Page 143 of Lost Lyrebird

It reminds me of when, as a kid, every spring, we’d have birds that would break through the mesh on our dryer vent and get stuck in the little tubing.My dad had to disassemble the ventilation system and rescue the bird every single time.Sometimes it would injure itself trying to break free, and my dad would try to nurse it back to health.It didn’t always work, but he tried.

I sit on the bed and wait to see if I can hear it again, but ten minutes go by and nothing.

I sigh as if defeated and walk towards the door.I open and shut it, and then remain absolutely still, and wait.

Minutes go by before the shuffling resumes.A sound just like the bird made: a fluttering.

With silent steps, I close in on the closet.The sound quiets as I arrive at the door, as if whatever or whoever’s there has picked up on my presence.

I palm my gun and aim it in front of me.After placing my fingers on the edge of the closet door, I slowly draw it open.

Huddled in the corner, hidden beneath a blanket, is the girl.The underage one I’ve been concerned about.She’s in her late teens, maybe, but it’s hard to tell because her face is a mass of bruises, and she’s got a puffy eye and busted lip.She’s small, thin, and so scared she’s trembling, but fuck, the look she’s giving me.It’s a glare that could cut stone.

Her eyes are blue, and her hair has been dyed blonde, evident by her dark roots.She has olive skin and strong, exaggerated features.

It’s her eyes, though, that keep me somewhat paralyzed in place, because she has the eyes of someone who’s seen too much.Too much pain, too much horror.They’re soul-searing.They level me on the spot.

I immediately take my finger off the trigger and hold up my gun, then tuck it away and out of sight.I crouch down and, using the softest voice I can manage, I say, “Hey.It’s okay.I’m not gonna hurt you.”When she remains frozen, I go on, “I’m not a cop, but I can go grab one if you want.They’re taking all the other girls to the hospital and then to the precinct so they can call their families.”

I won’t ever forget the terror that floods into her eyes at that moment.She shakes her head vigorously.“No cops,” she says.

“Uh… okay.Can you tell me why?”

She doesn’t respond for the longest time.I wait her out.

“They’ll send me back home.I can’t go back there.”

It takes over an hour to coax her out of the closet.It’s only after demanding a favor of Joey, and begging him not to say a word about her to anyone else, and both of us promising her that we won’t turn her over to the cops, that she comes out.Joey doesn’t like it, but I fight him on it.There’s a reason she’s hiding out from the cops who would send her home.And until I find out what it is, I can’t in good conscience hand her over to them.

My gut tells me to believe her and give her a chance to choose her own path forward.She’s had enough choices taken away from her; I’m not about to do the same.

So yeah, that’s how I find her.The little bird who later tells me her name is Elle.

CHAPTER 41

Open your mind to the possibility that a helping hand is always there, being offered by a friend, a loved one, and sometimes even from the universe itself.

FEBRUARY 2008

We’re at the airport and my flight leaves in an hour.It’s time to say goodbye and head through TSA security, but I don’t want to leave her.I’m sick to my stomach at the thought of having to do so, but I’m due back on base by tomorrow, and I’ve put off leaving for as long as I dare.

The only thought that helps calm the anxiety I’m feeling is that I only have four more months left in the Army, and I’ve done all I can to set her up until my enlistment period ends.

I cradle her face in my hand, tilting her chin until her eyes meet mine.They’re a piercing blue—the exact shade of forget-me-nots—but right now they’re wide, swimming with fear.

She swats my hand away and darts a glance over her shoulder at the people weaving around us, their footsteps and muttered conversations a blur in the background.Then she leans in so close, her voice sharp and a bit shaking.“I’m serious.Don’t worry about me.Worry about yourself.Don’t do something stupid like get yourself killed.”

I can’t help it—I smile down at her, soft and amused.It’s too damn cute, watching her trip over her own panic just for me.“I won’t.”

She snaps, “You don’t know that!”

I laugh.“And yet, I do.I promise.”

Her mouth pinches tight, the corners trembling with all the words she’s biting back.“Promises are useless.”

“Not mine,” I say, voice low but certain.

“So you say.”