Magic Hour

Ellie fished the car keys out of her pocket and tossed them to Peanut, then went back into the house. There was no time to shower and no reason to change her clothes since she was still in her uniform. So she brushed her teeth, took off last night’s makeup, and put on some new layers. In the kitchen, she took out a package of pork chops—of course there were two of them; no wonder she had to spend so much time exercising. Life came in twin packs. It wasn’t exactly a help to the single woman. She put the package on a paper towel in the refrigerator to thaw.

It was eight on the dot when she got into her cruiser.

Peanut had turned the stereo on and put in an Aerosmith CD.

Ellie snapped off the music. “It’s too early for that.”

“You were up all night?”

“How can you tell?”

“You have a keyboard imprint on your cheek.”

Ellie touched her cheek. “Shit. Is it noticeable?”

“Honey, you could see it from space.” Peanut laughed, then sobered. “Did you find anything useful?”

“I was online all night, and called every precinct in five counties. No one has reported a missing girl in the area. Not lately, anyway. If we have to go national in the search, it means going through the files of all the girls reported missing in the past few years.”

At the thought of that, they both fell silent. Ellie was trying to think of something ordinary to say when she turned into the hospital’s parking lot and saw the crowd gathered at the front door.

“Damn it. They’re turning this into a circus.” Ellie parked in a visitor’s spot, grabbed her notebook, and got out of the car. Peanut followed in an uncharacteristic silence.

Like geese, the crowd surged into formation and flew at her. The Grimm sisters—Daisy, Marigold, and Violet—led the charge.

As identical as prongs on a fork, the three old ladies matched each other step for step.

Daisy, the eldest, was the first to speak. As always, she clutched an old black urn that held her late husband’s ashes. “We’ve come for word of the child.”

“Who is the poor dear?” Violet demanded, squinting up through scratched glasses.

“Can she truly fly like a bird?” Marigold asked.

“Or jump like a cat?” This came from someone in the back.

Ellie had to remind herself that these people were her constituents. More than that, they were her friends and neighbors. “We don’t have any answers yet. I’ll let you all know when we do. For now, I could use your help.”

“Anything,” Marigold said, pulling a flower-spangled notebook out of her purple vinyl handbag.

Violet offered her sister a tulip pen.

“The child will need clothes and such. Maybe a stuffed animal or two to keep her company,” Ellie said. Before she’d even finished, the Grimm sisters had taken over. The three ex-teachers corralled the group and started delegating tasks.

Ellie and Peanut left the crowd. Together, they walked up the concrete path to the hospital’s glass doors. The sliders whooshed open.

“Hey, Ellie,” said the receptionist at their approach. “Dr. Cerrasin is waiting for you at the old day care center.”

“Thanks,” Ellie said.

She and Peanut didn’t speak as they walked down the hallway and into the elevator. On the second floor, they went past the X-ray room and turned left.

The last room on the right had once been a day care center for employees. It had been designated and designed years ago, when the city coffers were full. In the time since the spotted owl and the dwindling salmon runs and the protection of old growth forests, those accounts had grown too thin to support luxuries like day care. The room had been empty and unmanned for more than two years.

Max stood in the hallway with his arms crossed. Fluorescent lighting tangled in his hair and made his ever-present tan look faded. She hadn’t seen him look this bad since the time he fell forty feet down some mountain. Then, he’d had two black eyes and a split lip.

At their approach, he looked up and waved, but didn’t bother smiling. He moved sideways to make room for them at the window.

The room beyond was small and rectangular, with red and yellow color-blocked walls and cubbyholes full of toys and games and books. A sink and counter took up one corner, used years ago, no doubt, for art projects and daily clean up. Several small tables surrounded by even smaller chairs filled the center of the room. Along the left wall were a single hospital bed and several empty cribs. There were two windows in the room. The one in front of them and a second, smaller one which overlooked the rear parking lot. To their left, a locked metal door was the only entrance.