Page 70 of Distress Signal
I spent a few minutes connecting to the wireless network and locating the printer, then Ginny and I went back and forth over how many I should print.
Ultimately, we decided on a hundred with the understanding that I could always come back and get more if need be.
While we waited for them to finish printing, she helped me create a list of local businesses with community boards that would let me hang them up, as well as suggesting I walk around the area and pass them out to residents.
“You know,” she said as we headed back out front, where she left me to go behind the desk and grab the sheaf of papers, “you should also run this as an ad in the paper. And think about joining a few of the local Facebook groups and sharing it there.”
“That’s a great idea,” I said, annoyed for not having thought of it myself. “I really appreciate all of your help, Ginny.”
“Of course, dear. Any friend of Aspen’s is a friend of mine. And besides, we take care of our own around here. That includes taking out the…trash,” she said diplomatically, though I caught her meaning. Before handing the stack over to me, she asked, “Do you mind if I take a few? I’d love to hand them out to the girls at my knitting circle, and I’ll hang one up here.”
“Be my guest,” I assured her, handing a handful over. “And I have another small favor to ask, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all, dear.”
“One second,” I told her, then ran out to my SUV. The sky overhead had darkened considerably while I’d been inside, the leaves on nearby trees flipped upside down, signaling an oncoming storm.
Grabbing the box, I went back in.
“What have we here?” she asked, gingerly lifting the lid.
“Photocopies of my sister’s journals. I was hoping to get another set to pass onto Aspen.”
“Of course,” Ginny said, taking the entire thing behind the circulation desk, setting it down on a chair, and lifting out the first rubber banded stack.
While she worked, I wandered. The library was homey, warm and welcoming, the scent of books wrapping around mecomfortingly. The shelves seemed to stretch on endlessly, divided into easy to recognize sections.
I’d selected a book of poetry off the shelf in the non-fiction section and was thumbing through it when Ginny called for me.
My stack of papers had doubled in size, but thankfully, the bankers box I’d stored Lainey’s journal pages in was big enough to fit the second set.
“How much do I owe you?”
Ginny waved me off. “On the house.”
“Oh, no. Please, let me pay something.”
“Absolutely not,” she insisted. “You can repay me by bringing your sister home.”
I gave her a small, sad smile. “That’s all I want.” I held up the posters. “Thank you for this.”
“Of course, dear. Good luck out there.”
When she turned her back on me, I quickly stuffed the twenty I had in my pocket into the donation jar and took off before she could try to give it back.
The sky outside had gotten even darker, and the temperature had dropped considerably. If I wanted to get these posters up today, I needed to move quickly.
Inexplicably, that thought made me guilty as hell. How was it fair that I could continue to walkfree, to enjoy the simple pleasures life offered, while she was locked in that creepy basement somewhere, waiting for me to find her?
With renewed vigor and purpose, I left my car parked and decided to walk, taking Ginny’s advice to knock on the doors of homes as I passed on my way toward the main strip of businesses.
A lot of my solicitations went unanswered, so I left fliers stuffed in door jambs. The few who did open their doors were kind, accepting the paper and promising to call me with any information.
The same could be said of the businesses in town, who all happily allowed me to hang posters on their community boards or right there on the front door. Once that task was completed, I took the long way around back to my car, passing by more homes and passing out more papers, and stopping at lampposts to tape them up.
I was nearly back to my car when the sky opened up, dumping rain all over me. Doing my best to shield the posters from damage, I raced for my SUV and threw myself behind the wheel.
Safely inside, I tossed the remainder of the posters on the passenger seat then put the car in drive and headed toward the grocery store to restock on some essentials.
