“I just hope she’s okay.”
Margaret looks at me in a discerning way. “We take care of our own. Again, thank you.”
I try to hide the glowing in my cheeks, but it’s the same giddy feeling I’ve gotten since I was a kid when a teacher says I’ve done something right or good in front of the whole class. Except that Margaret isn’t just some teacher. She’s my hero. Forget flying or Peter’s mind-control mumbo jumbo. Margaret has real power, and she knows how to use it for good.
On the way home, I’m riding a natural high, imagining all kinds of futures I’ve never even thought to consider for myself. I’d always planned on going to a state school or community college and maybe one day I’d get a job at a small-town paper. But that doesn’t have to be it. That doesn’t have to be all there is. Heck! Maybe I could even work on the show that’s meant so much to me my whole life and guided me through the darkest times. Maybe I could be more.
By the time I get home, the streetlights are flickering on and it’s dark enough that Grandma Lou should be turning on the front porch light at any minute. She doesn’t really get all the eagerness over The Grove and all the other franchises me and my parents loved so much, but she was always happy to listen and watch our excitement. Even now when I talk about The Grove, she patiently puts the TV on mute and listens as I explain fan theories or why meeting Dakota was such a big deal.
“Grandma Lou?” I call as I shut the door behind me and flick the lights on. The house is eerily still. “I’m home!”
I peek my head into the kitchen but find it dark too. No leftovers or takeout. Just our dishes from breakfast. “Grandma Lou!” This time I yell. “Grandma Lou!” I scream.
Taking the stairs two at a time, I race up to our bedrooms, hoping to find her there in her room, taking a late nap. But our rooms are empty. So is our shared bathroom.
My heart races and I have to remind myself to breathe. I retrace my steps, checking every corner of the house, like she might be playing some sick game of hide-and-seek. The backyard is empty except for a flat sheet left on the clothesline and a laundry basket full of folded laundry.
Inside, I look for clues . . . hints . . . anything that’s proof my worst fears haven’t come true. I stand in the entryway, where her wallet and cell phone—an old flip phone—sit on a console table beside her coat.
Grandma Lou is missing. She’s just . . . gone.
19
The first thing that hits me is how cold she’ll be without her coat. I know it’s a silly thing, but an October night in Minnesota can be pretty brutal, especially without any layers of warmth. I take my keys, my cell phone, and Grandma Lou’s coat.
I run over to Miss Ella’s house. Maybe I’m freaking out for no reason. With Halloween tomorrow night, the whole street is lined with pumpkins and scarecrows, casting ominous shadows out into the street.
After I ring the doorbell twice, Miss Ella finally makes it to the door. She wears a fluffy housecoat and a long T-shirt nightgown that says Do Not Resuscitate. Morbid, but okay.
“Have you seen my grandma?” I ask before she can tell me I’ve been driving too fast down the street or that I should wash my hair with eggs to make it shinier.
She tries to wave me in.
I don’t budge. “Have you seen my grandma?”
She shivers dramatically. “Gonna make it all drafty in my house.” After stepping outside and shutting the door behind her, she says, “Haven’t seen Lou since this morning. She went grocery shopping with me, and that was the last we saw each other.”
“She’s gone,” I say, my lip trembling, unable to stop myself from hyperventilating. “She’s not there.”
Miss Ella cups my arm. It’s the most comforting, human thing I’ve ever seen her do. “Okay, okay. Let’s not panic just yet.”
I gather the too-long sleeves of my jacket into my fists and wipe away my tears as I follow Miss Ella inside. We sit at her kitchen table while she calls a handful of mutual friends and even the bingo hall they both frequent, but all she comes up with are dead ends.
“Thanks, Clarence,” she says before hanging up and turning to me. “I think it’s time to call the police.”
After finding Gretchen and then learning that Colleen was missing too, the thought of having to be the adult in this situation and calling the police has anxiety coiling through my rib cage like overgrown vines.
“I’ll make the call,” she says, and quickly punches 911 into the phone attached to her wall.
I squeeze my eyes shut, doing everything I can to keep my breathing under control. She couldn’t have made it that far. I’ve had her car. I’ve been driving it every day, just like Miss Ella said I should. Grandma Lou wasn’t happy about that, but she didn’t fight me on it either.
“Yes,” says Miss Ella. “I’d like to report a missing person. A missing elderly person, actually.”
She pauses for a moment as the operator asks a few questions.
“Well, no, she’s not been diagnosed.” Miss Ella’s gaze cuts away from me when she says, “But she’s been forgetful lately and, well . . . I expect something’s not right with her.”
Dread seeps through me. What if this has nothing to do with Grandma Lou and her memory and the episodes she’s been having? What if this is even more sinister than that?
Miss Ella lets out a big sigh as she hangs up. “They said to call again if she doesn’t show up by morning.”
“What? She’s . . . Missing. Missing.”
“I guess with everything going on lately there’s been an uptick in missing persons calls, and from what they said, a lot of them have been mistakes. So since Lou doesn’t have a documented history of dementia or Alzheimer’s, they want us to wait until morning.”
“But you told them! You told them she hasn’t been herself lately.”
“I’ll tell you what,” Miss Ella says. “How about I stay at your place tonight? I spend most of the night watching QVC anyway. This way you can still get some sleep, and if Lou turns up, I’ll be there waiting.”
I stand up and take my keys and Grandma Lou’s coat from the table. “No. No, I have to find her. I can’t just—how do you even expect me to sleep?”
“Faith, you can’t just roam the streets at night.”
“Why not? That’s probably what Grandma Lou’s doing.” I shake her jacket in my fist. “And she’s probably freezing too. You stay at my house if she comes back. Please.”
Miss Ella crosses her arms. “You just be safe out there, Faith. Your grandmother would kill me if I ever let anything happen to you.”
Behind the wheel of the car, I sit at the stop sign at the end of our street for a minute. I don’t even know where to start. My first thought is that I should call someone. Matt or Ches. Maybe even Dakota. I’d be gutted if any of them had to deal with something like this on their own, but Ches was in such a hurry to leave today, and I already ditched Matt. And Dakota’s shooting overnight. I haven’t even told Matt or Ches that something’s up with Grandma Lou.
I tell myself all the things we tell lost pet owners at the shelter. Most lost pets don’t go far. Look for food sources. Water sources. Warm places. Except Grandma Lou isn’t a pet.