“Security’s a snap. You don’t check a bag, you print your boarding pass at home, and when you get to the front of the line, you just pick someone in the crowd waving to a family member leaving, and wave back. If security asks, you just say ‘That’s my mom.’”
It sounded foolproof, but Shannon wasn’t convinced. “What if no one’s waving?”
“Someone’s always waving,” Julia said. “It’s a huge airport. Besides, if the security guys ask, all you have to do is say ‘Of course I’m twelve. Do you think my parents are stupid enough to send me on a plane by myself without a chaperone if I wasn’t?'”
This all sounded so complicated. Shannon bit her lip, and her palm grew sweaty against the phone in her hand.
“Where’s your mom?” Julia asked.
Shannon shot a look toward the hall again. She could just see the banister on the curved staircase and the dozens of framed photos hanging on the two-story wall. Ones of her and her mom and her dad and a time when they’d been a happy family and her mom hadn’t been a giant stress case all the time. “At her office. She went in for a few hours to do some kind of work.”
“How long will she be there?”
“I don’t know. She arranged for Melody to spend the night. Said she might be there most of the night. She’s been crying all day while she’s been packing.”
“Definitely not a good sign.”
No, it definitely wasn’t. Shannon’s mom wasn’t a crier. Even after her dad had died, Shannon could only remember a handful of times her mom had gotten teary-eyed. That ball of nerves twisted tighter.
“There’s a flight out of SFO at ten p.m. Do you think you’ll be able to get there in time?“
Shannon’s stomach rolled. “Yeah. Melody spends most of the time on her phone with her boyfriend. If I tell her I’m tired and going to bed early, she won’t care.”
She’d need to have her backpack all ready and call a cab from her cell phone. And she’d have to walk across the park in the dark, which her mom never let her do. Those nerves jumped all over again.
“Put a pile of pillows under your covers,” Julia said. “Make it look like you’re sleeping.”
That was what Shannon had planned to do. But saying it out loud made it all so real. “Julia, I don’t know if this is a good idea. What if…?”
“No ‘what ifs,’ Shannon. Whatever happened between Uncle Mitch and your mom was bad if your mom’s been crying. You have to do something drastic to get their attention.”
Shannon knew that was true. Especially since Mitch had left without saying good-bye. Her heart pinched, and all the fears that had kept her awake last night came spiraling back. What if he’d decided he didn’t want a kid after all? She wasn’t cute like she’d been as a baby. She was just long-legged and gangly. And she had a big red bump on her chin. Mitch probably didn’t want a daughter who had pimples.
Fear pushed in strong, making it hard to breathe. “How do I know he’ll even be there?”
“Trust me. He’ll be there. My dad’s friend Tate called this morning. He and my dad and Uncle Mitch all went to college together. He’s got this great big house up in the San Juan Islands. And he’s super cute. I heard my parents talking about Uncle Mitch before breakfast. He showed up at Tate's house late last night, got drunk, and passed out. He’s obviously moping about whatever happened with your mom.”
Shannon couldn’t picture Mitch moping. Or drunk. In all the months her mom and Mitch had been dating, she’d never seen him have more than two beers at any one time. “I don’t know, Julia—”
“Look. Do you want to move away forever and never see me again?”
Shannon’s belly clenched. “No.”
“Don’t you want Uncle Mitch to be your dad?”
More than anything. Shannon’s pulse picked up speed, and all those daydreams she’d had about having a dad again popped back into her head. Her gaze strayed to the picture of her real dad on her nightstand. She loved him—always would—but he’d been gone so long, sometimes she forgot what he looked like, and she couldn’t even remember what his voice sounded like anymore. She wanted to be like the other kids at school. The ones with dads who took them to baseball games and amusement parks and who were always telling them to do their homework. All the things Mitch did when she spent time with him.
Tears filled her eyes. “Yes.”
“Then you have to do something to get them back together. Trust me, this plan will totally work if you follow my directions. Uncle Mitch just needs a kick in the butt. Now, get a pen. When you get to Seattle, you’ll need to take a taxi and then a ferry. The ferries in Seattle are just like the ones here. I’m gonna tell you which one will take you to Tate’s house. But just remember, he’s mine, so hands off. Once I’m old enough, I’m gonna marry the guy.”
Julia’s bluntness eased the sting around Simone’s heart, just a little, just enough so Shannon didn’t freak out. “Don’t you think your dad with tell you no?”
“Duh. I’m not telling him until right before the wedding. He’d have a cow if he knew. Tate’s like a bazillion years older than me. But he’s rich and he sings and he’s really cute for an old guy. And he thinks I’m cool. He says so every time we see him. Okay, I’m going to book this ticket.”
Shannon's nerves hummed again. “How am I going to pay for it?”
“I’ve got you covered. I swiped my dad’s credit card. Do you have enough cash for taxis and Kit Kats?”
Between what she’d pulled from her piggy bank and the slush fund her mom kept in the cookie jar, Shannon figured she had plenty. Or, at least, she hoped. “Yeah.”
“Okay, grab a pen then.”
For a moment, Shannon thought she was going to be sick. They were going to get in so much trouble when their parents found out what they’d done. But she climbed off the bed and picked up a pencil and notepad from her desk like Julia said. She didn’t care about getting in trouble. She didn’t care about this Tate person Julia couldn’t stop talking about. She just wanted to see Mitch. And convince him she’d be the most perfect daughter ever if he’d just give her mom a second chance.
“Okay, I have it.”
“Good. Now write this down. When you get off the plane at Sea-Tac, head for baggage claim…”
Simone tossed her keys on the entry table in her foyer and rubbed her tired eyes. They hurt, not just because she hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours, but from crying. She had to get a handle on these useless emotions. She was not an emotional woman. She’d learned the hard way that tears never fixed anything.
She glanced up the dark stairs toward the second floor. No sound. Shannon was—thankfully—fast asleep. It was close to two in the morning. She’d been at the office wrapping up her current cases, getting everything together to transfer to her partners. She felt bad about leaving them in the lurch, but her daughter’s safety was more important than any job. And she still had enough cash in the bank from Steve’s life insurance policy for her and Shannon to start over somewhere else.
The thought of running sent her stomach swirling, but she took a deep breath and ignored it. Quietly, she moved down the hall toward the great room. She was going to miss this house. It was the first place that had felt like home in a very long time.
Melody lifted her head from the pillow on the couch and pushed up, rubbing her tired eyes. “You’re back.”
“Yeah.” Simone looked toward the muted TV, flickering images of a rerun of The Simpsons, then glanced back at the seventeen-year-old. “I’m sorry I’m so late. Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, fine. No problems.”
Simone breathed a sigh of relief. Will’s phone call echoed in her mind, and she reminded herself if something bad was imminent, he would have urged her to grab Shannon and run. The fact he hadn’t told her she had time. Not that she was pushing that luck, but it meant she didn’t have to disappear right on the spot. Yet. “How’s Shannon?”
“Fine. She went to bed around eight. Said she was really
tired. I checked on her once. She was sound asleep and didn’t even move when her door creaked.”
Shannon slept like the dead. When she was exhausted, nothing could rouse that kid. And considering she hadn’t slept much the night before, it made sense tonight she’d be zonked out.
Simone smiled weakly, hating the reason her daughter hadn’t slept. Hating even more that she was hurting as much as Simone. “It’s late. Why don’t you just spend the night?”
Melody reached for her shoes from the floor. “No, that’s okay. I told my folks I’d be late, so they’re expecting me. And it’s only a few blocks, anyway.”
A whisper of relief passed through Simone. Being responsible for one more person was a burden she was thankful not to have to bear tonight. “Okay. If you’re sure.”
She waited while Melody gathered her things—backpack, laptop, cell phone, charger—the girl traveled with an entire mini office. After walking her to the door, Simone handed her the cash—and a big tip. “Can you come by on Friday? I’ll be packing all day, and I’m sure Shannon would love the company.”
“Sure thing. I’ll see you then. Just text me the time.”
Simone watched the teen climb in her car and drive off, then closed the door. Turning, she looked down the dark hall.
A tension headache kicked up behind her eyes. She pressed shaky fingers to her temples and told herself to stay calm. Focus on the most important things. Like where the hell she and Shannon were going to go. Maybe they should head north, to Washington, or perhaps northeast, toward Montana. Shannon probably wouldn’t mind seeing snow again.
God, Simone hated snow.
Thoughts spun out of control as she forced her feet up the stairs. She wasn’t going to sleep again tonight, she could already tell. Every second she stayed here was one more second they were closer to finding her. And she wasn’t about to let that happen.
She stopped at Shannon’s bedroom door, cracked it open an inch, and gently pushed. The heavy wood creaked, and she peaked inside. Her daughter lay curled under a pile of blankets, so many Simone couldn’t even see that telltale red hair that was just like her father’s.
A sigh escaped her lips. Shannon was still so mad at her. They hadn’t talked much since she’d picked Shannon up from Ryan and Kate’s, and she knew her daughter was hurting over the fact Mitch had cut and run, but Simone couldn’t do anything about that now. Someday, though, hopefully, Shannon would understand why she’d done everything. Someday maybe Mitch would too.
She pushed thoughts of the man who’d distracted her way too much over the last few months from her mind and crossed soundlessly to Shannon’s queen-size bed. The mattress sagged when she sat, and love for a daughter she’d never even wanted warmed the cold space in her chest.
“I love you, Nannon,” she said softly, using the nickname Steve had given Shannon because she hadn’t been able to say her own name until she was three. “Even if you don’t think I do. We have to stick together, baby. Everything always turns out okay when we do.”
She ran her hand over the lump beneath the covers. But instead of the hard shoulder she expected to touch, her hand sank into softness.
“What the…?” She tugged the blanket back and stared down at a lump of pillows.
A gasp ripped from her chest, and Simone pushed to her feet. Scenarios—mostly bad—filled her mind.
They'd been here. They'd taken her daughter. Panic dragged the air from her chest. She'd wasted valuable time at the office when she should have just grabbed Shannon and run.
A shimmer of white on the floor caught her attention, and she stopped feet from the door. Leaning forward, she picked up the folded sheet of paper and opened it.
Her daughter’s curvy handwriting was scrawled across the page. A sixteen-digit number was separated into four groups. A credit card number, she realized. Followed by an expiration date. And below that, times. One next to the word “out.” The other beside “fairy.”
Her chest rose and fell with her quick breaths while she tried to make sense of what she was reading. Fairy…fairy… Shannon was a terrible speller. Had she meant to write ferry?
Oh holy God…
She was running away? Because she was so miserable? Because Simone was such a horrible mother? No, that couldn’t be. Simone stared at the number again. She didn’t recognize it, which meant it wasn’t hers. And Shannon didn’t even know how to use a credit card. Besides, she wouldn’t be stupid enough to run off by herself right now when they were packing to move, not without…
Everything inside Simone went cold. And in her mind, links clicked into place.
Not without help.
“Did you hear that?” Kate lifted her head from the pillow and looked toward the door.
Beside her, Ryan tossed a leg over her thigh and wrapped his hand around her waist. “I don’t hear anything. But since you woke me at this hour…”
He nuzzled her neck and pressed his rapidly growing erection against her hip. Tingles spread through Kate’s entire body, but the banging from somewhere downstairs overrode her simmering desire. She pushed against his shoulder. “That. You heard it that time, didn’t you?”
He stilled, lifted his head. When it happened again, his handsome features tightened. “That time I did.”
He tossed back the covers and tugged on the pajama bottoms she’d yanked off him only hours ago. “Stay here.”
Like that was happening.
Kate glanced toward the bedside clock as he jerked their bedroom door open and disappeared down the stairs—2:35 a.m. Pulling on her own T-shirt and pajama bottoms, she followed.
Cool air spilled into the entry hall. Ryan’s concerned voice floated up the stairs. “What’s wrong?”
A flustered and windblown Simone swept into the house. “I called several times, but you didn’t answer. Is Shannon here?”
“Shannon?” Kate moved from carpet on the stairs to tile in the foyer. Light from the chandelier cascaded over her friend’s messy dark hair. Simone's jacket hung off one shoulder, her eyes were red and bloodshot, and Kate was pretty sure the usually calm and collected attorney was wearing two different colored shoes. “No. Is she supposed to be? We haven’t seen her all day. What’s happened?”
“I don’t know.” Simone lifted her arms, then dropped them on a huff. “I think she might have run off. We had an argument last night, and today I’ve been at the office getting everything finalized. Melody—our babysitter—was with her. I already talked to her, and she said Shannon was in her room at eight.” She pressed the palm of her hand against her forehead. “But that was like six hours ago. She could be anywhere by now. I have to find her.”
“Okay, calm down.” Ryan reached for Simone's shoulders and turned her to face him. He was so good in a crisis. Kate loved that about him. Loved that when she felt ready to flip out, he was the calm to her crazy. “Where would Shannon go besides our house?”
“I don’t know. But I found this on the floor in her room.” Simone held out a slip of paper. “It was just lying there like she dropped it. I don’t know whose credit card number that is—”
“I do.” Ryan looked up from the note in his hand and frowned.
He handed the note to Kate, exasperation reflecting clearly in his features. “Wait here, both of you. I have a feeling I know what’s going on.”
He disappeared up the steps. Kate turned Simone for the living room. “Do you want coffee? Something to drink?”
“A lobotomy, if you have it.” Simone dropped onto the couch and pressed her hands against her head. “She’s never run off before. I don’t understand. I know she’s mad at me but…”
Simone’s voice trailed off, and sensing her friend was at the end of her rope—and knowing what that was like because she’d been there herself—Kate sat next to her and wrapped an arm around Simone’s shoulder. “It’s going to be okay. Shannon’s a smart kid. I’m sure she’s fine. She’s probably staying at another friend’s house. We’ll find her.”
&nb
sp; “You don’t understand.” Simone dropped her hands and looked Kate’s way. And in her brown eyes, Kate saw heartache and anger and fear—true fear. The kind that can change a person in drastic ways. “There’s so much you don’t know.”
“About what?” Kate whispered.
Simone stared at her. Seemed to want to say something. Didn’t. Long seconds passed, then Simone’s eyes fell closed, and she lowered her head back into her hands. “You wouldn’t understand.”
There was more going on here than Simone's breakup with Mitch. Kate rubbed a hand down Simone’s back, hoping to soothe her friend, but knew instinctively that she couldn’t. Footsteps from the direction of the stairs brought both their heads up.
Ryan and a very sleepy Julia stopped in the archway to the living room. “Katie? The note?”
Kate pushed from the couch, handed him the paper, and glanced at their daughter. Julia’s long hair was a mess of curls around her face, and her pajamas were wrinkled and pushed up one leg. She scrubbed at her eyes, but guilt was already slithering over her features.
Ryan handed the paper to Julia. “You wanna explain what this is?”
Hesitantly, Julia took the folded page, turned it over in her hands, and looked down. “It’s paper.”
“Don’t get smart with me, missy.” He opened the note and pointed at the writing. “Explain why Shannon had my credit card number.”
Julia’s eyes shifted back and forth. She looked everywhere but at the paper in her hands. Silence settled over the room, and Kate could all but feel the tension crackling higher with every passing second.
Finally, Julia looked up at her dad. “Okay, don’t get mad.”
Ryan wrapped one arm around his waist and pinched the bridge of his nose with his other hand. “Why do I cringe whenever you use that phrase?”
“I don't know.” Julia shrugged. “Maybe because I deliver it so well?”