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Michael stepped onto the porch, noting the two ground-up cigarette butts, the scattering of ashes. He briefly considered sweeping them away with his foot before Angela could see them, but he knew he’d just be wasting time. Angela was upset enough, and with good reason, so why worry about something small like the mess Erica made on the porch?
She paced at the end of the driveway. She wasn’t smoking, but she held the phone to her ear, and as Michael approached, she gestured wildly with her free hand. It shook as though stricken with palsy.
She ended the call and looked up as Michael approached.
“The cops,” she said, her voice shaking. “Nothing. They still don’t know anything.” She checked the time on the phone screen. “Almost twelve hours, Michael. It feels like twelve years. We have to get moving so I can get home sooner.”
At the end of the driveway sat a white Camry parked at an odd angle to the curb, as though the driver had been in a hurry.
“I’m driving,” Michael said. “You’re too upset, and it’s going to be dark soon.”
“Fine, fine. I don’t care. I’m happy to let someone else do something for a change. Let someone else worry.”
Michael went around to the driver’s side of his Honda SUV. He unlocked the door but saw Erica walking back to her car. “What are you doing?”
“I need something.”
“I thought we were in such a hurry.”
Michael stood by the open door as Erica walked to the Camry. She fumbled around inside, the dome light showing her movements, and then came out with a jacket that looked too heavy for the hot June weather. She walked back up the driveway and then climbed into the passenger seat of his car. Michael backed out of the driveway, watching his home recede behind him.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to just take you to the police?” Michael asked. “Maybe if you talked to them again, they would be more responsive. Or they could give you more information.”
“This guy’s name is Wayne Tolliver. I have his address right here on my phone. Go north on Route 128. That’s the way. He lives in Trudeau, not far from where we used to. Almost to the east side.”
“What do you need the jacket for? It’s eighty degrees.”
“I just need it.” She held the jacket on her lap, tucking it close to her body like a security blanket.
Michael did as he was told, heading for the state road that led to Davenport County. It felt awkward in the confined space of the car. Michael sensed her fear and anxiety, like being in close proximity to a jittery wild animal. She looked and smelled like she’d recently showered, but she wore no makeup, and Michael could see the worry and pain etched on her face like the work of erosion. He had next to no sense of what her life had been like over the past decade. A number of times over the past year he had checked her Facebook page, but she allowed little information to be made public, and Michael never felt right sending a friend request. Not because he didn’t think he could be friends with his ex-wife, but because he didn’t feel right opening that door to the past. He’d broken things off so cleanly and clearly with Erica that he felt he couldn’t be the one to initiate.
And he’d never seen a photo of a child on her social media pages. Never.
“How did this happen?” Michael asked. “I mean, where was the kid taken from?”
“Felicity. Not ‘the kid.’ Can I smoke in here?”
Michael started to say no but relented. “Crack the window, please.”
Erica did as she was asked, opening the window before lighting up. “You’re more uptight than you used to be. I used to smoke in your car without you saying anything. Of course, your dad paid for that car. And the house too. It’s pretty nice. A minimansion now. You and I lived in that little apartment. How many bedrooms does it have?”
“Five. And four bathrooms. You didn’t answer my question.”
“You must be working for your dad, right?” she asked, a trace of surprise and disdain in her voice. “You said you never wanted to do that. You wanted to get out of Cottonsville and not work in his company.”
“Things change. They needed me when he died.”
“So, you just started working there when he died?” she asked.
Michael hesitated, watching the oncoming vehicles pass. “No. I started shortly after I got married again.”
“Why?”
Michael lifted his right hand as he spoke. “I wanted to help my family. They matter to me. I was young when I said I never wanted to work there or live there.”
“I’m sorry, by the way. About your dad. How long ago did he die?”
“Fourteen months. And how did you know about it?”
“Facebook. Where else? Is your mom okay? She must have taken it hard.”
“Yeah, she did. They were together since college. I think she’s a little directionless. So much of her life was tending to him. Now there’s no one for her to take care of.”
“And it was hard on you too,” Erica said. Not a question but a statement. “I know you really loved him. And admired him.”
“I’m okay,” he said. “Life goes on. It was just sudden, that’s all.”
“And your family certainly already knows about losing someone. It must have brought things back up from the past.”
“Okay, just, let’s just not talk about Robyn and all that. Okay?”
“Sure.” They rode in silence for a minute. “But you always carried that burden with you. If you ask me, they let you carry too much of the weight. Just because you were kind of watching her—”
“Erica. Can we drop it? Please?”
“Okay, okay.”
Michael ignored her. He gripped the wheel tighter, staring at the road. He didn’t want to think about that day or to think of his father dying. He pushed it away. It was all too much to think about, too much to remember.
It was too big.
“Boy, your dad didn’t like me, did he?” she said. “Imagine if he knew we were riding around together now. He thought I was such a loudmouth. Which I am.”
“You didn’t answer my question from before.”
“I know. I’ve answered it twenty times today. It makes me tired and hurt every time I have to say it. God, I’ve never felt so drained.” She rubbed her eyes with her free hand. She rubbed so hard, it looked painful. Michael wasn’t sure he’d ever seen someone look so weary and tired, as though she carried an unseen thousand-pound burden. “It’s why I’m sick of talking to the police. But I guess you deserve to know, since I’ve brought you into this.”
She sighed as she told him about agreeing to adopt a dog for Felicity just over a year ago. Erica said she really didn’t want to take on the responsibility of a dog, but she thought it might be good for Felicity. During the summer, the two of them had fallen into the habit of taking the dog to the park in the morning, before the heat of the day set in, and leading it on a long walk. Even that early in the morning, they both ended up sweaty, but Erica still had enough time to return home and shower and get ready for work.
“This morning we went a little later than normal. I’d had a late meeting at work the night before, so I didn’t need to get in as early. I went to the park, got the stupid dog out of the car.” As Erica moved to the events of that very morning, her voice took on the frantic, nervous tone again. Michael felt bad making her relive it, but his desire to know was even greater. “Felicity and I had a fight last night. She wants to get her ears pierced. I say she’s too young. We went around and around about it. When we woke up this morning, she was still pissed at me. She inherited my stubbornness. So she refused to get out of the car and walk with me and the dog.” Erica took one last drag and threw the cigarette out the window, and as she powered it back up, the air made a whooshing noise. “I was over it, Michael. I’m a single mom. I fight all these battles alone. So I told her if she wanted to sit in the hot car and wait for me, she could be my guest. No skin off my nose, right?”
Erica grew quiet. Michael turned onto the state road toward Davenport County. With the window up, the car seemed particularly silent with only the sound of the tires rolling over the pavement and the gentle hum of the motor and air-conditioning. Michael waited, although he might have guessed what came next.
“When I get back to the car, she’s gone. Just gone. No sign of a problem. No blood or scream or anything.” Her breath caught in her throat. Her voice lowered. “Gone.”
“Could she have ... I mean, kids run away.”
“A nine-year-old? Where would she go? The park’s in the middle of town. She had no money with her. Nothing.” Erica drummed her fingers against the passenger-side door. Thrum-thrum-thrum.
“Sorry,” Michael said. “Were there witnesses? Did anyone see anything or anyone unusual?”
Erica was turned away, her face pointed out the window, watching the cornfields and cattle pastures roll by.
“It was kind of early. About nine. The park still wasn’t very crowded.” She paused. Michael thought she wasn’t going to say anything else, but then she added, “I have a problem, Michael. And it looks bad for me. Since she stayed in the car, and I walked the dog alone, people saw me in the park. But no one saw Felicity in the park this morning. It’s like she hadn’t been there at all. And they’re wondering if I made the whole story up, if maybe I’ve done something to her.”