Page 51 of High Frequency

“I’m just going to put her down.”

I feel a little awkward standing in the middle of her living room. It’s eight o’clock at night and it sounds like she hasn’t had much sleep this weekend, so making a pot of coffee is probably not a good idea. A beer or a glass of wine might be a better option.

Peeking into her fridge I notice it’s full of all the necessities—Ama’s handiwork, I’m sure—but other than milk and bottled water, there isn’t anything to drink. My fridge is only two doors down though, and it’s well-stocked with beer.

“Are you leaving?”

I let go of the door and turn around. It could be my imagination, but she actually looks a bit disappointed.

“I was just going to grab us a couple of beers from my fridge.”

“Ohh, I would kill for a beer.”

I grin at her. “No need to resort to violence. Give me one minute.”

When I return a few moments later, Sloane is standing in the kitchen, leaning on the counter with her head hanging down. From the bedroom I hear the baby’s soft cries.

Walking up behind her, I set down the beers and lift my hands to her shoulders, massaging them gently. Next thing I know, she spins around, burying her hands and her face in my shirt. Circling her with my arms, I pull her in tight. Her body shudders as she cries silently, drowned out by her daughter’s increasing complaints.

“I need t…to get her.”

Pressing a kiss to the top of her head, I gently set her back.

“I’ve got it. You sit down and have your beer.”

She must be at the end of her rope, because this is not like her. Tears rolling unchecked down her face, she looks worn to a thread. I bend down and kiss her wet cheek.

“Go on, sit down.”

Then I head for the bedroom where Aspen is now wailing in earnest. I duck in and close the door behind me.

“Hey, you…what’s with all the ruckus?” I babble as I walk up to her crib.

Her face is scrunched up and she’s trying hard to shove her little fist into her wide-open mouth. I pick her up and lift her against my shoulder, holding her with a hand under her little butt. A very wet butt.

I spot a towel on the dresser I spread on the bed, and when I check the top drawer, I find a bunch of baby clothes and diapers. I pull out something that looks similar to what she’s wearing and a clean diaper. Then I lay her on the towel and quickly strip her down.

As soon as I remove her wet diaper, the wailing eases up, and the next moment she’s trying to stuff her foot in her mouth. Undressing her turns out to be far easier than trying to get a diaper and clothes back on her. I’m sure the snaps on her pj’s aren’t exactly lined up, but she doesn’t seem to care.

She’s not crying when I pick her up again. In fact, she appears to be quite happy in my arms, listening to me hum. I briefly contemplate taking her out to her mom, but then I see her eyes growing heavy, so I start rocking her instead.

I’m hoping to win myself some major brownie points if I can get her to sleep again.

Sloane

Nothing has gone as planned this weekend.

Not a single thing, not even Dan showing up at the end of it all.

To start with, I did more work than I’d planned to, thanks to Pippa stepping in on Saturday and taking care of Aspen. She didn’t sleep much again that night.

I wasn’t able to get a hold of the sheriff until this morning, so I took my daughter and drove into town to meet up with him at the office. I was able to show him what I found on the videotapes, and told him about my conversation with Chelsea. Of course, Aspen decided to start crying, making conversation really difficult.

Junior indicated it was probably time for him to get in touch with Sheriff Lee, as well as the Columbia Falls Police Department, to coordinate efforts now that we’ve been able to confirm these two cases definitely appear to be related. He also suggested I look into other missing persons cases that could fit similar parameters tomorrow.

Then I had to run back to Sully and Pippa’s to move my things into the cabin, only to find my uncle had already moved everything. A good thing, since all I had time for was putting a few things away in the new digs before I left to pick Mom up at the airport. Clearly, we know how that turned out.

My plan had been to go home, put Aspen down, and roll into bed myself—I need the sleep—but instead I end up having a meltdown in Dan’s arms.

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