Across the Vanishing Sky (Starlight Grove, #1)(5)
“It looks like one of those old movies you love,” Owen remarked, taking in the downtown.
It did look like a set from an old Western, with not a single stoplight in sight, so opposite from our life in Oakland. But I guessed you didn’t need lights when you went from a population of almost half a million to just over a thousand.
The downtown area’s aesthetic was rustic with endless character—the kind of thing stores in urban areas paid a whole lot of money to look like. Sort of shabby chic. Some stuck with the Old West vibe, others had brick facades and antique glass windows. Still more had an old-farmhouse feel.
Planters adorned just about every storefront, erupting with color. The bakery had a sign that read: Order your Fourth of July pies! in artsy script. An aged wood building, so dark it was almost black, read The Boot and looked like an honest-to-goodness saloon. I spotted the bookstore, craft shop, and plenty of little tourist shops before my GPS told me we’d arrived.
I snagged an empty parking spot and marveled at the fact that there were no meters to pay. At least I’d be saving money there—and on the rental I was about to pick up the keys for. But I was also jobless.
My gig as an office manager at a tiny accounting firm had been about as exciting as watching paint dry, but at least the paycheck had been steady and they’d allowed me to work only the hours Owen was in school. I wasn’t sure I’d be as lucky here.
But the Starlight Grove school system had an excellent rating, despite the town’s small size. The articles I’d read praised it for being highly supported by the community, with a low student-to-teacher ratio. It also had what looked like an amazing after-school program if I needed it.
We’d make it work. I gripped the wheel a little harder as if to cement that promise to myself.
Turning off the engine, I twisted around in my seat. “How about you pack up your backpack with your tablet, headphones, and water bottle? I’m not sure how long the paperwork will take.”
Owen groaned. “More sitting.”
He had a point. “Looks like there’s a park down the block. Why don’t we walk Yeti first and get out the wiggles. Then, after we get the keys, burgers and milkshakes?”
I didn’t tell him we’d also have to get groceries. That could wait until my boy had been fed. Just like Nova, you didn’t want to mess with him when he was hangry.
“Chocolate milkshakes?” Owen asked, hedging.
I gave him a comically exasperated expression. “Do I look like an idiot? Of course, chocolate.”
Owen started doing a shimmy shake in his seat, singing some made-up song resembling the cha-cha tune. “Cho-co-late shake, yeah! Cho-co-late shake, yeah!”
Much to my amusement, Yeti started copying Owen’s shaking movements. A laugh forced its way out of me, and I held on to the warm vibrations. “All right, dance king. Pack up your bag so it’s ready.”
As he started what I knew would be at least a ten-minute process, I reached for my phone. There were no text messages. No missed calls.
I swallowed the lump in my throat. Nova and I never went anywhere without checking in with each other half a dozen times. But I didn’t have that anymore.
Shoving all those feelings down, I toggled over to my photo-sharing app and waited for the interface to load. The moment it did, I tapped my profile.
SearchingForSunrise.
The account was dedicated to Yeti and me and followed our journey since I’d brought her home from the shelter. I’d had guidance from an amazing woman up in Cedar Ridge, Washington, who was involved in training dogs for search-and-rescue operations. When I told her why I wanted to train a search dog, Maddie had helped me for free. That was just the kind of generous soul she was.
It hadn’t been easy, but the training had given me a place to focus all my angry, sad, hopeless energy. And so had getting plugged into the missing-persons community.
Until a loved one went missing, you had no idea just how many people disappeared every single year. Over six hundred thousand in the United States alone. And so often, people weren’t searched for.
I knew damn well I was the only one looking for Nova.
The sheriff’s department headquartered in Starlight Grove had put in a mixed effort. There were officers I could tell truly cared, and others who were phoning it in at best. The sheriff himself wasn’t exactly my favorite person.
It had taken begging and pleading for them to involve Juniper County Search and Rescue two days after Nova’s disappearance, but with a rainstorm that week, they hadn’t found a thing. Neither had the state police when they joined the investigation. And Sheriff Miller certainly hadn’t been thrilled with how often I called to check on the case. But the nail in the coffin had been his call to me a few weeks ago.
“Nova’s case is cold, and I’m reassigning the officers on it. You have to stop grasping at straws and wasting taxpayer dollars when they could be spent on cases where they might actually do some good. There’s nothing left to find. It’s time for you to move on.”
Sheriff Miller thought Nova had slipped and fallen into the river or been attacked by a wild animal, possibly one of the cougars who roamed the woods. But I knew in my bones that wasn’t true. Just like I knew Nova was out there somewhere, waiting for me to find her.
A couple of the officers had gone above and beyond, two of them continuing to keep the case on their desks, but there wasn’t much they could do when the sheriff wanted them focused on cases with real leads.