The police station was located on a main road that paralleled the shore. The ocean funneled into a large bay that eventually turned into the Columbia River. With her window rolled down, the ocean breeze felt cool in the heat of the midday sun. The air smelled like salt water. Large ships laden with crates trudged along, and behind them she could make out the blue mountains of Washington across the river.
Her father didn’t say anything, so Wendy didn’t, either. The awkward silence stretched on until they pulled up to the old brick building.
“Let’s go,” Mr. Darling said, trying to loosen his tie again as he got out of the car. Wendy followed.
As they walked into the lobby, Wendy tried to shrink behind her father. She shivered and fidgeted with the strap of her bag. She didn’t like being back here. It felt like walking into a cemetery crowded with ghosts.
The police department was all but devoid of color. Everyone was either wearing gray or black suits, or else they were dressed in police uniforms. Desks were placed in rows and detectives and officers walked around, speaking to one another, talking on the phone and handing off documents. Usually, the police didn’t have much to worry about in their small town, but the string of missing kids appeared to be keeping everyone busy.
Wendy stood in the middle of the lobby, arms wrapped around her middle as her father went to ask for Detective James. On the wall behind the front desk was a bulletin board. Tacked to it were the missing posters of Benjamin Lane, Ashley Ford, and now Alex Forestay. There was also the poorly done police sketch of Peter.
Quickly, Wendy cut her gaze away. She tried to avoid making eye contact, but she’d already spotted Officer Smith. When he saw Wendy, he stopped talking to a female officer. He stared at her for a moment before nudging his fellow officer’s arm and nodding in her direction. Wendy stared at the floor. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment and anger.
“Ah, Mr. Darling, Wendy.” Detective James rounded a corner and approached them. He looked exactly the same as he had in her living room, in a perfectly pressed suit with his black hair parted to the side and a forced smile on his face. He held a thick file under his arm. Wendy noticed a silver ring on his middle finger. “Thanks for coming in. This shouldn’t take long,” he said.
Mr. Darling grunted in response.
Wendy kept quiet, but Detective James turned to her. “Wendy, if you’d follow me, we’ll head back to my office.” Wendy nodded and began to walk, but when Mr. Darling started to follow close behind, Detective James held out a hand. “Sorry, Mr. Darling, you’ll need to wait here until we’re finished.”
Wendy wasn’t used to people telling her dad what to do. Her eyes cut back and forth between the two.
Clearly Mr. Darling wasn’t used to it, either, because he puffed out his chest.
“She’s my daughter—you can’t talk to her without me being there,” Mr. Darling all but growled. Now even more people were starting to watch. Mr. Darling was very big compared to Detective James. An angry bear lumbering in front of a guy in a fancy suit.
To his credit, Detective James remained placid and unaffected by this show. “Actually, as of four days ago, Wendy is no longer a minor, so I need to speak with her alone,” he said plainly.
Wendy watched as her father’s face flushed, starting at his bulbous nose and spreading across his cheeks. His bushy mustache ruffled and Wendy knew he was going to argue with the detective.
“It’s okay, Dad,” she cut in, trying to defuse the situation before it turned into a real mess.
In all honesty, she almost wanted her dad to stay with her, if only to make her feel less frightened. But she also didn’t want him there to listen to any accusations or evidence that might be in that big file Detective James held.
“I’ll let you know if I need you,” she added. She tried to give her father a reassuring look, even though she was quite certain she probably looked like a pale, haggard, nervous wreck.
Mr. Darling’s small, dark eyes darted between Wendy and Detective James. “Fine,” he said tersely after a moment.
“Like I said, shouldn’t take us too long,” Detective James said. “Mr. Darling, please have a seat. Help yourself to some coffee if you’d like.”
Mr. Darling didn’t move. Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest, showing the detective that he had no intention of doing either.
Detective James said nothing for a moment. His scarred eyebrow flicked upward momentarily, but then he turned to Wendy and said, “This way.”