Dad called me at work early in the afternoon to say he’d found the part for the projector in Oakland, but he wouldn’t be back in time to pick up the girls from school. I told him I’d take them home, and reminded him that I needed the truck on Saturday to take Andie to Pine Run.
For two days Jo had put up a good fight against whatever bug she had, but she’d turned almost transparent by lunch and Robert let her go home. I took a break to pick up the girls from school, drop Winnie at Rae’s, and take Andie home. Then I raced back to finish both my shift and Jo’s, even though it meant cutting it close for my appointment with Julian. I considered leaving him a message on his voice mail that I might be a few minutes late, but changed my mind. What if he answered?
After work I hurried home with just enough time to get cleaned up for my appointment. I yanked slacks and sweaters, skirts and jackets from their hangers, trying to find something businesslike, yet attractive. I felt nervous about facing him for the first time since the incident. My manila folder was all ready with the completed application. But if I was honest, I had to admit it was more than just the incident or the permit process that twisted a knot in my belly. I felt an undeniable attraction for him.
Keep focused on the business aspect of the meeting, I told myself.
After slipping on black slacks and a pale blue sweater, the next step was to smooth my hair into a french braid. I stood before my mirror with a hairclip in my teeth, trying to make my fingers cooperate.
That’s when I noticed a Mickey pin on the dresser. He rode a surfboard, and it wasn’t one of mine. I turned it over and examined the black rubber Mickey ears on the back. It was Andie’s. Why was it in my room?
I stuck my head into her bedroom to ask about it, but she wasn’t reading on her bed as usual. I found Deja in the living room.
“Deja, where’s Andie?”
“Dunno,” she said without looking up from the TV.
The house lay quiet, except for the background noise of the movie. I peered through the kitchen window into the backyard, expecting to see Andie huddled under her favorite reading tree, even though the sky was clouding up.
I went back into the living room and looked out the screen door. “When was the last time you saw her?”
“Um … maybe when the movie started.”
“How far is the movie?”
“Almost over.”
Almost over. Two hours had gone by, at least.
“Did she say anything?”
“Hm?”
“Deja!”
She looked up in surprise.
“Pay attention to me. Did she leave? Where is she?”
“I don’t know,” she said, looking back to the TV. “I’m not her babysitter.”
Her body language said she knew more than she let on. I took the remote and turned off the TV. She glanced up to protest, but when she saw my expression, her complaint died on her lips.
“Talk,” I commanded. “What happened when she came home?”
She stared at the floor and hugged the couch cushion to her chest. “Andie’s uncle called from Pine Run before she got home, and when I told her, she flipped out.”
“Her uncle? What did he want?”
“I don’t know. He said he’d call back later.”
“And she flipped out? Just because he called?”
She shook her head. “She’s wacko.”
I looked at the Mickey pin again, the wheels turning in my head. Andie kept close tabs on her pins. One wouldn’t fall carelessly and end up on my dresser. She had to have put it there herself. But why?
I glanced at my watch. She was probably around somewhere. I’d need to leave in a minute to make my appointment with Julian on time, but I checked out her room once more. Nothing seemed out of place.
Call it mother’s intuition, but something wasn’t right. The room was too perfect, the bedspread too neat. Her backpack wasn’t tossed in a heap in the corner. In fact, it wasn’t there at all. Her copy of The Fellowship of the Ring was missing from her nightstand.
A sour taste of foreboding began in the back of my throat. I dropped to my hands and knees and dug beneath her bed.
Her mother’s Bible was gone.
Andie had run away.