Page 40 of The Lovely and the Lost
“No,” I said, stepping back from Cady and from the window. My hands shook, and I used the mug to steady them.
Cady had given up the search for Ash for Jude’s sake. I wouldn’t let her give up this one for mine.
Icrept into the room I was sharing with Free at a quarter to two, but didn’t fall asleep until the sun began to peek over the horizon the next morning. I dreamed of darkness—not the forest, but the kind of darkness that comes with walls on four sides, closing in.
Bad things happen to bad little girls.
I knew it was a dream, but it didn’t matter. I could still feel myself clawing at the tiny crack beneath a shadow-cast door, a whimper rising in the back of my throat. I was still whimpering when I woke up—and I wasn’t the only one.
Silver stood over me, nudging me awake.Pup. Wake up, pup.Her high-pitched whine broke off as the world came into focus for me and her tongue lapped at my face.
Kira,I thought.I’m Kira. That’s Silver. Kira and Silver. We’re fine.
In the early years, I’d woken up like this more mornings than I could count.
“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.” Free tossed something at me. It wasn’t until it landed on my stomach that I realized it was a Pop-Tart. I sat up before Silver could get ideas about snatching it.
“Breakfast?” I asked Free.
“Breakfast, part two. Part one was rough. Ness is down with the flu, and let’s just say that Bales Bennett’s culinary skills leave something to be desired.”
Given the size of Free’s appetite, I deeply suspected she’d eaten whatever it was that Bales had attempted to cook anyway. As I eyed the Pop-Tart, she tossed something else at me—a file folder.
“What’s this?” I asked, shoving Silver over after a quick scratch behind her ears. I flipped open the folder just as Free answered my question.
“An overview of Miss Penelope Ferris’s research into our missing persons.”
“The librarian?” My mind went immediately to the conversation I’d overhead between Gabriel and Bales the day before.
“One and the same,” Free replied. “Jude has developed an ill-fated crush on her—he digs the glasses.” Free hopped up on the dresser, her heels bouncing lightly against the drawers. “Boy is still hanging out at the library in what he insists is ‘completely necessary recon’ and not at all an effort to prove himself helpful to his new lady love by stacking shelves.”
“Did he tell you he’s a lover, not a fighter?” I asked.
“I believe the direct quote was ‘Make love, not war or questionable breakfast choices.’”
As the last remnants of the dream slid off me, I wondered whether or not I should break it to Jude that the current object of his affection had almost married someone else. Deciding it wouldn’t make much difference either way, I bit into the Pop-Tart and began thumbing through the files Free had given me.So many people, gone without a trace.I read over their names one by one. When I got to the last one, my gaze darted up to Free’s.
She would have married my brother,Gabriel had said,if things had turned out differently.
“I see you’ve come to the first case our librarian friend documented.” Free turned toward the window. “One Andrés Cortez.”
* * *
One hour, multiple readings of the files, two Pop-Tarts, and three split-second, gut-clawing flashbacks later, this is what I knew: Andrés Cortez had gone missing four years earlier, at the age of nineteen. He’d dropped out of high school the day after his sixteenth birthday to help support his family and had been working as an unofficial guide on the mountain since he was twelve. For eighteen months prior to his disappearance, he’d also held down a day job as a mechanic two towns over.
He’d been reported missing by his fourteen-year-old brother.Gabriel.I felt like I should have known, like I should have been able to scent the tragedy on him.
According to the official records, the investigation had found no evidence of foul play. The working theory seemed to have been that Andrés had kicked the small-town dust off his feet and left his life and responsibilities behind, the way his own father had years before. In the weeks leading up to his disappearance, he’d spent several hundred dollars on wilderness supplies.
People around here go missing all the time.I could hear shades of meaning in Gabriel’s words now that I hadn’t before.
“Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?” Free asked.
With effort, I pulled my attention from the file and looked up at her. “Wonder what?”
Free leaned back against the wall. “Nine people in the last four years, starting with Andrés Cortez. I’m asking myself what a ‘normal’ number of disappearances around here might be.”
Over half a million people are reported missing each year.I didn’t recognize the statistic, not at first. Unlike my time in the forest, this was a memory I had to search for. When I found it, I felt like I was watching it unfold from under water.