alive?
I reached for the phone on Grace’s desk, but stopped myself from dialing. I didn’t want her to try to answer her cell phone while she was driving. Then I remembered Jenny’s older friend was with her and that she was probably doing the driving. I let out my breath in relief. At least I could stop picturing Grace behind the wheel. I only wished I knew Jenny’s friend and that she was trustworthy.
I dialed Grace’s cell phone and jumped when I heard its distinctive ring coming from inches away on her night table. “Oh, no,” I said, grabbing her phone. The display was lit up, our home number prominently displayed. She’d left without her phone? I hung up and sank onto her bed, trying to figure out what was going on. Grace never went anywhere without her phone.
I scrolled through the numbers on her phone and dialed Jenny’s cell. It took a few rings before she picked up and I knew I’d awakened her.
“I thought about you all night,” she said, her voice thick and hoarse. “You okay?”
She was obviously in on this grand adventure. “It’s Tara, Jenny,” I said.
There was a beat of silence. “Oh,” she said. “Sorry. Why are you calling on Grace’s phone?”
“I need the cell phone number for your friend who’s with Grace,” I said tersely. “I can’t remember her name.”
Jenny was quiet again. “I don’t know what you mean,” she said. “Isn’t Grace there?”
“No. She left the house before I got up this morning, and I assume…” Could I be wrong? “She took the Honda and forgot her phone. I assume she’s on her way to see Cleve. She told me yesterday she wanted to go and would have a friend of yours—an older girl—along as a supervising driver.”
Jenny said nothing and I knew she was either hiding something or as much in the dark as I was.
“Jenny?” I asked. “Do you know where she is?”
“I’m totally confused,” she said.
“Who’s your older friend? Helen or…Elena!” I suddenly remembered. “Her name was Elena.”
“I…I’m not sure what’s going on.”
I got to my feet. “Jenny!” I said, sharply now because panic was rising inside me. “What do you know? This is serious! Did she tell you she was going to Chapel Hill?”
“No!” Jenny said. “I honestly don’t know where she is. Did you try calling her?”
“I told you, she forgot her phone. I’m going to call Cleve. If you hear anything from her or from Elena… Do you have a friend named Elena?”
She didn’t answer.
“Jenny!”
“No,” she admitted.
I hung up the phone and looked at my watch. It was a little after ten. She must have taken off before I got up at seven. It was possible, though not likely, that she was in Chapel Hill by now.
Through her bedroom window, I could see the rain battering the leaves of the maple tree in our side yard and I shook my head. I couldn’t picture her driving around the block. Imagining her driving in this rain was both impossible and horrifying.
Then I picked up her phone and tried Cleve’s number again.
45
Grace
I was on a highway called the Beltway and I’d never seen so many cars going so fast at one time. It was like being stuck in a parking lot that was moving at sixty-five miles an hour, and my leg muscles shook as I pressed on the gas trying to keep up. I was so glad to see the exit for Alexandria. My GPS gave me a few turns to make and I was suddenly in the middle of a busy road in a little town. I needed gas and, even worse, coffee. I spotted a gas station and pulled in. I bought twenty dollars worth of gas and a comb. The only one they had was made for men and it had teeth so close together I’d probably never be able to get it through my hair. I bought a cup of coffee that tasted really old and lukewarm, but I didn’t care and I chugged it down right there in the disgusting gas station store.
When I pulled back onto the road, my GPS said I was only a mile from my destination. Then half a mile. Then four hundred feet, and I began to think it was leading me the wrong way. Wouldn’t the Missing Children’s Bureau be in a big office building? All during the drive, that’s where I pictured meeting my mother. On the fourth or fifth floor of a big office building. But the buildings on this road were small and they looked more like little shops and town houses than offices.
I was stuck at a red light when I noticed a banner about a block in front of me. It hung high in the air above the street. Columbus Day Parade! Oh, no. Oh, no. I’d forgotten about it being a holiday. Would the Missing Children’s Bureau be closed?
My GPS said, “Arriving at destination.” I was certain it had screwed up, but the traffic wasn’t moving and I had a chance to look at the building numbers and there it was—237. It was a little yellow town house in the middle of a string of other little town houses. It had to be wrong, yet I could see some kind of rectangular plaque hanging next to the door, although I couldn’t read it from where I sat. I’d have to get closer.
I couldn’t parallel park. I’d screwed it up every time I tried during my driver’s training and there was no way I could do it with all these cars around me. I turned down a side street and drove a couple of blocks before I found two spaces together and was able to slip the car next to the curb. When I finally turned off the engine, I just sat there for a minute as what I’d done really hit me.
