Magic hour: a novel (30 page)

Cal put an arm around her. “I thought you didn’t drink because of the senior prom. Remember when you puked on Principal Haley?”

“I need new friends,” Ellie muttered. She let herself be guided into the house, where the dogs rammed into her so hard she almost fell again.

“Jake! Elwood!” She bent down and hugged them, letting them lick her cheek until it was so wet it felt like she’d been swimming.

“You need to train those dogs,” Cal said, stepping away from their sniffing noses.

“Training anything with a penis is impossible.” She grinned at him. “And you thought I didn’t learn anything from my marriages.” She pointed to the stairs. “Upstairs, boys. I’ll be right up.”

She only had to say it another fifteen times before they obeyed. Once the dogs were gone, Cal said, “You better get to bed.”

“I’m sick of sleeping alone. Pretend I didn’t say that.” She started to pull away from Cal, then stopped dead. “Did you hear that? Someone’s playing the piano. ‘Delta Dawn.’” She started singing. “‘Delta Dawn, what’s that flower you have on?’” She danced across the room.

“No one is playing music,” Cal said. He glanced over at the corner, where her mom’s old piano sat, gathering dust. “That’s the song you sang tonight for karaoke. One of them, anyway.”

Ellie came to an unsteady stop and looked at Cal. “I’m the chief of police.”

“Yes.”

“I got drunk on margaritas and sang karaoke . . . in public. In my
uniform.
”

Cal was trying not to smile. “Look at the bright side, you didn’t strip and you didn’t drive home.”

She covered her eyes with her hand. “That’s my bright side? I didn’t get naked or commit a crime.”

“Well . . . there was that time—”

“I am
definitely
making new friends. You can go home. I won’t be seeing you anymore.” She turned away from him too quickly, lost her balance, and went down like a tree at harvest time. The only thing missing was a cry of “Timber!”

“Wow. You really hit hard.”

She rolled over and lay there. “Are you going to just stand there or are you going to hook me up to some sort of pulley system and get me up?”

Cal was openly smiling now. “I’m going to stand here. Us not being friends anymore, and all.”

“Oh, damn it. We’re back on.” She reached up. He took her hand and helped her to her feet. “That hurt,” she said, brushing dust off her pants.

“It looked like it did.”

Cal was still holding her hand. She turned to him. “It’s okay, big brother. I’m not going to fall again.”

“Sure?”

“Semi-sure.” She pulled free. “Thanks for driving me home. See you back at the station at eight sharp. The DNA will find a match. I feel it in my blood.”

“That might be tequila.”

“Naysayer. ’Night.” She lurched toward the stairs, grabbing the handrail just as she started to fall.

Cal was beside her in an instant.

“Hey.” She frowned, feeling his hold on her forearm. “I thought you left.”

“I’m right here.”

She looked at him. With her on the stair and him on the floor, they were eye-to-eye and so close she could see where he’d nicked himself shaving that morning. She noticed the jagged scar along his jawline. He’d gotten that the summer he turned twelve. His dad had come after him with a broken beer bottle. It was Ellie’s dad who’d gotten him to the hospital.

“How come you’re so good to me, Cal? I was crappy to you in high school.” It was true. Once she’d sprouted boobs, plucked her eyebrows, and outgrown her acne, everything had changed. Boys had noticed her, even the football players. She’d left Cal behind in the blink of an eye, and yet he’d never made her feel bad about it.

“Old habits die hard, I guess.”

She backed up one step. It was just enough to put some distance between them. “How come you never drink with us?”

“I drink.”

“I know. I said
with us.
”

“Someone has to drive you home.”

“But it’s always you. Doesn’t Lisa care that we keep you out all night?”

He was looking at her closely. “I told you: she’s gone this weekend.”

“She’s always gone.”

He didn’t answer. After a minute she’d forgotten what they were talking about.

And suddenly she was thinking about the girl again, and failure. “I won’t find her family, will I?”

“You’ve always found a way to get what you want, El. That was never your problem.”

“Oh? What is my problem, then?”

“You always wanted the wrong things.”

“Gee, thanks.”

He seemed disappointed by that. Like he’d wanted her to say something else. She couldn’t imagine how she’d let him down, but somehow she had. If she were sober, she’d probably know the answer.

“You’re welcome. You want me to pick you up tomorrow morning?”

“No need. I’ll get Jules or Peanut to give me a ride.”

“Okay. See you.”

“See you.”

She watched him walk away, close the front door behind him.

The house fell silent again. With a sigh, she navigated the narrow, too-steep stairway and emerged onto the second floor. She meant to turn left, to her parents’—now her—bedroom, but her mind was on autopilot and steered her right into her old room. It wasn’t until she saw that both twin beds were full that she realized she’d made a wrong turn.

The girl was awake and watching her. She’d been asleep when the door opened, Ellie was certain of it. “Hello, little one,” she whispered, flinching when she heard the low, answering growl.

“I would never hurt you,” she said, backing toward the door. “I only wanted to help. I wish . . .”

What did she wish? She didn’t know. When she thought about it, that was the problem with her life, now and always; she’d never known what to wish for until it was too late.

She wanted to promise that they’d find the girl’s family, but she didn’t believe it. Not anymore.

L
IKE A RIVERBANK IN A SPRING THAW, THE EROSION OF
J
ULIA’S SELF-CONFIDENCE
was a steady, plucking movement. No instant of it could really be seen—no giant chunks of earth fell away—but the end result was a change in the course of things, a new direction. More and more, she found herself retreating to the safe world of her notes. There, on those thin blue lines, she analyzed everything. While she still believed that Alice understood at least at the toddler level—a few words, here and there—she was making no real progress in getting the girl to speak. The authorities were breathing down her neck. Every day, Dr. Kletch left a message on the machine. It was always the same.
You’re not helping this child enough, Dr. Cates. Let us step in.

This afternoon, when she’d put Alice down for her nap, Julia had knelt by the bed, stroking the girl’s soft black hair, patting her back, thinking,
How can I help you?

She’d felt the sting of tears in her eyes; before she knew it, they were falling freely down her cheeks.

She’d had to go to the bathroom and redo her makeup for the press conference. She’d only just finished her mascara when a car drove up outside. She was halfway down the stairs when she ran into Ellie, coming up.

“You okay?” Ellie asked, frowning.

“I’m fine. She’s asleep.”

“Well. Peanut’s waiting in the car. I’ll stay here today.”

Julia nodded. She grabbed her briefcase and left the house.

They drove the mile and a half to town in a heavy rain. The drops on the windshield and roof were so loud that conversation was impossible. Rain seemed to be boiling on the hood.

While Peanut parked the car, Julia opened an umbrella and ran for the station. She was hanging up her coat and walking to the podium when it struck her.

Every seat was empty.

No one had come.

Cal sat at the dispatch desk, looking at her with pity.

She glanced at the clock. The press conference should have started five minutes ago. “Maybe—”

The door burst open. Peanut stood there, wearing her department issue slicker, rain dripping down her face. “Where the hell is everyone?”

“No one showed,” Cal said.

Peanut’s fleshy face seemed to fall at that. Her eyes rounded, first in understanding, then in resignation. She went over to where Cal stood and tucked in close to him. He took hold of her hand. “This is bad.”

“Very bad,” Julia agreed.

For the next thirty minutes they waited in terrible silence, jumping every time the phone rang. By 4:45 no one could pretend that it wasn’t over.

Julia stood. “I need to get back, Peanut. Alice will be waking up soon.” She reached for her briefcase and followed Peanut into the car.

Outside, the rain had stopped. The sky looked gray and bruised. Exactly how she felt. She knew she should made small talk with Peanut, at least answer her endless string of questions, but she didn’t feel like it.

Peanut turned onto Main Street. After a quick “Aha!” she pulled into one of the slanted parking stalls in front of the Rain Drop Diner. “I promised Cal I’d get him dinner. It’ll only take a jiff.” She was gone before Julia could answer.

Julia got out of the car. She’d intended to get herself a cup of coffee, but now that she was here, she couldn’t seem to move. Across the street was Sealth Park. It was where Alice had first appeared. The maple tree, now bare, sent empty branches reaching for the darkening sky. The forest in the distance was too dark to see.

How long were you out there?

Julia felt someone beside her. She pulled her thoughts back to the now and turned, expecting to see Peanut’s smiling face.

Max stood there, wearing a black leather jacket, jeans, and a white tee shirt. It was the first time she’d seen him in weeks. The avoidance had been entirely intentional. And now here he was, looking down at her, taking up too much space and breathing too much air.

“Long time no see.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Me, too.”

They stood there, staring at each other.

“How’s Alice?”

“She’s making progress.”

“Still not talking?”

She winced. “Not yet.”

He frowned. It lasted only a second, maybe less; she thought perhaps she’d imagined it until he said, “Don’t be frustrated. You’re helping her.”

She was surprised by how much those simple words meant to her. “How is it you always know what I need to hear?”

He smiled. “It’s my superpower.”

Beside them a bell tinkled and Peanut came out of the diner.

“Dr. Cerrasin. How are you?” Peanut said, looking from one of them to the other. She seemed certain that she’d missed something important.

“Fine. Fine. You?”

“Good,” Peanut said.

Max stared at Julia. She felt a little shiver move through her; it was probably from the cold. “Well,” she said, trying to follow it up with anything that made sense. But all she could do was stare at him.

“I should go,” he finally said.

Later, when Peanut and Julia were in the car, driving home, Peanut said, “That Dr. Cerrasin is certainly a fine-looking man.”

“Is he?” Julia said, staring out the window. “I didn’t notice.”

Peanut burst out laughing.

SIXTEEN

E
LLIE WAS IN THE LIVING ROOM, READING THROUGH THE MISSING
children reports—
again
—when Julia got home.

She knew how the press conference had gone by the disappointed look on her sister’s face. It was one of those moments when Ellie wished she weren’t so observant. She saw all the new lines on Julia’s face, the pallor of her skin, and the pounds she’d lost. The woman was practically a scarecrow.

Ellie felt a tinge of guilt. It was her fault that Julia was disappearing. If she had done her job better, the whole burden of identification wouldn’t have fallen on Julia’s thin shoulders. Amazingly, though, Julia had never once blamed her.

Of course, they hardly spent any time together these days. Since the press conferences began, Julia had worked like a machine. Every hour of every day, she kept herself in that bedroom upstairs.

“No one showed,” Julia said, tossing her briefcase on the sofa. There was the merest tremble in her voice; it could be exhaustion or defeat. She sat down in Mom’s favorite rocker, but didn’t relax. She sat stiffly; Ellie was reminded of a sliver of pale ash that had been filed too thin. There wasn’t enough left to bend without snapping in half.

A silence followed, broken only by the crackling of the fire in the fireplace.

Ellie glanced up the stairs, thinking of Alice. “What do we do now?”

Julia looked down at her hands, balled up in her lap. Her sudden fragility was sad to see. “I’m making remarkable progress, but . . .”

Ellie waited. The sentence remained a fragment, swallowed by the stillness in the room. “But what?”