“Great idea,” Bennett said, looking at her with admiration. “It would need to be inspected first to assess the structural integrity. But yes, I think it’s possible. They might have to adjust the building footprint but having an actual WorldWar II bunker as part of the library and museum? That’s a selling point, not a liability.”
“We still need to find Vanz,” Ivy said, glancing at the time on her phone.
“We do. And I think it’s time to call Clark.” Bennett started toward the car. “A teenager living in an unstable bunker is one thing. But a teen who knows we found him and might be desperate enough to make bad decisions is something we need to alert the police about.”
Ivy knew he was right, but it still felt like failure. They’d wanted to help Vanz, to reach him before fear drove him away. Now he was gone, and they had no idea where to look.
As they drove back to the inn, Ivy’s phone buzzed. A text from Shelly:Talked to Mitch. He’s shaken. Come over as soon as you can.
Ivy showed the message to Bennett.
“Good, we need to work together to figure out how to find his son, if that’s who Vanz really is, before this story ends badly for everyone.”
They parked in front of Mitch and Shelly’s bungalow as the sun neared the ocean’s horizon.
She thought about Vanz, wherever he was now. Running away with a sleeping bag and a backpack, still carrying whatever hardships had driven him to Summer Beach in the first place. Looking for a father who might not even know he existed.
What a tough situation for him, she thought, praying they find him before it was too late.
They just had to find Vanz first.
13
When Ivy and Mitch opened the door to Mitch and Shelly’s bungalow, a look of relief washed over her sister’s face.
“Vanz just got here,” Shelly said. “We have a little emergency.”
The teenager sat on the futon looking very small and cradling a kitten in his lap. The small tabby had a bloodied hindquarter, and Shelly knelt beside them with a first aid kit, gently cleansing the wound. Daisy watched from her perch on the armchair, wide-eyed and solemn.
Ivy saw tears in his eyes as he stroked the kitten, comforting it.
“What can I do to help?” Ivy asked.
Shelly looked up. “Could you bring a glass of water for Vanz?”
“I’ll help you,” Mitch said.
“How are you doing?” Ivy asked when they were in the kitchen.
With a worried look, Mitch ran a hand through hisspiky hair. “This is an awful lot to take in, but I’m going to do the right thing by that kid.”
Ivy hugged him. “We’re here to help.”
“Thanks,” he said, reaching into the cabinet for glasses.
Ivy returned to the living room and put the glasses on the surfboard they used as a coffee table. The room had a comfortable beachy vibe, and Vanz seemed to relax a little.
“Do you know what happened to the kitten?” Ivy asked.
“When I was heading out of town, I saw a car hit it,” Vanz said without looking up. “One day when I was hanging around Java Beach, I overheard Mitch and Shelly talking about a vet. I didn’t know where else to take it. You weren’t at Java Beach, so I came here.” He paused. “I once followed Mitch home, so I knew where he lived.”
The kitten mewed softly, its eyes half-closed.
Ivy pulled out her phone. “I’ll call Poppy and see if Dr. Caleb is in or she can reach him.”
“Why were you leaving?” Mitch’s voice was tight with emotion.
“I did some bad stuff.” Vanz kept petting the cat, avoiding looking at anyone. The confession poured out of him now that it had started. “I need to tell you. I sprayed black paint over your mural and threw the chairs around. I was mad at you for not recognizing me when I first came in.”
