Free Alien Taste by Wen Spencer Page B

to someone, and that becomes their focus. We wanted a child so much—”
    She laughed and hugged him tight. “My Mowgli,” she whispered, rocking him. “At first I figured that if someone was careless enough to lose you, then I deserved to keep you as your finder. But then we had Cally. Raising an infant changes you. You see things so differently. I started to have nightmares that we went camping and we would wake up in the middle of the night and Cally would be gone.”
    She had never told him this before. He held silent beside her, afraid to talk, to break the confession.
    â€œI knew that I would never, ever stop looking for Cally if I lost her, not to the day I died. I realized then your mother and father might still be looking for you, never giving up hope. So I hired a private detective.”
    A memory clicked into the framework of her story. The Cherokee pulling up to the house for the first time. Max, then a mysterious, tall, lean stranger, getting out and scanning the front yard with new eyes. That long summer evening, sitting in the tree house with Max, answering one odd question after another. Have you ever lived in another house? Do you remember eating cookies when you were little? When you were little, did you watch television? “You hired Max.”
    She laughed softly. “Yeah, Bennett Detective Agency. I picked Max because of his yellow page ad. It said ‘Specializing in Missing Persons.’ Odd how little decisions become so important later on.”
    He recalled those first meetings with Max. Max had tried every angle to dredge up information. Ukiah only remembered then what he remembered now—the endless seasons of running with the wolves. Any previous time he had ever spent with humans, however long or short, was gone.
    â€œDid he go to Oregon?” Even as Ukiah asked, he knew Max would have gone. Max loved to dig until he found the hidden truth. He would have searched missing-persons databases, using age progression/regression photos with pattern matching algorithms. When electronic means failed, Max would have visited every police station in Oregon, reviewed old regional newspapers, and talked to every local who would chat. He might have even hacked spy satellites and searched the park itself from orbit—looking for what, only God knew. “Did he find anything?”
    â€œNo.” She breathed, as if she knew how much he wanted her to say yes. “No one ever reported a child matching your description missing in the United States or Canada.”
    Why wouldn’t his parents make a report? It occurred to him that perhaps they were dead. A scenario unfolded in his mind. A car accident on a deserted road. The parents killed instantly. A young child—a toddler? an older child with a head wound?—wanders off. When the car was found with the dead parents, would anyone realize that a child was missing?
    It was too horrible to bear. Things like that don’t happen. But he knew they did. It had happened to Max, who came home from a business trip to find hisnew house mysteriously empty, his beloved beautiful wife gone forever, her body not found until months later.
    He hugged Mom Jo tight, trying to drive away the nightmarish thoughts.
    Mom Jo patted his back. “It doesn’t matter, though. It only means that you’re mine forever. I’ll never have to give you up to someone else. At least, till you get married.”
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    As usual, Max was slightly late for breakfast as he spent half an hour in the guest room making phone calls on his wireless phone. He came down the steps as he finished up the last call.
    â€œWe’ll be by later to pick it up. Bye.”
    â€œMy bike’s done?” Ukiah guessed.
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œPancakes, Max?” Mom Lara asked, flipping the last ones off the griddle.
    â€œYes, thank you.” Max settled down into one of the kitchen chairs as Mom Lara set a stack of pancakes before