Untraceable Read Free Page B

attempt at being profound. I stare up at the flourescent light buzzing above me and focus on the popcorn ceiling. I will not cry, no matter how frustrated I become. “Captain, I can’t give up what happened.”
    “We may never know. All of our evidence points to an accident. Grace, there’s no proof he’s even alive.”
    The A-word stabs me in the heart, but I try not to physically jerk from the pain of it. My voice shows no sign of the turmoil going on inside. “Even if it was an accident, he could still be out there. Last year, a lost camper survived sixty days before anyone found him. Dad could survive for months longer than that on his own.”
    Carl sighs and closes his eyes, appearing to be meditating. “Joe knows those woods better than his own backside. You and I both know he isn’t lost . Don’t we?”
    I shrug off the doubt. “Maybe someone kidnapped him?”
    “Why would anyone do that? Besides, there’s no evidence of any foul play.”
    I grasp at straws. Anything. “Maybe he’s so hurt, he can’t call for help.”
    Carl scratches the top of his head. “He’d signal, use smoke or something. Joe would find a way, but there’s been nothing. His trail’s as dead as a dinosaur.”
    I hold up the Ziploc bag. “Maybe this is his signal? Maybe he dropped this for us to find. Please. Just dust it. To be sure. For me. I swear I won’t ask you for anything else.”
    Before he can answer, a knock on the office door interrupts us. Carl’s secretary enters the room and smiles, revealing teeth stained with cherry-red lipstick. Bernice kinda reminds me of an eggplant. Not only in shape, but because she pins up her purplish hair with an enormous green leaf clip.
    Carl stands and stuffs both hands into his pockets. “What is it, B?”
    Bernice teeters in the hall like a weeble-wooble and winks at me before speaking. “Captain, Wyn called. He wants you to meet him over at Bob’s place for lunch.”
    Carl looks a bit surprised. “Really? That’s odd. Okay, tell him I’ll be right there.” As Bernice waddles back to her desk, Carl snatches his police belt off the brass hook and cinches the leather strap around his wafer-thin waist. “Grace, I’ve known you your whole life. Grew up with Joe who was always a dang good friend. I want to find your daddy as much as you do.”
    I wheel around in the chair to face him. “Captain, all I need is for you to believe me. Trust that I’m not being crazy or emotional.”
    He pats my shoulder. “I don’t think those things, kiddo. Just wondering if you’re havin’ a hard time lettin’ go.”
    It’s only then I notice I’m still shaking my head “no” as if trying to convince myself. “Not until I see a body.”
    Carl stands in the doorway with his hands on his guns, trying to look intimidating like he’s in some kind of western standoff. He exhales slowly. “For the record, I don’t think this Cheetos bag is relevant at all. And I certainly don’t have to remind you that I, as an officer of the law, don’t have to discuss the details of any investigation with you, a teenager . But because I like you, I’ll dust the bag. But this is the last time I’m playing cops and robbers with you.”
    Without hesitating, I jump up and bear hug him. He remains stiff, his hands still gripping the butt of both weapons. “Thanks, Captain!”
    He blushes at the unexpected human contact and grunts under his breath. “Uh, you’re welcome.”
    I step back a few inches to let him recover. “And if you find something? You’ll talk to the USFWS so they don’t close the case?”
    “If I find something, yes, I will. But if I come up empty, I want you to drop this and try to move on.”
    I can tell by his tone, he’s not asking, so I tell Carl exactly what he wants to hear. “Sure, Captain, whatever you say.”
    He doesn’t fold that easily and narrows his eyes. “You promise?”
    I hold up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”
    He appears to mull over my response.