“He didn’t send you any?”
“Nope. Not one.”
That was unusual.
For years, Sophie had collected her father’s ridiculous fishing photographs in an album she’d named Dad’s Dumb Fish.
There were pictures of bass, perch,
and one enormous pike Mark had talked about for months.
He never missed a year.
“He didn’t even answer my message Saturday,” Sophie continued. “He finally replied Sunday morning. Just said, ‘Love you, kiddo.’”
She hesitated.
“Is everything okay with him?”
My stomach tightened.
“Of course. He’s just tired.”
But after we ended the call, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
The missing photographs.
The missing jam.
The hurried hug.
The strange answers at dinner.
And the ring mark.
I opened Facebook.
Ray posted photographs of absolutely everything.
If a bird landed on his truck, Ray photographed it.
If he ordered breakfast, the whole internet knew what he’d eaten.
Surely there would be pictures from the fishing trip.
There were thirty-one.
I scrolled through them carefully.
The lake at sunrise.
Dave holding a fish.
Tommy asleep in a lawn chair.
Ray grinning beside a campfire.
But Mark appeared in only
two photographs.
In one, he sat at the back of the boat with his left hand tucked inside his jacket pocket.
In the other, the four men stood beside a campfire.
Mark had his right arm around Tommy.
His left hand was hidden behind his back.
I zoomed in.
Nothing.
Then I found a photograph taken Saturday morning.
Ray, Dave, and Tommy sat outside a café, smiling over plates of pancakes.
The sign behind them read:
THE GULL’S NEST — MARINA CAFÉ
I looked closely.
Three men.
Not four.
There were four breakfast plates on the table, however.
One appeared untouched.
I stared at that detail.
Mark had apparently ordered breakfast but wasn’t sitting with his friends.
Perhaps he’d gone to the restroom.
Perhaps he was collecting something from the car.
There were plenty of ordinary explanations.
But none explained the ring mark.
The Gull’s Nest had a telephone number listed
online.
I found it.
Then, before I could change my mind, I called.
A woman answered after several rings.
“Gull’s Nest. Carol speaking.”
“Hello, Carol. I’m wondering whether you could help me. My husband visited your café Saturday morning with a few friends. He thinks he might have left something behind.”
