Kilt at the Highland Games by Kaitlyn Dunnett

another for a day or two at a time.”
    Liss did know Boxer. Her cousin was mature for his age, even if he was something of a wiseass. “Did he come by to see you at the hotel after he got off work?”
    Margaret shook her head. “That’s what worries me. I don’t know where he’s gotten to. His mother hasn’t seen him, either. I called her again just before I came here.”
    â€œMaybe we should hope he does know where to look for Beth. Even now, he could be bringing the whole family back to Moosetookalook.”
    â€œFrom your mouth to God’s ear.” Margaret glanced at the wall clock and sighed. “I’d better get a move on. I don’t want to face the board of selectmen on an empty stomach. I’ll collect you on my way there. According to Francine, they plan to meet in the municipal building at seven.”
    * * *
    Sherri Campbell jumped when someone banged on the locked outer door of Moosetookalook’s police station. Officially, she wasn’t on duty. The officer who was had been sent to stand guard over the scene of the fire. In an emergency, he’d be the obvious choice to approach. As for Sherri, she’d only stayed late to catch up on paperwork. She’d been about to call it a day.
    Two battered, army-surplus-style desks, two swivel chairs, an antiquated metal file cabinet, a side table holding a coffeepot and all the fixings, and a couple of plastic chairs for visitors had been crammed into the tiny office. Weaving her way through this obstacle course, she passed the door to the closet-sized holding cell, currently unoccupied, moved at a more rapid pace through what passed for a waiting area, and unlocked the door.
    Liss MacCrimmon’s cousin Boxer stood in the hallway on the other side, his fist raised to pound again. “Where is she?” he demanded. “Where’s Beth?”
    Hearing the anguish in his voice, Sherri took his arm and pulled him inside. Poor kid. At his age, every little setback was a crisis. When a real disaster came along, it must seem like the end of the world.
    â€œNo one was caught in the fire.” She eased him into one of the red plastic chairs in the outer room and swung a second one around so she could sit facing him. “Wherever Beth is, she’s safe.”
    He turned his head away from her, raking one hand through a mop of unruly reddish brown hair. His choked voice hinted at barely repressed tears. “You can’t be sure of that.”
    Sherri’s heart went out to him. She had to fight an urge to take him in her arms and give him a comforting hug. That would have been a bad idea even if he was still the skinny preteen he’d been when she first met him. Back then he’d been all awkward angles and seething rebellion. These days he was a good eight or nine inches taller than she was. His summer job as a stock boy had honed ropey muscles and given him a new maturity. There might even be the tiniest hint of a mustache on his upper lip.
    â€œBoxer, when did you last see Beth?”
    Again he raked his fingers through his hair. His plain, square face was a mask of misery. “We went to a movie the middle of last week on my day off. Then Sunday we sat together in church and hung out afterward.”
    â€œNot since then?”
    He shook his head. “I know Fallstown is only a twenty-minute drive, but I’m usually pretty beat by the time I get home, and Beth works hard, too.”
    â€œIn the bookstore?”
    He nodded. “For her mother. We don’t often have the same days off, and both of us work a lot of weekends.”
    â€œSo you haven’t crossed paths since Sunday?”
    He shook his head.
    â€œWhat about talking on the phone? Do you e-mail or text each other?”
    Boxer didn’t answer at once. His emotions were so raw that it hurt Sherri to watch him. Even the simplest, most routine question was a painful reminder that Beth had vanished into thin