Page 28 of Reclaiming Adelaide

“Shit.”

I walked back inside and around to the bathrooms with caution tape, crossing them off, then into the little store. She’d broken her phone on purpose, but she’d need another one. I’d put everything I own on her, buying one before she left.

“Have you seen this girl?” I asked the cashier with spiked red-tipped hair.

“I just started the till for the night.” He eyed me, his gaze settling on the stinging cut on my brow. “I have a first aid kit.” He pointed to the wound. “If you need it.”

I shook my head and tucked my phone back into my pocket as the bus to Montreal pulled away from the curb.

My stomach sank as I watched it drive away. Did I miss something? I could follow it, but if she weren’t on it, I’d waste an entire night hunting it down.

Irritation and indecision tore me in two until I walked toward the ticket station and cut in line.

“Sir, I’m gonna have to ask you to get in the back of the line.”

I pulled out my phone and showed her a picture as the man I’d shoved out of the way backed up. “Have you seen her tonight?”

“Sir, please.”

Placing my phone on the counter, I pulled out my wallet and fished out two-one-hundred-dollar bills, then slid them in her direction.

“Have you seen thisgirltonight?”

Her gaze dropped to the green pressed between my finger and the white speckled countertop. “I can’t give you that information.”

“You can. It doesn’t violate any privacy policies.” I slid the money forward, tempting her. “Have youseenher?”

She looked around and flicked her tongue out, wetting her bottom lip. “Yes, but she had black hair.”

“Good.” I tossed another hundred down and slid it closer. “Where did she go?”

She shook her head, but before she could open her mouth and give me some moralistic excuse, I cut her off. “The more questions you answer, the more money I put down. But if you don’t answer it, I’ll take it all away.”

The woman swallowed, her throat bobbing.

“I could lose my job,” she said, leaning in.

I dragged the money towards me slowly, but her hand came down on mine.

“Wait. What’s her name? Since you’refamily, I can tell you.”

She’d use her fake ID, or maybe she wanted me to think she would, so she’d use her real one. My pulse settled in my temples as if I played 3D chess with real-life consequences.

“Miranda.”

The woman turned to her computer and typed in the name. “We don’t have a Miranda.”

I dragged in a ragged breath, my non-violent options dwindling.

“What bus did this girl get on?”

Her eyes darted to the man standing beside me. I turned my gaze towards him as he inched closer.

“Do not make me cause a scene.”

The man’s face blanched as his eyes bugged, and he took two healthy steps back.

“More.” I motioned him backward.

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