A Safe Space (Someone Else's Fairytale Book 4) (26 page)

My heart breaks as I stand in line to check my bag. I don’t care who sees me cry.

I
SIT ON
my flight in a daze, neither fully asleep nor awake. When I turn on my cell phone in Hawaii, there’s a message from one of the producers of
Clues.
“Lizzie, hey, can you call us when you land? We need to figure out the shooting schedule here.”

Guilt wells up inside me as I call him back and get his voicemail. “Hi, it’s Lizzie. I’ve got no idea what the status is with my mom, but I will let you know as soon as I know. I’m really sorry about this.” Because every hour that I’m away, I’m costing the production crew valuable time.

When I arrive in Sydney sixteen hours later, there are messages from the producer again and Kyra.

“Hey, girl,” says Kyra. “I keep trying to reach you, but you’re on planes, so…duh. Anyway, just calling to let you know that if there’s anything you need, just ask. And I really hope they find your mom soon.”

I bite my lip, waiting for her to say something about Devon driving me to the airport, but she doesn’t.

“Take care, okay?” is the way she signs off.

“Lizzie,” says the producer. “Okay, I got your message about twenty minutes after your situation was broadcast on the national news. We’ve gotten calls for comment, of course, and we’ve just said that we support you. Everyone’s grateful for a little break anyhow, and we’ll figure out the rest of the season once we have more information. Take care, all right?”

A huge departure from his normal pushiness, but television is an expensive business, and despite his kind words, they can’t afford to do many reruns in our timeslot, not in our first season.

I stumble through customs and am grateful that no one seems to recognize me, despite the news of my mother being made public. Once I’m in the arrivals lounge, I make a few phone calls and then catch my connection to Alice Springs in the Northern Territory. The whole world is dreamy and unreal now. I haven’t slept in over twenty hours, but I manage to get on my flight and take my seat, where I promptly lose consciousness.

In Alice Springs, I’m met by the Northern Territory Police, two male officers in uniform who recognize me on sight. They must have daughters.

“Ms. Warner,” one of them greets me. “How was your trip?”

“You’re from New Zealand,” is my
ever
-so-intelligent reply.

He grins at that though. “You can tell the difference in the accent?”

Obviously. My mother’s Australian, so I know the accent well, but apparently I get all kinds of brownie points for it anyway.

“If you’ll come with us,” says the other man. “I’m Officer Burke. This is Officer Higgins.”

I follow them out to their waiting patrol car and climb in the back. The sun is shining and my body clock is so messed up that I’m not sure what time it would be in Orange County.

“Since you left America,” says Officer Burke while Officer Higgins drives, “we’ve found more scraps of clothing.”

“That does not sound good.”

“They may not be hers,” says Officer Higgins.

“We’ve got dogs on her trail,” says Officer Burke. “I think we’re closing in.”

I nod. “No infrared?”

“We’ll have a chopper with infrared within twenty-four hours. We had four missing people at once and we were using it to try to find two little children.”

I can’t argue with their priorities.

“Who were found,” says Officer Higgins, “in Canberra. Fabricated story by a kidnapper. Parent without custody.”

“At least they’re safe,” I say.

“If anyone can survive in the wilderness long term,” says Officer Burke, “it’s your mother. She’s got quite the survival skills.”

I nod. This is true. My mother can live off the land for weeks if she needs to. I just wonder why she ran off from her camp and never doubled back for supplies.

They drive me to the station, where they show me my mom’s phone in its clear evidence bag and pictures of where it was found lying on top of a sleeping bag inside a tent. A set of footprints leads away from the site, and that is comforting.

They show me pictures of her duffel bag full of clothes and food containers lying shredded on the ground, their contents eaten by animals. Her camp stove is set up and her warm jacket is slung over a nearby log. These pictures were taken at night, so everything’s illuminated with floodlights.

“No signs of anyone else,” says Officer Burke. “The dirt’s soft enough to take prints, and there were only hers. All these other ones you see in some of the pictures were us.”

I nod. “Okay.” I feel utterly helpless, like my day-long flight was an exercise in futility.

“Tomorrow, we can take you out to the search area,” says Officer Higgins. “If we haven’t found her by then. Meanwhile, you’re probably exhausted.”

“Yeah.”

“We’ll take you to your hotel, then.”

I get to my feet, and in that moment, I hate myself. All I’ve accomplished so far is to ditch my show and all the people who count on me for employment so that I can sit around in Alice Springs, being useless.

I arrive at my hotel, check in, and immediately go to bed, eager to escape reality again.

My phone ringing wakes me up. I grab it off my nightstand and croak, “Hello?” into the mouthpiece.

“Hi.”

My addled brain takes a moment to figure a few things out. First, it hits me that the voice is male. Then I notice that it doesn’t have any discernible accent.

“Devon?”

“Yeah, hi. Sorry if I woke you up. According to Google, it’s eight in the morning over there.”

With a start, I realize that the clock on the bedside table does say 8:00. “No, it’s fine. I’m jet-lagged is all.”

“Sure. So how are you?”

“I’m useless. That’s how I am. I’m just here, you know. Being…moral support I guess.” I wince. He calls me and I just
whine
at him? I’m too emotionally overstretched to hold it together.

“Can’t imagine what it’s like not knowing where she is.”

“Sorry to complain.”

“Well, whatever. I don’t mind.”

My heart lifts at that, and I want to bombard him with questions. Is there a chance for us? Does he like me? At the same time, I don’t want him to hang up, so I bite my tongue.

“How’re things back home?” I ask.

“Fine. Same. Nothing exciting going on.”

“What’s the…um… Is there news coverage about my situation?”

“Yeah, though I haven’t watched it. People know your show’s on a break and stuff. I guess it’s big news.”

“Well, hope it helps the show when I get back.”

“People will want to know how that whole hot-and-bothered stare down at the end of the last episode plays out.”

“Oh, well I can tell you—”

“I’m pretty sure I don’t want to hear it.”

“Sorry.”

“There anything you need?”

“I’m really glad you called.”

“Of course I did.”

I want so badly to believe that this is a sign that he’s okay with my declarations of love rather than his trying to keep us in friend mode.

“Anyway,” he says, “I’ll let you go. Good luck finding your mom.”

“Thanks.”

“Bye now.”

“Bye.”

I should get up immediately and call the police station, but I lie on my back a moment longer with my phone clasped to my chest. Just thinking about him causes a stabbing pain in my heart. I can’t understand why people rhapsodize about love as a happy occurrence. It hurts more than anything.

The police are pretty upbeat when I get to the station.

“The dogs had another good lead for a while, but trail went cold after two kilometers. She can’t have got too much farther. We’re doing an aerial search right now, and you’re welcome to ride along on one of the planes if you like?”

I nod even though I’m not sure what help I’ll be. An hour later, I’m in a small aircraft flying above the Australian outback. Brown desert dotted with scrub stretches as far as the eye can see, and the pilot tells me in a staticky voice over the radio when we pass over my mother’s camp, where we see a police vehicle parked just in case she returns there.

Then we fly on to where the dogs lost the trail, and there are just a couple of people stationed there, also in case she retraces her steps. We fly onward and there’s nothing but scrub and dirt. We’re a tiny speck in the endless sky and as I stare down at the harsh terrain, I can’t comprehend why my mother loved this place enough to risk her life in it. Then again, there’s a lot I’ve never understood about her.