“I don’t know.” Gabriel sighs. “You know the case was big news. What if someone’s playing a prank?”
“Gabriel, the photo looks real. And she’s standing in front of the camp.”
“The camp?” There’s a pause. “I don’t know, baby. It still sounds like a cruel joke. Why don’t you wait until I get there? I’ll take a look too.”
“How far are you?”
“An hour, maybe. Scarlett should arrive before me. Please try not to get too upset.”
“Okay, I’ll see you soon.”
I hang up and stare at my phone, his words repeating in my head. Maybe he’s right.
But what if he’s wrong?
What if my daughter is really out there?
I love her, I loved her, with everything in me, even when things were hard. Even when we fought, especially then.
And now this. This fragile, dangerous hope. The first bit of hope I’ve had in months. How could I possibly let it slip away? How could I survive losing her twice?
I press the photograph to my chest, holding it as if I could warm her with my body, as if she could feel me wherever she is. The paper crinkles lightly in my hand.
After filling Coco’s bowl with water and opening the balcony doors, I sink back to the floor, still holding the photo to my heart.Tears drip onto the tiles as I cling to her image. My body curls around it, protective.
“Baby,” I whisper, my voice breaking, “if you’re out there, I will find you.”
THREE
Scarlett arrives at the apartment before Gabriel, just as he predicted.
I didn’t want her to find me on the floor, so I picked myself up, made another coffee to replace the one I’d spilled, and took a bath, letting the water run hot against my skin until the shaking slowed and I felt myself return to my body.
Even though I’m more confident now, more inside my body, I’m still shaking beneath the surface, my heart pumping with adrenaline that came with the possibility—the dangerous, intoxicating possibility—that my daughter might be alive and out there.
The entire mood around me feels like a pressure cooker that’s slowly heating from the inside, ready to explode and destroy everything in its wake.
When I open the door to Scarlett, for a split second I don’t know how to react.
The flowy blue dress and light cream cardigan she’s wearing are meant to make her look fresh and happy, but the new lines on her face tell a different story, and not even makeup can hide them.
Her dark curls are loose around her shoulders, slightly wind-tossed and untamed. Like me, she looks different from how she did six months ago, like she’s added five more years to her forty-three.
We haven’t seen each other in five months, but we’ve talked on the phone at least once a week. Our friendship was not left untouched by the tragedy.
Before Sadie disappeared, we talked pretty much every day. I don’t want to blame her for what happened, but sometimes it’s hard for me to accept that Sadie disappeared under her watch.
Scarlett pulls me into a hug first, and for a few heartbeats I allow my friend to hold me. Her slender arms are warm and familiar. But it doesn’t feel right. Something is off.
Even though I used to love her hugs, even though I’ve received so many of them, since Sadie’s disappearance, my body resists before my mind can catch up.
I’m the first to pull away, my lips curving upward despite the heaviness in my chest.
Suddenly, Coco darts away from the couch, a blur of brown fur racing across the room.
“Hello, gorgeous. I missed you too.” Scarlett catches her in midair and buries her face in Coco’s neck as the dog’s tail wags wildly. They recognize each other.
Coco belonged to Scarlett before she became Sadie’s dog. Scarlett decided to give Coco to Sadie after noticing how sad Sadie always was every time she visited Scarlett and had to leave the pup behind.
