The Bookstore on the Beach - Brenda Novak Page 0,38

word from Yana or Mr. Olynyk, either, and nothing from the FBI or anyone she’d contacted in her search. But after so long, none of that came as any surprise. Neither did it pack the same kind of stomach-sickening punch. She wasn’t crying, arguing with strangers about what might’ve happened or pressing those who could possibly help her to do more.

She’d done all of that. There was no one left to appeal to. All she could do was adjust to her new circumstances. While that came as a welcome reprieve, it also caused a tsunami of guilt. Nick could be in a desperate situation, and yet here she was enjoying carrot cake from The Daily Catch—just eating it felt like a betrayal—and eyeing the friend request she’d received from the man to whom she’d given her virginity.

“How disloyal can I be?” she muttered, disgusted with herself for being so tempted to accept Quinn’s request. “What if Nick’s still alive?”

But she couldn’t hang on forever, could she? Not when there was literally no evidence that he was still breathing.

Closing her eyes, she shook her head. She wasn’t hoping for Nick’s death—far from it—but if he had died, and she could find proof of it, at least she’d have answers. Someone who passed away could be mourned and memorialized and then, with time, let go. But not knowing made the pain, doubt and anxiety interminable, open-ended.

A text came in. Hearing the signal, she reached over to retrieve her phone from the nightstand.

What are you doing?

It was from Taylor, who’d eaten dinner and then gone directly to her room, saying she wasn’t feeling well.

How do you know I’m doing anything?

Autumn added a funny face emoji. Sometimes she and her daughter exchanged emoji after emoji, just being silly and having fun, but Taylor didn’t react that way this time.

I can see the light above the garage from the dining room, she said.

Are you feeling better? Why aren’t you in bed?

I wasn’t really sick. Just worried about my friend.

She’d lied? Why?

Which friend?

Sierra. She smart-mouthed her father, and he got **really** angry.

Wasn’t her mother there?

Her mother must’ve taken off when she was a baby. She won’t talk about her. It’s just her and her father, and it’s been that way since she was eight.

You think he might’ve hurt her?

I don’t know. Caden and I called the police and asked them to check on her, but they haven’t called back. I don’t think they’re going to. And I haven’t heard from Sierra.

Surprised by what Taylor had just texted her, Autumn sat up straighter and called her daughter. “You sent the police over there?” she said as soon as Taylor answered.

“I had to make sure she was okay.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about it?”

“I was afraid I was wrong. I didn’t want you to get involved if it was nothing.”

“I see.” Autumn decided to forgo her usual lecture on transparency. She could tell her daughter had only been trying to help. “Well, if it frightened you that badly, maybe we should drive over there.”

“I just did.”

Autumn got out of bed and walked to the window where she could see the house. “You left this late without telling me?”

“I’m sorry. I had to check on her.”

“I see. Well, we’ll discuss that later. What’d you find?”

“I couldn’t tell anything. The house was dark, and I didn’t dare go to the door.”

“Who’s Sierra’s father? Do I know him?”

“I doubt it. They just moved here this year. His name’s Dennis Lambert.”

“What does he do for a living?”

“Something for an insurance company, I think.”

Autumn leaned her forehead against the cool glass. It was nearly midnight. She couldn’t imagine going over and banging on Mr. Lambert’s door, was afraid that would only get his daughter in more trouble. “If you called the police, I’m sure they’ve looked into it. I’m afraid that’s all we can do—at least until morning. I don’t need to go anywhere until I head into the store after lunch. So you can use the car and take her a coffee first thing, after he’s left for work, and make sure she’s okay.”

“So I should forget about it and go to bed?”

“That’s all we can do, honey,” she reiterated. “I know it’s hard. But try to get some sleep.”

“I will.” Taylor sounded resigned but not happy.

“Want to come out and sleep with me?” Autumn asked.

Her daughter hesitated long enough that Autumn thought she’d accept. Autumn liked these moments when Taylor felt she still needed her mom. But in the end, she