Still Missing

'I know. I'm in no rush. I just bought a new Yukon Denali--'

'Wow, you weren't kidding about making changes. Aren't guys who go through midlife crises supposed to buy sports cars?'

'Hey, once I decide on something, I don't mess around, but what I was getting to, smart-ass, is that I'm thinking about taking it for a road trip one of these weekends. If I make it up your way, or even when you're back here for the trial, I'd like to buy you a coffee or lunch or something?'

'I'm going to have a lot going on with school and all.'

'Like I said, I'm in no rush.'

'You bringing the peanut butter?'

'You know, I just might.' He chuckled.

'Guess I could lay my hands on a couple of spoons.'

The next morning I got up early and took a drive out to the school. Man, did it feel good to get away from this town, even if it was just for a couple of days. The Rockies are an amazing sight this time of year, and seeing those huge peaks stretching to the sky almost had me forgetting my fight with Christina. My window was rolled down the whole way so the clean pure scent of warm pine needles could fill my car. Emma was in the back with her head out the window--whenever she wasn't trying to lick my neck. Driving slowly up to the school, then seeing this beautiful Tudor-style building in front of me with the Rockies in the background, made me feel giddy. Things would be different there.

After I parked my car, Emma and I walked around the campus. As I strolled by a couple of girls sitting on the lawn sketching, one glanced up and we smiled at each other. I'd forgotten how nice it was to get a smile from a stranger. But then her glance turned to a stare and I knew she recognized me. I turned away just as she nudged her friend beside her. I put Emma back in the car and looked for the registration office.

I'm too late to apply for the September semester, so I filled out the application for January. I didn't have a portfolio with me but I'd thought to bring my sketch pad and I showed it to the guidance counselor. He said I shouldn't have a problem getting in and suggested which pieces to submit. I was disappointed I have to wait, but the counselor guy said I could take some evening classes on campus to prep myself.

On the way home I mentally made plans for the upcoming move, but as I neared Clayton Falls Christina's words, You're running away, haunted me. I still couldn't believe she had the nerve to say that. What the hell did she know? And telling me I wasn't alone? Of course I was alone. My daughter was dead, my dad was dead, my sister was dead, and my mother might as well be. Who the hell was Christina to judge me for anything I did?

You're running away.

Hours later I parked in Christina's driveway, stormed up to her door, and rapped hard.

'Annie!'

'Is Drew here?'

'No, he's staying at a friend's. What's going on?'

'Look, I appreciate you're going through a rough time, Christina, but that doesn't give you the bloody right to control my life. It's my life, mine. Not yours.'

'Okay, Annie, I just--'

'Why can't you just leave me alone? You don't have a clue what I went through.'

'No, I don't. Because you won't tell me.'

'How could you say those things to me? My mother had me abducted, Christina.'

'Yes, she did.'

'She lied to me.'

'She lied to everyone.'

'She left me up there. Alone.'

'Completely alone.'

'My mother did it to me.'

'Your mother, Annie.'

'And now she's going to jail. I have no one left. No one.'

'You have me.'

And then I finally broke.

Christina didn't hold me while I cried. She sat beside me on the floor, shoulder to shoulder, as I sobbed out grievances against my mother. Every unjust action that had been committed on me by her since I was a child, every broken dream and unfulfilled wish. And after I got one out, Christina would nod and say, Yes, she did that to you. And it was wrong. You were wronged.

Eventually my sobs turned to the occasional sniffle, and an odd kind of calm settled over me.

Christina said, 'Why don't you get Emma out of the car and I'll make us some tea.'

We changed into pajamas--Christina lent me a pair of hers. 'Silk,' she said with a smile, earning an 'Of course' and a shaky smile back. Then, with a full pot of tea in front of us, we sat at the kitchen table. I took a deep breath.

'My baby? Her name was Hope.'

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Wow, do I ever owe a lot of people a debt of gratitude for their help with this novel! It's impossible for me to list them in order of importance as all of these wonderful people were essential to my journey, so I'm just going to start at the beginning--where all good stories start.

My aunt, Dorothy Hartshorne, because she read every draft, argued psychology with me, and always encouraged me to keep going. She also promises not to sell my first draft on eBay! My beta readers, Lori Hall, Tracy Taylor, Beth Helms, and Clare Henderson, who all took time out of their busy lives to read my book and share their thoughts. My amazing mentor, Renni Browne, for her astute insights and unwavering belief in this book. Peter Gelfan and Shannon Roberts also provided valuable feedback that helped me take Still Missing to the next level.

For sharing their professional knowledge, I'm grateful to Constable B. D. McPhail, Constable H. Carlson, Staff Sergeant J. D. MacNeill, Constable J. Moffat, Dr. E. Weisenberger, Peter Gallacher, and Stephanie Witzaney. Any mistakes and embellishments are entirely my fault--I tend to get a little carried away while in the artistic throes!

Many thanks go out to my fantastic agent, Mel Berger, for answering all my questions with great patience and wisdom--and boy, do I have a lot of questions! An enormous thank-you to my wonderful editor, Jen Enderlin, who loved my book enough to take a chance on it, then worked with me to take it over the finish line. My gratitude to the rest of the team at St. Martin's Press who made this a great experience for me: Sally Richardson, George Witte, Matthew Shear, Matthew Baldacci, John Murphy, Dori Weintraub, Ann Day, Lisa Senz, Sarah Goldstein, Sara Goodman, Elizabeth Catalano, Nancy Trypuc, Kim Ludlam, Anne Marie Tallberg, the entire Broadway sales force, and the entire Fifth Avenue sales force. Last but not least, Tom Best, Lisa Mior, and all the great people at H. B. Fenn.

I'm also deeply grateful to Don Taylor and Lisa Gardner for their help in spreading the word.

On a personal front, I'd like to thank all the friends and family who believed in me--even when I was threatening to burn my manuscript. All my love to my husband, Connel, who brings food to my desk, hides the chocolate where I can still find it, and always makes me feel like I'm the luckiest woman in the world.

Finally, although Vancouver Island is a real place, all the towns on the island in the book, including Clayton Falls, are purely fictional.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

STILL MISSING. Copyright (c) 2010 by Rene Unischewski. All rights reserved.