Page 41 of Swerve
“I suppose I did ask the question.”
“You did.”
She leans against the door, studying him. “Have you ever been married?”
“Yes.”
“Are you now?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“She deserved better than me. I think we’ll be better off sticking to Mia’s case and leaving the personal stuff out of it.”
“Fine,” she says, folding her arms and staring straight through the windshield.
They drive the rest of the distance to the festival site in complete silence.
Emory
“You simply have to put one foot in front of the other and keep going. Put blinders on and plow right ahead.”
—George Lucas
TO CALL THE remainder of the drive awkward would be as much of an understatement as I can come up with. I can still feel the heat in my cheeks, even as I realize how much Knox Helmer probably enjoyed putting it there.
The field where the festival had been held is now empty, flattened grass and a few bits of trash the only remaining evidence of its existence.
Detective Helmer pulls his Jeep off the road, cuts the engine, and says, “Can you show me the exact spot where you found her phone?”
“Yes,” I say, getting out and scanning the area to make sure my memory does not mislead. I walk along the edge of the road for a hundred yards or so and then step into the tall grass and cover the steps to where two, small, blue flags mark the spot. “Here,” I say.
“That’s accurate?” he asks, glancing at the flags.
“Yes.”
“Given that the phone was off in the weeds away from the road, it’s not likely that she lost it here. Maybe someone ditched it after grabbing the girls.”
The words send a chill straight through me. As if he realizes what he’s just said, he looks at me and says, “Sorry. Thinking out loud again.”
“You think out loud,” I say.
“Surprised they didn’t take the time to destroy it so that it couldn’t be tracked.”
“Why do you think they didn’t?”
“Someone could have been coming. A car. A person walking by. And they needed to go or get caught.”
A tight band stretches around my chest, squeezing out all the air. A fresh image of Mia and Grace, terrified, flashes through my mind, and I draw in a deep tear of air.
The detective drops to his knees, and runs his hands through the grass where I’d found the phone. I drop down a few yards away and start to feel along the ground too. “I assume we’re looking for anything that might serve as a clue?” I ask.
“Sometimes, it’s the tiniest imaginable hole that sinks the ship.”
I search in one direction, while he takes the opposite. I feel at the base of the grass, digging my fingers into the dirt, feeling increasingly desperate to find something, anything, that might give a hint, some sort of direction to help find Mia.
By the time we circle back around to each other, I am sweating and clawing at the grass, tears of frustration wetting my cheeks.
