HOLIDAY WEEKENDS WERE a special kind of hell. Long weekends meant long hours, drunk people and a whole lot of stupidity, and Memorial Day was a doozie. After a long winter, New Englanders were ready to let loose and live it up.
At two o’clock on Monday morning, Matt leaned against a tree trunk and tried not to fall asleep on his feet. After a full day of chasing four-wheelers, arresting drunks, checking fishing licenses, and responding to a situation at a family barbecue that involved alcohol, a fire, gasoline and fireworks, he’d been about to head home when they got a call about a missing teenage girl.
Five hours of walking through the woods later, they got the call she’d been found. Apparently, she’d gone for a walk with her boyfriend and they had a big fight because somebody said something about somebody else on Facebook, and her boyfriend stormed off. After having a good long cry, she tried to find her way home and missed by a long shot.
It was a happy ending, but Matt was ready to just fall flat on his face and sleep in the dirt for a few hours.
“Bet she’s already updating her Facebook status,” Pete Winslow said. He was a warden Matt had worked with a lot and they’d become good friends over the years, and he was leaning against the tree next to Matt’s. “Probably taking a selfie in the ambulance.”
“Too bad she didn’t use the phone to, you know, call her parents.”
“It was charging when she went for her walk, so she didn’t have it. Her mom had it and gave it to her while they were checking her vitals. Probably so she could update her status.”
“Where’s the dad?”
“He’d had a few and wanted to go after the boyfriend with a load of bird shot, so he’s in custody until he sobers up.” Pete pushed himself upright with a groan. “Time to head home.”
“Easy for you to say. They had me come in from a direction they thought she might go, so my truck’s not here at the staging area. And it’s in the opposite direction of Whitford.”
“I’ve gotta go within a couple of miles of there anyway, so I can give you a ride. You have a way to get your truck tomorrow?”
“Yeah.” No, but he’d find a way. Drew Miller probably wouldn’t mind sending an officer to give him a ride. Or he’d pay Butch Benoit to drive him out there in his tow truck. It was the closest thing the town had to a taxi service. “I appreciate it.”
Once in the truck, it was tempting to close his eyes for a few minutes, but Pete was as worn out as he was. He kept his eyes open and they both talked about the idiots they’d crossed paths with that day just to stay awake.
When they pulled into Matt’s driveway, he shook Pete’s hand and opened the door. “You going to be okay? You can crash here if you need to.”
“I’ll be fine and the wife’s going to be asleep on the couch, waiting. I’ll put the window down and crank the music up. Sing-a-long time. You know how it is.”
Yeah, he did. “Thanks again, Pete. Drive safe.”
Matt let himself into his house and spent a couple minutes letting Bear welcome him home. As tempting as it was to simply keel over sideways on the couch and never move again, he had about twenty layers of bug spray on him.
He dragged his ass upstairs and secured his weapon, then left a trail of dirty uniform parts to the bathroom. After a quick, steaming hot shower, he tugged on a pair of sweatpants and fell into bed. He heard Bear settle in the oversized dog bed in the corner, and then he was out.
*
HAILEY WASN’T SURE what had awakened her when it was barely light outside, but after a few minutes of tossing and turning, she gave up. She had to pee, anyway. She brushed her teeth while she was in there and then went downstairs to start her day earlier than usual.
While the coffee brewed, she glanced out the window and then took a closer look. Matt’s truck wasn’t in the driveway. Frowning, she went to the living room and looked out that window. It wasn’t there. So far, she hadn’t seen him park it in the garage, since he had it filled with tools and his ATV and other assorted junk.
As far as she could tell, Matt had left for work the morning before and hadn’t been home since.
Worry for him hummed through her as she fixed her coffee and then, a few sips into the cup, she thought of Bear.
He had a doggy door, but what about food and water? If Matt had known he wouldn’t be home, she can’t imagine he wouldn’t have made plans for his dog. Even if he didn’t want to get her number from information and call her, he would have called somebody. But if something had happened to him or, God forbid, he’d been in an accident, how long would it be before somebody thought of his dog?
Surely if Bear got too hungry, he’d come outside and throw himself on her mercy. Maybe give her those big, sad, puppy dog eyes until she caved and grilled him up a burger for breakfast or something.