Betwixt

The guy's barely said two words to me, how would he know?

My father clears his throat.

"She hasn't been into books for a couple of years now. High school brought out a different side in her. She's not at home as much anymore."

The sheriff shoots my father a pitiful look.

"Don't look at him that way." I stand up and walk to his side. "So you're the perfect father? You've never made mistakes before?!"

I don't know why I'm standing up for Dad, but I despise that look of judgement on Sheriff Hutton's face. He's never lost a child, how would he know what to do?

I jump back before the Sheriff puts his foot through my boots. He goes to my desk and rifles through some pages, reading bits and pieces.

"It's just my homework."

His eyebrows raise in surprise as he notices the A- on the top of my latest assignment. I try to snatch it from his hand, but the paper doesn't move. I stare at the paper, concentrating really hard and am reaching for it again when he drops it back to my desk.

"So, where do you think they'll start the search?" Dad looks hopeful as he gazes at the sheriff.

"That's not really why I'm here, Mitchell." Sheriff Hutton turns to face them with a sad expression. "I've been on the phone for a large portion of the day, I've chatted to her friends, I've asked around. The thing is..." He runs his hand through his hair and sighs. "We're not sure if we have the resources and funds for a search with absolutely no starting point... and the chances that Nicole has run away are so high... we've decided not to go ahead."

"What?"

My father steps forward, anger and grief playing tango with his expression.

My mother's wide eyes fill with tears and she bites her lower lip.

"I'm sorry, folks."

"What if she didn't run away?"

"Do you honestly think she hasn't?"

My parents both look down and shake their heads.

I can't believe he's doing this. I can't believe he's giving up on me before even trying. The urge to stand up and scream in his face is warring with the urge to curl into a ball and fall asleep forever.

"We'll do what we can, Trudy. I've spoken to the L.A.P.D. already. I've just come to collect a recent picture of her and then I can scan it for them. They'll keep an eye out for her."

My mother wipes at her tears and glances around the room.

"Um... we don't have much that's recent." Guilt is dripping from her words; I can hear it wafting through the air. Regret sucks. "Maybe she has something on her computer or... in her drawers. Just give me a minute."

Dad steps over to my computer and brings the screen to life. He starts looking through my folders to no avail. I'm not too worried, as long as he doesn't open my Facebook page, I should be fine.

I glance over at my mother and see her pick up my diary then rifle through the drawer beneath.

"Mom, don't." I shoot over to her, but not in time.

Her face drops with disbelief and disgust. I forgot I left those prints in there. I mean who even prints photos now anyway?

I think about the day I found the inside of my locker decorated with these party shots. I forced myself to laugh until I managed hysterical giggles, but I remember being quietly humiliated. As soon as everyone walked away I ripped them out of my locker and buried them in my bag.

I should have just thrown them away.

Stepping up beside Mom, I look over her shoulder and wince. The photos are hardly flattering. They were taken this summer when we went to Drue's cabin for the weekend. Alcohol had flowed and drunken antics had followed. Mom is staring at one of me half-naked, making out with Trent by the water's edge. I want to snatch it from her fingers.

"Stop looking at those... please."

She flips over to another one where me, Amber and Pe

My mother closes her eyes and drops the photos back in the drawer.

"Find anything?" The sheriff turns.

Mom slides the drawer closed and shakes her head. "No, nothing."

"I think I've got something."

Dad enlarges the picture on screen. He's found a shot of me staring at the camera. My eyes look void of life and my mouth is set in a tight line. I look a

"That's the best you've got?"

My Dad looks ashamed as he nods at the sheriff's question.

"Okay, well e-mail that to me then and I'll get onto it first thing in the morning." Sheriff Hutton hands Dad his business card.

My father nods then goes about opening up his webmail and attaching the photo.

"What was she wearing the last time you saw her?"

Sheriff Hutton pulls out his notebook, his pen is poised to scribble down a description.

Dad glances up from the screen and catches Mom's eye. She shakes her head.

"I didn't see her leave on Tuesday and Mitchell wasn't home."

Dad looks a

"She just called out a goodbye like she always does. I... she’s sixteen! It's not like I need to wave her off every time she leaves the house. I didn't think it was the last time I'd be seeing her." Mom's voice crumples, her last word coming out as a squeak.

The sheriff flicks her a sad smile as he slides his pen and notepad back into his jacket. "I'm sorry you have to face this, Trudy. I really am."

She crosses her arms and nods.

"Please keep us updated."

"I will, but I have to warn you... don't get your hopes up."

Why would he say something like that to them? Can't he see they're already on edge?

"I think you should leave now," my voice is hard.

Sheriff Hutton pats my Dad's shoulder and gives it a squeeze before saying goodbye and leaving.

The whoosh of an email sending is the only sound in the room. I gaze at my parents' shell-shocked expressions.

I don't know what to say. I don't know how to make it better.

"I'll go finish di

Dad robotically closes down my computer, not just putting it to sleep, but actually shutting it down.

There is finality to the action and it leaves a tender bruise right in the middle of my chest.

I'm obviously not the only one giving up.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

It's eight o'clock by the time I make my way back down to the kitchen. Dad is stacking the dishwasher, while Mom is wrapping the leftovers. There are a lot. I guess I wouldn't be able to eat either.

Mom opens her mouth a couple of times as if to speak, but then can't bring herself to do it.

And so the painful silence reigns.

Dad is just loading the last of the cutlery when the doorbell rings again.

Mom looks at Dad with a questioning frown. He shrugs and shuts the dish drawer.

I stay with Mom while he goes to answer the door.

"Hi." Dad sounds confused.

Is it the sheriff again? What other depressing news does he have? I walk towards the door then freeze.

"Hey Mr. Tepper. Do you mind if I come in?"

I recognize Dale's voice and shrink back against the wall. He walks meekly into the kitchen and gives my mom a soft smile.

"Hi Mrs. Tepper."

"Hi." She wipes her hands on a towel and moves around the counter to shake Dale's hand.