“Sorry, Mom,” Ben whispers as he brushes past me into the house.
I follow him in and find him leaning against the kitchen counter. I reach up into a cupboard and pull down a glass, fill it with ice and lemonade and hand it to him.
“Thank you for trying, Ben. I know you did your best. There isn’t anyone who knows the woods better than you do. If they were in there, I know you would have found them.”
He takes a long swallow of the lemonade and makes a pinched face at its sourness. “I’m going back out. I’m gonna call the guys and we’ll go out looking again. We need to go in deeper. She may have gone farther in, she likes to explore.”
“That’s a good idea. I’ll go, too. I’ll call Mrs. Norland to come over and wait, in case they come back. I’ll pack some water, you go call the boys.”
Ben has his hand on the phone when it rings; he pulls back as if shocked, lets it ring again, and then picks it up.
“Hello?” It is a question. “Just a moment, please.” He hands the receiver to me and whispers, “Louis.”
“Lou?” I say, and I find myself getting teary. “Any word?”
“No, nothing yet. I’ve contacted the state police and they’re sending a guy over. He’ll be here in an hour or so. He’ll be wanting to talk to you and Ben and Mr. and Mrs. Gregory, too.” He pauses for a moment. “We’ve tried to contact Griff and Roger Hogan, but can’t get a hold of them. Roger’s wife said his plan was to pick up Griff about four this morning and to drive over to Julien. I called over to the Julien police station. An officer is going to drive to the cabin and let them know what’s going on.”
I try to imagine Griff’s reaction to finding out that the girls are gone. Would he be worried, would he come back right away, or stay there and let me deal with this whole ordeal? How I had loved Griff, and still do, I guess, in my way. He was exciting and at one time, before the alcohol overtook my place in Griff’s heart, he needed me. “Should Ben and I come into the station?” I ask, returning my attention to the man I had grown up with, the man I should have married. But if I had done that, there would be no Ben, no Calli.
“How ’bout I call you, and we’ll drive on over to you. That way if Calli comes home, you’ll be there. Toni…I need to tell you, this guy from the state, he does this sort of thing for a living, looking into missing kids. He’s seen everything, and he doesn’t know you. He’ll ask some…some questions you won’t like.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, and instantly realization dawns on me. “You mean that he might think that we may have had something to do with this? Oh my God”. All of a sudden, I feel dirty and guilty.
“I’ll be there with you, Toni. These big shots tend to take over, but he’s good. He’ll help us find Calli and Petra.”
“All right, Lou, we’ll be here,” I say faintly. A silence as heavy as this summer’s heat hangs between us.
“Toni, I’ve reported Calli and Petra missing to the NCIC,” Louis says, as an afterthought, as if he wants me to think it’s really no big deal. But I know otherwise.
“What exactly is that?” I ask.
“It stands for the National Crime Information Center. They have a centralized Missing Person file. This way other law enforcement centers will be aware that we’re looking for the girls. And I’ve put a Be On the Lookout bulletin for the entire county. Everyone will be looking for Petra and Calli.”
“Oh, that’s a good idea,” I say, my mind spinning. “What about an AMBER Alert? Can you issue one of those?”
“AMBER Alerts are only issued when it is confirmed that a child has been abducted. We don’t know that for certain.” We are silent for a moment. “Toni, it will be okay, I promise,” Louis finally says with resolve.
I hang up the phone. Ben is watching me, waiting for me to tell him what to do. “Go on and take a shower, Ben. Someone from the state police is coming over—”
“What about looking more?” he interrupts with annoyance.
“Louis says we need to do this, so we will. Go on and take a shower.” I sit down once again to wait.
CALLI
Calli’s muscles went rigid at hearing a rustling in the brush, then a loud pop of a branch breaking. She was instantly watchful, her heart pounding a dull thud that she could feel in her temple. She sat frozen, waiting for the next sound, half expecting Griff to peek over the mound of tree limbs. A faint crunch of sticks, too light-footed to be Griff, and a whitetail deer stepped into her line of vision, the reddish-brown coat lightly speckled with the white spots of a fawn. It stood still as it sensed Calli’s presence. The deer’s ears were long and slender, reminding Calli of a jackrabbit, its eyes black and gleaming, the color of the mica minerals Ben kept on his dresser at home. The two regarded one another for a while, and then the curious fawn stepped closer to Calli, so near that if Calli dared she would be able to stroke its polished black nose. Holding her breath, Calli shifted her weight so that she was on her knees. The deer startled and took several steps backward and then stopped. Again they observed one another, both long-limbed and knobby-kneed, alone. Stepping tentatively toward Calli, the deer sniffed the air around her experimentally. Calli dared to pull herself out of the fallen boughs and the deer stutter-stepped back in hesitation. Yet again they stood placidly, each scrutinizing the other, until the fawn took two bold steps to Calli. Surprised, Calli stepped backward, bumping into a birch tree, its white, paperlike bark peeling in her hands as she tried to steady herself. Once recovered, Calli moved toward the deer, one grubby hand outstretched. And on it went. A soundless, tender waltz, under a dome of shimmering shades of green, a carpet of soil under them, lost for a moment, together, each in their own quiet room, saying nothing, but whispering to each other in their odd little dance.
DEPUTY SHERIFF LOUIS
At my desk, cluttered with the horrible reminder of two missing girls, I wait for the agent from the state. I have just asked Meg, our dispatcher, to send one of our reservists, David Glass, a pharmacist, to be our point man at the homes. He will park our oldest, dented squad car at a point between the two homes. All the information gathered during the investigation will be relayed to David.
The picture of Calli that has been passed out to all police officers stares up at me. She looks so like her mother, the same chestnut hair and brown eyes, the same messy ponytail that Toni had when she was young.
Toni and I met when we were seven, in the winter of our first-grade year. My mother, my sister, brother and I had just moved to tiny Willow Creek from Chicago. My father had died unexpectedly the year before of a heart attack and through a friend, my mom got a job at the college. The quiet and vastness of land made me lonely for the sound of traffic and the familiar sound of neighbors laughing and arguing. I remember lying in my new bed, in my very own room, missing the sound of my little brother’s soft snores and not being able to sleep for the calm of the country. Our neighbors were acres away. The only sounds were that of a dog barking or the wind blowing. After so many sleepless nights, my mother finally bought me a small radio to place beside my bed to fill the silence that kept me awake.
I started my first day at Willow Creek Elementary School reluctantly and pretended to be sick; my mother sat on the edge of my bed and looked me in the eye. “Loras Michael Louis,” she began gravely, “I, of all people, know that it is not easy to leave what you know and begin something new. Your father is not around to help now. You are the oldest and everyone is looking to see what you do. If you lie in bed moping, so will they. If you get up cheerful and ready to tackle the world, so will they.”
“Mom, Katie is three months old, she ain’t tackling anybody,” I sassed.
“Well, you’re the oldest male figure she has to go by now. How you act is what she will grow up thinking what a man should be like. Put that in your pipe and smoke it, mister! Get up.”
“Sheesh, Mom, okay.”
I crawled out of bed, got dressed and prayed that someone in this godforsaken town would know how to play a good game of stick ball come spring.
On that first day of school my mother drove us. The sky was robin’s egg–blue and the ground was covered in
