The smoke burned her lungs, but she inhaled deeply, remembering the calming effect she used to get from nicotine. It'd been so long since she'd had a cigarette...She'd been nineteen and living with Johnny Ruzzo, a chain-smoker who grew so abusive she'd had to leave him for Samantha's sake.
"Of course," he said. "I'll call in sick if necessary." He glanced behind her at the house, where Anton was sleeping, and the resentment Zoe had been battling reared its ugly head again, only with a new face. How was it that Anton could sleep when this neighbor, who was virtually a stranger, was too rattled by Sam's disappearance to shut down for the night? Had Anton ever been there for her emotionally? Or had she been overlooking the characteristics she didn't like in order to maintain the idyllic life she'd been trying to achieve?
Her actions, his actions--it was all so confusing.
Colin shoved a hand through his curly hair. "Why wait till tomorrow?"
Zoe stiffened with his cigarette halfway to her mouth. "What'd you say?"
"You obviously can't sleep." He tapped his chest. "I can't, either. Let's go over to the copy place on Douglas and create the flyer. It's open twenty-four-hours."
"But--"
"That way, we'll be ready when everyone wakes up."
His words made sense to Zoe, provided her with an alternative to the agonizing wait. "You want to go with me?" she clarified.
"Of course."
"But it's so late. I can't expect you to--"
"Stop it." He dismissed her words. "I don't mind at all."
With a nod, Zoe returned his cigarette. She appreciated his take-charge, do it now attitude. Waiting endlessly while Anton slept was only making her crazy. "Okay," she said. "Let me grab my keys."
"No need." He took a final drag, dropped the cigarette on the concrete walkway and ground it out. Then he pulled his car keys from his jeans pocket and dangled them in front of her. "I'll drive."
Zoe tried not to imagine Anton's irritation at seeing a cigarette butt outside his door. "But I'll need Sam's picture and my purse--"
"Of course. You get what you need. I'll start the car."
As Zoe dashed into the house, gratitude for Colin's willingness to befriend her at her lowest moment evoked a sob of relief. "Thank God for neighbors," she muttered.
Colin sat next to Zoe at the bank of computers in the far corner of the copy shop. "Should we put anything else on it?" he asked.
Zoe stared at the flyer they'd created. Never would she have expected to find herself in the position of needing something like this. The experience of the past two days was surreal. And the camaraderie that'd sprung up between her and her lawyer neighbor enhanced the dreamlike effect. Prior to the past twenty minutes, she hadn't known Colin Bell beyond a passing wave and a few polite comments on the weather. Now she felt closer to him than to Anton.
"That's it." They'd included Sam's picture, her date of birth, her height and weight, a description of the swimsuit she'd been wearing, the date she'd gone missing and the place where she was last known to be, as well as contact information for the police and Zoe's cell-phone number. "Unless you think I should give my address, too," she said.
"No, that wouldn't be safe."
"I'm willing to do anything if it'll help."
"But you don't know what some mentally unstable person might do.
I've heard of a mother who received phone calls saying her daughter was still alive, only to find out later that the guy who took the girl murdered her almost instantly."
She winced. "You mean someone connected to the killer?" She could hardly say the word. She didn't want to think about what happened to most girls taken by a stranger.
"No, I mean unrelated parties."
"Who would harass a grieving mother?"
"You got me. But it happens, so be prepared. Giving out your cell-phone number is bad enough. You definitely don't want to reveal your address."
Feeling a release of tension for the first time since she'd realized her daughter had disappeared, Zoe leaned back. She should've come to the copy house earlier, before Anton went to bed. "Getting this finished...helps," she said with some satisfaction.
He grinned at her. "Too bad it takes a tragedy like this one for two neighbors to get acquainted, huh?"
She touched his forearm. "I can't thank you enough, Colin."
"You don't need to thank me." He covered her hand. "It's the least I can do."
Smiling, she pulled away and glanced at the clock cover on the wall.
There'd been one guy working on a project when they arrived, but he was gone. They were the only people in the place, besides the employee who'd been steadily feeding the commercial-size printers. "It's almost dawn," she said.
Colin got to his feet. "Then we'd better get these printed if we want to circulate them before everyone leaves for the day."
"What about your job?"
He hid a yawn. "I'd call in sick like I said, but I forgot that I have an important meeting. I'll pass out flyers, then go in to the office for a few hours."
"Taking a short day won't cause problems for you at the firm?"
He shrugged. "Are you kidding? They don't want to lose me."
"Too bad you have to go in at all. You'll be exhausted."
"I'll get by."
Sleep deprivation made Zoe swoon as she came to her feet, but Colin steadied her, an expression of concern on his face. "You okay?"
With a sigh, she nodded. She'd already survived being raped by a twenty-one-year-old when she was fifteen. That had been so traumatic she couldn't think of it without feeling ill. But she had Samantha because of it, so she couldn't entirely regret what she'd suffered.
"I'll be fine."
"You'll find her," he said.
She stopped him before he could walk away. "Do you really think so?"
"Of course." He gave her a quick hug. "And I'll do everything I can."
There'd been times in the past when she hadn't liked the way Colin looked at her. He seemed a little too appreciative, too aware of her as a woman, which made her uncomfortable. He had a wife. But she must've misjudged him, because he was the one who'd helped her through the most harrowing night of her life. Even last night hadn't been as bad. Last night she'd been able to convince herself that Sam's disappearance was a terrible mistake that would soon be made right. Now too much time had passed to believe that.
"Thanks again," she said.