The music drifts from the pub – a song, the sound of a man’s voice accompanied by the rhythmic strumming of a guitar.
She takes his arm and heads toward the noise and the people. ‘You’ve never lied to me,’ she says. ‘Let’s go find him.’
SEVEN
Kit knew that John Paul was telling the truth about not being at Farley’s on Saturday. That meant someone else had been. Although she insisted that she’d be fine, Kit was grateful when he went through her house room by room one more time. After he left, she locked herself in the bathroom and took a long shower, soaking in the sun from the skylight above. Time to talk to Monique.
Standing at the full-length mirror and brushing some color onto her cheeks, Kit had to grin at herself. She must be feeling better if she didn’t want Monique to see her without makeup.
Yet something in the back of her mind was not so sure.
While they were not well-acquainted enough to actually dislike each other, they had nothing in common but Farley. Monique was younger than Kit and three inches taller with a neck like a ballerina, toned arms and shoulders that could elevate the clavicle to an art form. Technically, they had the same color hair, but Monique’s beachy waves had nothing in common with the mass already coming loose from Kit’s ponytail.
She tucked a strand behind her ear and remembered that the first thing her biological mother had told her when they were reunited was that Kit had her father’s hair. That warmed her, even now. She had a family. And she had a friend she intended to find.
She focused on that as she drove to the radio station and tried to ignore the buzz of memories about the van that had followed her, the intruder in Farley’s house and the smashed strawberry on her bedroom rug. As she pulled into the station parking lot – quiet, with only a few cars at midday – she glanced up at the hymn painted on the side of the church next door and reality set in. She and Farley had stood in this parking lot countless times through every season, laughing, talking and occasionally arguing. If he were all right, he’d find a way to let her know. One more time, she took out her phone and tried to connect with him on the app they shared. The map on her phone stared blankly back at her, its red dot frozen over the blue circle covering Farley’s address.
As she put her phone in her bag and opened the car door, Monique came around the side of the building. One look at her and Kit’s earlier thoughts disappeared. Monique’s hair hung straight down over the blue sweater pulled over jeans. Unaware that anyone was watching, she shoved her hand through it and wiped away tears. Embarrassed to be witnessing her grief, Kit got out of her car. Monique spotted her and headed over.
‘Have you heard anything?’ Monique asked.
‘I just tried calling again.’
‘Me too.’ She bit her lower lip. Without mascara and liner her eyes seemed larger, clearer than ever. ‘Please tell me what you know.’
‘No more than you do, Monique, and probably not as much. You were the last one to see him.’
‘But I didn’t see him. I took my own car because he wanted to check in with his friends first and make plans for the next day, and you know how Farley was about his surfing.’ She took a breath and added, ‘I mean, how Farley is.’
Kit decided against telling her just yet that Farley hadn’t gone surfing. ‘When was the last time you talked to him?’ she asked.
‘I didn’t.’ Her smile faded and she glanced away, toward the building. ‘Unless you count some romantic texts. When was the last time you talked to him?’
‘I only got texts as well,’ Kit said, and had to keep herself from adding, not romantic. ‘All he said was how glad he was to get away and that he’d call me later.’
‘He wouldn’t lie to either of us,’ Monique said.
‘I know.’
‘He wouldn’t ask me to meet him in Malibu and then just disappear. Do you know how many hours I waited in that room?’ She wiped her eyes again. ‘I thought maybe he was just late, maybe he was charging his phone. And by the time I figured out something was wrong it was almost five o’clock.’
‘What time was he supposed to meet you?’ Kit asked.
‘You don’t know?’ Monique snapped out the question as if she had caught her in a lie.
‘My last text was around three,’ Kit said. ‘He didn’t mention when he’d arrive.’
‘Something happened to him.’ Monique’s lip trembled. ‘He had an accident or something worse.’
‘Let’s keep trying his phone,’ Kit told her. ‘Did he mention anywhere else he might stop on the way there? That might be a starting place.’
‘Just one.’ Monique nodded and pushed back the hair from her face as if it and everything else about this day were too heavy for her. ‘He said he might stop and see you before he left.’
Standing there in the familiar parking lot, with the sun warming her face, Kit trembled. ‘When did he tell you that?’
‘In one of his texts.’ Monique took her phone out of her bag. ‘I still have it here.’
‘I didn’t see him, Monique, I swear.’
‘I’m not accusing you,’ she said. ‘I just want to know what happened. I want him to be all right.’
‘Do you have a key to his house?’ Kit asked.
She shook her head. ‘Don’t you?’ Monique glanced down and Kit realized she was clenching her own hands, twisting the wedding ring Richard had given her and that she wore on her right finger now.
‘No, I don’t.’ She tried to decide how much to tell her and ended it there. Monique had enough to deal with. Sharing with her that Farley hadn’t really gone surfing would only make her more guarded and suspicious. ‘If you think of anything he said before or during his drive there, please let me know.’
‘You too.’ Tears welled in her eyes.
Kit squeezed her arm. ‘It will be all right,’ she said. ‘Call me if you hear anything.’
Then she turned, fighting tears herself, and headed for her car.
‘Kit, wait.’ Monique caught up with her and said, ‘I have an idea. You find people, right? I want to hire you to find Farley. You know everything about him. If anyone can figure out what happened to him, you can.’
Kit took a breath and wondered whether or not to be insulted. But no. Monique’s wide-eyed expression made it clear that this was the only option she could comprehend. She was the daughter of the station owner, after all, and in that world of radio, the ones on top were happy to pay the creative talents below them to achieve their desired ends.
‘He’s my friend,’ Kit said. ‘If I can find him, I will.’
‘My dad’s on board for this.’ Monique followed her to the car. ‘He loves Farley like a son.’
Kit got the implication. ‘I love him too,’ she said and opened the car door.
‘Wait.’ Monique planted herself in front of the door. ‘Just tell me how much your fee is. We’ll pay you anything.’
‘There’s no need for that.’ She got in, slammed the door shut and started the car.
As Monique’s sapphire-blue Lexus pulled out of the parking lot, Kit tried to connect with Farley again. This time she got a glimmer. The red dot on her friend-finders app began to blink. Kit fought to keep her hands steady as she touched the screen and spread out the map. Somewhere outside Willits, California, between Willits and Fort Bragg, maybe Mendocino. As she called his number, her movements felt jerky, wooden. Please let him answer.
The phone rang this time. Good. It was working. Voicemail didn’t automatically come on. Nothing came on, just one electronic ring after another. But the map was still there. She did a quick search and saw that Willits was an isolated community located on the Redwood Highway, close to Mendocino. If Farley had planned to go there instead of surfing, that would explain the vest, the hiking boots and even the allergy medicine. But why would he lie? Kit took one more look at the map.
Fill up the tank. Don’t bother returning home for more than a lock-up. She issued orders to herself, trying to plan the fastest way to
get to Willits. Should she let John Paul know that she’d be working on a lead? Kit pulled onto the freeway and knew that letting him know was the right thing to do, and she would – as soon as she got nearer to her destination.
The cars on the freeway seemed closer, more dangerous. She looked to her right. Every vehicle entering it seemed ready to push her off the road. Then her breathing changed again. The cars seemed aimed at her and she wanted to dodge them, to slow down. It was happening again, only on the road this time. Breathe. She knew how to do that in a structured environment, but the lessons she’d been taught made no sense now with the sweeping ramps and the speeding traffic.
‘I can’t.’
She pulled to the edge of the freeway, barely safe, even now.
‘I can’t.’
The sun seemed to blaze down on her car. The other vehicles raced past her at such a frantic pace the car shook.
All right, maybe she was losing her mind. Maybe the anxiety had finally pushed her over the top of the emotional mountain she had thought she could climb and conquer. Then Kit realized something else, something more important than anything.
No one could know this.
No one could ever be aware that on the brightest spring day in Sacramento, she could not struggle to make even one move in the direction of finding her best friend, even though she now had an idea of where he might be. If she told this to anyone they would think she was crazy, and maybe she was. Maybe anxiety was the craziest response she had experienced in any trauma in the last two years.
A semi-truck shot past, blasting its horn.
I could die here.
No. She would pull off, calm down, and then she would drive to Northern California. She’d do it tonight.
Maybe just call the automobile club. Another truck tried to honk her off the road. Wrong idea, anyway. The auto club would need something to fix and nothing about the car was wrong. Just her.
Virgie. She scrambled in her purse for her phone.
‘You OK?’ Virgie asked by way of greeting.
‘I’m fine,’ Kit lied. ‘Except my car broke down on the freeway. Any chance you can help me out?’
‘Shelter van just got back. Hang on. I’ll find you on my phone,’ she said. ‘Yeah, you’re fifteen minutes from here, twenty maybe. I’m on my way.’
As the cars streamed past, Kit tried again to locate Farley. The swoosh of the cars unnerved her. She needed to move, pull farther off the freeway. Yet every time she thought about reaching for the ignition, her hands broke into a sweat. She stared into her outside rear-view mirror and watched the oncoming traffic until the shelter’s familiar white Mazda van finally pulled in behind her.
Virgie jumped out, ran around the side and jumped into the passenger seat. ‘What happened? You out of gas? You call the auto club?’
Kit shook her head. ‘I don’t know what was wrong but it’s all right now.’
Virgie nodded slowly and narrowed her eyes. ‘And what would you like me to do?’
‘Just drive me to the shelter, and then we can have someone come back with you to get the van.’
‘All right.’ Virgie reached for the door. ‘You look kind of pale.’
‘I’m fine. I was able to locate Farley’s phone. He’s in Northern California. The Willits area, close to the Eel River.’
‘So maybe he’s all right.’ For the first time, Virgie smiled. ‘When you leaving? You are going there, aren’t you?’
‘Of course.’ She needed a little rest, that’s all. Just relax, and then she’d get back on the road.
Virgie got out of the car, came around to the driver’s side and got in, moving back the seat to accommodate her legs. She turned the ignition and Kit’s body stiffened.
‘Do you think the van’s safe there?’
‘Sure.’
‘Nothing will hit it.’
‘It’ll be fine, Kit.’
They drove in silence and Kit forced herself to unclench her fists. At least they were pulling off the freeway onto the side street. She would be fine once they just reached the street.
She exhaled as the light turned green and they turned onto Browning Drive.
‘My brother,’ Virgie said. ‘He was in Afghanistan. I know a little about this.’
‘I didn’t know you had a brother.’
Virgie pulled the car in front of the shelter. With the motor still running, she said, ‘This ain’t about him.’
‘I’m all right.’ Kit rewound the band around her ponytail, as if this were any conversation on any day. ‘I just got a little dizzy back there.’
‘What if you get dizzy on the way north?’
That question had already nudged its way into Kit’s brain. Yet, until recently, she had driven the Grapevine south every couple of months to visit her dad in San Diego. She drove Farley’s little convertible to Malibu with the top down.
‘I won’t.’
‘How’d you know?’
‘Because this is the first time it’s ever happened, and if I get dizzy again I’ll just pull over until it passes.’
‘Some of the drops in those parts are pretty steep. Two lanes most of the way.’
She remembered the mountains, the twisting roads, and felt lightheaded. ‘I know that.’
‘Roads are narrow.’ Virgie crossed her arms and waited. Kit felt as if they were playing some kind of game, yet Virgie was one of the most direct people she knew.
‘What are you trying to tell me?’ she asked.
‘That you’ve been losing sleep, good sense and everything else worrying about Farley.’ She took the keys from the ignition and shoved them toward Kit on the palm of her hand. ‘You really want to do this on your own?’
Kit stared at the dull gleam of the keys and knew Virgie was right.
‘Virgie, I can’t take you away from your job.’
‘For what? A day or two? You got me the job in the first place. You sure can get me a few days off.’ Kit started to protest but Virgie interrupted her. ‘Where you’re heading, you need someone else for back-up, no matter who’s driving.’
She was right.
‘I was planning on leaving right away,’ Kit said.
‘Then I would suggest you go in there right now and get me some time off.’
Kit reached for the door and her legs turned to water again. She touched the side of the car to balance herself. ‘Be right back,’ she said, aware that Virgie was following her every move. Kit stopped. No way could she take another step. ‘I have a better idea.’ She leaned back inside the car and placed the keys into Virgie’s open hand. ‘I can call back once we’re on the road.’
‘That’s more like it.’ Virgie wrapped her fingers around the keys. Kit’s head cleared and she found her footing as if she had just crossed a narrow bridge and stepped onto solid ground. For the first time since the van had followed her, and John Paul had told her that Farley was missing, she could breathe without concentrating on it.
She sank into the passenger seat and, as Virgie pulled away, Kit glanced back at the shelter. It seemed to blur like the clouds beyond.
‘My brother,’ Virgie said as they headed for the freeway. ‘He couldn’t even ride in a car when he first got back. Now he’s racing motorcycles.’
‘Your brother?’ Kit asked.
She grinned. ‘Like I said before, this ain’t about him.’
Virgie knew.
Kit could deny. She could lie. It wouldn’t make any difference. ‘You’re a smart woman, Virgie.’
The grin vanished and Virgie stared straight ahead. ‘This ain’t about me either,’ she said.
EIGHT
After that initial exchange, they didn’t talk much. From the beginning, she and Virgie had given each other plenty of space and plenty of silence. But Virgie knowing her secret – that Kit was too damaged to drive north on her own – embarrassed her so much that she didn’t know what she could say to change the equation of shame. All she wanted to do was appear as normal as possible and to st
op Virgie from fawning over her.
After calling the shelter and making up one more lie so that the van could be retrieved, and after stopping only to pack a small bag, Kit sat beside Virgie as she drove Kit’s car up the freeway toward San Francisco. After that, they would go farther north, all the way to Willits.
Every so often, Kit would try to connect with Farley’s phone again, but she could not get anything except that virtual map with the red dot over the blue expanse of digital destinations.
In the meantime, Virgie asked if she needed more heat in the car, if she wanted the window cracked open. Although Kit knew she meant well, each solicitous question made her even more aware of how damaged she must appear.
As the car crept into the forest, Virgie said, ‘You want me to turn on some music?’
‘You asked me that twenty minutes ago.’
‘Sorry.’ She glanced over at Kit. ‘But you ain’t saying much. I thought you might just want to chill.’
‘I’m OK.’
‘Good. We probably ought to be figuring out where we’re going.’
‘Willits is a small town,’ Kit said. ‘Everyone knows everybody.’
‘You been there with him?’
‘No, but I remember something about it. I think Farley might have come here before.’
‘You sure? With no surfing in these parts?’
‘Farley’s way more than a surfboard,’ Kit said. ‘A lot of that’s for effect.’
‘Not trying to be judgmental.’ Virgie lowered her voice to a hum. ‘Just thought it would be easier to look for him if you remembered anything. By the way, you OK if we pull over for some gas?’
‘Of course.’ Kit looked down and realized she was gripping the side of her seat. It was bad enough that she couldn’t drive anymore. Now she couldn’t even be a decent passenger. Virgie acted as if she hadn’t noticed and pulled over in front of a general store with two pumps outside. ‘Let’s get something to eat while we can,’ she said in that same too-calm tone.
‘Water’s fine.’
‘Hunger just makes it worse.’ Virgie parked the car beside one of the pumps and nodded at Kit the way she would a child. ‘You need to eat something, even if it’s just an apple or a protein bar.’
I Wish You Missed Me Page 4
