Don't Look for Me(72)

The time does not go to waste. I do not allow myself to indulge in the panic that is at my door. I have removed the splinters from my skin and applied some ointment Alice found in her bathroom. I have changed my clothes which were drenched in the sweat of the morning’s terror. I have showered. And I have cried the last of the tears I will cry.

I think about cyanide. I also think about Nicole as the clock ticks away.

There are only two things that would bring her back to this town. The first is a man. The second is me. I know my daughter. I understand her suffering. A man would not hold her attention for long. The newspaper article said she was here for four days. That’s long enough for her to get drunk and meet a man. A man like Mick. A cop, probably involved in the search. I remember those first few days—how he came and went. And now—she has returned, maybe for him. But it won’t last.

She will peel him off of her like the rotten skin on the apples outside. Even if he was wonderful. Perfect. Even if he offered love. Especially if he offered love. She cannot accept love. Not from anyone.

Oh, how I understand her suffering.

That leaves one reason for her to stay now. Me. Finding me.

I remember her words the morning I left for Evan’s school. I remember her face when she said them, and how they jabbed at my heart in quick bursts as they left her mouth.

I hate you—but that was just a small one. A little jab. But then, You killed my sister! The first big one, and then, You killed your own child!

I know my daughter. She has carried her own guilt from that fateful day. Not answering her phone. Not driving Annie to her friend’s house. Not being there in time as her sister ran down the driveway.

And now this—the belief that she caused me to walk away from them. Not just her, but Evan and John. This thought nearly breaks my steeled expression. This thought causes the blood to surge into my face, pulsing around the scrapes.

Evan. John. Nicole. My life.

In these long hours I have thought about the possibilities. I know how Mick learned about me. The cameras at the Gas n’ Go. The traffic stop. There is a lot of information online because of Annie’s death.

But then my family came to look for me, and everything changed. Now he wants Nicole.

Why did he bring her here? Why did he drill that hole so I could see her?

I know about human nature, about need that overcomes reason. Teaching children who were on the cusp of maturity has given me this tool, which I now use. Mick needed me to know what he’s done. What power he wields.

He wanted this more than he feared what I might do.

Or maybe he doesn’t know how fiercely a mother will fight to protect her child. Maybe he never learned that.

Either way, he has misjudged me like an adolescent child. I will not yield to his power. I will not behave when he has set his hands upon my daughter.

Alice looks up.

“I can’t get this one!” she says. Angry Face is here.

She shoves the paper through the bars and I see what she’s done wrong.

“Two negatives make a positive,” I remind her.

I hand the paper back. She takes it and resumes the problem.

“I have an idea when we finish your homework,” I say.

“Shhh!” she commands.

Fine, Alice. But we will talk about my idea. About the apples in the yard. The ones that have fallen and begun to rot. We will talk about how you and I are going to make a special treat for Mick and how you are going to sneak around Dolly’s eyes to get outside, and put on your mask, and collect as many apples as you can find.

Maybe I was selfish to have children, knowing they would have to die one day. Maybe I deserve to suffer for it. More than I already have.

But further punishment will have to wait. Because today, we are going to talk about those things.

We are going to do those things.

And we are going to save my daughter.





40


Day sixteen





It took sheer will to walk back outside, away from the bar. She needed the fresh air. She needed to drive, and to push aside the thoughts that were twisted up in her mind.

Reyes, the tortured soul who truly understood her—who might be strong enough to save her from herself.

Reyes, the damaged man who used women the way she used men—and who might just pull her into his despair as well as her own.

She couldn’t possibly know the difference. Not in two days’ time. And not with all that had happened.

She found her mother’s car where she’d parked it the day before. She wasn’t sure where she was going. Not back to Hastings. Not home.

She checked her phone and the texts that had been piling up. Three from her father—all with the same message. When are you coming home? Come home, sweetheart. Where are you—you need to come home.

One from Evan. Did you find her? What’s happening?

It was the final one from her father that provided the most distraction. Edith Moore is Edith Bickman. Moore is her boyfriend’s name. Probably used it to hide the fact that she worked at the bar in Hastings four years ago. And Kurt Kent did time for a gun offense. Two bad apples. Scam. Also—Mrs. Urbansky said she did not give out your number to anyone. Another lie! Call me or answer your phone!

She had two missed calls and voicemails from him as well. She responded with a text. I’m fine. Will call soon.