Page 107 of Songbird: Black Kite
Where the hell was she? Stepping back into the hall, I looked behind me at the bathroom, but the door was open, and the lights were off, so it was clear she wasn’t there.
“Cooper, this isn’t funny,” I called, louder, going over to the speaker on the dresser and clicking it off, the sudden silence in the room feeling oppressive. I darted my gaze from one corner of the room to the other as the black lace curtains danced in the summer breeze that blew through the open window. “Come out right now!”
“Bird?” Hawk’s voice startled me, so unused to having someone in the house besides me and Coop. I turned to see him standing in the doorway, a look of concern on his face. “What’s goin’ on?”
“She’s gone!” I said, panic rising in my voice.
“Gone?”
“Yes, Hawk, that’s what I said!” I snapped, and his eyebrows rose. “My teen daughter is so mad at me right now that she apparently climbed out of her open window and fled into the night!”
I was being dramatic, because it was early summer and the sun was clearly still up, but Hawk was smart enough to not correct me.
“Alright,” he said decisively, entering the room and looking around. I tried to see it from his perspective, the band posters on the wall—none of them his—and the other random bits of decor that made up Cooper’s personality: magazine cutouts, photos she had taken when she was out with Sabrina, and a handful of memes about Wednesday Addams, all taped up on the mirror.
On their own, they were just tiny things, but seen as a collective, they were all pieces of Cooper, things that had meant something to her or made her laugh, each one a small part of a whole and something she cared enough to keep.
And Hawk understood none of them.
“Has she done this before?”
“No!” I cried, throwing my hands in the air. “She’s never run away from home before.”
Was that when she had done? Or was I blowing the whole situation out of proportion due to my own emotions.
Christ, I needed a therapist.
Or a drink.
“Do you have any idea where she could have gone? To a friend’s house or something?”
“Cooper doesn’t really have many friends,” I admitted, embarrassed. Unfortunately, Cooper suffered from an incurable infliction: being Wren Blackburn’s daughter. She was as much of an outcast in Grand Rapids as I had ever been, except she handled the situation way better than I had. “There’s really only Jillian.”
Jillian Groves, Cooper’s best friend since kindergarten. She was a sweet girl, a bit bookish, but kind. She and Cooper were total opposites in almost every way, but that never mattered to either of them.
“So call Jillian and see if Cooper is there,” Hawk suggested rationally, and I had to admit, I appreciated his calm head. I was certainly not in the right space for logical thinking.
“Right,” I said, marching down to the kitchen and retrieving my phone. Pulling up Jillian’s number, I listened to it ring and ring, cursing when it went to voice mail. Hanging up, I tried again, this time, leaving a voice mail asking Jillian to call me as soon as she got the message.
“No luck?” Hawk asked as he joined me in the kitchen.
“Jillian’s probably at church,” I admitted, glancing at the clock.
“At dinnertime on a weekday?”
“Yeah,” I sighed. “Jillian’s father is a pastor down at one of the local churches. The girl practically lives at church.” She was also one of the most stifled, emotionally stunted people I had ever met; living under the thumb of a man like Martin Groves would do that to a girl. “I’ll drive over to the church and see if she went there.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“No!” I froze, surprising even myself with the force of the word. “It just...might be better if I go alone,” I finished lamely, watching as his face fell.
But like any practiced performer, Hawk recovered quickly, throwing up the smile I’d seen in too many magazines and interviews.
“Sure thing, Bird. I’ll call Charlie, have him come get me.” He crossed his arms, leaning casually against the kitchen counter, but the tension in his shoulders was unmistakable.
I’d hurt him, but I didn’t have time to worry about that. Snagging my keys, I tucked the entire interaction away for later. Once Cooper was home and we’d had a long talk, then I could unpack what had become one of the most bizarre days I’d ever experienced.
Because there was no way that one sharp word from me was enough to wound Hawk Jameson. The mere concept was laughable.
