Under the Stars

Finally, after more than an hour, they stand. Molly’s smile is strictly business, and Gavin escorts her to the door. I stay in the balcony area above watching as he pulls out his phone and checks it. Then he nods, and they part, each walking in opposite directions.

The waiter returns, and I order another small latte. Dread moves through my stomach as I wait until finally Molly appears at the top of the balcony. Her expression is muted, and she walks straig

ht to the table and sits.

“Well?” My voice is barely above a whisper.

“Nothing has changed.” A note of bitterness is in her tone.

“What does that mean?”

“He takes in runaways, and sells the prettiest ones to the highest bidder. He’s even worse than before. I’ll meet him tonight at Montage to take pictures and set up my first encounter. He calls them experiences.”

“What does that mean? Runaways…” A painful knot swells in my throat. “How old are they?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then we can’t be sure—“

“Are you seriously giving him the benefit of the doubt?” Her voice is a razor.

“No.” Guilt is a lead weight in my stomach.

I have to know what might have happened if we’d left… Would more underage girls have been hurt? Would it have been my fault? Again?

“Will you let me talk to him first?” My voice is quiet.

“What’s left to say?”

I don’t know… My hands surround the small cup in front of me, and I try to think. “Did he recognize you?”

“If he did, it would’ve been a much shorter lunch.”

Nodding, I take a sip of cold coffee, and it turns my stomach. I pull out my wallet and leave a twenty and a ten on the table.

“I’m going with you tonight.” I have to know the truth.

* * *

Mark

Our flight to Seattle lasts six hours.

For six hours, the only thing keeping me sane is the warm body of my little daughter against my chest. Roland has bottles and diapers, and if she cries, he picks one of the two options to soothe her.

“How do you know all this?” I watch as he changes her diaper on the tray table like an expert.

“It’s not rocket science,” he says. “She’s a small human. She gets hungry, you feed her. She soils her pants, you change them. She cries, you hold her. It’s actually pretty basic human behaviors.”

“I never had any siblings.”

He hands my now-happy daughter to me. “Neither did I, but I have a brain.”

“Nice,” I grumble, but having spent the last eight hours with him, my confidence is growing in my own ability to figure out what’s happening with Jilly and what to do about it.

He stretches his long legs into the aisle. “What I wouldn’t give for a cigarette.”

Turning, I get comfortable holding her as I look out the window at the enormous peak rising through the clouds.