Around one, Flo slipped out to buy sandwiches from the cafe next door, which we fell on like ravenous hyenas on the hunt. I ate so fast, I barely tasted my turkey and cheese. Meanwhile, Gigi picked at hers, unable to take more than a few bites. Florence, Gwen, and I traded worried glances, but said nothing.
What could we say?
If my child was missing, I wouldn’t have an appetite, either.
We were all worried about her. There were bags under her eyes and despair in their light brown depths. The fact that she wasn’t curled in the fetal position crying her eyes out was, in my humble opinion, a mark of unbelievable fortitude. But she never allowed herself to fall apart. Not even when she left us mid-afternoon to head back to the station for another ‘debrief’ with Detective Aguilar.
If they were calling her in for more questions…
They still hadn’t found him.
Not the news we were all hoping for, obviously.
With the war room down to three — four, including Socks, who spent most of his day alternately chewing the elk antler Gwen found for him in one of her display cases and snoozing on one of her elegant wingback armchairs — we carried on. Gwen took it upon herself to design a missing flyer on her laptop. Flo set about posting it online, blanketing social media with Rory’s picture and information, while I braved the crowds to visit the copy shop down the block. I had the clerk print two hundred copies. When I’d tried to pay, he waved me off.
“Least I can do for the kid,” he said gruffly, shooing me out the door. “We locals have to stick together.”
Sometimes, humans were surprisingly decent.
We divided the posters into thirds and each took off in different directions, plastering them on every streetlamp, electrical pole, and community board we came across, until the whole downtown area was covered.
Socks came with me. For a puppy, he was remarkably well trained. He didn’t pull at the leash — a blessing, given how strong he was — or knock down any of the small children who ran up to him screaming “DOGGIE!” at the top of their little kid lungs. He didn’t bark at the woman dressed like Cruella de Vil. (And, given her proclivities for fur, ifanyonedeserved to be barked at, it was her.) He did, however, take the largest doo-doo known to man in the middle of the Common, which earned me several dirty looks from the LARPers who were preparing do to battle on that same stretch of lawn.
You win some, you lose some.
By the time me, Florence, and Gwen reconvened back at The Gallows, it was nearly dinner time and we were all so exhausted, we could barely move. Except for Flo’s foot, which kept up its jittering until Gwen kicked it clear off the coffee table.
“Hey!” Flo cried. “What was that for?”
“You’re scuffing up my furniture.”
“I thought you like that lived-in look, Gwennie.”
“Sonot the point, Florence.”
Flo rolled her eyes.
“I hope the flyers work,” I interjected, before their squabble escalated. “At least they’ll get Rory’s face out there, maybe spark a memory in someone who saw him last night…”
Flo nodded. “Local news is covering it, too. Did you see all those satellite trucks? There must’ve been a hundred of them near the police station.”
“Probably hoping for a glimpse at Gigi, the vultures,” I said scathingly. It must be said, I was not a fan of the media circus that surrounded cases like this. Reporters always seemed to care more about their ratings than the families who were being ripped apart.
“Do you think we’ll hear something soon?” Gwen was wringing her hands. “I’m going crazy not knowing anything. I tried calling Graham, pestering him for information, but the man is like a fortress.” Her eyes lit up as they shifted to me. “Oh! You could call Cade! See if you can get the inside scoop.”
“Yeah, you’ve got pull,” Florence chimed in. “Call him!”
“I’m not calling Cade. He needs to focus on the case.” I chewed my lip. “Besides, I’m not sure I have any real—” My fingers lifted to do air-quotes. “Pull.”
Flo and Gwen looked at one another.
“Isn’t that his dog sleeping on your feet?” Flo asked.
“Uh…” I glanced down at Socks. He was, indeed, snoring on my boots.
“And isn’t that the same outfit you were wearing yesterday when you left here for your date night at the detective’s place?”
“Uh…” I squirmed in my day-old clothes. “Yeah.”