True Places(7)

“Okay, okay.” Suzanne mustered her calmest voice, the one she’d used when her children were small and prone to tantrums, especially Brynn. “You can stay there. It’s fine. We’re almost there.”

The girl whimpered and wedged her body more tightly into the space.

Suzanne focused on driving and monitored her speed, all the while thinking that the girl was behaving exactly as had their family cat, Rusty, the first time they had taken him to the vet, before they’d grasped the necessity of a carrier. Was the poor kid mentally disturbed? She didn’t seem violent, just terrified. Terrified of Suzanne, the car, the world rushing past. Terrified of everything.

The girl lost consciousness again. At the University of Virginia emergency center, the staff transferred the girl’s listless body to a cart, instructed Suzanne to move her car, and wheeled the cart through the double doors. Suzanne parked in the visitors’ lot, grabbed her phone and the backpack, and entered the hospital. She spoke briefly to the attendant at the desk, then proceeded to the berth where the girl lay sweating on a bed. A nurse was taking her pulse. Under the lights and against the white linens, the girl’s appearance was even more alarming. Her body was lost inside her clothing and her cheekbones seemed about to pierce her skin. But more than that, she did not appear to belong here. The girl was not simply ill or lost; she was otherworldly.

Suzanne stood to the side, the backpack at her feet. She’d been asked to wait for the police and had no idea how long they would be. She supposed she could wait in the lobby, but it seemed wrong to leave the girl’s side.

A middle-aged woman came through the curtain—the doctor, Suzanne presumed. She had closely cropped pewter hair and wore scrubs and a look of habitual resignation. The nurse recited the girl’s vitals. Nodding, the doctor snapped on gloves and began to examine the girl. As she palpated the swollen jaw, the girl’s eyes flew open. Her gaze took in the doctor, the nurse, the lights, the equipment. She bolted upright and tried to jump off the bed.

The doctor caught her arm. “Hey, not so fast.” She turned to bark at the nurse. “Give me a hand. She’s incredibly strong.”

The nurse placed a firm hand on the girl’s shoulder. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

The girl pulled up her legs, cowering.

The doctor held up her gloved hands in innocence. “I just need to get a peek in your mouth.”

Suzanne said, “Can’t you give her something?”

“Not until I know what’s going on with her, have a look at that jaw. She appears to be malnourished and is probably dehydrated, so I’d really like to get a line in.”

Suzanne moved to the end of the bed and held the backpack aloft. “This is yours, right?” The girl stilled. “I haven’t opened it.” Suzanne placed it on the bed in front of the girl.

The doctor frowned. “We don’t know what’s in there—”

“Her stuff.”

The girl dragged the pack closer. Suzanne came around the side of the bed and crouched beside it. “I know you’re hurt. That’s why I brought you here. This is where they heal people.” The girl stared at Suzanne, her lips twitching. “Maybe you’ve been sick before. Everyone gets sick. I don’t know where your family is, but maybe when you were sick before, your mother was there.”

The girl sucked in air, hunched her shoulders, trembling, and peered at Suzanne. The girl’s violet-blue eyes were awash in tears.

Suzanne reached for her hand.

“And now I’m here.”





CHAPTER 3

Contents of the backpack, as logged by Officer Rodriguez, Charlottesville police. Stored in hospital locker, except as noted.



– Sleeping bag, synthetic

– Long-sleeved shirt (men’s large)

– Knit cap in navy blue wool

– Gloves, fingertips cut off

– Down vest

– Canteen, army issue

– Comb

– Turquoise hair clasp

– Cook pot, fire blackened, no lid

– Plastic container, two quart, with lid

– Two empty tin cans

– Four small cloth pouches, hand sewn, containing:

– needle and coarse thread

– fish hooks and filament

– ground substance (impounded, pending ID)

– dried plants and roots (impounded, pending ID)

– Hunting knife, seven-inch blade (impounded)

– Pocket knife, folding, four-inch blade (impounded)

– Whetstone

– Fire starter, flint based

– Snare wire

– Nylon cord

– Nylon tarp, 8’ x 10’

– Stuffed pink bear





CHAPTER 4

As Suzanne exited the hospital, her phone rang, a brassy rendition of “Battle Hymn of the Republic,” the special tone she’d assigned to her mother, Tinsley Royce. It was simpler to answer Tinsley’s calls and avoid the lengthy messages, escalating in urgency, and the reprisals that would inevitably follow a missed call.

Tinsley didn’t pause for a greeting. “Are you all right?”

“Yes. Of course.”

“Where in heaven’s name have you been? I saw Rory in town on my way to my massage and she told me you missed lunch with her.”