Николас Спаркс - The Return

“Of course you can sleep here,” I interrupted.

“Trevor…”

“Come here.” I stood from the bed, and rising slowly, she went into my arms. I held her for a long time before we both got into the bed. As I reached for the lamp to turn it out, I hesitated.

“Can I turn the light off, or do you want to talk some more?”

“You can turn it out,” she murmured.

I hit the switch and the room went dark. I rolled to face her, and saw only a vague shadow, but I caught the faintest whiff of perfume.

“I’m glad it’s dark,” she whispered. “I look terrible.”

“You’ve never been anything but beautiful.”

I felt her hand on my chest, then as it brushed my cheek. “I do love you, Trevor Benson. I want you to know that.”

“I know,” I said. “I love you, too.”

“Will you hold me?”

At her words, I drew my arms around her, letting her rest her head on my shoulder where I could feel the heat of her breath on my skin. As much as I longed to kiss her, I didn’t. More than anything, I wanted to ease the tiniest bit of her sadness and confusion, if only for a few hours.

She relaxed into me, her body molding itself to mine, a position both new and familiar at exactly the same time. Eventually I heard her breaths begin to slow, and I realized that she was sleeping.

But I stayed awake, knowing that this was the last time I would hold her this way. I wanted to savor the feeling, to make it last forever. I ached at the thought that I might never experience this particular bliss again.

Chapter 20

I woke as the early-dawn light began to seep under the curtains. Natalie was still asleep, and I slipped from the bed, trying not to wake her.

After pulling a clean shirt from my duffel bag, I put on my shoes and found my wallet, then crept from the room. The light from the hallway brightened the room momentarily as I opened the door, but Natalie didn’t stir. More sleep was exactly what she needed; I, on the other hand, needed coffee.

Breakfast would be served in an alcove just off the lobby. It was still too early for the food to be laid out, but luckily there was plenty of coffee available. I filled a foam cup and took a seat at one of the empty tables, my mind filled with bittersweet thoughts of Natalie.

I sipped my coffee, slowly coming back to life, and on a whim, pulled out my wallet and unfolded the note I’d written, transcribing my grandfather’s final words. Studying it once again, I was unable to escape the gnawing sensation that I was missing something important, something that had to do with Callie.

Trevor…help care…and…if you can…collapsed…sick…like Rose…find family…go to hell…and run away…love you…you came…now go…please

Rising from the table, I approached the front desk and asked if I could borrow a pen and pad of paper. Taking my seat again, I remembered the long pauses between words, and started with the assumption that he’d been trying to tell me something about Callie.

The instruction to run away , in hindsight, was clearly meant to describe Callie, as in runaway . Find family made sense as well. Since he’d spent time with Callie, sick like Rose and collapsed were also relatively easy to understand, especially if he’d seen something concerning.

But go to hell still made no sense. Neither did the word and before runaway . What if, however, the pauses were out of place? I whispered the phrases, sounding it out. Instead of go to hell … and run away , how about:

Go to Helen ? Runaway ?

My heart suddenly started to pound as I rewrote the last half of the note.

Collapsed. Sick like Rose. Find family. Go to Helen. Runaway. Love you. You came. Now go. Please.

Though it was impossible to know whether I was correct, it felt right. Despite what the police and sheriff had told me about runaways—or missing persons in general from the area—I knew my grandfather had been talking about Callie.

Why, then, hadn’t he mentioned her by name?

I continued to drink my coffee, turning my focus to the first part of the note, trying different reinterpretations. I finished one cup and poured myself another, running through the words, reordering the pauses, but never once could I come up with Callie, or anything even close. I’d think about it, then let my thoughts drift to Natalie again, then return my concentration to the task at hand.

Halfway through my third cup of coffee, I felt the emergence of a new idea and if I was correct, then everything in the note was startlingly clear.

While admitting that I might be wrong, I suddenly felt confident that I would have the answer before the morning was out.

* * *

“Hey,” Natalie said.

Lost in thought, I hadn’t seen her enter the alcove. Unlike me, she’d already showered, the ends of her hair still wet. Her eyes were bright, with none of the weariness I’d expected.

“Good morning.”

“You were up early. I didn’t hear you leave.”

“I’m like a mouse when I sneak away.”

“I’m going to get some yogurt. Do you want anything?”

“I can go with you.”

Good to her word, she selected a container of yogurt and prepared a cup of tea. I opted for eggs and bacon with a side of toast, giving myself a pass on my healthy diet.

Back at the table, we sat across from each other.

“Did you sleep well?” I asked.

“Like a baby,” she said with a sheepish air. “That was nice, last night. Thank you.”

“Please don’t thank me. That might ruin it.”

“Deal,” she said. “Did you find the schools in the area?”

“I did,” I said. “Before dinner.”

“Me too,” she said. “There aren’t too many, but they’re spread through the county. We’ll do a lot of driving today.”

“I want to go to the police station first. What time do you think the chief will be there?”

“Hard to say. Probably around eight. Why?”

“I’d rather not say until I know for sure. But it might make for less driving if I’m right.”

* * *

Having eaten, I went back to the room, showered, and packed up my things. After meeting in the lobby, we were in the car before the top of the hour.

At the station, we were again ushered into Robertson’s office. Because I hadn’t shared my thinking with Natalie, she was as curious about the visit as he was.

“I’m sure you’re not here for a social visit,” he began, “so what can I do for you?”

“I’m wondering how missing persons are categorized in Georgia,” I said. “Is there a statewide database?”

“There is and there isn’t. Missing persons reports are generally handled locally, so every police department has its own list. Sometimes, the GBI might be involved as well, and they do operate statewide.”

“GBI?”

“Georgia Bureau of Investigation,” he said. “Small communities can’t necessarily afford to have full-time detectives or investigators on staff, so when crimes are committed or people go missing outside of major cities, the GBI steps in. They have their own missing persons list.”

“So if you had a name, you could check if someone is missing?”

“Of course,” he said. “Missing persons are usually listed alphabetically, but some departments list them chronologically. Depending on the department, some of those lists are public.”

“What if you only have a first name?”

“That’s obviously a slower process, but it’s still possible. You’d have to look over the various lists yourself. Keep in mind that there are missing people in the books that go back more than ten years.”

“Would you be willing to check for us?”