Page 5 of Her Final Hours
“Why are you defending her?”
“Because I know what you were like after your mother died.Or have you forgotten?” He stared back at Gretchen. She had the wisdom of her years. He respected his aunt. In many ways, she and Patrick had been like parents to him. “Noah, those kids don’t know how to process this. It’s only been four months since her funeral. Ethan is withdrawn. Mia, well… She misses her mother.”
“Don’t we all?” he said in frustration.
“It’s normal, Noah.”
“No, normal is picking up the phone and calling to say you’ll be late. Normal isn’t lying to your parent and telling them you’re at a class while you’re out partying. Normal isn’t punching a kid in the face for looking at you the wrong way. Look, Gretchen. I know you mean well. Hell, I appreciate you being here and the support. I do. More than you know. But let me be the parent here.”
“All right, son. But take a breath. Give her a chance to explain.”
She gave a pained smile and then turned and went back inside as Noah got in his vehicle and tore out of there, heading northeast into Saranac.
The driveto McKenzie Pond was long and winding; Noah’s mind raced with worry but even more with frustration. He’d recalled Lena mentioning having a hard time with Mia, especially after she started dating someone two years older than her. As a protective father, the thought of something happening to his only daughter made him break out in a cold sweat.
McKenzie Pond was sandwiched between Saranac and High Peaks, nestled in the McKenzie Wilderness. The picturesque water, surrounded by tall trees, was a secluded spot known for fishing, hiking, and camping. There were only a few roads thatgot close. Most who wandered in approached it on foot along a two-mile trail.
Noah headed in from the Brandy Brook and Pine Street intersection and then crossed the railroad tracks to the right before heading east along McKenzie Pond Road. About 1.1 miles along, he veered off into a parking area full of vehicles — he assumed they had to belong to the teens.
Climbing out, he noted the Jackrabbit Trail sign on his left.
Noah clicked on his flashlight and began to make the trek through to the pond. As he got closer, the peaceful sound of water gently lapping against the shore was replaced by the ear-bleeding drone of rock music. He could see the light of fire flickering through the trees and a cluster of figures, some were in groups, others dancing. He breathed in the crisp fresh air, taking in the scent of pine and earth.
A group of teens was gathered on a small beach area where people could be found swimming or sunbathing in the summer months. Instead, tonight was cold. Snow had fallen, making it the strangest place to hold a party and yet secluded enough that they knew nosy neighbors wouldn’t call the cops.
Several hiking trails fissured through the forest near the pond’s edge. The trees around him were tall and majestic, the underbrush covered by a thin layer of snow. March was an odd month. It was often when mother nature would deliver some freak weather. He liked to think of it as the last push of winter.
As he got closer, Noah could see the glow of a fire pit illuminating the faces of teens and casting flickering shadows across the surrounding trees. The music boomed from a portable speaker. The beat thumped, and he noted teens dancing provocatively to the rhythm.
A waft of burning wood mixed with the odor of alcohol hit him as he passed several teens completely engrossed in their world, oblivious to his presence. Many looked to be eighteen ornineteen. He felt a surge of anger and concern rise. He took a deep breath to steady himself just as his boot kicked a bottle, and Noah looked down to see several empty bottles scattered.
He asked one of the teens. “Have you seen Mia?”
“Who?” the teen replied, a hint of sarcasm coming from his alcohol-fueled brain.
“My daughter,” he replied, his voice tense. “She’s supposed to be here.”
“I don’t know, man.” The guy shrugged, his eyes red from smoking too much pot. Noah heard him ask as he walked away why an old dude was at the party.
Noah pressed into the knot of teens.
That’s when he spotted Mia on the far side.
She had an arm draped around some guy sitting on a log. He was holding a beer bottle.
As Noah elbowed and turned sideways through the crowd, Mia locked eyes with him. In an instant, she dropped her drink and muttered something in the ear of the guy, who looked Noah’s way before she peeled herself away.
Within feet, he could smell the alcohol on her. Although eighteen was the drinking age in some countries, not in New York.
He thumbed over his shoulder, not hiding his disappointment. “Let’s go.”
She glanced at her phone. “I’m sorry, Dad. I should have….”
“We’ll discuss this on the way back.”
“Hey, hold up, you’re Mia’s pops,” the guy said, making his way over. “I’m Teddy.” Noah turned back to him as he extended a free hand. The other held his beer.
“Ah, I’m guessing you’re the guy.”
