Carol wasn’t at The Filling Station or Dunkin’ Donuts or Turning Leaves. The van wasn’t in any of the town lots or in front of Abby’s house. Mitch finally settled herself at the one tiny table in Loretta’s Bakeshop and staked out the bookstore. But after two hours, four cups of weak coffee, and a cruller Loretta had practically shoved down Mitch’s throat that had tasted like sugared cardboard, ten thirty came around without Carol showing up to work.
Mitch zipped up her jacket against the February cold for the walk to campus. Whenever the wind pushed her hair across her face, she could smell the chlorine still heavy in it. Her legs were leaden and balky—she didn’t want to find Brian in his office but had to try.
His closed door and the lack of answer to her knock gave her no relief. She s
