Goodman snort-laughed, then darted me a searching look. “So we’re good, you and me?” he asked.
“Yes. We’re great. We’re… friends. At least I hope we are.”
He nodded down at the ground, then shivered again as a stiff breeze shook the leaves on the trees.
I took off my sweatshirt and dropped it over his head.
“Hey!” he squawked.
“Friends don’t let friends lose their testicles to frostbite,” I said casually, pretending I didn’t notice the way my shirt fell nearly to the backs of his thighs.
Pretending I didn’t love it.
Pretending that therightthing was also theeasything.
“Thanks, Knox.” Goodman laughed. “My testicles appreciate your friendship.”
I knocked my arm into his again. “You want my no-sexual-innuendos lecture now or later?”
“You’re adorable, pretending I have a choice,” he mused. “You’re dying to speechify me, Knox. You’re fully engorged withannoyance and thrumming with the need to lecture me… to lecture mehard. You’re turgid with the desire to pound all those words right into my tiny, tight little?—”
I burst out laughing. “Christ, you are such a shit. Who uses the word turgid?”
“I do,” he said, grinning smugly. “If you’re feeling tense, you might try some yoga stretches. I could show you my forward bend?—”
I grabbed for him, but he leaped away, laughing.
And then my cell phone rang with a call from Webb… and neither one of us felt much like smiling after that.
CHAPTER SEVEN
GAGE
I’d learned backwhen my mom died that nothing brings a small community together like a tragedy.
But until the Tuesday afternoon that Aiden Sunday went missing, I hadn’t realized how a community could completely mobilize itself so that every man, woman, and child was actively pulling together to help one another. It was kind of a beautiful thing— or at least itwouldhave been, if everyone hadn’t been too sick to their stomachs with worry to really appreciate it.
My hands shook as I measured out coffee grounds for the tenth pot of coffee I’d brewed in the past five hours. The Sundays’ happy kitchen had become a mini command center—a place where family members, law enforcement officers, and the entire boys’ and girls’ soccer teams had stopped by for snacks and to coordinate search efforts, while Drew, Marco, Knox, and a few others manned the phones, trying to find someone who’d seen Aiden since school let out.
At least two kids were absolutely positive that Aiden had been on the bus home that day but couldn’t remember what he’d been wearing or whether they’d spoken to him.
Mac, the bus driver, was slightly less sure. “I think I remember stopping at the end of the driveway like every day,”he’d said when he’d come by earlier, his face drawn and haggard-looking. “But every day’s a little like the day before, isn’t it? And I got so many kids I drive… I couldn’t swear to it. I’m sorry, Webb.”
Webb had stormed out then without saying a word, and I understood why. I felt bad for Mac, and I didn’t blame him, but I also couldn’t imagine how anyone could spend a minute with Aiden and not see that he was special. The boy’s infectious smile and mini-adult brain that had made me like him immediately—he was sweet and earnest and confident and happy, and I wanted to be like him when I grew up.
Hawk walked in the back door to the Sundays’ kitchen just as I flipped the switch to get the coffee brewing, and he knelt to scratch Sally Ann’s head. The old dog had been keeping vigil on the braided rug by the back door all evening, not interested in food or attention, like she sensed that something was wrong. That someone was missing.
“Barns and paddocks are completely clear, including the haylofts,” Hawk announced. “Chicken coop, too, not that I thought he’d be there. Gift shop was closed up, but I checked there anyway, just in case. The sheriff’s got a dozen people on 4x4s checking the orchards.” He ran a hand over his face, looking impossibly young. “I don’t know what to do next… but there has to be something.”
“I’m sure there is. Sit down and wait for the guys to get off the phone,” I instructed, pushing him toward the table. “Refuel for a second, and we’ll figure it out. Coffee or tea?”
“Tea,” he said tiredly. “Thanks, Gage.”
“Sure.” In truth, I was glad I had some task to perform. I’d be more of a liability than a help when it came to actively searching for him since I didn’t know the area as well as everyone else, but this was something I could do.
“No, Miss Ethel, Aiden hasn’t run away,” Drew said loudly, his voice brittle and strained. “He’s missing, which is different. Yes, I’m positive… Oh, yes, I remember the stories about Carl Justis from years ago, but that was— Uh-huh. No, it was a very different thing. Yes, of course Webb’s extremely worried. Yes, he called Sheriff Carver right away when we realized Aiden hadn’t— Yes, ma’am, I’ve heard that the first forty-eight hours are the most important. I’ve watchedLaw & Order: SVU, too. No, Aiden doesn’t have a cell phone. He’s seven. Why in the world would he? No, thank you, we do not need you to crochet us a prayer shawl,” he said impatiently. “Yes, I’ll keep you posted. But when you call Helena and the rest of the Little Pippin Hookers, please tell them to call us or the police directly if they’ve seen anything, okay? Alrighty, then.”
“Ugh,”he pronounced as he jabbed the button to disconnect the call. “That woman, I swear. But all the octogenarians, busybodies, and fiber artists in the area have been alerted now. Helena Fortnum and Norm Avery sent messages to all the artists and the farmers in the Little Pippin Vendor Co-op respectively. And Emma texted that she’s already hit up the library, Scoops, and Wing Factory, and she alerted all the moms she babysits for, who’re spreading the word, too. No one’s seen him in town. Which isgood,” he said mostly to himself. He looked at Marco. “Itisgood. Right?”
