Saturday, 8:00 a.m.
Leyna stopped at the campground where the car owned by Ellie’s friend was found, but the car and police were gone, and the patches of gravel and weeds had nothing to tell her. The same was true of the message boards and local news, both of which she checked again from the shoulder along Highway 89. The Sacramento County Sheriff’s Office planned a press conference with the parents at 10:30 a.m.—she’d set a reminder on her phone—and both Sierra and Plumas Counties had added news of Ellie’s disappearance to their social media sites. But the news was the same as it had been when Leyna went to sleep sometime after two a.m.
No sign of Sacramento girl missing since Thursday night.
In Sacramento, word of Ellie Byrd’s disappearance was starting to spread; Ferret Girl appeared to be right. But to the north in Plumas County, where residents didn’t have a deeper connection to the story, the bigger news was the weather. A red-flag warning was still in effect, and the winds were expected to pick up again later that morning.
Leyna stowed her phone—a quarter of a mile or so up the road, it would be useless, and it would stay useless until she got closer to Sierraville—and pulled back onto the highway.
Only a few hundred people lived in the town of Sierraville, which served as a place for travelers to get their bearings, pick up some snacks, and use the restroom before they headed north to Quincy, west to Downieville, or south to Truckee. Not many made a life here in the most rural areas of Northern California. The ones who stuck around cited the small-town feel, the close-knit community, everyone knowing everyone, as their reasons for staying. The ones who left cited the same reasons for going.
Word would’ve spread if Ellie had stopped here Thursday.
The market on the main strip was as Leyna remembered it. Wood buildings set against a backdrop of mountains and blue sky. Picnic tables out front. Cows out back. Asphalt stretching in every direction, making it easy to turn around if you got lost.
Though it was early in the day, the market was already several degrees cooler than the air outside. Bags of brightly colored snacks were displayed in tidy rows. Signs on the refrigerated cases advertised MILK EGGS JUICE BACON and COLD BEER. A man Leyna estimated to be in his forties stood behind the counter, bottle-brush hair in mid-retreat exposing a broad forehead. When he smiled in greeting, he showed large white teeth planted in perfect rows.
Leyna returned the smile as she tried to picture him as he might’ve been sixteen years before. The last time she’d been there. Had a younger version of this man helped her that day?
She’d come into the market with Adam and Grace three weeks before they’d disappeared. Grace had just returned from a few months with their father. She’d gone to stay with him midway through the fall semester, with plans to stay permanently. If it works out for me, Ley, you’ll come too. We can both be free of her. But it turned out a few months was all their father could handle. Apparently, his third wife hadn’t liked the reminder of his more attractive first wife sleeping on their couch.
That morning in February, Leyna caught Grace palming their mom’s car keys, and she’d bargained her way into a spot in the back seat. On the drive, she’d studied the backs of their heads as if they held hints of her own future. The sun that streamed through the glass cast only a passing glow on Adam, but it set Grace’s hair ablaze, seeming to anoint her. Leyna’s breath had caught on a sudden swell of love and envy.
I want to be her. Then, a moment later: I’ll never be her.
As Adam cut the engine in front of the market, he cracked a joke about atoms splitting—nerd humor, Grace called it—and her sister had laughed and turned toward him. That was the last time Leyna could remember Grace smiling—in profile, staring at the boyfriend who’d never been worthy of her.
Before they got out of the car, Adam took off his flannel and handed it to Grace.
“You look cold.”
“I’m not.”
“Please.” A smile. “I don’t like thinking you might be cold.”
Grace rolled her eyes but put on the flannel.
Inside the market, Adam trolled the aisles while Grace snatched the first items that caught her eye: a bag of toffee-covered peanuts and a bottle of blue punch. Grace’s impatience was legendary, and Leyna recognized the simmer that always began in her face. Mouth pinched, she said, “We’re going to be late.”
Late for what, she didn’t say.
Adam’s gaze remained on the rows of chips and nuts, so he didn’t notice the tic at the corner of Grace’s mouth. “They’ll wait.”
He selected a bag of spicy cheese puffs and two packages of plastic-wrapped snack cakes. He handed one of the packages to Leyna. “Why don’t you go and ask the guy at the register how much this is.”
The price was labeled on the display, but when Leyna pointed that out, he’d smirked. “It might be on sale.” Then he’d picked up a bag of sunflower seeds. “These too. And maybe ask the best way to Truckee.”
There was only one way to Truckee—even at twelve, Leyna could’ve done the navigating—but she took the snack cakes and sunflower seeds to the register while Adam headed to the refrigerated cases in the back.
At the register, Leyna did as she’d been told—“How much are these? Can you tell me how to get to Truckee?” She spoke a little louder than she needed to, trying to mask her sister’s voice, which had risen too.
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
That was followed by hushed conversation and then a sound, quick and sharp. Something thrown? Something broken?
A moment later, Grace and Adam joined Leyna at the register, Grace wrapped in the oversize flannel. Adam paid for the cheese puffs, probably because the bag was too large and the crinkle of the plastic too loud to easily hide.
Back in the car, Grace stripped off the shirt and threw it at Adam, then followed it with a series of projectiles she yanked from her pockets and waistband: Sunflower seeds. Toffee-covered peanuts. Snack cakes. Two bottles of beer, one of which grazed his cheek. The cap left a scratch. Grace kept only the blue punch. Staring ahead out the window, Grace took a sip and screwed the lid back on. “Take me home.”
Adam glanced over his shoulder at Leyna before returning his attention to Grace. “We have to—”
“Now.”
Leyna wasn’t sure how Adam had convinced Grace to stuff the beer and snacks in her waistband—maybe it had been her impatience to be back on the road, or maybe he’d softened her with another of his nerd jokes—but in her mind, Leyna still heard the sound that had followed Adam’s whispering.
Now Leyna closed her eyes and gently slapped her arm, still unsure if that’s what she’d heard that day. The cashier’s smile had grown strained. How long had he been holding it while she sank into the past?
“Something I can help you with?” The cashier had a deep voice, the kind perfect for insurance commercials. His gaze landed on her arm where she’d slapped it. She realized it was her scar that had drawn his attention.
She introduced herself, but he seemed reluctant to do the same. She nudged. “Hi—I’m sorry. I didn’t catch your name.”
“Ronny.”
“Hi, Ronny. Have you heard about that missing girl?”
The cashier nodded, but his smile faded. “Police were in here asking about her yesterday.”
“What did you tell them?”
Ronny looked suddenly nervous, rubbing a hand over the dark bristles that started in the middle of his head. “Not sure I’m supposed to say.”
She considered offering him the cash she had on her, but she doubted three dollars would get her much information. “I’m sure it’s okay. They’re probably going to release it to the public at the press conference anyway.”
“Come back then.”
“Please. She’s my sister.”
The man squinted as he studied her face. “Don’t see a resemblance. And I don’t remember the police mentioning a sister.”
“Stepsister.”
Ronny continued to stare, mouth settling into a tense line. “You do look familiar.”
She thought again of Grace’s pockets bulging with stolen beer, and the sound that might’ve been a slap.
She asked, “How long have you worked here?”
“About a year. You come in here before?”
“Not for a really long time.” She remembered her story. As Ellie’s stepsister, should she live in Sacramento too? She decided to stick close to the truth in case this man could recognize deceit as easily as she could.
“I grew up in Plumas County,” she said. “I haven’t been back this way since I graduated high school.”
“I hear that a lot. You still have family in the area?”
“No.” Also close to the truth. Though they still exchanged the obligatory holiday phone calls—Christmas, birthdays mainly—she and her mom hadn’t felt like a family since long before she’d left home.
“Then I can see why you wouldn’t be back. Not everyone appreciates the quiet.”
“So was Ellie Byrd in here?”
The cashier’s face went stony; whatever rapport she’d thought they’d been building was gone. “I shouldn’t say.” His tone was friendly but firm.
Again, Leyna wished she had more than three crumpled dollar bills to offer him. Then she realized she had a different type of currency to trade—information.
“If it makes you more comfortable, how about I tell you what I know too?”
His expression relaxed slightly, the door not all the way open but ajar. “What do you know?”
“She has a boyfriend.” I think.
The tension returned, etching lines at the corners of his mouth. “She doesn’t have a boyfriend.”
“When I—” Leyna stopped herself; she’d been about to say When I met her. “Last time I spoke to her, she said she had a boyfriend”—Only a small lie—“but he was a really private person. He didn’t like her talking about their relationship. Maybe she just didn’t want to say anything about him?”
He smirked. “She was definitely single.”
“How can you be sure?”
“The other guy who works here, Cal, is only a couple of years older than her. When she stopped by Thursday morning, he asked if she was seeing anyone. She said she wasn’t.”
“So she was here Thursday morning?”
“Around ten thirty.”
“Not later in the day?”
“If you’re asking if she stopped in on her way to that campground, no.”
“Could she have come when you weren’t here?”
The shake of his head was decisive. “We close at seven, and I was here about thirty minutes after that.”
So the missing hours between Plumas County and the campground remained a mystery. She tried to hide her disappointment, but she was sure he saw it. “Was Cal here until seven thirty too?”
Ronny pressed his lips together tightly. Leyna could guess what he wasn’t saying: Cal hadn’t been there, but Ronny was reluctant to betray his friend.
Leyna let it go. “Is he here today?”
“He’s off.” His deep voice rose an octave. “But he was here when the police came in. He confirmed with them that was the only time he’d seen the girl.” He paused on the emphasis, letting it sink in. “Ellie Byrd gave him her number, but he never had a chance to reach out.”
“Can I get that number?”
The tightening of his jaw told Leyna she wasn’t going to like his answer. “I can ask,” he said, but he folded his arms across his chest, sending the same clear message: I’ll talk to you, but only as far as loyalty to my friend allows. His body language told her that particular request was a dead end.
“Did Ellie say what she was doing in the area?”
“Just fueling up.” He looked away for an instant, enough for her to wonder if he was hiding something to protect his friend. Or himself.
“Did she tell you where she was going?”
“She asked if either of us was familiar with Plumas County—we told her we weren’t. I assume that’s where she was headed, but I don’t know for sure,” he said. “She was here, then she was gone.” The words raised the hairs on Leyna’s exposed arms, and he blanched. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”
Leyna pictured Ellie standing where she was now, paying for her gas, and it hit her—wouldn’t she have paid at the pump?
“You said she stopped here to refuel.” At his nod, she said, “Why’d she come inside?”
“She paid cash.”
So she hadn’t used a card. If the car Ellie was driving hadn’t been found fifteen minutes down the road, the police would never have known Ellie stopped at the market.
“Plus she bought snacks,” he said. “Some Hostess Cupcakes and a ginger ale.”
The temperature in the market seemed to spike, making sweat bead along Leyna’s hairline. Those had been Adam’s favorite too.
“Did she mention someone named Adam Duran?”
He leaned forward, overtly curious. “Is that the guy she was supposed to be seeing?”
Damn it. Rookie mistake. She shouldn’t have planted the name. Leyna forced her face still and waited for him to confirm her suspicions even as she hoped Adam was living on another continent or dead. She didn’t trust herself to speak for fear she’d lead him to the answer she wanted instead of the truth she needed.
When Leyna didn’t respond, he shook his head. “No Adam. I’ve already told you everything.” He paused, rubbing his head. “Except…”
“Except?”
He shrugged. “It’s nothing. Just a feeling.”
“What kind of feeling?”
“I really shouldn’t start rumors.”
“It’s only a rumor if I spread it to other people, and I promise I won’t.”
He scowled and stared, as if trying to decide if he could trust her with whatever bothered him—because he was definitely bothered. She could tell by the tension in his jaw and the way his eyes narrowed as he studied her.
Finally, he let out a long breath. “She was nice. Like I mentioned, she and Cal were friendly,” he said. “But she seemed anxious too.”
Leyna swiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. “Why would she be anxious?”
He shrugged. “It was just a feeling. I probably shouldn’t have said anything.”
Ronny turned and made a production of straightening a display of snacks on the far side of the counter. For several seconds, only the air conditioner’s murmur interrupted the silence. Then, his back still to her, he said, “If Adam Duran’s the guy she was going to see, she certainly wasn’t happy about it.”