“I went by Crystal’s a couple of times today, but she’s not around. She didn’t show up for work either. No one’s seen her.”
“I know you’re worried, Sky, but this is what Crystal does. You know that. Remember last year when she took off? She used to disappear for weeks and Dallas and I’d be so scared, then she’d show up like it was no big deal and we’d find out she was partying somewhere with friends or some guy.”
“Not this time, Mom. Not after the other night.”
She capped her nail polish bottle and looked at me. “Especially this time. Dallas and I were expecting something like this.”
I chewed my lower lip. “But she didn’t tell me.”
My mom covered my hand with her own. “She still loves you, Sky. You’re her number-one niece.”
I smiled weakly. “Because I’m her only niece.”
“Exactly.” She patted my knee and stood up. “I better get ready for work.” She looked back at me. “Don’t worry, baby. She’ll be back soon.”
While Mom went to get dressed, I pulled her key chain out of her purse and took the key to Crystal’s place.
*
It was nine o’clock and the sun was just setting when I pulled up in front of Crystal’s. There didn’t seem to be any lights on in her suite. No lights upstairs, either, which was good.
I opened the front door slowly, my eyes quickly taking everything in.
“Hello?” I called out. What if she had some guy over, or came running out with a towel wrapped around her, pissed I was violating her privacy? But the place was quiet. It was a little creepy being there alone.
The ashtray on the coffee table was full; empties stood in a cluster. All the cigarette butts were her brand—Player’s light, king-size. The kitchen sink was full of dishes and the garbage smelled. I pulled the bag out of the pail, tied it up, and left it by the front door. I made my way down the hall into her bedroom.
Her bed was unmade, a tangle of sheets and pillows. A beer bottle was on her night table, and the little foil crane I’d made was sitting on a Kleenex box. I picked it up, fingered the wings as I looked around.
Her perfume hung in the air. Some of her drawers were pulled out, clothes heaped in a laundry basket, but I couldn’t tell if anything was gone.
I checked her bathroom—no toothbrush in the stand. I opened all her drawers. Her makeup was gone too. I looked in the shower. No razor, just a couple of almost-empty shampoo bottles and a sliver of soap.
I stood in the hallway and frowned. Where was she?
Back in the living room, I sat on her couch, put my hand on the pillow lying there. I shouldn’t have made her talk about Cash Creek. I shouldn’t have brought any of it up at all.
She still had two joints inside the box on her side table. I moved to her desk, rummaged through some Post-it notes, just random notes about groceries or reminders, phone numbers. I turned on her computer and checked her search history. There was some stuff about some bands, and at the top: Cash Creek.
I stared at the name, my heart beating fast. I did a search, checked the links that came up. She’d clicked on one about cattle ranches in the Okanagan. It was a listing for ranches. I scanned the names but they didn’t mean anything to me.
I shut down her computer, left a note on her counter: Please call me! Then I cleaned up her dishes, took out her garbage, and made her bed. I grabbed the two joints out of the box—figured she wouldn’t mind.
I walked back into her bedroom and checked her night table drawer, under her mattress, in her closet, searching everywhere for the gun. It was gone.
I wish we’d killed them. I wish it all the time.
The way she’d looked at me, like I wasn’t even there.
*
In the morning Mom shuffled into the kitchen in her boxer shorts and tank top, her hair messy. She yawned as she opened the freezer and pulled out a box.
She glanced at my cup of coffee. “That’ll stunt your growth, you know.” She smiled at our running joke, which started after I shot up past her years ago.
She popped some Eggos into the toaster, grabbed the syrup out of the fridge, then sat across from me, using her fingers to taste some syrup from the lid.
I’d been thinking about what I’d discovered at Crystal’s place, had even logged onto my laptop last night and searched again for Cash Creek. It was a really small town, only about three thousand people. Wikipedia mentioned dairy farming and cattle ranching, but when I Googled “Cattle ranches, Cash Creek,” I didn’t get any hits.
Mom was talking about what we could do that day. I couldn’t really concentrate on what she was saying. I was thinking about how to tell her what I’d learned but every time I opened my mouth, she went on about something else.
“Maybe we could go to Stanley Park. Do you feel like Rollerblading around the seawall?” She got up and took her Eggos out of the toaster, dropped them onto her plate, and slathered them with butter. “Or we could go to Granville Island and walk around the stores, maybe check out the market.”