I’ve left about five messages for Brent Lewis’s sister, Leah, but she hasn’t replied. The only thing I can think of doing now is going back to that trailer park where Brent Lewis lived. I know he’s been evicted, but maybe some neighbor will have a number for him, or something? He’s my only connection with Dad’s trip, or any of it.
“If you’ll take the children to school, I’ll head over to the trailer park straightaway,” I say to Suze. “Jeff will drive me.”
“Fine.” Suze doesn’t look at me properly. She hasn’t looked at me properly since last night. Her phone is clamped to her ear, and she’s stirring her tea obsessively with her other hand, round and round and round.
“Who are you phoning?” I venture.
“Alicia.”
“Oh.” I turn away.
“Hi,” says Suze into the phone. “No. Nothing.”
I feel a tweak of hurt. She’s talking in the kind of intimate shorthand you use when you’re really close to someone. Like the way we talk. Used to talk.
I can almost feel tears rising at the thought of Suze and Alicia being that close, but, then, I’ve had only about two hours’ sleep. I kept checking my phone for messages from Luke, but there weren’t any. I’ve composed a million texts to him, but I haven’t sent any of them. Every time I even picture him, I feel such a tidal wave of hurt that I don’t know where to start.
I rub my eyes and drain my coffee. “OK, Jeff,” I call. “Shall we go?”
As Jeff comes into the kitchen, his demeanor is gloomier than ever. He hasn’t reacted well to the news of Dad and Tarkie disappearing. He seems to feel it’s all his fault, even though I keep reassuring him that it isn’t.
“The site’s secure,” he says. “Mitchell’s on patrol in the yard with Echo.”
“Great,” I say. “Thanks.”
Jeff heads to the kitchen door and checks it, then goes to the window and runs a finger along the glass. He murmurs into his headpiece, then goes back to check the door again. God, he’s making me edgy.
“The kitchen’s fine!” I say. “We’re safe! Look, Jeff, my dad just took off. It wasn’t your fault.”
“Shouldn’ta happened,” he says heavily. “Not on my watch.”
“Well, let’s go, and maybe we’ll find something out.” I push my chair back with a scrape. “Suze, I’ll keep you posted.”
“Fine.” Suze’s eyes are fixed resolutely beyond me. Her jaw is tight and her hair is lank. I know she didn’t get any sleep at all.
“Look, Suze,” I say tentatively. “Please don’t worry. I’m sure everything’s fine.”
She doesn’t even answer. I can see her mind grimly whirring round all the worst possibilities. There’s nothing more I can say.
“OK.” I bite my lip. “Well … I’ll talk to you later.”
We’ve been driving twenty minutes or so when my phone rings and I reach for it eagerly. But it’s not Suze or Dad, or even Luke, but Sage.
“Oh, hi, Sage.”
“Hey, Becky!” Her voice peals happily down the phone. “Are you super-excited?”
“What?” I say blankly.
“Our Camberly show! It airs in, like, ten minutes! I’m totally psyched. Aran was just on the phone. He was, like, ‘This is huge already, babe.’ I mean, have you seen the hits on YouTube? And that’s just the trailer!”
“Right. Right.” I try to wrench my head away from Dad and into the world of Sage. “Yes, I saw that. It’s phenomenal!”
It’s true; it is pretty phenomenal. There have been wall-to-wall trailers for the last two days for what they’re calling The Big Showdown: Lois Meets Sage. They were on this morning while I was making coffee, but we turned the telly off because it was all getting a bit too much.
(Well, in fact, Suze threw her phone at the telly and yelled, “Shut up! Shut up!” So I zapped it off.)
“Are you watching?”
“I will be!” I say, hastily turning on the in-car TV. “I’m in the car, but I’ll be watching it in here. I can’t wait. I’m sure you’re amazing in it.”
“I’m awesome,” says Sage in satisfaction. “So the other thing is, I had this great idea for my premiere outfit tonight. You have to come over and help me with it. Where are you now? Could you be here in, like, fifteen minutes?”
“Fifteen minutes?” I stare at the phone. “Well … no. Sorry. I have some stuff I have to do this morning. It’s kind of a family emergency.”
“But you’re styling me!” says Sage, sounding affronted.
“I know. I’m coming round later, remember? Can we discuss it then?”
There’s silence down the phone. Oh God. Is Sage pissed off?
“What’s the idea?” I say hastily. “I bet it’s brilliant.”
“I can’t tell you. I have to show you.” She gives a huffy little sigh. “OK, if you really can’t come now, I guess we’ll meet later. You’ll be, like, totally oh my God.”
“Wow! Sounds amazing. I’ll see you later. OK?”
I ring off and turn up the volume on the TV. It’s showing a weather report for the East Coast, and I find myself wondering if Dad and Tarkie could have got on a plane.
No. They wouldn’t do that. Would they?
Even though I’m sure both Mum and Suze are overreacting to the situation, I feel a little chill. People you love shouldn’t disappear, simply telling you vaguely they have “something to put right.” They shouldn’t do that.