Interesting. Zoe sensed it could be important, but still needed clarification. “Is this about Shayna?”
“Yes. I’m tied up with this until late this afternoon. We’ve already started organizing some searches, though the big one will be on Saturday, when everyone is off work. How about we meet for breakfast tomorrow morning? How about Joe’s coffee shop?”
“Joe’s is still there?” Zoe and the Bell family had spent many a Sunday morning at that diner. “From what I remember, it’s always really crowded.”
“On weekends, yes,” Cristine said. “But since tomorrow is Friday, if we go right after the morning rush, say about eight-thirty, it will be fairly empty. We should be able to have a private conversation with minimal interruptions.”
“Sounds good.” Ending the call, Zoe didn’t see the need to head back to the high school. At this point, it appeared she was on her own. She texted Mama Bell, letting her know to take the car whenever she was ready to go. Mama replied almost immediately with an okay and a smiley face.
Relieved, Zoe popped into the corner gas station and purchased a bottle of water. She set out, glad of the alone time, planning to walk back to the Bells’ house at a leisurely pace. It was probably just over a mile and she knew she could use the exercise. She walked a lot in the city and not only was the movement therapeutic, it always helped clear her head.
And she certainly had a lot to think about.
As she left downtown behind, she realized she’d always considered Shayna fragile. Zoe loved her like a sister—and always would, no matter what. The woman Shayna had apparently become proved that point. From what Zoe had heard, Shayna was more fragile than ever, doing drugs, sleeping around—and disappearing.
What the hell had happened to make her change so completely? Had it been Brock, as Cristine had hinted? Or jealousy over Zoe’s life, like the sheriff thought? Or was it something more, something no one yet realized or understood, that same something that had made her tell Zoe she needed her? Zoe suspected if she learned the secret to that, she might find out what had become of her friend.
* * *
Emotions—chief among them jumbled regret and longing—swamped Brock as he’d watched Zoe stride into the sheriff’s office. Was she playing some sort of game with him? First she’d asked for his help and then, barely a minute later, told him she’d changed her mind.
And she’d claimed they needed to put their differences aside? As if what had happened between them was that simple.
Did she not understand that she’d freakin’ ripped out his heart? That every time he saw her and she gave him that patently false smile, he wanted to haul her up against him and kiss her senseless, before shoving her away and then daring her to tell him that he meant nothing to her. Did she not realize she was the reason he couldn’t love Shayna the way she deserved, and, worse, that Shayna had guessed it, too?
Of course, he couldn’t. Not when the only reason Zoe had returned was because her friend Shayna had gone missing.
Another twist of the knife in his heart, knowing she hadn’t come back for him. Worse, Zoe couldn’t see the parallel between how she’d behaved then and what Shayna appeared to have done now.
Disappeared without a word to the ones who loved her.
He’d tortured himself for months after Zoe left. Searched high and low, hounded Shayna and the Bells for some hint, any hint of where she’d gone. He’d planned to find her, demand an explanation, ask her to look him in the eye, kiss him on the mouth, and then tell him she didn’t love him, didn’t want to be his wife.
After a while, tired of spinning his wheels, he’d tried to drown his sorrows in the bottle. His sister Eve had been the one to pull him from the abyss when he’d hit rock bottom. With both their parents dead, she needed him more than he needed oblivion. So he’d returned home to raise Eve and nurse his broken heart. As the years had passed, he’d come to believe that, even if not entirely whole, he had healed as best he could.
He’d been wrong.
Her mere presence had brought it all rushing back.
Cursing, he felt like punching something. He wanted Shayna found as much as anyone else did, but for sanity’s sake, he needed to spend as little time around Zoe as possible.
Instead of going home, he headed for TJ’s Brew Pub. Though he hadn’t been to the place in months—no, make that years—the bartender Jason, who was the J in TJ’s, welcomed him as if he was an old friend.
Which he sort of was, since they’d gone to high school together.
“What’ll it be?” Jason asked, only his narrowed eyes indicating how apprehensive he was about the answer. He rubbed his bald head quickly, the gesture born of habit. Even back when he’d had hair, Jason had always rubbed his head.
“Club soda,” Brock told him, giving him a twisted grin. “Don’t worry, I’m not falling off the wagon any time soon.” He’d been sober three years and counting.
“I’m glad,” Jason countered, grinning back. He brought the club soda and placed it on the counter. “Though I had to wonder, man. I mean, you coming into the bar and all.”
“I wanted to test myself.” Brock picked up the club soda and took a drink. “Plus, sometimes I miss the atmosphere.” To his surprise, the words rang of truth. He hadn’t thought of anything beyond going inside the pub, as if the dim light and the seventies-style paneled walls represented a safe haven.
In the old days, they had. But then, so had alcohol.
“Hey, I’m hearing things.” Jason leaned closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial near whisper. “How are you dealing with Zoe Onella being back in town?”
Brock stifled a groan. Even here, he couldn’t escape her.
“Fine,” he said. “Just fine.”
TJ’s was empty, the after-work crowd still glued to their desks and computers. A few die-hard souls dotted the interior, intent on the beer or their laptops, mostly alone, though Brock spotted one couple snuggling in a back booth, giggling over a pizza and a couple of brews.
He’d always loved the taste of beer. Even now, though he hadn’t drank one in years, his mouth watered.
With the ease of much practice, he pushed the craving away. He’d heard it never left you, this almost obscene yearning for alcohol. Kind of like the way he felt about Zoe.
Damn. Cursing under his breath, he took another drink, glad Jason had moved away to help another customer. He’d just gotten his world whipped into shape. While he couldn’t say he was truly happy, he was content. He had the feed store, his mother and sister, and his weekend gig at the college radio station. That was enough. It had to be, because that was all he had.
He cursed the day Zoe had come back into town and started him once again wanting more.
* * *
Morning arrived silently in Anniversary, the only hint of its arrival a shaft of yellow light. Stretching, Zoe reflected on how she missed mornings in Manhattan. There, the noise built like a crescendo, rising in waves and pulling you from your nest under the covers. She found it invigorating, emerging from her apartment onto the bustling street, the sounds of the city a shot of adrenaline straight into her veins.
Here, she had to rely on coffee. Strong coffee. She had a cup at Mama Bell’s before driving into town to meet Cristine. She took the cup with her, sipping as she drove.
Still she felt half-asleep as she negotiated the surprisingly crowded downtown area. It took her a few minutes to find a parking spot. Once she had, she slugged back the rest of the coffee, aware there’d be more.
Stepping into the coffee shop felt like hopping