Chapter Thirty-Two

Marie phoned Thursday morning, just as the aroma of fresh coffee was filling my kitchen. “I’ll be stopping by to see you shortly, if that’s okay.”

Her tone put me on high alert. “What’s going on? Has something happened?”

A brief pause. “There’s been a small development. I’ll be at your place in about fifteen minutes.”

“Wait! Can’t you tell me now?” But she had already hung up.

My pulse was racing. What could a “small development” mean? Was it good news or bad news? On impulse, I lit a fire in the fireplace to take the chill out of the air. The kindling had just begun to crackle when Marie rang the doorbell.

She came in, shedding her coat in the hallway. She bustled into the living room and held her hands out to the flames that were now shooting up. “It’s a good day for a fire.” Turning, she added, “I have a few things to tell you. Shall we sit here?”

She moved to one of the armchairs, seating herself and pulling out her notebook, nodding to the mug of coffee I set next to her. She had a kind, almost motherly manner that I found soothing.

“The first thing is that there’s been a possible sighting of Maddy.”

My breathing stopped.

“It’s not confirmed yet, so it may not lead to anything. But we got a call this morning from a woman who thinks she might have seen her in a coffee shop on Bank Street on Tuesday morning.”

I breathed again. “The morning after she disappeared?”

“Exactly. The caller didn’t pay a lot of attention at the time, but after she saw the news about Maddy being missing, she thought that a girl she’d seen in the coffee shop might have been her.”

My spirits dropped; nothing certain. “Do you think it really was Maddy?”

“I spoke to the woman myself. She thinks the girl looked like Maddy. She’s certain it was Tuesday morning, because she and a friend meet there for coffee every Tuesday. But they were in a conversation, not watching people in the room. So she didn’t notice if there was someone else with the girl, or how long she was there.”

I didn’t know what to think. “So…”

“There’s not a lot we can follow up from that, so you might think it’s not useful information.”

That’s what I was thinking.

“But if it was Maddy, it does tell us a couple of things. First, she was still in Ottawa that morning—so she wasn’t taken out of the city overnight.” She shifted in her chair, her eyes on me. “And it tells us that she made it through the night without freezing and was warm and possibly getting something to eat on Tuesday morning.”

My heart lifted. “Right. That would be a relief. It was awfully cold Monday night.”

“So, assuming it was her, it means she must have found somewhere to take shelter. Maybe with other homeless youth— that’s why we’ve been questioning in those circles. She could have gone to the coffee shop with one of them.”

I hated the way she said “found somewhere” and “other homeless youth.” Thinking of Maddy in those terms turned my stomach.

“Listen,” I said. “She ran away—I accept that. And she might have been okay Tuesday morning, if it was actually Maddy that woman saw. But it’s now two days later. Who knows what’s happened in the meantime? Somebody could have grabbed her…”

Marie rested her hand on my arm. “Don’t let yourself dwell on bad things. She may have found shelter with someone who thinks they’re helping her.”

I shook her off. “That’s still not okay. It can’t be legal to hide a runaway.”

“No, it’s not. Concealing or harboring a minor is a crime. And she’s under fourteen, so just keeping her away from the control of her parent or legal guardian is illegal, regardless of whether she consented or not.”

“And what if—”

“The main thing now is to find her.”

I nodded. Of course.

Marie continued. “We’ve been checking her social media accounts, but she hasn’t posted anything since she disappeared. And we keep trying to get a location on her cellphone, but so far no luck. Apparently she hasn’t found a way to charge her phone.”

I picked up the poker to stoke the fire, rearranging the logs so they’d burn more steadily. Despite the radiating heat, I shivered.

****

Local CTV journalist Karen Dijksma arrived at my house an hour later along with a cameraman. She was dressed casually, in jeans and a gray turtleneck, her hair pulled back in a clasp.

While the cameraman was setting up his video camera and tripod in the living room, she sat down with me at the kitchen table. “We’ll broadcast this later today, along with coverage from the police press conference,” she said. “We hope the coverage will help, that it’ll alert people to watch for Maddy.”

I fervently hoped so too. “Do I look okay?” I asked. I had tried to dress simply for the taping, a pale blue pullover and black slacks; supposedly solid colors work better on TV. I’d brushed my hair back and put on a little lipstick.

Karen patted my hand. “You look fine. Very appropriate.”

My stomach tightened. “How’ll we do this? Will you be asking me questions?”

“No. You should speak directly to the camera. That way, whoever is watching will feel like you’re speaking to them.”

“I’m not sure what I should say.” I’d been trying to rehearse in my mind, but everything felt wrong.

“Just relax. Speak naturally, from your heart. You’re talking to Maddy, and to people in the public who you hope will help find her.” She stood up. “And don’t worry about being perfect. We can do multiple takes.”

Seated in front of the camera, I was awkward at first, stumbling over my words and repeating myself.

After a few tries, though, I figured out what I wanted to say, and the words flowed more smoothly. “Maddy, I miss you terribly. I love you, and I want you home very much. Home isn’t the same without you. I’m very worried about you, and I need to know you’re safe. Oscar and I are waiting for you at home.”

The first time I mentioned Oscar, Karen raised her eyebrows questioningly. “Our cat. Maddy loves him.” Karen nodded, and he stayed in the final version.

“I hope everyone who sees this video will watch for Maddy. We need your help to find her. She’s only twelve, and she’s been missing since Monday night. She needs to be home with me. If you see her or know of anything that could lead us to her, please contact the Ottawa Police right away.”

Finally Karen seemed satisfied and let the cameraman know he could pack up. “That’s great. You were choked up in the middle that time, and that was good too.”

“I couldn’t help it. I thought you’d do another retake.”

“It’s fine the way it is. People know you’re upset. I’m glad you didn’t control it too much.” She picked up her belongings. “The interview will be part of our suppertime news show today.”