Just Let Me Die Here (A Serialized Novel) 21

It’s another day and nothing. No Millie. No Tucker. No reports of anyone seeing them or knowing anything about where they might be. How can someone just disappear like that? I have already called the police station twice. Both times I reach Officer Michaels. Both times, he tells me the same thing. “We’re working on it.”

My third call gets picked up by Detective Singh.

“Good morning, Mrs. Logan. How are you feeling this morning?”

“Um.” I’m not really sure how to respond to that. She picks up on this.

“I am so sorry. That was a stupid question.” I hear her sigh deeply, remorsefully. “I just meant that I hope you were able to get some sleep.”

“I did. A little. Yes.”

“Good. Well, unfortunately, I don’t have any news to share with you yet today. We have the alert out and we’re looking into getting some footage from security cameras in the area. Hopefully one of them can give us a good lead.”

“Okay.” Things are happening. Not just some empty assurance like the ones I got from Officer Michaels. This woman has a plan. She’s a mother on a mission.

A good mother too.

More than she can say about you.

“I know this whole situation is just awful,” Detective Singh continues. “Worse than I can probably imagine. But I hope you can trust me when I tell you I am doing everything I can to find your family.”

“Thank you,” I say. I feel a small release of pressure from around my chest as I let out a deep breath that I hadn’t even realized I was holding.

“Don’t thank me yet. But hopefully you can in the very near future. Until then, I have your number. I’ll let you know if anything comes up in our search. Stay strong, August.”

“I’ll try,” I say and hang up.

But the relief from the phone call lasts less than a minute. I can’t just sit around, hoping that Detective Singh’s guarantee will come true. I know, more than likely, Tucker got another car and just drove. He wouldn’t stick around. Then again, maybe that’s exactly what he would want me to think, too. And I would hate myself if Millie was just around the corner and I didn’t know it. I decide to do a full scan of Canmore on my own. I know the police have already driven all around, looking for clues. But maybe they don’t know exactly what to look for. Not that I do either, but something might jump out at me that wouldn’t seem significant to them. After that, I’ll search Banff as well as the national park. I’ll search everywhere I have to. First though, if Tucker did get another rental car, I’m going to see if I can get any help narrowing down what car I might be looking for.

I head to the nearby outlet of the car rental shop we used. It’s the same one his company always uses on business trips, so I figure he would go there again. The sky is a discomforting gray and a mixture of rain and snow falls in the quiet outside as I pull into the parking lot. It’s a small satellite location with just a few cars out front. Inside, a young man sits behind the counter. Surely he isn’t even old enough to rent the very cars he rents to others. He has ear buds in and is looking at something on his phone. I can hear the tinny echo of the music coming from the headphones. He isn’t even aware of my presence until I am standing just in front of his desk.

“Oh, hi,” he says, jumping a bit and pulling the buds out of his ears. He wraps them around his phone and stuffs the whole bundled mess into his front pants pocket. “Can I, um, what can I do for you?” He is clearly surprised by my presence. Not because I am suddenly in front of him without his having noticed my entering the shop. I feel like this has happened to him many times before. Part of the job. But it’s the fact that I am here at all. That anyone is here at all. Not only out on a day like this but wanting to rent a car as well.

“Yes,” I say. “I was wondering if you could help me with something.”

“If it has to do with renting a car, probably.” I laugh to humor him.

“You see, my family and I rented a car with your company, but then my husband got called away on business. So, he rented another car with you. I wanted to extend the time for our rental, but not if he is going to keep the car he rented when he gets back.” The guy looks as confused as I feel. “I can’t get ahold of him, but, just out of curiosity, could you check if he still has the other car?” I’m not sure he buys my story, but he doesn’t seem like one to argue.

“Name?” He turns his attention to his computer screen, making a few clicks with his mouse before typing.

“Tucker Logan. I think he was supposed to return it today,” I continue the lie. “I just wanted to make sure he had turned it in before I extend the other rental.” The boy scans through the system. Clicking one button and then another.

“Logan, Logan. Fredrick, Paula, August.”

“Me,” I say. “That’s me. I’m August. That would be the original rental I mentioned. But do you have a Tucker in your records?”

“Nope. I don’t see anything in our system for a Tucker Logan.” Maybe he went to another rental company. Or what if he’s using a different name? That seems like something a person on the run would do. But I have no idea what name he would use. I doubt I have the authority to ask this young man to check all rentals from yesterday between the hours of eleven and five. Hopefully that’s something the police will look into.

Maybe Tucker just took a taxi straight to the airport. I don’t want to think about that possibility though. That opens this search up far beyond what I’m willing to imagine. I feel strengthened in my determination to check the surrounding areas, trying to push down the thought of just how big Canada actually is.

“Did you still want to renew your rental?” I note a tone of hopefulness in the kid’s voice. Like maybe I’ll change my mind and not make him do any work today. I’ll leave and he can go back to his music and mindlessness.

“I’ll hold off for now,” I say with a smile. “But if we don’t end up needing it longer, I’ll definitely have it back by the end of the reservation.”

“Yeah. Wouldn’t want any of those awful late fees hanging over you,” he says. If only this guy knew how low late fees ranked on my list of things to worry about right now. I turn to leave. “Have a great day,” he says with a company-mandated smile. His earbuds are back in his ears before I have even left the shop.

Outside, I get back into the car and settle in. I glance up and see Millie’s empty car seat in the rearview mirror. Determination jolts through me. I have to find them. I drive away from the lot and into the middle of town. I’m just going to drive in circles, lapping the streets, getting wider and wider in area until I’ve covered all of Canmore. On some of the smaller side streets, I stop the car and look down the row of houses, scanning for something. Anything. Other than Tucker and Millie themselves, I don’t really know what I should be looking for. But I have to look. My search comes up with nothing.

She’s gone.

Let her go.

You’ll be doing her a favor.

I take a deep breath, trying to block out the voice. I continue on.

After convincing myself that there is no sign of Tucker in Canmore, I get on the highway and head north, stopping at every truck stop and rest stop on the way, doing loops of the parking lots and scanning all the cars. I search for car seats and luggage. I look closely at every man I see and even closer at every baby. Could that woman holding the child outside the fast food restaurant be with Tucker? A partner? An accomplice? But Tucker doesn’t know anyone up here and when I get closer, I see the child is not Millie.

Just before getting back on the highway, I pull into a gas station. The car needs filling and my bladder is screaming from the three cups of coffee I have had this morning. After putting gas in the car, I go inside and make my way down a long, empty hallway to the restrooms. And while the hallway was freshly mopped, the walls a glistening sterile white, the restroom itself has not been given equal attention. There are two stalls, both of which are out of seat covers, and although I pick the cleaner of the two, I don’t allow myself to touch the seat. My bruised hip throbs as I hover above the toilet.

Back at the front of the shop, I head to the cashier to pay for the tank of gas, but have to wait in line behind two other customers. While the woman at the front is paying, counting out her total from a handful of coins, I notice the man in front of me has a newspaper folded under his arm. Who reads an actual newspaper anymore? I can see the outline of his phone in his back pocket and wonder why he chooses the mess of a printed paper over the convenience of electronic news.

When he turns though, I can see the bottom half of the front page and there, in the far left corner, is a very familiar face. It’s Tucker. I turn toward the magazine stand just next to the door and grab a copy of the local paper, The Rocky Mountain Outlook. The lead story is about the most recent murder in Banff. There is a large picture of the crime scene and an inset photo of the victim, but I don’t read any of the article. I flip the paper to the other side of the fold. And there is Tucker. ‘Man and Child Missing’, the headline reads. The short article gives a quick description of when and where they were last seen, what they look like, and a number to call if the reader has any information about their disappearance.

I make it to the front of the line and give the cashier the number of the pump I used to fill up the car.

“And this,” I say, tossing the newspaper on the counter. The young man rings up the total and I pay. Back in the car, I read the article again. There isn’t anything there that I don’t know, but it feels odd having such a personal matter made so public. Seeing the article, the details laid out in black and white, solidifies the reality of this. They are actually gone. It also spurs me on. The police are trying, the word is out. People will be calling soon. I can’t give up.

As I continue north, heading into Banff National Park, I come to the park gates where a single lane is open. I pull up to the guard hut and roll down my window. A strong wind dives in, whipping my hair across my face. The man in the booth slides his window open just enough to stick his face out. Behind him, I can see a small heater that is doing its best to warm the tiny space. I must be one of only a handful of visitors he has seen so far today, but, remarkably, he still looks happy to be here. After I’ve paid my fare and he’s given me a day pass, it dawns on me that he might have seen Tucker. He starts to close his widow.

“Excuse me,” I say.

“Yes?” he says, pulling the window back slightly.

“By any chance, did you happen to see a man with dark hair driving a rental car sometime today? Or yesterday? He would have had a baby in the car with him too. Adorable little girl with lots of brown curls.” The man looks at me as if I’ve asked him to solve a ridiculously complicated math problem.

“We see a lot of rental cars come through here.”

“Yes, I know. I was just hoping you had seen this particular one with this particular person. People.”

“Sorry. Nothing like that today. And I haven’t been here the past week or so.”

“Okay, thanks anyways.”

In Banff, I repeat my driving strategy from Canmore. This town feels so much different. Busier, more touristy. Dirtier. It might look lovely at night, but in the daylight, you can see its wear and tear. And it is packed with people. Even in this terrible weather, there are groups crowding the sidewalks. I look for Tucker in the masses. If he did want to hide somewhere, this would be the perfect spot. I pull over to check the map on my phone and figure out what my plan is going forward. I can’t think about turning back yet. I have to just keep going.

I begin to pull out of the space, but something catches my eye. The view out my window looks familiar. And then it hits me. I am in front of the very hotel that was on the news when we arrived in Calgary. The police barricade is gone and no one is standing around, looking at the building, but this is the same place. With everything that has happened, I completely forgot about the killings. If I had only known then what was coming, I wouldn’t have worried so much about a murderer.

And now a new fear washes over me. Maybe that’s exactly what I should be worried about. I haven’t thought about the murderer since seeing the news report in the rental car office. I grab the newspaper from the passenger seat and look again at the lead story. The most recent murder, the fourth in a week, happened just last night. The victim was a middle-aged man with no known ties to the previous victims. And while the police still aren’t saying much, they are convinced all the recent killings are connected. I open the paper up to see the victim’s face and Tucker’s together. What if these two things are connected? Or rather, what if this is what’s happened to Tucker? What if the murderer finds my family before I do? Or what if he’s already found them? I knew we should have never brought Millie here. I have to keep looking.

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