Free Discretion by David Balzarini Page A

found her. You don’t want to know the odds after seventy-two hours.”
    “That bad?”
    “Close to zero. Kids only turn up after a few days if they decide being on their own is too damn hard.”
    I walk past Reed, thinking only of Natalie. Stepping aboard the rescue boat, I take a seat while the men work on Natalie. I nod back to Reed, who remains on the kidnappers’ cruiser. Two deputies and two others, who I must presume are examiners, search Mike’s boat. Two women dressed in black, carrying official looking suitcases, board the cruiser and disappear into the cabin, past Deputy Reed.
    Mayra and Mike make the jump to the rescue boat, as Mike’s boat has to stay behind for inspection.
    “Is she going to be okay?” Mayra asks me, her voice quivering.
    “I think so.”
    She gasps. “Is she hurt?”
    “Hard to say what they did to her for three days. The fact that she’s here and alive is a miracle.”
    Reed climbs aboard and the rescue boat speeds away. Moments later, they kill the motor and we drift into the north shore. A helicopter is waiting, doors open wide. They carry Natalie on the stretcher and load her in. I chase them and the medic put his hand up to me and shakes his head. He yells over the noise—they can’t bring me. With nothing to say in response, I look back at Mayra, waiting on the boat instead. I back away from the intense gust and noise of the blades; the door closes, and then it takes flight. I watch the red and white helicopter until it’s gone from sight.
    We cruise back to the marina. Without a word between anyone, we are there, getting off at the pier where we started at less than an hour ago.
    She’s safe. She’s not home yet, but safe. Savor it. Christel brought her home. Now, I must explain how this transpired, without ending up in a padded room for the rest of my life.
    I will give you the words to say.
    A horde of news reporters approach, cameras, lights and microphones in tow. Like a thundercloud, they move as one unit across the parking lot toward us.
    “Fantastic. How’d they know we’re here?” Mike says to no one in particular.
    “They probably heard when the cops were called.”
    We walk toward the mob, reaching the parking lot at the same time they reach the boardwalk.
    “Colin! How do you feel now that it’s all over?” one reporter shouts.
    “Relieved, thanks,” I say. Deputy Reed firmly instructs them to make a hole and they follow instructions. I keep walking, Reed’s hand on my shoulder, and ignore the flying questions from journalists looking to get an edge on tomorrow’s paper. The reporters follow, but no matter. The car door is held open by two other deputies with somber looks, waiting close by. I get in without a word. Mike and Mayra join me, and then when the car door slams, reality hits home—I have to explain what happened, which I’m not entirely sure I understand.
    But that doesn’t matter. Natalie is found. She’s in good hands, right? She will be fine, I’m sure. The doctors will know what to do.
    But what really happened? A gunfight. One man died, the other was…wounded. Can I tell the truth? People say good things about angels, don’t they? That’s not a bad thing if an angel helped me find her. Will they think I’m crazy?
    I will be with you.
    I know, but why not just tell the truth?
    They don’t want the truth.
    Why can’t they be told?
    Silence. Why did this happen?
    I rub my head and try to watch the world pass by. The high-pitched ring in my head is constant since the shooting and my thoughts drift back to Natalie, wondering whether she is all right. How much will she remember?
    My eyes find Mayra’s, and the look of worry is evident. Mike is equally somber.
    Do not fear.
    How can I be confident?
    I will give you the words to say.
    I’ll feel better when this is behind me and I’m at Natalie’s side again. Deep down, I know that my relationship with her will be different. And like her body when pulled from the boat that held