black bangs are speckled with dandruff.
âFrom the little girl?â the woman insists. âDid she leave anything behind?â
I have no idea how she knows I was the one who found her, that she is mine. It renders me speechless, and I shake my head, no, no .
âI saw you on the news,â she says, answering my unasked question.
Of course. How stupid of me.
She clutches a tattered hanky. And I wonder if this is some odd talisman she carries, or perhaps just some sort of prop. Then she sneezes loudly, violently into it, and I realize that itâs neither. âAllergies,â she explains.
âLieutenant?â I say, shaking my head as if to clear it. âI was hoping I could talk to you for a minute?â I am trying to be polite, trying the honey-versus-vinegar approach with this particular fly.
âSure, what is it?â
âHas anyone called in about her yet? Her mom and dad?â I ask.
He looks at me and shakes his head. âNo MPR,â he says.
Every time he speaks to me, he seems increasingly more leery and frustrated.
âWeâll keep looking, but if a report of a missing kid doesnât come in soon, if we donât pick up on something, weâre going to have to assume the report was false.â
âFalse?â
âThat you were mistaken, maâam. About what you saw.â
âI saw her,â I say. âJesus.â
I look around for support. For someone to help me out. But Jake is in the car, nose buried in a manuscript.
â They believe me,â I say, motioning to the crowd of people in the road, to the army of horses and neighbors and even to the psychic who is still blowing her nose. âIf you give up on this, theyâll be furious with you. With the entire police department.â
âOr,â he says. âThey will be furious with you . Out-of-towner getting the locals upset with a false report.â He is threatening me.
âIâm from here,â I repeat. âI grew up here. This is my home too.â
âWell,â he says snidely. âWelcome home.â
I look to the group of neighbors in the road as though they will rally behind me. As if I can summon them, evoke an uprising with a single glance. But they are strangers. They donât know me. To them I am just some flatlander. What they care about is the little girl. She is one of them, she belongs to them now.
I remember why I came then, but just as Iâm about to tell him about the guy in the landscaping truck, the radio at his hip goes off.
Again, the muffled scratchy voices speak in code.
âExcuse me,â he says before I get a chance to speak, and he walks away, leaving me with the psychic.
âI see water,â she says, her eyes closed.
I roll my eyes. I see water too. Thereâs a freaking lake right in front of us.
âThereâs so much red,â she says ominously, eyes fluttering. And then her eyes shoot open wide. â Underground .â
âIâm sorry,â I say. âI need to go.â
Andrews is sitting inside his cruiser now, speaking into his radio. I think about interrupting, tapping on his glass. But I can already imagine how pissed off heâd be at me for disturbing him. Better to stay on his good side. Iâll just come back later. Iâm pretty sure the guy in the truck didnât see anything anyway. Sheâd already slipped into the woods by the time he blew past me.
I walk back to the car. Jake has stopped reading the manuscript he brought with him and is thumbing through Charlieâs file. Heâs got at least a half a dozen editors who are vying for Charlieâs book. It could be the biggest deal heâs made in his career. He barely notices as I get in the passenger side and sit down. My presence barely registers. Sometimes, lately, I feel like I am only a ghost.
D espite the crowd forming by the woods, the formal volunteer search has not begun yet. Devin has
Sharon Kleve, Jennifer Conner, Danica Winters, Casey Dawes