“Never mind,” he mumbles.
I straighten up and look down at my son’s bent head.
“Last chance.”
When he doesn’t respond I turn and knock on the door.
Bodhi
“It’s gonna be a little longer than we thought. Maybe a few more weeks.”
My head snaps around to the landlord walking into my apartment.
He’s been avoiding my calls all week so I came to see the progress for myself, except there isn’t any. The place is still a disaster.
“That’s just great,” I grumble.
“Turns out the plumbing is outdated and needs to be replaced,” he says with a shrug.
“Any word from the insurance company?”
He was supposed to check if they would cover temporary housing while work was being done. My tenant policy doesn’t seem to cover anything. I’ve been bouncing around my friends’ places, crashing on different couches, and it’s getting old. Or maybe it’s just me who’s getting old. Coming up on forty my frat days are far behind me, as the persistent ache in my back confirms. I need a proper bed and my own damn bathroom.
“Yeah. Adjuster was in a few days ago, but no luck on the hotel room. But…” he adds quickly.
“I have another property, it’s on the river. Old tenants just moved out and the new ones don’t move in until November, so it’s vacant. You’re welcome to crash there.”
I put a call into the station to let Cap know it might be closer to nine before I get there. He assures me it’s quiet and even if a call should come in, they can handle it. I suspect my crew will be just as happy as I am to find digs of my own.
The property turns out to be a trailer home on the east side of the river. Not exactly the kind of ‘property’ he made it sound like, but the place is clean and has an adequate bathroom I wouldn’t have to share. I just need to move some of my shit in here so it’s livable, but I’m sure some of the guys at the station will give me a hand.
Of course I could crash at my parents’ house but as much as I love them, they’d drive me nuts within twenty-four hours. They live fifteen minutes north of town in Hermosa, where I grew up. Mom is a bookkeeper for a few small businesses and works from home, and my dad just retired from the US Postal Service. Tension is already ratcheting up with Dad now constantly in Mom’s space, and I don’t think it would help if I added myself to the mix.
There’s also my sister, Anika, but she lives in a small apartment over her hair salon downtown. Barely big enough for her.
No, even though it’ll be a pain in the ass to haul stuff over here for the few weeks it’ll take to get my apartment back in order, it’s probably the best option.
By the time I get to the station—the key to the trailer in my pocket—my crew is out on a call, just the chief’s vehicle is sitting in the otherwise empty bay. He is just coming out of his office as I walk in.
“Three-vehicle crash up by the high school. I have a meeting at city hall to get to.” He grimaces. “Some more new policy bullshit designed by pencil pushers, who have no idea how things work in the real world. Jesus, this part of the job gives me heartburn.”
I make some sympathetic noises, not envying the man. Paperwork and politics would give me heartburn too. One of the reasons why I’m perfectly happy right where I am in the hierarchy of the firehouse.
I head upstairs to see if there’s any breakfast left, but I have to contend with a bowl of Cheerios to feed the gnawing beast in my stomach. There’s still half a pot of coffee though, and I’m just about to pop my second cup in the microwave to heat it up when I hear footsteps in the bay below.
The equipment and gear rooms are on one side of the vehicle bays, the offices and workout room on the other, and our living quarters are upstairs at the rear with an open view of the bays. I glance over the railing and see a woman with reddish hair below.
“Anyone here?”
Her voice sounds panicked.
“Can I help you?”
Her head snaps back and I find myself looking down into a pair of the palest blue eyes I’ve ever seen.
“I’m looking for Vic? I tried calling her but she’s not answering. It’s an emergency,” she rattles, clearly shaken.
“Hold on. Let me get down there.”
I jog down the stairs and she’s already waiting at the bottom step, wringing her hands in front of her body. She’s short, even compared to my meager five eleven. I’m the shortest guy on the team, but I try to make up for it by working out twice as hard as the others. She’s also attractive, windblown strawberry blonde hair framing a striking face with full lips and those almost unnaturally pale eyes.
“Vic is out on a call. That’s probably why she’s not answering. What’s the emergency?”
She looks a little unsure at first but seems to come to a decision.
“It’s my dad. He’s missing.”
Chapter 3
Trin
“How long has he been missing?”
I glance at the screen of my phone.
We’d had a late start this morning, and I barely had time to get breakfast ready and make sure Tuck got on the bus. Pops seemed happy enough watching the birds outside while munching on some toast, so I hopped in the shower, but he was gone when I walked into the kitchen after.
My fault; I forgot to lock the front door after seeing Tucker off. Both outside doors have deadbolts that require a key from both sides. Vic installed them after the second time Pops went wandering. Just to be sure, I quickly searched all the rooms before I started running around the neighborhood, but I couldn’t find him anywhere.
It’s a little after nine now and I was hoping maybe Vic might have an idea where he’s most likely to go before I alert the police.
“A little over an hour.”
The guy’s intense dark brown eyes narrow slightly and I know what he’s thinking, so I quickly explain.
“My father has dementia.”
Apparently, that’s enough to prompt him into action. He pulls a phone from his pocket and dials.
“Bodhi at Station 3. We have an elderly man with dementia missing…” He covers the phone with his hand and asks me, “Where’s the last time you saw him?”
“At home. Uh, 1919 East 2nd Avenue.” He relays the information before prompting me on a description. “Bruce Paige, he’s seventy-eight, six one, and about a hundred and seventy pounds with a full head of gray hair. He’s wearing tan pants, a blue flannel shirt, and running shoes.”
Again he passes on the information, his steady eyes have a calming effect on me and I can feel my heartbeat slowing down.
What a fucked-up week this has been. First dealing with the incident at the school and Tuck, who seems to have become even more closed off since, rushing to finish my column, and now Pops missing. I bend my head and pinch the bridge of my nose, between my eyes, where I can feel the beginnings of a migraine coming on.
“Patrol will keep an eye out for him.” I look up and see he’s ended the call, a look of concern directed at me. “We’ll find him, Ms…”
“Paige,” I fill in. “Katrina Paige. Vic’s sister.”