The Parent Trap(53)

And the one time out of ten? Jon thought. He could tell Sarah was thinking the same thing.

“Are you sure?” Sarah asked. “I feel as though—”

“I’m sure. I’ll call as soon as we know anything. Just hang tight, okay?”

“Sure,” Sarah said, with absolutely no conviction whatsoever.

For a minute or two after the call ended, they stood and stared at each other. Now what? Should he stay? Better question, would she let him? He hoped so. He’d hate to go home and wait alone.

The dog tore through the kitchen and jumped against the sliding door to the deck, his front paws going at the glass like a windmill. That could only mean one thing.

“Oh, Petey. That girl promised to look after you.”

“Why don’t you take him out while I...I mean, if you like, I could fix us both something to eat.”

She pulled a leash from a basket by the door and clipped it to the dog’s collar before she replied. “I don’t have much here. I’d planned to pick up Casey at the soccer field and grab a bite before we came home.”

“I can fix something at my place and you can join me after Petey’s taken care of business.”

She hesitated.

“Come on, Sarah. You have to eat something.”

“I know. But I don’t want to leave this little guy on his own, he’s already spent all day in his crate, and if Casey comes home...”

“Fair enough.” He crouched down and scratched the energetic little mutt behind the ears. “I’ll fix something at my place and bring it back here.”

Her nod was less than enthusiastic.

He stood his ground. “I know I’m not your favorite person in the world right now, but our girls are out there, somewhere, and it seems pretty certain they’re together. Waiting to hear they’re okay isn’t going to be easy. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to wait alone.”

“I don’t, either. I’m sorry. I just never thought something like this could happen, not with Casey. She’s a good kid.”

Unlike his kid who was, at best, a handful. He reached out, touched Sarah’s shoulder, wished there was something he could do other than offer to make a meal, knowing he was lucky if she let him do that much for her. On the positive side, she didn’t pull away, at least not right away, and not until the dog reminded her that the situation was now a code red.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Petey.” She unlatched the door and slid it open. “Let’s go.”

Jon followed her outside and down the stairs to her backyard. “I’ll be back in ten.”

He managed to make it back in fifteen minutes, balancing a plate of sandwiches—bacon, tomato and avocado—in one hand, a bag of potato chips tucked under his arm, and the fingers of his other hand curled around the tops of two bottles of sparkling water. While at home, he had tried calling Kate again and his call went straight to voice mail, just as before. Where was she, and better question, why had she turned off her phone? Sarah told the RCMP constable that Casey’s phone rang half a dozen times before going to voice mail. That meant Casey’s phone was on and she wasn’t picking up, and Kate’s phone was off. None of this made sense, and he was going to make himself crazy trying to figure it out.

“Thank you for doing this,” Sarah said, far more graciously than he deserved. “There are glasses and plates in the cupboard next to the microwave. Napkins in the drawer right below it.” She peeked at her phone, clearly willing there to be a text message from her daughter. He knew that’s what she was doing because he’d been doing the same thing. “Come on, Petey. Let’s get you some dinner, too.”

A well-understood word in the dog’s vocabulary, judging by the way he danced on his hind legs. While Sarah scooped kibble into his dish, Jon plated sandwiches, poured drinks, dumped chips into a bowl.

“Would you like to eat in here?” he asked.

“No, let’s sit in the living room.” She tucked her phone into the back pocket of her jeans, picked up a plate and a glass, and led the way. “The sandwiches look delicious.”

“I hope you like bacon.”

“Everybody likes bacon.” For the first time since this afternoon, she gave him a genuine smile as she settled onto one end of the sofa.

Kate didn’t, now that she’d become a vegetarian, and now he wished he hadn’t let it bother him so much. He sat on the other end of the sofa, and they both set their phones on the coffee table, checking for missed calls or messages as they did.

“The bread is great,” Sarah said. “Did you bake it?”