Page 61 of Friend Me

“I’ll call you when I get to Oakland and we’ll meet up. Be careful, okay?”

“Okay.”

He must have heard the quaver in my voice because he said, “It’ll be fine. You’ll probably find him before I get there.”

Unable to speak past the hysteria gripping my throat, I hung up. A few seconds later, my phone pinged. Tyler had used an app to send me his location, and it was asking me to share my location with him. I clickedYes,hopeful that technology could help me find Dad.

Twenty minutes later, I emerged alone from a restaurant a few blocks from the house. The rumble of Tyler’s vintage Mustang as it pulled up in front vibrated through my chest. My racing heartbeat slowed a fraction when he leaped to stand before me on the sidewalk. His arms twitched like he wanted to reach out to me, but he kept them at his sides. Lines of concern bracketed his mouth, and his eyes flicked between mine.

I couldn’t show the same restraint. I stepped into him, wrapped my arms around his solid back, and tucked my head under his chin. I breathed in his familiar, comforting scent. “Thank you. Thank you so much for coming.”

His arms came around me. After a quick squeeze, he released me and stepped back. He looked around us. “What’s the plan?”

I no longer trembled, and my voice surprised me with its steadiness. “I’ve searched the restaurants here. I was on my way to the Y. My dad used to exercise there.”

“Okay. I’ll drive.” He opened the door of the Mustang and closed it behind me. When he slid in, he reached across the console for my hand and held it, keeping me from falling over the edge.

I didn’t wait for him when we pulled up in front of the YMCA. I jumped out and ran into the lobby, where I pushed to the front of the line and accosted the woman at the membership desk. “Have you seen my dad? Will Rice. He’s fifty-three, walks with a cane or else a limp, short white hair, a little thin?”

She eyed me, wary of the wild-eyed woman who’d burst in on her peaceful evening. She shook her head. I pulled out my phone and showed her the photo I’d used at the other places I’d looked.

“Are you sure?”

“No, miss.”

I turned away and scanned the lobby myself as if he’d be lurking there, somehow unseen by the receptionist, but I didn’t see his cropped white hair anywhere. I bit my lip.

Tyler jogged to my side and put his arm around me. “Hey, we’ll find him. Where should we go next?”

My panic came rushing back. I had no idea. I opened my mouth to tell him that, but my phone vibrated. When I saw it was Alma, hope fluttered in my chest.

“Hola, mija. Señor Oliveras from the grocery called. He said someone saw your dad at the train station.”

“When?”

“About ten minutes ago. Hurry.”

I grabbed Tyler’s hand and pulled him toward the exit. “He’s at the BART station. Let’s go.”

In the car, he held my hand again as I directed him. “You don’t think—”

“I don’t thinkhe can get anywhere. I doubt he has any money with him. Of course, I didn’t think he’d wander off…” I stared out the window, unable to continue. He squeezed my hand.

Tyler left the Mustang on the street with its hazard lights flashing while we ran inside the station. I almost collapsed when I spotted the familiar shape in front of the ticket machine.

“Dad!” I called to him. When I reached him, I threw my arms around him and hugged him tight. “You scared me. Why’d you leave the house?”

“I wanted to go see Maggie,” he said, as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world to take the train to see my dead mother.

I released him and slipped my hand into his as I’d done so many times when I was little. But this time, I spoke like the parent. “Dad, you can’t wander off. We’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

He smiled down at me and cocked his head to the side. “I was right here.”

How long had he been there? I’d come through the station a little more than an hour ago. Surely I would’ve walked past him if he’d come straight there from home. If only I hadn’t been stuck in my own head, focused on myself…

I looked him over from head to toe. His hair was slicked to his head, and the bottoms of his pants were wet to the ankles as if he’d been walking for a while in the misty rain. With the fuzzy state he was in, I’d never know exactly where he’d gone.

I’d almost forgotten Tyler was there until he put a hand on my back and extended his right hand to my father. “Mr. Rice, I’m Tyler Young, a friend of Marlee’s.”

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