Ah. I’m guessing she’s been watching the news too.
“About Mariah?”
“Yeah. The moment I heard her story I thought about you and your grandma.”
Shit. I don’t like reading cards for potentially dead people. “What about us?” I play dumb.
“Is there...I don’t know something either of you could do to help with the search?”
“In what way?”
“She was our friend.”
Boo meows like she’s in on this conversation.
“Um...is that the same Mariah we went to school with?”
“Yeah, she lost a bunch of weight and kind of went wild.”
I had no idea. I’ve not really kept up to date with my former classmates other than the invites I get to baby showers and crap I don’t care about.
“I’d have to speak with my Gram, and I’d need something of Mariah’s, but there’s no guarantee.” A few years ago, I helped find a missing five-year-old who simply vanished. I’ve never claimed to be a psychic. I never asked to be recognized for my role in bringing Kenley home. The family offered me the reward money, and I asked them to put it in her college fund. I declined interviews. Even though that story had a happy ending, not all do.
“I know...but she has a daughter.”
Shit.
Gram would tell me no. It’s too close to home. Personal because I knew Mariah, but it’s why I feel compelled to say yes. If she’s out there somewhere I owe it to her and myself to at least try. Don’t I?