True Places(50)

Reid twisted his mouth, considering.

Brynn thought of all the times she and Reid had sneaked into this room to spy on their parents’ conversations.

“Join me, bro. Just like old times.”

Her mother had nixed her request to be there while the detective questioned Iris, but that didn’t mean she and Reid had to miss out. She smiled her most innocent smile. Reid rolled his eyes and she knew he was giving in, probably just as curious as she was about Iris. He went out to close his door, then shut Iris’s door behind him. Together they lifted the easy chair out of the corner to expose the heating vent connected to one in the living room ceiling. Brynn slid the lever on the vent, opening the louver all the way. They lay on their stomachs with their heads inches from the vent. Voices rose from below. The detective started with straightforward questions about how Iris was feeling and whether she was settling in. Iris gave one-word answers, as usual.

“Do you have anything more to tell us about where your house is?”

“No.”

“What sort of a house was it?”

“Wood. One room.” A pause. “About the size of this one.”

“And the roof?”

“Wood and metal.”

“How did you heat it in the winter?”

“Wood.” Iris sounded exasperated, like no one in the world just cranked up a thermostat when they were cold. “We had a wood stove. We cooked on that. Or outside.”

“Okay. And there were no roads, you said before. What about trails?”

“We tried not to make trails. We went different ways, especially below the house.”

“Why below?”

“Because that’s where a stranger would probably come from.”

Brynn whispered to Reid. “Stranger danger.” He elbowed her.

In the living room, the sound of paper being shuffled.

“So, Iris. I know your family hunted and trapped for food, but didn’t you need supplies sometimes?”

A long pause. “Daddy went down three times a year.”

Their father said, “You never mentioned that.”

“You never asked me.”

The detective spoke. “How long was he gone on these trips?”

“Three or four days.”

“And he walked to a store and carried it all back?”

“No. A friend helped him. His friend had a truck.”

Brynn glanced at Reid and raised her eyebrows. Reid whispered, “They had to get stuff somehow.”

The detective said, “You don’t happen to know the name of this fellow?”

“Buck.”

“Buck. Just Buck?”

“Yes.”

“Buck with a truck.” He didn’t sound amused.

Brynn bit her lip to stop from laughing.

“Yes.” Iris drew it out, like she was talking to an idiot.

“Now, Iris. How did your father pay for these supplies? Did he have a pile of cash in the house?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

Their father said, “Maybe he went to a bank? Had an account to draw from?”

“If he didn’t want to draw attention to himself,” the detective said, “it’s more likely he picked up a check from a post office box and cashed it.”

Their mother spoke for the first time. “Like a disability check?”

“What’s disability?” Iris asked.

“When someone has an injury or a medical problem of some kind.” Their mom loved to tell Iris about everything, like she was Siri.

“There was nothing wrong with my father.”

Defensive much?

“And one day,” the detective said, “he just left and never came back. Why would he do that, Iris?”

Silence. Brynn swallowed.

The detective’s voice was casual. “I’m wondering if maybe he was a veteran.” Obviously Iris had no clue what that was either. “Did your father fight in a war?”

“I don’t know.”

“I find that hard to believe. Most kids know the basics of their parents’ lives.”

Iris was getting pissed off. “My parents didn’t talk about the past. They said it was pointless. They were right. My father left six years ago. If he was alive, he would’ve come home. So he’s dead. What’s the point of talking about him?”

Their mother said, “You can’t know for sure that he isn’t alive, Iris. Even if you think he isn’t, don’t you want to find out for sure?”

“I do know!”

Brynn and Reid looked at each other, as shocked by Iris’s outburst as if Vishnu had spoken.

“Iris.” The detective dropped his voice. Brynn could only just make out the words. “Was there a problem in your house?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did your mother make your father leave?”

“No!”

Scuffling sounds. Brynn imagined Iris getting up and pacing, maybe scrabbling at the walls like a hamster in a cage. Brynn wasn’t being mean. She liked hamsters.

“Please calm down, Iris.” Their mother was trying to smooth things over.

“Leave me alone!”

Boy, Brynn thought. Can I ever relate.