“Find who?” Cal asked, as he entered the locker room.
“Shut the hell up, Rookie!” Tony yelled. “No one invited you into the conversation.”
“Jeez, just trying to be friendly,” Cal said, as he pushed his bag into his locker and slammed it shut with a bang that reverberated through the tiled room.
“My daughter is missing,” I said plainly.
“Oh man, I’m sorry, Blake,” Cal said.
“What the fuck? I thought you weren’t going to tell anyone!” Tony said, as he dropped his arm and backed away.
“Yeah, well, the more people who know, the better chance we have of finding her, right?” I shrugged. “I don’t fucking know, Tony. I’ve never lost a daughter before!”
“Fine, do whatever you want,” Tony grumbled, as he turned and walked out of the room.
“How long she’s been missing, Blake?” Cal asked.
“Since last night,” I said. “No idea where she went. None of her friends have seen her, and I didn’t find anything when I went to check out the hangouts in town.”
“My brother goes to Waltham College,” Cal offered. “I could text him and ask him to keep an eye out, if you want. I mean, if you think it might help. Text me her picture, and I’ll forward it to him.”
“The more eyes we have, the better it is,” I agreed. I pulled my phone out and texted Cal a photo of Nina I’d taken the weekend before. She was bent over a large stack of pancakes holding a fork in each fist as she prepared to dive in and eat. She was smiling and looked genuinely happy. Or had she been covering something up?
“Got it,” Cal said. “I’ll see if my brother recognizes her.”
“Thanks, Rookie,” I said with a small smile.
I joined the rest of the crew in the dining area where they were passing around platters of bacon, eggs, and toast. I poured myself a cup of coffee and took a seat at the end of the table. All around me, the guys were talking and laughing.
I’d never felt so alone in my life.
There were no calls all morning, so we spent our time cleaning and inventorying the gear. Tony managed to keep questions from the other guys to a minimum by crowing about his renewed commitment to monogamy. This stirred the pot and gave the guys a chance to blow off steam as they told jokes about their own lack of a sex life.
Late in the afternoon, I felt my phone vibrating in my pocket. I pulled it out and fo
und a message from Emily telling me that one of Nina’s classmates had come forward and confessed that she knew Nina had a crush on a college boy, but that she didn’t know the boy’s name. Emily said she’d try to find out more, and that she’d call me later to let me know what she’d learned.
I was tempted to call and grill her about what the girl had said, but a call came in, and I stashed my phone and ran to the truck to pull on my gear before we headed to a warehouse fire that occupied the rest of the evening. It was well after 10 when we pulled back into the station, and we were all worn out, dirty, and starving.
I checked my phone, but there was no message from Emily, so I showered and changed before I went to help with dinner preparations.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Emily
After leaving Blake a message about Nina, I drove over to his house to check and see if Nina might have returned home. Emma’s disclosure had made me wonder if Nina’s desire to live with her father had more to do with a boy than it did with Nina clashing with her mother. I thought back to my own high school days and how I yearned to get out of my parents’ house and away from my oppressive family, but when I compared my teen years to Nina’s, I couldn’t find a commonality between our situations.
Nina had parents who loved and supported her, and despite the fact that Remy tended to be too strict and Blake too lenient, between the two of them, they seemed to be doing a good job of raising a healthy, happy teenager.
I rang the doorbell and waited, and when no one answered, I walked around back to see if I could peek into the kitchen and see Nina. I knocked on the back door and, again, waited, but there was no answer there, either. I walked back around to the front of the house just as a large white sedan pulled into the driveway next to my car. A woman who looked like an older, more elegantly dressed version of Nina exited the car and started up the walk.
“Who are you?” she asked, looking me up and down. She was so perfectly coiffed and elegant looking in a winter white suit that probably cost more than my entire month’s salary that I felt intimidated.
“I’m Emily Fowler,” I said, after clearing my throat. “I’m Nina’s History teacher. You must be her mother.”
“I am. Remy Gaston,” she sniffed, without offering her hand. “I expected someone more…teacher-like.”
“Yes, well, you know what it’s like on a teacher’s salary,” I offered weakly.