The Running Girls(24)
When she did arrive at the house, it was Tilly who answered once again. One of Laurie’s colleagues had interviewed Tilly’s father, but seeing the girl had spent the night at the Harrington house again, it made Laurie want to speak to the man herself. Tilly was seventeen, and again it struck Laurie as odd that she wouldn’t spend the night with her own family during such a turbulent period.
It didn’t take long for Laurie to realize that things had taken a turn for the worse between Sandra and Glen. Glen was his usual sullen self as Laurie walked into the kitchen, but Sandra’s eyes were red from crying. Not that this was such a surprise. The ordeal parents in situations like this went through was unimaginable to most people. It would either destroy or strengthen the Harringtons’ relationship, and with what Laurie had so far witnessed of the pair, her money was firmly on the former.
“You OK?” she mouthed to Sandra, as she took the offered cup of coffee from her.
Sandra nodded but Laurie could see she was on the verge of breaking down in tears again. Now wasn’t the time to prep the couple for the press conference. It was enough to be there for now, and Laurie quietly sipped her coffee and waited to be asked any questions.
“You not going into school today?” Sandra asked Tilly, as Grace’s girlfriend joined them in the kitchen.
“I thought I’d be of more use here,” said Tilly, glancing at Laurie for support.
Laurie shrugged, not willing to get involved.
“You’d be more useful going in and quizzing your friends,” said Glen, speaking for the first time since Laurie had arrived.
“You leave her alone,” said Sandra, her hand shaking as she filled a plate with freshly made pancakes from the pan.
It was another thirty minutes before Laurie began prepping the parents for the upcoming ordeal of speaking in front of the press. Grace’s disappearance was already big news locally, and a number of state, and possibly national, outlets would be present at the news conference. “The more we get Grace’s picture out there, the more chance we have of finding her,” she told them, Sandra nodding noncommittally. What Laurie refrained from telling them was how much bullshit they would have to trawl through to find anything of use. Public appeals like this always brought out the crazies, and by that night they would have unreliable sightings of Grace nationwide, but Laurie was convinced it was the right way forward. All it would take would be the slightest lead, a sighting that rang true, and they could be in business.
When she’d finished with them, Sandra walked her to the door and stood outside with her as she lit a cigarette.
“We’ll see you both at the station shortly?” Laurie asked.
The breeze was up once more and Sandra’s long hair fluttered behind her as she sucked on her cigarette, the lines on her face momentarily aging her. Laurie felt small and inconsequential next to the woman. Sandra was much taller, and up close to her, Laurie felt more like Tilly than the lead detective on the case.
“Of course we will,” said Sandra, taking another drag, squirming as if she was inhaling poison.
Sandra remained outside the house as Laurie walked away, Laurie catching a final glance of her imposing figure as she rounded the corner: her long legs and flowing hair, the serene way she gazed out into the distance. Laurie imagined it was the way Rebecca Whitehead would look visiting the viewing platform at the refinery, as all the male workers vied for her attention. She wondered if she was onsite now, if she’d seen David at breakfast that morning, if they’d purposely ignored each other so as not to attract attention.
Arriving back at her car, she tried to shake the feelings of jealousy. She was sure she was projecting something that wasn’t there, and had to admit part of her was succumbing to fantasy. How much easier it would be if David was having an affair. It would give them both a way out, a chance to start again. She wasn’t sure if that was what she really wanted, but it was proving to be too much of a distraction. What she really needed to do was go for a run, and she regretted not having done so that morning. Restlessness crept over her body, and she couldn’t clear her mind. The interconnectedness of the troubled relationships—the Harringtons; Grace, Tilly, and Mia; Frank, Annie, and David; and her own struggles with David—played through her head, as if they could possibly have any relevance to one another. It was ludicrous, of course. Relationships broke down all the time and nothing about her or the people she knew made them any different. But she couldn’t shake it.
She thought about Frank and Annie arguing that awful day sixteen years ago—maybe it had been over Maurice?—and what could possibly have triggered a rage blinding enough for seemingly gentle Frank to take his wife’s life in such a savage way. That led to thoughts of her and David, the more passive uneasiness they’d endured since Milly’s death. She even briefly wondered if David had the same latent temper as his father, before shutting her eyes and hating herself for ever thinking such a thing.
That didn’t stop her from heading out toward Frank Randall’s place. David had accused her of being fixated on the past, and if he knew she was headed back to his father’s house, it would only cement that opinion of her, but still she kept driving.
Galveston was at its windswept best as she drove past the seawall, the waves up, the dark clouds hovering close to the gulf. The sensible thing would be to turn back toward the station, but she couldn’t fight the desire she had to see Frank Randall again, as if some sort of answer lay in his presence.