Free Little Girl Gone by Brett Battles Page B

sorry,” Logan said, cutting off the voice that answered. “Wrong number.”
    He sat back down, and set the phone on the table, making sure his dad knew how easy it would be for him to pick it up and call again.
    “Give me three minutes,” Harp said, then stood up. “I need to talk to Tooney. He really should be the one to tell you.”
    “Dad…”
    His father held up his hands to stop Logan from saying anything more. “If he doesn’t, I will. Okay?”
    Logan hesitated, then nodded. “Okay.”
    It took him five minutes, not three. When he returned, the whole group was with him, each carrying a cup of coffee, Jerry with an additional bowl of fries in his other hand.
    Harp and Tooney were the only ones who came over to Logan’s table. Barney and Jerry grabbed a table at the other side of the patio, while the marines all remained standing, covering the edge along the street.
    Logan’s dad had brought out two cups of coffee. He set one in front of Logan, then sat in the same chair he’d been in before. Reluctantly, Tooney took the chair next to him.
    Instead of waiting, Logan decided to start. “I know this is difficult, but unless you convince me otherwise, I can’t just sit here and do nothing. I hope you understand.”
    Tooney gave him a humorless smile. “Of course, I understand. But, please, can’t you just trust me?”
    “It’s not a matter of trust. I believe you think you’re doing the right thing, but when it’s someone close to you who’s in danger, people often don’t think straight. If your granddaughter’s in trouble, we need to get help.”
    “If we do that, she is as good as dead.”
    “Yeah. Dad said the same thing, but you can’t know that for sure.”
    Tooney’s shoulders moved up and down as he took in a deep breath. “I can.”
    “How?”
    Tooney gave Logan’s dad a pained look as if he were hoping there was some way he could be spared from having to say anything more.
    “Tell him,” Harp said. “That can’t hurt her.”
     Tooney carefully touched his hand to his bruised face. “But what if even after I do he does call the police?”
    “He won’t. I promise.”
    “But what if he does?”
    Harp looked at his son. “Then he’s not the man I thought he was.”
    Logan let that one pass. He knew his dad was trying to guilt him into cooperating, but there was potential guilt on the other side, too, the guilt of inaction if it turned out a phone call could have saved the girl.
    Tooney didn’t move for several seconds. Finally, he lifted his head, and looked Logan in the eye. “I was one of the lucky ones.”
     

 
     
    14
     
    “You know that I am from Burma, yes?” Tooney said.
    Logan nodded.
    Tooney’s gaze grew distant, lost in a memory. Finally, he looked back at Logan. “When I escaped, I was able to bring most of my family with me. Many were not so blessed. My younger sister, my brother, my wife, my two daughters, we were all together. The only ones who could not come were my father and my older sister. He too old to travel, so she stay to take care of him.” He paused again, but only briefly. “It was not easy to leave without them, but we had no choice. My wife had been… vocal in her concerns about the government. One day we were warned by a friend that soldiers would be coming for us that night, so we knew it was time to go.” He shook his head. “Thirty minutes after they tell us this, we gone. The only things we bring were clothes and food. Everything else we leave behind. All memories of our life.
    “Friends hid us in cars and drove us into the jungle in the hills to the east. From there we walk for five days, hiding when we hear patrols, until we cross into Thailand. This was 1984. Already there were refugee camps along the border with thousands of other Burmese. We were just six more.
    “Then, for a second time, we were lucky. We stayed in camp for only one year. A church in San Luis Obispo sponsored our whole family. That’s how we got out of