Page 40 of My Heart to Find

“I’m fine,” she says, tight-lipped, and then Trevor’s heading back over to us, wiping his hands on his apron. It’s got cartoon ducks on it.

“My daughter’s choice,” he says, noticing me looking. “Anyway, come on. Marnie’s room is upstairs.”

We head up. The house is surprisingly big. Trevor explains that there are four siblings, including Marnie, but only he and Marnie still live here. The oldest brother moved out a few years ago, and the youngest sister lives with their mother. She’s in Belarus, where that side of their family is from. Trevor’s elderly father also lives here, but he’s out playing golf today. Most days, in fact. The house has three floors, and there’s even a home gym, and a playroom for Trevor’s daughter.

“This is Marnie’s.” Trevor swings open a door.

I don’t know what I was expecting to see, but it looks exactly like any other young woman’s room. Or at least what I think any other young woman’s room would look like.

I try not to wonder what Cara’s room looks like.

“Anything in particular you want to look at?” Trevor asks.

“Has she got a laptop?” Cara asks.

“Of course.” Trevor points to the desk.

“Can we have a look.”

“Password protected,” he says.

“Can’t the police get past that?”

Trevor laughs. “They could if they were interested enough to think of it. So, you haven’t got any PI skills?”

“We’re very new,” I say, glancing at Cara. She looks even paler still, and she’s swaying slightly. Then she sees me looking at her and turns away, apparently fascinated by the view out of Marnie’s window.

“So, she hasn’t taken any clothes or anything with her?” I ask Trevor.

“Nope—which proves this wasn’t planned, this ‘runaway.’” He puts air-quotes around the last word. “And it’s not like she was having a particularly rough time right now either,” he says. “I mean, she’d started her own business—way better than that temporary waitressing job she had, and she was enjoying it. Plus, her influence stuff was taking off. And she adored Vivi. No,” he says. “Something’s happened. And I need people to take this seriously.”

I almost feel bad for him that he’s got us, me and Cara, two amateurs. Because even though I’m fascinated by true crime I realize I haven’t got a clue what to do. Shame fills me, but I bluster on, trying to think of anything and everything to ask.

*

HALF AN HOUR LATER, Cara and I leave Trevor’s. He thanks us for our time and gives us a handful of missing posters of Marnie to put up.

As we walk away, Cara’s quiet and looking even more pale than I thought was physically possible.

“Are you okay?” I ask her.

She nods.

“We made good progress, right?” I say, but I know we haven’t. We haven’t got any leads. Marnie just disappeared. “We just need to decide what we’re going to do now.”

“Now?” she asks.

I nod.

“Well, we’d better actually set up that podcast.Damien the Detective.” She glances at me quickly, as if looking for approval. Her nose has gone pink, and there’s another emotion in her eyes, other than her search for approval. An emotion I can’t decipher.

But I’m not really trying to, because she said my name again—and I don’t know what it is about my name on her lips, but it just cements everything that I’ve been feeling for her. Makes it so much stronger. Makes me feel bad about seeing Jana on Monday.

“We could start with just a simple blog,” she suggests. “Put up some info about it. Make it seem like we’re actually legit. No idea how to actually record a podcast though. Do you?”

“Uh,” I say, my heart thumping. I do know—I looked it up years ago, but I can’t even think of the words to say right now. I’m just hooked on the idea of producing a podcast with Cara, of spending so much more time with her. And she must want to, too?

I lean in closer to her—and it’s like I’ve struck her with lightning or something. She jumps right back. Hurt flashes through me.

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