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“You can’t compare those two things,” Michael said. “You can’t.”
“Felicity is just a few years older than Robyn was. And she looks so much like the pictures I’ve seen of her.” Erica took a step closer. Despite the smoking, Michael caught a whiff of something flowery, a shampoo or deodorant that smelled like lavender. But closer in, she looked even more wrung out and tired than he’d first realized. Her eyes were red, the whites filled with crisscrossing capillaries like a tiny map. “When we were married, hell, even when we were in college, you always told me you wanted to have children. And you always said you wanted to have a daughter, a little girl who ... well, who might help the family move on in some way.” Her tired eyes looked pleading, still filmed by tears. “I remember the dreams you’d have, how you’d still see that day, that moment, in your worst nightmares. I know all about how this affected you. And your family. Your parents couldn’t even talk about her. I know it all, Michael.”
“Stop it, Erica.”
“You even said once you’d want to name your daughter ‘Robyn.’ Now, I know I didn’t do that, but I thought about it. I really did. If we’d still been together ...”
“You didn’t ever tell me. You say this child is mine, but you didn’t tell me.”
“I was angry, Michael. I was hurt when you left me. Very hurt. The only thing I could do to get back at you was to keep the child away.” Erica heaved a long, shuddering sigh. “It’s getting late, and time is a-wasting. The police, they keep telling me the first forty-eight hours are the most important. Michael, she’s gone. Felicity is. If we don’t act now, if we don’t hurry ... The police won’t say what they mean by that forty-eight-hour thing, but I know. They mean she’s going to be dead. Killed. Murdered. Maybe ... Well, you can imagine all the other things that can happen to a girl. My daughter. Our daughter.”
Erica’s breathing grew frantic, spastic. Her shoulders and chest shook convulsively, so that Michael wanted to reach out and grab her just to stop the painful-looking movements.
“I don’t know what I can do that the police can’t do. And shouldn’t you be there? At your house?”
“I’ll go back. Soon. I needed a break. I needed help. You went to therapy when Robyn died, didn’t you? You told me. And so did Lynn.”
“Why are you bringing that up?”
“People need help. From others. We can’t just wallow. And sitting in that house was like being in a pressure cooker. And that’s the one place Felicity isn’t.”
Erica brought out the cigarettes again. Her hands shook so much, she dropped the pack.
Michael bent down and picked them up. Their fingers brushed when he handed them to her. She managed to get one into her mouth, and Michael took the lighter and held it while Erica inhaled. The first long puff seemed to calm her. She regained some control of her body and her movements.
Up the street, a lawn mower roared to life, cutting through the quiet suburban evening. Someone was trying to get a few last blades of grass cut before the light was gone.
“I told you there’s a man,” Erica said. “He teaches at Felicity’s school. I don’t know what it is about him, but he always acted really interested in Felicity. He talked to me about her, sent notes home about how smart she was. He used the word ‘amazing’ once. It just never seemed right to me, the way he acted. It didn’t seem healthy.”
“Did you tell the police about him?”
“I did.” She took another long drag and again blew the smoke away from Michael. “They questioned him this morning, not long after Felicity was gone. Taken . I thought we’d know something right then, that he would tell them where she was and why she was gone. But the cops let him go. It was so fast, Michael. So fast. They just let him go. I don’t think they even searched his house. What if she’s there? What if she’s been held there all day and we just need to go there?”
“And you want me to ... what?”
“Talk to him. With a man like you there, he might respond. I’d feel safer going. Just go do this and then come back. That’s it, Michael. For me. I’ll never ask you for anything ever again.”
“Don’t you have someone else who can go with you?” Michael asked. “A friend ... or a guy in your life?”
“I’m a single mom, Michael. A single, working mom. I don’t have a huge circle of friends. I don’t have guys knocking down my door, wanting to date me.”
“Where do you even live, Erica?”
“I’m in Trudeau. On the west side.”
Michael still held Erica’s phone. He tapped it with his index finger, bringing the photo of the girl back onto the screen.
Yes, she looked like Robyn.
Yes, she could very well be his daughter.
And Michael knew Erica was right that time was critical for a missing child. Everyone knew that.
He handed the phone back to her without meeting her eye.
“Michael,” she said in a pleading tone.
“Go to the end of the driveway,” he said. “Wait there. I’ll be right out.”