But that’s when I realize I’ve got no signal. “Shit.”
“What’s up?” Bobby asks.
“I’ve been waiting for Ronnie to call me and tell me to bring the kid home.” I hold up the phone. “No signal.”
“Oops.” He laughs, then pulls his phone out. “Yeah, me too.”
“All right then. I better get her home. Ronnie is probably going nuts wondering where we are.”
“Yep. I’m outtie as well.”
We get up and Bobby hauls the bear while I pick up the princess and carry her back to the bike. She wakes up a little when I put her in the sidecar, but mostly just to hug her bear and let me put her helmet on.
Bobby and I dap. Then we go our separate ways. He heads back to Fort Collins and I go deeper up into the hills where Ronnie’s farm is. But it’s not that far of a ride, so ten minutes later I’m punching in the code to Spencer’s gate and pulling up to the house.
There’s a lot of lights on and both the trucks and Ronnie’s Suburban are here, so I know people are home. A couple of farm dogs appear, then a shadow in the screen door.
I kill the bike, get off, and remove my helmet. “Spence! I got your kid.”
He pushes through the door and steps out onto the massive front porch. “Vic? What the fuck are you doing here?”
“What do ya mean?” I unbuckle the princess and pick her up. She’s still sleeping so I carry her over to the porch. “Dropping the kid off.”
Spencer looks at me.
Spencer looks at the kid.
Spencer looks over his shoulder to an approaching Veronica. “Are we missing a kid?”
“What?” Ronnie wipes her hands on her apron. “What are you talking about?”
“Vic says he’s dropping off a kid. Is she ours?”
I am watching this conversation with fascination. These people. They have so many kids they can’t keep track of them.
“Vic.” Ronnie comes down the steps towards me. “That’s not one of our kids.”
I laugh. “Nice try, sister.”
She puts her hands on her hips. “No. I’m dead fucking serious. Not my kid, Vic. Where did you get this child?”
“What?”
“Where did this kid come from?”
“She… her… you’re wrong. She’s a princess! I mean, look at her!”
“Vic.” Is Spencer using his dad voice on me? “Where did you get this kid?”
“The fucking…” I suddenly can’t breathe. “The shop,” I finally manage. “She came into the shop this morning and sat down.”
“Vic.” Is Ronnie using her mom voice on me? “Please tell me you did not have this kid all day. Please tell me you are not that stupid.”
“Stupid! What are you talking about? She looks just like you! Just like them!” I point to her… one, two, three, four, five, six kids now standing on the porch. Princess Rory is holding the baby, Oliver is snickering like a little asshole, and the bossy one is shaking her head at me, passing judgment with her arms crossed.
And then an alert blares into the peaceful summer night.
I know what that alarm is. Everyone knows what that alarm is. It’s annoying and we all want to turn it off, but we don’t. Because it’s an Amber Alert. And if a kid goes missing, you need to know about that.
Spencer pulls his phone out to check, then holds it up so I can see.
And right there, in full color, is the sis.
Under her is me. The perp.
Under that is a pic from the swap meet.
Both of us all dressed up like bikers.
CHAPTER FIVE - DAISY
FIFTEEN HOURS EARLIER
“Vivi. Wake up, sweetie. Mama’s gotta go to work.”
She doesn’t even move. And I don’t blame her. It’s four-thirty AM on a Sunday morning. No one wants to get out of bed at four-thirty AM on Sunday morning.
“Viv,” I whisper. “I’ll make your favorite egg-white omelet for breakfast.”
She groans and pushes me away from her.
“Listen.” I put on my mom voice for this. “You need to get up right now. We have to go or I’ll be late for work. And I can’t be late for breakfast shift. I make more money—”
“On Sunday mornings”—she picks up my sentence in a mocking tone—“than I do all week.”
“It’s true. You know it’s true. This one crappy early-morning day is how we pay all the bills for the week.”
She pouts. “Last week you said I could get a goldfish.”
“You can! I didn’t lie.”
“When?”
“Well.” I sigh. She’s not a bad kid. At all. She’s just way too damn smart. And worldly. She’s wise to the ways of the world and that sucks. Because it means she’s been through too much and every day, I swear to God, I look at this kid and I can see her innocence spilling out of her with each new realization that our status in life is declining rapidly.
And I hate that. I hate that I’m back in school. I hate that I have to waitress. I hate that I live in student housing. I hate that my parents were killed in a car crash and they were three million dollars in debt so I had to sell the dairy farm I grew up on and move to this stupid town and get this stupid job just to be able to survive.