Dad looks annoyed and turns back to the screen.
"She just called out a goodbye like she always does. I... she’s sixteen! It's not like I need to wave her off every time she leaves the house. I didn't think it was the last time I'd be seeing her." Mom's voice crumples, her last word coming out as a squeak.
The sheriff flicks her a sad smile as he slides his pen and notepad back into his jacket. "I'm sorry you have to face this, Trudy. I really am."
She crosses her arms and nods.
"Please keep us updated."
"I will, but I have to warn you... don't get your hopes up."
Why would he say something like that to them? Can't he see they're already on edge?
"I think you should leave now," my voice is hard.
Sheriff Hutton pats my Dad's shoulder and gives it a squeeze before saying goodbye and leaving.
The whoosh of an email sending is the only sound in the room. I gaze at my parents' shell-shocked expressions.
I don't know what to say. I don't know how to make it better.
"I'll go finish dinner." Mom's hands drop to her side and she walks out of the room.
Dad robotically closes down my computer, not just putting it to sleep, but actually shutting it down.
There is finality to the action and it leaves a tender bruise right in the middle of my chest.
I'm obviously not the only one giving up.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
It's eight o'clock by the time I make my way back down to the kitchen. Dad is stacking the dishwasher, while Mom is wrapping the leftovers. There are a lot. I guess I wouldn't be able to eat either.
Mom opens her mouth a couple of times as if to speak, but then can't bring herself to do it.
And so the painful silence reigns.
Dad is just loading the last of the cutlery when the doorbell rings again.
Mom looks at Dad with a questioning frown. He shrugs and shuts the dish drawer.
I stay with Mom while he goes to answer the door.
"Hi." Dad sounds confused.
Is it the sheriff again? What other depressing news does he have? I walk towards the door then freeze.
"Hey Mr. Tepper. Do you mind if I come in?"
I recognize Dale's voice and shrink back against the wall. He walks meekly into the kitchen and gives my mom a soft smile.
"Hi Mrs. Tepper."
"Hi." She wipes her hands on a towel and moves around the counter to shake Dale's hand.
"Dale Finningan," he reminds her.
"That's right. You live just around the corner, don't you?"
"Yeah, you helped us find the house."
"I remember." She forces cheeriness into her voice.
"What can we do for you, Dale?" Dad pulls out a stool and offers Dale a seat.
Dale slides into the chair and looks around the kitchen.
I should let him know I'm here, but I can't. Words are stuck in my throat, clogging my airways, making it hard to breathe. What's he here to say?
"I..." He licks his lips and picks at the counter top. "I've been worried about Nicole. Do you guys have any more news?"
My parents look at each other, trying to have one of those wordless conversations, but I think they're a bit rusty.
Wait, no I see it.
They just had one!
Dad turns to Dale and with a broken voice admits, "We don't know what's happened to her."
"Have you heard from her?"
The hope in Mom's voice is hard to miss.
Dale shakes his head with a sad smile.
"You know you're the only one of her friends who's come to see if she's here. Are you two in some kind of relationship?"
I can sense my mother's struggle to ask. After what she discovered in the top drawer of my bedside table, I can understand why.
"No, ma'am." That smirk I love jumps onto his face. "No... uhh... she's not really into guys like me. I'm a little too outspoken and thoughtless for her tastes."
I move from my position in the doorway, my heart melting at his quiet words.
"So you're not friends?"
"I really want to be, but I guess I need to control my tongue first."
My parents look at each other in confusion.
"I'm just really sorry if I ever said anything to hurt her and I'll regret it forever if I don't get to see her again and tell her that."
I blink rapidly as tears blur my vision.
My father's brow dips with concern.
"Are you suggesting she ran away because you two had a fight?"
"No, sir." Dale sits up straight. "In fact," he pauses and takes a breath, "I'm wondering if she didn't run away at all."
"Why? Why are you saying that?"
I wince at the sharpness in my mother's voice.
It's impressive that Dale isn't shying away.
"I don't know, Mrs. Tepper, it's just a feeling... or a wondering. Has anyone considered the fact that she might not have skipped town?"
"The sheriff thinks she has." Mom's shoulders bunch with agitation.
"But is he right? I mean it's all just conjecture, isn't it?"
For some reason this is stressing my mother out more than the idea of me running away. Grabbing up the dishcloth, she squeezes it in her hands.
"So what does that make her? If she hasn't run away, where is she?"
Dale and I both see where this is going and I desperately want to intervene.
"I'm not sure; I'm just suggesting that maybe someone should start searching for her."
Dad places a tender hand on Mom's back and gives it a small rub. "I've sent a picture of her to the Sheriff. He's sending it to the L.A.P.D. for us."
Dale looks annoyed.
"Are they going to do more? Aren't they going to search the area? Pull together a party of people? I'll help."
He rises from the stool.
"Son, we have to admit that Nicole running away is the most likely answer to this."
"But it's not the only one." He rubs his face. "Mr. Tepper I think you should be going back to the sheriff and insisting he starts searching for her."
"We have this under control, Dale." Dad's voice is calm, but I can hear a small edge creeping into it.
"Sir, I don't think you do. She didn't run away."
"Dale." My mother slaps the counter. "Stop. We are doing what we can and I want you to go."
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Tepper, I didn't mean to upset you, I just..."
"Leave, please." Her voice breaks and wobbles as she turns away from him.
Dale repeats his apology one more time.
"Goodbye, Dale." Dad shoots him a pointed look and Dale has no rebuttal.
With a soft sigh, he shoves his hands in his pockets and walks to the door. He turns to scan the room one last time, his eyes alight with a hope that is swiftly dying. Dipping his head, he silently walks from the room.
His hand is on the doorknob when I reach him.
"Thank you," I whisper in his ear.
He goes statue still as his face washes with relief.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I said that stuff to you," he whispers.
"I know... but I guess I can kind of be an irritating bitch."
"You're not." Dale turns to me. "I wish I could turn back time and erase that whole conversation. It's just my nose was throbbing and I was annoyed about Adam and I was so humiliated that Trent decked me in front of you."
A laugh bursts from my lips before I can stop it.