Missing

Chapter 11

"You can't go over there without a plan," Terry told me, after I hung up with Sgt. Schumer.

"What do you mean?"

"Peter was a nice enough guy back when I was a kid, but we have no way of knowing how those years in prison could've affected his personality. If Sara is there with him, and she's still as strung-out as she was when I saw her, then Peter's bound to be on edge."

"As in dangerous?"

"No, it's just... you might not want to introduce yourself right off the bat."

I stared at him, confused. "So how do I see Sara then?"

"Make up a story so he'll let you in," he suggested. "Something innocuous. Something that guarantees you entrance."

"Like what? Pizza delivery boy?"

"Well, not if they haven't ordered any pizza. No, say you're checking out reports of a gas leak in the neighborhood. Something like that."

"Gas leaks aren't innocuous," I said, frowning. "They're very dangerous."

Terry looked like he was trying not to smile. "That's true..."

"I'm serious!"

"I know you are; that's what's funny. In any case, you make up a story, and you get in the door."

I sat back, my brain racing. "What if I tell him I'm having car trouble, and ask if I can use his phone to call a tow truck?"

"That's good too. And much less dangerous," he said, smirking. "So okay, you're in the door, and Sara sees you. Then what?"

"Then, um..." My stomach twisted as I wondered whether she'd even be happy to see me. "I don't know."

"Don't approach her right away. Give her time to adjust to seeing you there."

I frowned. "Okay..."

"You know how it is when you're with your family; everyone reverts back to how they were when they were kids. You're not in that world of hers, Gil. So you'll need to introduce yourself slowly."

"Speak slowly, got it."

"Not just speaking. Don't make sudden movements. Stand in the doorway when you talk to her, but only if there's another exit to the room. You don't want her to feel like she's cornered."

"She's not a wild animal, Terry," I scowled.

"I know she's not. But it's not a bad analogy."

I sat back, rubbing my forehead. "How far is it to Oakland from here?"

"This time of day? Could take you two hours; you'll be hitting rush hour traffic." He cocked his head. "You can stay a bit longer if you like. I could make you something for dinner, by the time you finish the traffic will have cleared out."

"Thanks," I smiled, "but I'll take a rain-check, if that's okay. Sara needs me."

"Fair enough." We both stood, and Terry offered me his hand. "It was good meeting you, Gil."

"Appreciate your help," I replied, shaking his hand firmly. "Couldn't have figured it out without you."

"You would've gotten it eventually."

He walked me out to my car, nodding and waving as I pulled out onto the road.

The drive was even worse than he'd warned me, thanks to a couple of ill-timed fender-benders. It was close to seven-thirty by the time I hit the outskirts of Oakland, and by then my pulse was racing.

It felt like the night of our first date, actually. I'd worn a suit, and halfway to Sara's apartment I'd decided I should have worn something more casual. Surely she'd answer the door in jeans and feel uncomfortable with how formal I'd made things. I'd look stuffy and old, like I was going to a board meeting or something. My tie was choking me, and I knew I should have brought flowers or wine. I sat in the parking lot of her building, panicking. I shouldn't have asked her to dinner; I was risking the worst sort of rejection.

I'd sat in the car for fifteen minutes before there was a knock on my car window. Sara was standing there in a blue dress, wearing pearl earrings and a silver bracelet and a wide smile. I knew she was laughing at me, and I loved her anyway.

Peter Sidle lived on a small street lined with run-down houses. My plan for feigning car trouble seemed foolish now that I was here - who breaks down on a dead-end street? Where would I claim I'd been going?

I sat in the car, mulling over my possible excuses; everything except a gas leak or a nuclear attack. Part of me hoped that if I waited long enough, Sara would catch sight of me and come out to tap on my window. But the sun was moving lower in the sky, and I knew it was time. Whether I'd be let in the door, whether she'd run at the sight of me, whether they'd even be home, I didn't know.

But I hoped.

The doorbell made an unpleasant buzzing sound when I pushed it. There was the sound of footsteps, and then the door opened.

Peter was younger-looking than I'd expected. His hair hung down to his shoulders, and there was a tattoo of some sort on his right bicep. He leaned against the doorway curiously. "Yes?"

"Hi," I said, clearing my throat. "Um, hi. My, uh, car..."

"Are you Gil?" he asked, squinting at me.

I froze. "Yeah," I admitted.

"Thank god," he said, rolling his eyes. "Get in here and talk some sense into this kid."

He led me through the house, stepping over an ancient basset hound. "That's Earl," he said, gesturing toward the dog. "He's a vicious hunter, can you tell?" Peter gave a lopsided smile, and he looked like his sister.

It was weird.

We reached a closed door in the back of the house. "She's in there," he murmured. "I hope you can get through to her; she won't listen to me."

I nodded, and he disappeared into the kitchen. Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the door.

And there she was. Standing by the far window, staring into the backyard. When the door opened, she turned around and saw me.

I remembered Terry's advice, about staying in the doorway. Speaking slowly. Giving her plenty of space. I remembered all of his advice really clearly, as I took two long strides across the room and threw my arms around her.