Page 120 of Serenity Falls

‘No. But someone takes care of that, Frankie. Someone always has to do the dirty work. And they do it so we can sit here, in this beautiful yard, watching the sun set, knowing tomorrow will be another perfect day in Serenity Falls.’

I frowned. ‘I’m not sure what you’re saying?’

She took my hands in her soft, wrinkled ones and stared at me with her faded eyes.

‘I’m saying, whatever you think you’ve found, forget it.’

‘But—’

‘No buts, Frankie. You’re my grandson, and I love you.’ She squeezed my hands. Her nails dug in a little. ‘I wouldn’t want anything bad happen to you – so let this drop.’

I swallowed and nodded. ‘Okay, Grandma. Of course.’

She smiled and released me. ‘Good boy. Now, why don’t I pour you an iced tea?’

‘Sure.’

I watched her shuffle off into the kitchen, wondering if my sweet eighty-seven-year-old grandma had just threatened me. Crazy. Nuts.

But it had made up my mind. I knew what I had to do.

The next day, I took all the documents and headed to the library. I figured if the dates on the list were important, then maybe there would be something in the local newspaper, and I’d seen in films that libraries had those machines they stored old newspapers on.

After Ro set me up at the microfiche machine (that’s what it was called), I got the hang pretty quickly. An hour or so later, I was done. I gathered up the sheets of papers I’d printed off – two copies of each – stuffed them in my bag and headed to the diner.

One set of documents I planned to take with me, to the police, out of town, just like Cash wanted. I had a day off next Wednesday. I’d walk to the nearest bus stop and hop on a bus to the county police station. They’d either laugh me out of there or take a look. And I’d done my bit. No one need ever know.

The copies I had put in a folder for security. Back-up. Just in case I needed to lay low, maybe even leave town (I had a couple of hundred bucks in my savings which might buy a room somewhere for a few nights). I felt sure I had it all in hand.

As I approached the diner, Lou was peering out of the back door, looking pissed.

‘You’re late,’ she said, scowling. ‘And I need to leave.’

‘Sorry, just had to take care of something.’

‘Fine. Well, go take care of some customers.’ She hefted her bag on her shoulder and pushed past me. ‘Oh, and Chris was in here earlier, looking for you.’

‘Chris?’

‘Yeah. He said he’d catch you later.’

‘Right. Did he say what he wanted?’

She shrugged. ‘Nope. I’ve got to go.’

‘Okay. Wait.’

‘What?’

I hesitated. Lou was a friend. I didn’t want to get her into trouble … but there weren’t many people around here I trusted. ‘Could you do me a favour?’

34

It was a Thursday the day Nat disappeared. Bin day.

I’d forgotten to put the bin out the night before, so when I heard the familiar clanking and crashing sound of the lorry coming up the road, I leapt out of bed, bolted down the stairs and out of the front door to drag our overflowing bin out on to the street. If it was missed again, I’d have to face the unsavoury task of loading all the stinking bags into the car and taking them to the tip.

In my haste, I didn’t take much notice of whether Nat was asleep in bed or not. I guess I just presumed her small figure was curled up on the other side, like usual. It was only when I came back inside – having narrowly caught the bin lorry – and deliberately opened the door loudly to wake her (having remembered it was her turn to put the bin out) that I realized the bed was empty.