Becky is now beside me. “Yeah, I know.”
“Why would Julie and Marty go off alone? Did they drive?”
“Julie’s car is still at the McKenna farm.”
“Marty’s?”
“According to her mother, Julie picked Marty up.”
“Then how did they get...?” I don’t finish the sentence.
“No one knows.” Becky reaches out and gives my shoulder a squeeze. Unlike the hug from Julie yesterday, this one feels warm and reassuring. “That’s probably all this is. They’re sleeping it off in someone’s house, someone who won’t be here for another two weeks. The rumor is that there were outsiders and past graduates at the party. Sheriff Manes is trying to compile a list of names. More than likely, the girls forgot to plug in their phones—or turned off their ringers—and that’s all there is.”
“Yeah. Because nothing bad happens in Blue Gil, right?”
“Right.”
“Do you want us to wait?” Becky asks.
I look up from the screen of my phone after touching my mother’s name. “No. But tell Hank I said thanks. You two know the area better. It’s been a long time for me. Please look everywhere and anywhere. I’ll find out what my mom wants.”
We turn to the back of the cottage as the screen door opens.
Hank Harrison was always a prime example of farm-grown, rugged handsomeness. With the passing of time, that quality has become even more so. Even in his mid-twenties, he has an outdoorsman’s face, one that has seen more sun and wind than any of the actors I’m used to dealing with in California.
The physical nature of his work has also given him bulk. Beneath his flannel shirt covering a black t-shirt, his shoulders are broad and his arms thick. His green eyes move from Becky to me to the counter of wine bottles and back to me. “Jillian,” he says with a nod.
“Hank,” I manage, “thank you for helping to find my sister.”
His gaze goes back to Becky as his voice seems deeper. “Sheriff Manes wants anyone willing to search to meet out at the McKenna farm.” He looks at his wrist and back up. “At one.”
“Do you think there’s news?” I ask.
Hank’s lips form a straight line as his boots move across the tile and his stance widens. “Ifigure the girls are sleeping off a night of partying, and this town is just jumpy after Coach. But that doesn’t mean we should ignore it. That didn’t work with Coach.”
The way he mentions Craig Gilbert reminds me that Hank played under Craig’s coaching for two years.
I wave my hands. “You two go. I’ll be right behind you.”
“Jillian,” Becky says as she reaches Hank. “I’m glad you’re here for Shannon.”
I nod.
Hurrying to the bathroom, I turn the knob in the shower and wait for water to heat.
Chapter
Twelve
“Welcome back. I’m Kenzi and she’s Ali. There’s big news out of that little town in Michigan,”
“The one named after a fish? Bass? Gold? Trout?”
Kenzi laughs. “Blue Gil. But seriously, Ali, this is bad. Two high school girls, seniors, are missing.”
“The same town where the coach mysteriously died?”
“Yep.”
