Page 54 of The Girl Who Was Taken

Megan laughed. “Nicole’s an idiot. She chugs five beers to impress . . . who? I don’t know. Then tries to douse the fire with her vomit.”

“She was such a slut the other night, I don’t understand her.”

“Nicole? I don’t know. I’m trying to stay out of her way. She wants drama and I just wish no one would give it to her.”

Stacey smiled. “Will Matt be at the beach party? I heard you guys hooked up last weekend.”

“No!” Megan said. “We kissed in the bay, that’s the end of it.”

“I thought you guys were together last year?”

“Sort of.”

Stacey waited.

“It’s complicated. He was kind-of-sort-of dating this girl from Chapel Hill, but not really. And at one point, he was hanging out with Nicole. I don’t know. I could never get the full story. So things are brewing but not, you know . . .”

“Fermenting?”

“Gross. I’ve got to run. I’m meeting my dad for lunch. I’ll see you Saturday night.”

Megan climbed into her Jeep and drove across town. As her father had grown increasingly depressed about Megan’s upcoming college career, she was making the effort this summer to spend more time with him. It was hard to see him this way. The pride she saw in his eyes was unmistakable, and Megan knew he was excited for her. But she also felt her father’s fear. Sadness came over him in the last few months since Megan had decided on Duke. The campus was just three hours away, but hours were not what upset her father. It was the idea that college was the first step in losing his daughter. Megan had never been deceptive in her desire to get out of Emerson Bay and live in a big city. Fascinated by Boston and New York since she was a little girl, Megan had been vocal about those cities being her first choices for medical school after college. Her interests might change, but for the moment she was enamored of the idea of neonatology, and St. Luke’s in New York had one of the best programs in the country.

She pulled into the lot of Gateways, an Emerson Bay staple that served good salads and gourmet burgers. Parked out front was her father’s cruiser,SHERIFFstenciled across the side. Megan knew he was already inside chatting up the waitresses and bartenders and earning a free lunch from the owner. Her father had a certain charisma that made people comfortable. Some officers wielded their authority as a source of intimidation. Her father was never that way, which waslikely why he was so successful as sheriff. Everyone in town knew him, most liked him, and the majority voted for him.

She entered the diner and she saw the newspaper spread across the bar, a cup of coffee steaming next to it and the red-topped stool empty. As soon as she sat down, the waitress approached. “Hi, hon. Your pop’s in the bathroom. What can I get you?”

“Diet Coke, thanks.”

Megan scanned the paper. The sports page was open. She turned to the front page and skimmed the headlines. As Megan read, she heard the familiar jingle-jangle of her father’s keys and holster as he walked up behind her. When conjuring a persona of their fathers, most girls pictured their dads’ faces, hair color, or smiles. But Megan’s dad had always been the swashbuckling sheriff of Montgomery County. She pictured him in his uniform more than she ever did “street” clothes—keys jingling and leather holster squeaking.

There was a part of her that was sad to leave for college. Not nervous. She’d flown alone to Africa and found her way to a desert village where she worked alongside strangers in a country where she didn’t speak the language. All the nervousness of her life had been spent on the Doctors Without Borders trip last summer. But there was a small ache of sadness when she thought of being away from her parents, and specifically her father, whom she’d worked her entire life to please.

“Hi, Daddy,” Megan said when he kissed the back of her head.

“How’d the retreat planning go?”

“Good. Stacey’s got it covered. A few other details to work out, but we’ve still got a couple of weeks.” She swiveled on the barstool as her father sat next to her.

“I’m sure you’ll get it all done.”

She took a deep breath. “I’m kind of happy to hand it off, is that bad?”

“The retreat? It’s a lot of work. There’s no dishonor in being relieved to turn it over to someone else.”

“I love the program. I just don’t want that to be all I’m about.”

“You’re only eighteen, sweetheart. Plenty of time to build a legacy.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Her father looked down at his newspaper, now with ugly front-page headlines staring up at him. “What happened to my sports page?”

“Lots of things happen in the world besides sports, Daddy.”

Her father grumbled as he rustled the paper.

“Hey,” Megan said. “I got a big packet from Duke yesterday. Included was the basketball schedule. Just before Thanksgiving, we’re playing North Carolina and it’s a big rivalry game. You and Mom should come that weekend and we’ll go to the game. It’ll be fun.”

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