Chapter Twenty-One

The woman behind the counter at Blue Skies Airline looked as though she’d been up for hours, even though it was only just after seven a.m. Her hair was pulled into a neat bun at the nape of her neck, and her uniform was starched and wrinkle-free. She pecked at the keyboard in front of her like an impatient bird gobbling every available breakfast breadcrumb.

Mackenzie prayed this last airline would have something available. The woman looked up at Mac after examining her screen and said, “I’m sorry, but that first flight and every one after is completely booked.”

“You have got to be kidding me?” Mac gasped, more to herself than the lady. “What am I going to do?” She glanced up and realized the agent was going to think she was a big pain in her butt and shoo her along. Mackenzie cleared her throat and stood up straight. “Look, there’s an emergency at home and I really have to get there. Please, isn’t there some single seat, somewhere?

The agent’s expression softened a bit and she checked her screen once more, clicking and waiting, and clicking some more. Without looking up said, “You understand, it’s a holiday.” She continued clicking her keys and added, “Everyone has their own little emergencies.” She looked up at Mac, her perfect eyebrows raised, probably thinking that everything was urgent when you’re a teenager.

Mac tried to look serious and mature, despite the fact that she hadn’t showered in what felt like weeks and was wearing her kit shammy that had BIKE GEEKS emblazoned across the chest. “I do understand that, yes,” she replied. She wanted to scream at the woman.

The clerk seemed satisfied and looked back at her computer. “There is one seat left on the second flight out, at nine o’clock this morning. However,” she paused and clicked more keys, “it’s in business class.”

“How much is that ticket?”

“That would be $970.” When she saw all the color go out of Mackenzie’s face, she added, “But that’s including all airport taxes and fees.” When Mac still didn’t respond, the agent said, “I suggest you make a decision, since this is the last seat available, it could be snapped up at another counter.” She tapped her long, manicured nail on the edge of the keyboard. “Or online. At any minute.”

Tap tap tap.

Of course she’d spend almost $1000 on a plane ticket to save Lily.

How could she not?

Mackenzie paid the woman, and went through security and on to her gate. Her stomach rumbled, but since she was worried about her budget, she limited herself to an orange, looking longingly at the $7 croissant behind the glass at the food stand.

Her hands still smelled like citrus by the time her flight was called. She got in line and waited while the passengers ahead of her boarded. It was a small plane, and they were taking everyone’s carry-on luggage and loading it below. Mac got worried, since she had wads of cash hidden all over her pack. If they took it, how was she going to fish out all the money without everyone seeing?

She stepped up and before she handed her ticket to the attendant, the woman said, “I’m sorry, Miss, you’ll have to—” she stopped as she read the ticket. “Why don’t you give me that pack and I’ll put it in the closet right up front?”

Going Business Class clearly had its perks, Mac decided. She settled in the second row and fell asleep before the plane left the ground. Mackenzie didn’t wake up until all the passengers had disembarked, and the flight attendant was shaking her shoulder. She rose up from the depths of a deep, deep sleep. She did not want to wake up and face her day.

Mac slogged through the airport, holiday travelers rushing past her in both directions, trying to get to the nearest beach or pool, and fast. She understood why after she left the air-conditioned sanctuary of the terminal. As the automatic double doors opened, a whoosh of hot air hit her, and she felt like she’d walked into a solid wall.

Plodding over to the taxi stand, she glanced at the bus waiting to leave for Westchester County and the giant sign that announced the cheap $42 fare and the millions of stops it’d make. Mac looked away. She needed to get home as fast as possible, and couldn’t risk getting there after they’d left for the Cape. She got into an air-conditioned cab, and sighed with relief. It seemed everyone must’ve gotten to their barbecues or beach spots early, because the Whitestone Bridge was clear. The parkway traffic wasn’t too bad either, and they made it to Wheaton in record time. Ninety minutes after deplaning, the cab left Mackenzie standing in front of her house, wondering how the hell she was going to save Lily.

She went to the front door and turned the knob. Locked. She walked to the kitchen entrance, but that was locked too. Leaning down to the fake rock that hid the spare key, she could feel her heart pounding. She was scared, but she also realized it was a different kind of fear.

She wasn’t scared for herself, or what her father could do to her. And she knew she’d fucking kill him if she found him with Lily. She wasn’t scared about that at all.

She was terrified that she hadn’t been paying attention, and she was the reason he had gotten to Lily. She could have so easily prevented it! How self-involved and selfish would she have to be to not even notice her father visiting Lily’s room at night? There’s just no way she would’ve ever let that happen to Lily. Was there still a chance she was wrong?

Mackenzie slid the key into the door, her stomach flipping over and over. She took a deep, steadying breath, squared her shoulders, and walked in.

“Hello?” she called, dropping her pack on the floor. “Anyone home?”

No answer. The house felt empty, closed up, with everything put away and shut down. Mackenzie felt her stomach lurch again. They couldn’t have left yet. Not yet. Please, no.

Trotting back out the kitchen door, she cupped her hands around her eyes and peered in through the garage window. It was empty.

Mac felt her panic build. She tried to convince herself they hadn’t left. They probably just went to the market, loading up for the ride.

She punched in the code on the keypad and rocked from side to side as the giant door took its time opening. She rushed to the cabinets where they stored all the summer gear. One by one, she flung the doors wide to find the goggles and fins missing. The beach toys were gone. The towels had been cleared out.

Her trot became a run as she rocketed back into the house and took the stairs two at a time, frantically looking in all the bedrooms for any sign that they hadn’t left. Mackenzie scanned Lily’s room, and stopped at her bed.

The Brat went nowhere without her ratty old blankie. The spot she kept it was empty. Mac went downstairs, her mind whirling. She would have to get to the Cape. Before that night. Before Lily’s bedtime.

She ran to her room and pulled her top dresser drawer open so fast it almost came off the roller and fell to the floor. Her phone was buried at the bottom under her socks. Dead. She grabbed her charger and ran back downstairs trying to figure out how she could possibly get herself to Cape Cod.

By bike? Her old one wasn’t ready for a long trip, and besides, it was way too far to ride, particularly by nightfall. Train? She rushed to the phone and called Amtrak, but the trains only went as far as Boston, and then she’d still have to find a way out to the Cape. And forget about the bus. It would never get her there in time.

Mac checked her phone. Plugged in there was enough juice to make a call. At least she could try to call Barb. Maybe at least see if she were with Lily and not in Canada. But just as Mac almost pressed the send key she realized if she didn’t reach Barb she couldn’t leave a message—that would only worry Barb more. And then she’d see the missed call and wonder what was going on. She knew Mackenzie didn’t have her phone on the trip with her. Mac would just have get to the Cape and then call or wait to find out if Barb was there or not. She couldn’t even try to call her until she was at least closer.

She sat down on the floor, and dragged her pack over. The skin on the backs of her hands scraped as she quickly dug in and out of all the mesh pockets, zippered compartments and hiding places she’d stashed all the money. She counted what was left and got out the phone book and dialed the local cab company.

“Chello?” The man who answered sounded as though he were clearing his throat, instead of greeting a caller.

“Is this the Westchester Cab Company?” Mackenzie asked.

“Jes. Meh I help you?”

“I need a cab to go to Cape Cod.”

“Kep Cot? Where dis is?”

“In Massachusetts. You know, Cape Cod?” Mackenzie’s patience was threadbare.

“Ah, different state,” the man said. “Then we do it by mile. Two dollar, fifty cent for a mile.”

Mackenzie threw her head back and closed her eyes. It was definitely over 250 miles to their beach house. She went to the pantry to see what she could scrounge together for the long drive.