“Dad, have you heard anything more about Maureen or that other girl who’s missing?” I asked. “Elizabeth?”
His smile stayed put. “Nothing, I’m afraid. But Jerome and his crew are doing their best. Working around the clock.”
I’ll bet. “So they don’t think Maureen ran away anymore?”
He screwed up his face. “I didn’t say that, honey. But I know they’re invested in locating her, whatever her reason for leaving.”
“Are they?” I asked.
“Heather!” my mom admonished. “Don’t talk back to your father.”
For a moment, I almost stormed off just like kids do in TV shows when their parents scold them. But this wasn’t a show. I had to keep my cool so I could protect Junie if I needed to, safeguard her from Mom when this mood went downhill, which they always did.
“Sorry,” I mumbled.
Dad walked over and squeezed my shoulder. “I promise she’ll turn up,” he said. “It’s hard when these things take longer than they should, but I swear, the Stearns County Sheriff’s Office is taking this seriously. In fact, I’ll have an update tonight. I’ve been invited to dinner at Jerome’s house.”
My heart leaped. If I could talk him into bringing me, I could finally check out the basement.
Dad glanced at his watch like that was the end of that, but Mom surprised all of us.
“I want to go,” she said.
“Me too,” I seconded.
Junie stayed quiet.
Dad’s nose wrinkled as he looked from my face to Mom’s. “You sure? It’ll be boring. Shop talk.”
“I’m sure,” Mom said, leaning into his chest and circling her arms around his waist. I knew that spot, knew how safe it felt, how he always smelled comforting, like buttered toast. Mom hadn’t claimed that spot in a while.
My jealousy caught me off guard.
“It’s settled, then,” Dad said, smiling. “The Cash family is going to a dinner party tonight!”
CHAPTER 26
Dad insisted on driving to Sheriff Nillson’s, even though he said we could walk there in fifteen minutes. He didn’t want the afternoon heat to “wilt my beautiful flower.” Him and Mom were still laying it on thick. She’d held on to her good mood all day, swishing around the house, dusting, watering the plants, vacuuming and then raking the shag carpeting. For lunch, she made Junie and me banana and peanut butter sandwiches on soft white bread served alongside an icy glass of milk. She even baked a Bundt cake that made the house too hot. I rested my hand on it as it cooled, feeling the warm caress of it against my palm.
Yet I didn’t let down my guard for a second.
It made my chest loose and happy to watch Junie soak it in, though. She glowed in Mom’s sunlight, opening to it like a flower. Mom started getting herself ready for the dinner party in the afternoon, inviting Junie into her bedroom so she could do their hair and makeup together. When I tried to join them, Mom told me it was special time, for Junie only.
I pulled on my ’phones and listened to Blind Faith. I’d been working through Ginger Baker’s catalog and was up to the song “Do What You Like.” I about had the main rhythm worked out, and an idea for how I could get something like that sound with only one bass drum to his double, when Mom and Junie walked out of the bedroom.
They took my breath away.
Mom had gone all out, soft curls in her hair, makeup as perfect as a queen’s, her fitted green dress hugging her hourglass figure. And Junie was made up like her but in miniature, right down to the curled hair and green dress.
“You two are beautiful.”
Dad agreed when he got home. He switched into a nicer suit and ushered us into the car, driving slowly toward the haunted side of Pantown. We passed Maureen’s house. It looked dead, no lights on inside. Tomorrow I would check on Mrs. Hansen, make sure she was okay.
Tonight, my sole focus was on sneaking into Sheriff Nillson’s basement.
I had to know for sure whether it was the one we’d seen Maureen in that night.
“Looks like we’re the first ones here.”
Dad parked the Pontiac in front of 2311 Twenty-Third Street North. It was a blue house with muddy-brown shutters, dead center in the row of five houses that I’d narrowed down as ground zero. Mom cradled the Bundt cake in her lap like it was made of glass. She held herself like she was made of glass, actually, now that I was staring at the back of her, studying the cut of her shoulders.
“You didn’t say it was a party,” she said, glancing around nervously.