The russet-brick building was just starting to lose its edges to the gray evening sky as Pip climbed out of her small car. The white sign on the wall read “Fairview Police Station.”
Pip walked through the main door into the blue-painted reception area.
There was just one man waiting inside, asleep on one of the hard metal chairs against the back wall. Pip strode up to the desk and knocked on the glass, to get someone’s attention in the attached office. The sleeping man snorted and shuffled into a new position.
“Hello?” The voice emerged before its owner did: the detention officer Pip had met a couple of times. The officer strolled out, slapping some papers down and then finally looking at Pip. “Oh, you’re not who I was expecting.”
“Sorry.” Pip smiled. “How are you, Eliza?”
“I’m OK, love.” Her kindly face crinkled into a smile, gray hair bunching at the collar of her uniform. “What brings you here this time?”
Pip liked Eliza, liked that neither of them had to pretend or dance around small talk.
“I need to talk to Detective Hawkins,” she said. “Is he here?”
“He is right now.” Eliza chewed her pen. “He’s very busy, though.
Looking to be a long night.”
“Can you tell him it’s urgent? Please,” Pip added.
“Fine, see what I can do,” Eliza sighed. “Take a seat, sweetheart,” she said as she disappeared back into the office.
But Pip didn’t take a seat. Her body didn’t know how to be still right now.
So she paced the width of the front desk, six steps, turn, six steps back, daring the squeak of her sneakers to wake the sleeping man.
The keypad-locked door leading to the offices and interview rooms buzzed open, but it wasn’t Eliza or Richard Hawkins who emerged. It was two uniformed officers. Out first was Daniel da Silva, holding the door for another officer, Soraya Bouzidi, who was tying her tightly curled hair into a bun beneath her black peaked hat. Pip had first met them both at the police meeting in Fairview Town Hall last October, back when Daniel da Silva was a person of interest in Andie’s case. Judging by the strained, tight-lipped smile he gave her now as he passed, he clearly hadn’t forgotten that.
Soraya acknowledged Pip, throwing her a nod and a bright “Hello” before following Daniel outside to one of the patrol cars. Pip wondered where they were going and what had called them out. Whatever it was, they must think it more important than Jamie Reynolds.
The door buzzed again, but only opened a few inches. A hand was all that appeared through it, holding up two fingers toward Pip.
“You’ve got two minutes,” Hawkins called, beckoning her to follow him down the corridor. She hurried over, sneakers shrieking as she did, the sleeping man snorting awake behind her.
Hawkins didn’t wait to say hello; he strode down the hall in front of her.
He was dressed in black jeans and a new jacket, padded and dark green.
Maybe he’d finally thrown out that long wool coat he always wore when he was lead investigator on Andie Bell’s disappearance.
“I’m on my way out,” he said suddenly, opening the door to Interview Room 1 and gesturing her inside. “So I mean it when I say two minutes. What is it?” He closed the door behind them and leaned against it with one leg up.
Pip straightened and crossed her arms. “Missing person,” she said. “Jamie Reynolds from Fairview. Case number four nine zero zero—”
“Yeah, I saw the report,” Hawkins interrupted. “What about it?”
“Why aren’t you doing anything about it?”
That caught him off guard. Hawkins made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a throat-clear, rubbing his hand across his stubbled chin. “I’m sure you know how it works, Pip. I won’t patronize you by explaining.”
“Jamie shouldn’t be filed as low risk,” she said. “His family believes he’s in serious trouble.”
“Well, family hunches aren’t one of the criteria we trust in serious police work.”
“And what about my hunches?” Pip said, refusing to let go of his eyes.
“Do you trust those? I’ve known Jamie since I was nine. I saw him at Andie and Sal’s memorial before he disappeared, and something definitely felt off.”
“I was there,” Hawkins said. “It was very emotionally charged. I’m not surprised if people weren’t acting quite like themselves.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“Look, Pip,” he sighed, dropping his leg and peeling away from the door.
“Do you know how many missing persons reports we get every single day?
Sometimes as many as twelve. We don’t have the time or resources to chase up every single one. Especially not with all these budget cuts. Most people return on their own within forty-eight hours. We have to prioritize.”
“So prioritize Jamie,” she said. “Trust me. Something’s wrong.”
“I can’t do that.” Hawkins shook his head. “Jamie is an adult, and even his own mother admitted this isn’t out of character. Adults have a legal right to disappear if they want to. Jamie Reynolds isn’t missing; he’s just absent. He’ll be fine. And if he chooses to, he’ll be back in a few days.”
“What if you’re wrong?” Pip asked, knowing she was losing him. She couldn’t lose him. “What if you’re missing something, like with Sal? What if you’re wrong again?”
Hawkins winced. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I wish I could help, but I really have to go. We’ve got an actual high-risk case: an eight-year-old abducted from her backyard. There’s nothing I can do for Jamie. It’s the way it is, unfortunately.” He reached for the door handle.
“Please,” Pip said, the desperation in her voice surprising them both.
“Please, I’m begging you.”
His fingers stalled. “I’m—”
“Please.” Her throat clenched like it did before she cried, breaking her voice into a million little pieces. “Don’t make me do this again. Please. I can’t do this again.”
Hawkins wouldn’t look at her, he just tightened his grip around the handle. “I’m sorry, Pip. My hands are tied. There’s nothing I can do.”
—
Outside, Pip stopped in the middle of the parking lot and looked up into the sky, clouds hiding the stars from her, hoarding them for themselves. It had just started to rain, cold droplets that stung as they fell into her open eyes.
She stood there a while, watching the endless nothingness of the sky, trying to listen to what her gut was telling her. She closed her eyes to hear it better.
What do I do? Tell me what to do.
She began to shiver and climbed into her car, wringing the rain from her hair. The sky had given her no answers. But there was someone who might, someone who knew her better than she knew herself. She pulled out her
phone and dialed.
“Ravi?”
“Hello, trouble.” The smile was obvious in his voice. “Have you been sleeping? You sound strange.”
She told him; told him everything. Asked for help because he was the only one she knew how to ask.
“I can’t tell you what to decide,” he said.
“But could you?”
“No, I can’t make that decision for you. Only you know, only you can know,” he said. “But what I do know is that whatever you decide will be the right thing. That’s just how you are. And whatever you choose, you know I’ll
be here, right behind you. Always. OK?”
“OK.”
And as Pip said goodbye, she realized the decision was already made.
Maybe it had always been made, maybe she’d never really had a choice and she’d just been waiting for someone to tell her that that was OK.
It was OK.
She searched for Connor’s name and clicked the call button, her heart
dragging its way to her throat.
He picked up on the second ring.
“I’ll do it,” she said.
