Bill Walsh lives only a fifteen minute drive from my house. I found his profile last night on Facebook—he’s a big guy in his twenties like I thought, who sports a goofy expression in most of his photos. He looks utterly harmless, and I don’t think I’ll have much trouble wrangling the phone away from him. I’m sure he’ll be happy to hand it over.
The roads in our town are still slippery with snow. I haven’t called the police station yet today, but I’m guessing they haven’t made much progress on finding Quinn. If they found her, I would know. My guess is she’s hunkering down somewhere for the night. The question is, where?
Bill’s house is even smaller than mine and even more badly in need of a coat of paint. I park right in front, and as soon as I get out of the car, my boots sink deep into the snow. I take a good minute to get to his front door. It’s like walking through molasses.
My coat isn’t warm enough for the icy breeze in the air, and I hug my chest as I wait for Bill to answer the door. After only a few moments, the door swings open like he’s been waiting for me. The guy towers over me, but there’s something young and vulnerable about his face and the scrap of a goatee on his chin.
“Claudia?” he says quietly.
I nod. “You got the phone?”
He hesitates a moment, then he holds it out to me. Quinn’s iPhone. Before he can change his mind, I snatch it out of his hand. It’s been powered down, just like I told him.
He scratches at his flimsy goatee. “You won’t tell the police?”
“I’ll keep my mouth shut.”
“Thanks.” He shifts his weight. “I want to help find her and all. I really do. But the thing is, I’m on probation right now. So I can’t—”
I get an uneasy feeling in my stomach. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so quick to protect this guy. “You’re on probation?”
“Me and my buddy were selling weed.”
I look down at the phone in my hand. If I go to the police, I’ll be in more trouble than he’ll be in. But he doesn’t need to know that. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll keep it between us.”
His shoulders sag. “Thanks. I appreciate it. And I hope you find Quinn. She was awesome.”
I lift my eyes to look into his. “You swear she seemed okay to you? Not hurt?”
“Not hurt.” He cocks his head to the side. “But she seemed… It was like something wasn’t right. She was nervous about something. In a hurry.”
“Thanks.” I squeeze the phone in my hand. “This will be very helpful. And I won’t say a word about you to the police. I don’t want you to get thrown in jail again.”
I said that last part just to make sure he keeps his damn mouth shut.
I stomp back out to the truck and shut myself inside it, before my fingers go numb. I sit for a moment in the driver seat, staring at the phone that Quinn tried so hard to get rid of.
Now I’ve got to do it for her.
Chapter 20
In our small New England town, one thing that never stops regardless of the weather is funerals.
There’s a cemetery about an hour west of home. The opposite direction of where Quinn was headed. It’s a cemetery I know very well.
Because it’s where our parents are buried.
They died when I was eighteen and Quinn was fourteen. A car accident took them both. They were driving to the high school to see a school play that Quinn was starring in. They spun out of control on the snowy road and collided with a tractor trailer. They were both killed instantly.
Unfortunately, money was tight before the accident, and they let their insurance policy lapse. So Quinn and I were left with nothing. It was a no-brainer to quit college. I couldn’t pay for school anymore anyway, and I couldn’t let Quinn be sent to live with distant relatives, or worse, end up in foster care with strangers.
From then on, it was just me and Quinn against the world. I looked out for her, made sure she studied for her exams, hung out with the right kids, and vetted her rare boyfriends. Too bad she didn’t listen to me about the man she married.
I hardly ever think about our parents anymore. It’s been an eternity since they died. I can’t even imagine the sound of my mother’s voice anymore. I forget whether my father had a beard or not. It feels like I knew them in another lifetime. But I still come here sometimes. I bring flowers.
But that’s not why I’m here today.
Sure enough, when I arrive at the cemetery, there’s a funeral going on, despite the snow. The funeral procession is parked along the side of the road, and the mourners are gathered around the gravestone. They’re bundled up in heavy coats and hats, as they say goodbye to their loved one a final time.