Paige studied her daughter's expression for clues while a breeze wafted through the window carrying a hint of fresh-mown grass and an old Rolling Stones tune. She would have to tread warily to keep Kirstie from clamming up altogether as she'd done once Vic found her sitting outside the girls' bathroom as calm as could be. As if she could pretend her uncle wouldn't have already checked that same bathroom when she'd first gone missing. "Tell me more about your new imaginary friend."
"Who says he's new?" Kirstie picked at the yarn hair on her doll.
"He?" More than they'd known before—and frightening as hell. "What's his name?"
Kirstie shrugged.
"If you don't know his name, then he's a stranger."
"His name's Eddie and he wasn't a—" She stopped short.
"What do you mean? He wasn't a stranger?" Her suspicions took root. "And maybe he's not imaginary, either? Kirstie, honey, you have to be honest with me. This is important."
Her tiny knuckles whitened in the doll's red yarn hair. "You're gonna get upset if I tell you."
Like she wasn't already scared to death? What if some pervert... She stroked her daughter's hair in reassurance. She couldn't face what she didn't know. "I promise I won't be mad."
"I know you won't get mad or yell or anything. I mean you'll be sad if I tell you."
"Punkin, you're really scaring me more right now by not telling me."
"He said he knew my daddy."
Breathe. She needed to breathe.
And wow, had Kirstie ever nailed her prediction of her mother's emotions dead-on. She was upset, for a myriad of reasons. Top of the list? Kurt and his illegal ties terrified her.
Of course, it could be nothing. Kurt had plenty of old high school friends around here.
"Are you upset?" Kirstie pressed back into her pillow. "I know you don't like it when I talk about him."
Her daughter had been protecting her? Guilt on top of fear, what a toxic mix.
How to approach this? Apparently hiding her feelings had been a bust, so she couldn't lie now. "I am a little upset you didn't feel like you could tell me. And of course I'm sad thinking about your father." And all the potential he'd thrown away for a quick dollar.
"When somebody dies, that makes people sad. But you don't ever have to hide how you feel from me. I'm the grown-up, remember? I'm supposed to take care of you."
"Who takes care of you?"
"Grown-ups are supposed to take care of themselves."
"But who's there when you want to cry?"
Bo, who'd held her hand on the plane all the way back from South Carolina while silent tears leaked from her eyes even though they'd already found Kirstie by then.
She couldn't think about him now or she would be a muddle of irrational emotions all over again. "We're talking about the man who spoke to you. What else did he say?"
"That he and Daddy played together when they were kids and he was just checking up on me because Daddy would want him to."
"What did he look like?"
Kirstie scrunched her nose in thought. "Really old. Like you."
Thanks, kid.
"And like Bo."
Okay, she could forgive the "old" comment after all.