Wings to the Kingdom (Eden Moore 2)

No words, then. Quickly. Before the moment had time to pass.

He raised his right arm and pointed, as hard as he could. He aimed his hand across the pretty clearing, and beyond the trees beside it, and over the creek and through the fields of waving green grass to a point that no one could see.

And then he disappeared.

2

Two Steps Back

I bet myself a dollar that he’d pull a picture out of his wallet within fifteen seconds of introducing himself. I only won fifty cents from that wager: He pulled it from his jacket pocket instead.

“Eden? I’m Gary. This is my little girl. Her name’s Casey. ”

“She was beautiful,” I replied, contradicting his verb choice.

If he noticed, he didn’t bother to correct me. “Yes. ”

The man thumbed at the photograph in a sad sham of removing a smudge. He dug the pads of his thumbs into the glossy the way they all do—as if, should he rub hard enough, he might thrust his way through and find flesh beneath the paper.

“It’s been over a year. ”

“I’m sorry, Gary. ” I’d learned it was best if I began apologizing early on in these conversations. Things sometimes went more smoothly if they’d grown accustomed to hearing it by the time I had to break their hearts.

Gary put the picture down on the round, marble-top table between us and smoothed it with his palm. “No, I’m sorry. You were just trying to have a cup of coffee and I’m bothering you. ”

I put my mug down and closed my book. “It’s okay. ”

“I guess you get this a lot, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” I admitted. And it never gets any easier.

He dragged his attention away from the photo. At least he looked me in the eyes when he said the next part. “I was hoping you could help. Is there any way you could talk to her for me? I just want to know she’s all right. ”

Sometimes they don’t ask so directly. Sometimes they’re so torn between being desperate and being ashamed that they stare at their hands, or at the floor. It’s all they can do to mumble their plea, and they often try to phrase it as though they can’t imagine I might say yes in a million years…because God knows they don’t believe in that sort of thing, anyway.

But just in case, they have to ask.

“I would be…” I stalled, and started again. “I would love to help you, but I don’t think I can. And it’s not because I don’t want to, because I do. But—”

He cut me off there, and he lifted a brown satchel into his lap. “Oh, I know you need information, and I’ve brought it. I’ve got all the newspaper clippings from her kidnapping, and I’ve got the follow-up articles about the guy who did it; and I don’t know how this works exactly, so I brought some of her things for you to touch if that helps. ”

“Gary—”

“I’ve got her first tooth, too. ” Out from the bag he lifted a blue plastic container on a cord. “She got a dollar for it. It’s clean, don’t worry. It’s a couple of years old now. Here. ”

I didn’t object fast enough. He clasped my hand in his and the tiny pebble tooth toppled down. I closed my fingers to keep from dropping it.

“Let me try to explain, please. I need for you to understand. ”

He nodded hard, nearly shaking his glasses loose.

I took a deep breath.

“One time, when I was in high school, we had a new guy join our class. The teacher made him stand up and tell everyone who he was and where he was from. His name was Jake, as it turns out, and he’d transferred to our school from Texas.

“This one girl sitting behind him got all excited when she heard the ‘Texas’ part. When he sat down, she poked him on the shoulder and told him, ‘I’ve got a cousin who lives in Texas. Her name is Amy Abernathy. Do you know her?’ And everyone laughed at her. ” I stopped there, seeing if he’d pick up the prompt.

“I bet they did. That was a pretty stupid question. ” Gary fidgeted and picked up his daughter’s picture, fussing with it again.