’m sorry,” she said again.
“Stop apologizing,” Deena said, with a little laugh. “Jesus, kid. You’ve been through hell.”
Nadine let out a breath and hugged herself. “Okay.”
“Okay. You want to go out for a drink when I get off work? It sounds like you could use one, and I don’t think I’ve seen you hanging around The Blue Bar yet.”
“I don’t want to be a bother.”
“You won’t be.” Deena sounded so certain of this that Nadine found herself reluctantly believing the woman. Even if she was really only after more information, she didn’t seem at all averse to her company. Possibly, on some fundamental level, she even enjoyed it.
“Okay,” Nadine said again, with a little more force.
They exchanged numbers and agreed to meet at The Blue Bar at eight. “You’ll like it,” Deena promised. “It’s the busiest place in all three counties. Lots of kids your age.”
Little alarm bells went up in her head at the wordbusiestthat felt like it could be the start of panic. She didn’t do well in crowds. But she wanted Deena to like her, because Deena had been nice, so she said, “Sounds fun,” thinking,How busy could it really be in a place like this?
Talking to Deena made her feel better, though. Less crazy for obsessing over Noelle. It was a little like talking to Nikki that way, although she wasn’t sure Deena would appreciate being compared to her aunt (even a very young aunt).
Ben and Sheriff Crocker both could have been doing a hell of a lot more to find Noelle, forest or no forest. Where were the posters, the vigils, the fucking hashtags? She made a note to look into the legality of starting a hashtag when the sheriff had told her to butt out of the investigation. Surely that was covered by freedom of speech? Cal would probably know, but she wasn’t about to ask him. Not now.
She should photograph that postcard and the other note, too, while she was at it. Establish a record. Just in case any of it walked away like the note about the mine.
The other vellum piece was still in her nightshirt and she snapped a photo of it on her phone, along with Nadine’s broken necklace. But when she dug through her duffel bag looking for the postcard, it wasn’t there. She went through the suitcase, too, even though she knew she hadn’t put it in there. By the end of the search, her hands were starting to shake.
Did someone go through my things?
It was hard to tell—everything was already so messy, because she’d dug through it so many times trying to find the right clothes. Maybe things did look a little different.
Thomas knocked while she was trying to find an outfit to wear to the bar. When she opened the door to let him in, she saw that he was carrying a stack of new bedding. “I’m here to change the sheets,” he explained, glancing at her open suitcase. “I can come back.”
“No, that’s okay.” She pushed the door open wider, noting as she did that the hinges were silent and gleaming. As if they had very recently been freshly oiled.
Looking at them, she said, “Does anyone ever come in here but you?”
“I wouldn’t know, miss. Possibly the maids.” Catching the look on her face, he said, hesitantly, “Are your current sheets satisfactory, miss?”
“Yes.” Nadine paused. “Why wouldn’t they be?”
“I only wondered. Mrs. Cullraven—” He hesitated. “She had a reaction to her bedding, apparently. Or so she said. One side of her face had a rather nasty rash. She said it was from her pillow. Her husband had us buy new sheets and change the detergent. Then it went away.”
“A rash?”
“Yes, miss.”
Her eyes went to the bed. “No. I haven’t experienced anything like that.”
“Good. Do you need anything else?”
“No. Um, that will be all. Thanks.”
As soon as he was gone, she darted over to the mattress and lifted it up. Peering underneath, she examined the naked box springs and saw—
