She tried calling Katie and Ray again. Still no answer from either of them. Ray’s failure to reply didn’t concern her; he ignored her all the time. But Katie always called back in a timely manner. She glanced at her watch. Ten past noon. Could something have happened to her? Like it had to Dakota James? No, she told herself. Stop being such a worrywart.
She’d noticed a slight change in her daughter’s behavior since Katie had become friends with Willow. Katie seemed more detached and moody after meeting Willow, less exuberant than her usual self. Prior to that, Katie earned straight As, attended church with the family every Sunday, volunteered at the senior center, and never gave her any problems. She was not a star on the softball team or in the school’s musicals, like Willow was, but Katie was a consummate team player.
Raisin scored an easy goal two minutes into the game. Isla would have clapped had she not been calling the parents of Katie’s friends. Every one of them said that Katie hadn’t slept over at their house last night. Isla paced the sideline, one eye on Scout and one eye on the game. Scout sat perched on his mat, watching Raisin, his nostrils flaring as he scented the air. After Raisin scored his second goal, an amazing kick from twenty feet out, he ran over to where Scout sat and let the dog check him over. When Scout didn’t react, he ran back onto the field.
Finally, she called the Briggses. She probably should have called the Briggses first, owing to Katie’s recent friendship with Willow, but something had prevented her from doing so. Her own vanity? Yes. Felicia intimidated her, and she felt ashamed that she’d put her own insecurities over her daughter’s safety. After two rings she heard a woman’s voice.
“I’m sorry to call you like this, Felicia, but did Katie happen to sleep over at your house last night?”
“No, she’s not here. Neither is Willow. We assumed the girls slept over at your house.”
“Well, they didn’t. Do you know any other parent that might have hosted them?”
“I don’t. They spent some time here last night but then left. Willow’s very particular about where she sleeps. I doubt she’d choose to sleep anywhere else, with the exception of your house.”
“It’s past noon, and I haven’t heard from Katie. That’s not like her.”
“Willow hasn’t checked in with us, either, unless she called my husband.”
“I’m starting to worry,” Isla said.
“Maybe we should call the police, although I’m sure the girls are just fine.”
“All the same, I’ll call them after I get off the line with you.” But the phone had already gone dead.
As she was about to dial the police, Isla saw Raisin dribble past three defenders and score an easy goal. Enthusiastic applause went up from the parents around her. Across the way, however, she heard some angry parents taunting Raisin and making fun of him. The expression on Raisin’s face looked anything but joyful, and he sprinted over to Scout as if he hadn’t seen him for weeks. He knelt down and stared at Scout, allowing the dog to fully vet him. When Scout failed to detect any significant change in his blood sugars, the dog rested his chin on his paws and stared straight ahead. Isla glared across the field at the two parents who had jeered at her son. She had half a mind to go over there and confront them, but then she remembered the advice she’d given Raisin earlier.
“I don’t want to go back in the game, Mom.”
“You can’t let those jerks get to you.”
“It’s not that. It’s just that it’s too easy to score against this team. I feel bad for those kids out there.”
Sometimes she wanted to cry because of Raisin’s decency.
“I could probably score ten goals if I wanted. What fun would that be?”
“Not much,” she said. “Talk to your coach and see what he thinks.”
“He’ll want me to stay in the game until halftime. I don’t want to look like a baby in front of the other kids.”
“You want me to talk to him?”
“Heck no, Mom. Don’t do that. I’ll look like a wuss if you start complaining in front of everyone. I can deal with Coach.”
She called the police, watching Raisin walk over to where his team huddled around the kneeling coach. A voice she didn’t recognize answered, and he sounded like a young kid. She didn’t know any of the officers on the force, except for Karl Bjornson. Isla reported her daughter missing, and the officer told her not to worry, that she was probably just sleeping over at a friend’s house. His patronizing tone made her want to explode with anger. But then he informed her that there was not much he could do at the moment. Today was Sunday, and the chief was out of town on business.
“Call back later if you still haven’t heard from her,” the cop instructed.
A stab of panic shot through her as Raisin dribbled past the defenders and headed toward the goal. He stopped in front of the net, poised for an easy score. But then he swiveled around and passed the ball to a less talented teammate off in the corner. His coach barked at him to be aggressive, but Raisin ignored him and did the exact same thing when the ball came to him again.
Isla stared down at her phone, as if waiting for a call to come in. Where the hell was Katie?
KARL
AFTER HE GOT OFF THE NIGHT SHIFT, HE WENT INTO CAFÉ BELLO and sat down to work on the James case. If he went home now, he knew he’d fall asleep on the couch and get only a few useless hours of toss and turn. Seeing Isla last night had caused much of his unrest. He couldn’t stop thinking about the quiet hours they’d spent together in her kitchen. It reminded him of older times, when they would sit after hiking and talk about times past. Of course he had no hopes of getting back together with her. His visit had been strictly professional. But after he was up all night, drinking shitty coffee and roaming the empty streets, his mind tended to play tricks on him, convincing him of possibilities that just didn’t exist.
Isla had looked beautiful last night, bathed in the soft glow of kitchen light. Sure, she’d aged some and put on a few extra pounds around the middle. But what an amazing woman, taking care of a sick child and a father suffering from Alzheimer’s. How he would have loved to wrap his arms around her, bathrobe and all, and kiss her.
He opened his computer. Why was he torturing himself like this?
She’d chosen college over him all those years ago, and it hadn’t come as a surprise. He hadn’t necessarily fought hard to keep her. He had believed Shepherd’s Bay to be a dead end for ambitious kids like themselves. Until he had realized that ambition was as overrated as it was misleading. He’d considered moving closer to her college so they could be together. They had fully planned on being a couple while they figured things out, whether that be long distance or not. It was a vague notion they had once shared, as sincere as it had been unlikely. But at the time they had truly believed it could work. They’d been too young to know the realities of life and the whims of fate. And then Isla had decided that she’d rather be free to explore other options during her college years and that they could then reassess their relationship after she graduated.
It was a blow to his plans at the time, but he knew he had to give her the space she needed, and he figured that a four-year hitch in the Coast Guard would sync perfectly with her college years. It would get him out of Shepherd’s Bay and keep him from constantly thinking about her. College was not in his future. Not initially, anyway. Not until he discovered what he wanted out of life and where his interests lay. Then, by that point, he decided that college was not for him.