All the Missing Girls(50)

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Let me,” I said. “I’m the one he was talking about.” I was glad that I was standing, glad for the confidence in my posture.

Karen stood. “I think that’s a good idea.”

“Without the restraints,” I said.



* * *



DANIEL WENT TO THE cafeteria to order three lunches to bring back to Dad’s room. I was sitting cross-legged on the chair in the corner, drinking a soda from the vending machine, when Dad finally woke. There was an orderly in the room near the door, per Karen’s request.

“Hi, Dad,” I said tentatively.

He rubbed absently at his wrists, and I could see the red chafing mark against his wrist bone. I leaned over his bed so he’d see me before he saw the room he didn’t own and the man he didn’t know.

“You’re okay,” I said. “I’m okay.”

He pushed himself up and winced. “Nic?” he said, his eyes focusing, narrowing, roaming.

“You’re at Grand Pines, and you’re fine, and I’m here, and I’m fine.”

He reached his hand, placed it on the side of my face. “Nic, thank God. Nic. It’s not safe for you.”

“Shh, Dad,” I said, looking at the man beside the door. “I’m fine.” Daniel walked in with our lunches at that moment, three stacked Styrofoam boxes. “And Daniel’s here, see? We’re fine.”

Dad sat up like a child in bed after a nightmare, both relieved and terrified. He looked at Daniel, at me, at the man beside the door. “You’ll take care of her?” he said to Daniel.

Daniel opened the boxes, looked inside each, and passed them out. “Yes, Dad,” he said, and I felt a lump rise in my throat. “You can’t let yourself get worked up, okay?”

Dad rubbed at his wrists again, like he couldn’t remember if something was supposed to be there.

“Dad,” Daniel said, “it’s important.”

I leaned forward, spreading a napkin on Dad’s lap. “Dad, everything’s fine.”

He stared at Daniel. “Promise me,” he said. “Promise me you’ll take care of her.”

Daniel already had food in his mouth. Nothing could kill his appetite. He kept his eyes on Dad. “You know I will,” he said as he chewed.

Karen Addelson came in with the doctor. “How’s everything going in here? Patrick? Are you feeling better?”

“What? Oh, yes. Yes.” He grabbed his sandwich like he was playing a part. “This is my daughter. Have you met? Nic, meet the Lady in Charge. Lady in Charge, meet my daughter.”

“Nice to meet you,” both Karen and I said. “Now, Patrick,” Karen went on, “how about we sleep this off? Have your lunch, and the doctor will give you something. We’ll discuss this tomorrow. Okay?”

I nodded encouragingly. Daniel nodded. Dad looked between the two of us and nodded until she left the room. He gripped my wrist. “Promise me, Nic.”

“I promise,” I said. I had no clue what he was asking or what I was agreeing to. I had a feeling it was better for us that way.



* * *



KAREN MET US BACK at the front desk. “We’ll assess him tomorrow. Determine the best course of action. Let’s plan on meeting again next week.” She handed me her card. “We’ll be in touch.”

Daniel and I remained silent, one foot in front of the other, goodbye to the receptionist, thank you to the man holding the door, until we were back in the overheated car, driving with the windows rolled down until the air conditioner kicked in.

“What the hell was that about?” I asked.

“Hell if I know,” he said, both hands circling the steering wheel, the afternoon sun reflecting off the pavement like water.

“Did you really tell him about Annaleise? Or was that just the first thing you could think of?”

“No,” he said. “I really did.”

“That wasn’t smart.”

“No. It really wasn’t.” He sighed, his hard-to-read expression even more impenetrable.

“You were wrong to do that,” I said.

The pink was creeping up his neck as his knuckles blanched white, like the blood was seeping from one spot to the other. “I am fully aware of that, Nic. Fully. I’ll come back tomorrow to check on him.”

“Okay,” I said. “What time?”

He cut his eyes to me, then back to the road. “Don’t worry about it. Get some work done around the house. I’ll bring him the listing papers.”

“The house isn’t ready.”

His jaw tensed. “That’s why you should stay home.”

So much for my momentary swell of emotion for him. This was how we always communicated. In the things we didn’t say. We had developed a habit after our mother got sick, fighting in the space between words about anything other than what we meant.

He was with me the day I scratched Tyler’s truck with the swing of my passenger-side door, the day we met for real. “You never pay attention!” Daniel had screamed, slamming the driver’s-side door. “You parked too close!” I’d yelled back as Tyler looked on.