I blinked up at him. His face was already falling when I finally remembered. “We were supposed to go windsurfing!” I exclaimed.
“You forgot,” he said, biting his bottom lip.
“I’m so sorry.” I brought both hands to my forehead. “There’s just a lot going on. I’m on my way to the police station.”
His eyes widened. “Whatever for?”
“It’s a long story, but…my friend Olive is kind of missing,” I told him.
“Olive?” he asked. “Have I met her?”
A cool breeze chilled my nose as my heart gave an extra-hard thump. I wanted to reach out and shake him. Why didn’t anyone remember Olive? But then I realized that even though they’d been at the same parties, they hadn’t actually met. There was no reason for him to remember her.
“I don’t think so. I met her when I first got here, and we were supposed to go out for breakfast yesterday, but she never showed,” I said, starting to walk again. He fell in step beside me. I couldn’t tell him about my Steven Nell suspicions, and I didn’t know how to put into words what I felt about Tristan. Instead, I twisted my hands together and forced myself to keep it simple. “She hasn’t called, she hasn’t stopped by. I’m just really worried. I’m on my way to the police station right now.”
“Isn’t going to the police a bit extreme?” he said, his bag bumping against his leg as he walked. “Maybe she simply forgot about your plans.”
I bit my tongue, wishing like hell I could just tell him the truth. “I know. I guess I’m a better-safe-than-sorry person.”
We arrived at the top of the hill. Across the street to our right was the brick facade of the Juniper Landing Police Department.
“You don’t have to come in with me if you don’t want to,” I told him.
He reached for my hand and squeezed it. “No. I want to.”
My heart warmed, and we exchanged a brief smile. We took the stone steps at a jog and walked inside. The air was frigid, thanks to some pumped-up air-conditioning, and I couldn’t help noticing how squeaky clean everything was. The marble floor gleamed, the wooden bench under the announcement board looked freshly waxed, and the announcement board itself was practically empty. The only notice inside the glass case was an advertisement for Movie Night in the library’s activity room. No pictures of wanted criminals, no warnings about night safety, no reminders to get your dog license renewed or keep your property hazard-free.
Aaron shoved open the swinging glass door to the main room and held it for me. I felt this overwhelming wave of gratitude to him for not leaving me alone, even though he clearly thought I was overreacting.
Leaning against the long, wooden counter was none other than my favorite local, Joaquin, wearing a red JUNIPER LANDING hoodie and talking with four uniformed police officers, who stood in a close-knit circle behind the counter. There was a box of doughnuts and a large, leather-bound ledger open between them. It almost looked like Joaquin was explaining something to them. One tall officer nodded while he listened, and another was taking notes. Then Joaquin must have said something funny because they all laughed, their eyes shining as they watched him, like he was the second coming.
Of course. Of course Joaquin was friends with the cops. He probably brought them doughnuts every morning so that they would ignore little infractions like bonfires on the beaches and underage chug lines at the Thirsty Swan. My heart fell as we slowly approached. How was I supposed to tell the police that I suspected Tristan had something to do with Olive’s disappearance with his best friend standing right there?
The door finally closed behind us, and everyone looked up. Joaquin smiled, pushing the book toward one of the officers, who quickly closed it and tucked it under the counter. The cops, meanwhile, shot us semi-annoyed looks, as if whatever Joaquin was telling them was too important to be interrupted.
“Rory!” Joaquin said, flicking his eyes over Aaron dismissively. “What’re you doing here?”
I screwed up my courage and faced the men behind the counter.
“I need to talk to someone about a missing person,” I said, ignoring Joaquin.
They all fell silent. One of them exchanged a glance with Joaquin, who swallowed the last of his doughnut with a gulp. The officer was tall and broad and looked as solid as a rock. He looked like an ex-Marine—and not someone a person would want to mess with. I might have felt comforted by that fact if he wasn’t giving me a look like I was something rancid he’d scraped off the bottom of his boot.
“Welcome to the Juniper Landing Police Department. I’m Officer Dorn,” he said, as if he hadn’t heard a word I’d said. He laid his hands flat atop the desk. “Now what’s this about a missing person?”
“My friend is missing,” I said. “We went to a party together two nights ago, and no one’s seen her since.”
Dorn’s lips twitched ever so slightly. Joaquin cleared his throat and closed the top of the doughnut box, pushing it away.
“Was this girl a local or one of our vacationers?” Dorn asked.
Something inside me shifted. Why would he use the word was? “She is a vacationer,” I said. “She’s staying at the boardinghouse on Freesia.”
“Ah, Mrs. Chen’s place,” Dorn said with a big smile. His teeth were very straight and very white. “Nice lady. She makes a fine lemon poppy loaf.”
The other officers laughed and made sounds of general agreement. Aaron and I exchanged a look. Okay, good. He was as irked by this behavior as I was.
“Wait a minute,” Joaquin said, dusting off his hands. “Are you talking about Olive?”