Chapter 12: One Hour

In the morning the spare room was empty.

The bed was made, with the corners tucked the way I had taught her.

On the pillow lay a folded note.

"I'm sorry. I'll tell you everything, I promise."

"I just need to know you'll still be there when I do. Please don't let him find me. L."

I read it standing in the doorway, with my father behind me in his undershirt.

"She took the bus," he said. "The neighbors saw her at six."

"Where would she go?"

"I don't know, Clara. I'm not sure she does."

I folded the note and put it in my pocket.

I did not call after her.

I was so angry I could taste it, and under the anger, much further down, there was something that felt like fear for her.

I hated that.

Miles had slept on my father's couch, with the paternity forms spread over his chest.

He sat up when he saw my face.

"She's gone."

"I know. I'll find her."

"Not today you won't. Today I'm going to the Harbor Inn."

He did not ask why.

He just said, "Do you want me to come?"

"No."

"All right. I'll be at the car."

"Miles."

"Yes?"

"I need you to think about who has the power to move her around like this."

"I need you to think about your own house."

His jaw tightened.

"I've been thinking about nothing else since two this morning."

The Harbor Inn was a grey clapboard building at the end of the river road.

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