The Winter People(37)

“It’s a hell of a drive for a dead end,” Buzz said.

“Look, the wallets have to mean something, my mom saving them all this time, hiding them like that, right? That driver’s license is my only clue, and it leads to Woodhaven, Connecticut. I need to go. I’m going.”

And so they were on their way, Ruthie silent and deep in thought for most of the ride. She knew Buzz thought she was being ridiculous, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that going to Woodhaven was the right thing to do, and she didn’t want to waste any more time.

“So what’s the plan if we find them?” Buzz asked as he navigated the streets of Woodhaven.

“I’ll ask them if they know my mom and dad. Depending on how that goes, I’ll show them their wallets and ask if they know why my mom might have them.”

“How’s that gonna help us find Mom?” Fawn asked.

“I don’t know,” Ruthie admitted, fiddling with the broken latch on the glove compartment. “But it beats sitting around waiting.”

Ruthie was sure she had never been to Connecticut; in fact, she had rarely left Vermont. She was studying the landscape—billboards, chain restaurants and big-box stores, rows of identical houses and condos—with a strange unsettled awe. Her jaw ached from grinding her teeth, a terrible nervous habit she had had since before she could remember.

The streets they’d turned onto now were set up in a neat grid. All the houses were small capes and ranches with barely any yards and sad little hedges marking property lines. The snow lay in filthy clumps along the edges of the streets. She tried to imagine growing up in a place like this—your neighbors so close that you could see into their windows. Maybe her parents were right to keep them removed from the world on their little homestead in Vermont.

“This is Kendall,” Buzz announced, as if Ruthie couldn’t read the sign herself. He went to gun shows all over the Northeast with his dad and considered himself quite the experienced world traveler. “It’ll be on the left side of the street.” He scanned house numbers. “Here’s 185. 203. Look, there’s 229, so the next one’s it.” The chirpy female voice on the GPS confirmed it.

Buzz put on his turn signal and pulled into the driveway of 231 Kendall Lane—a squat house with yellow vinyl siding that was cracked in places. There was a plastic kiddie pool in the yard, the outline just visible through the newly fallen snow. An old white Pontiac with a crushed rear bumper was parked next to the house. Whoever lived here wasn’t rich by any means. But Ruthie knew how it was to be scraping by—buying everything secondhand, living with a couch covered in ugly afghans to hide the stains and holes, and knowing there was never money for things like a trip to Disney World. Or college.

“You guys wait here,” Ruthie said, grabbing her bag with the two strangers’ wallets tucked inside.

“I’ll be watching,” Buzz promised.

“Me, too,” Fawn said, her tiny face peeking out from under the hood of her pink puffy coat.

Ruthie navigated the ice-covered walk and front steps and pushed the doorbell. She didn’t hear it ring. She waited, just in case, then pulled open the storm door and rapped firmly on the wooden one behind it. There was a Happy Easter wreath—a bunny encircled in faded pastel eggs—thumbtacked to the center of the door. Ruthie knocked again. A woman with fried blond hair and bad skin opened it.

“Yeah?” The hallway the woman stood in was tiny and dark. It smelled like cigarettes. Ruthie hoped she wouldn’t be invited in.

“Hi.” Ruthie gave her biggest smile. “I’m looking for Thomas and Bridget O’Rourke.”

“Who?”

“They used to live here. Thomas O’Rourke? And Bridget O’Rourke?”

The woman stared at her blankly.

“Never heard of them. Sorry.” She shut the door in Ruthie’s face. Undeterred, she tried the neighbors. Most people either weren’t home or didn’t answer the door. Across the street from 231 Kendall Lane, an old man in a bathrobe told Ruthie he didn’t know anybody named O’Rourke. At least he was polite about it.

“Dead end,” Ruthie announced as she climbed back up into the cab of the truck. “The lady who lives there now had no idea what I was talking about and the one old neighbor who was home never heard of the O’Rourkes. Maybe we did come all this way for nothing.”

“Nothing,” Fawn echoed, a voice from inside the hood.

Ruthie gave Buzz a sidelong glance.

He smiled at her. “Wanna try it my way?”

Ruthie shrugged and sank down in the seat.

They drove out of the maze of houses that all looked the same and back to the main road. They passed a fire station, bank, pizza place, and grocery store. Soon the road was lined with shopping plazas on both sides. Ruthie was amazed by how busy they were—cars coming and going in and out of parking lots. Shouldn’t people be at work?

Buzz pulled into a Starbucks, then reached in the back for his messenger bag.

“Why are we stopping?” Fawn asked.

“He’s gonna search for them online. Like I probably should have let him do before we left home this morning.”

“Probably should have,” Buzz said cheerfully. “But it’s never too late. Come on, let’s get some coffee and hot chocolate.”