Chương 2
Her dress had cost more than the first car she had ever owned. Five minutes earlier, she had worried that the hem might wrinkle before she reached Seattle.
Now a gray streak from the airport floor crossed the fabric near her knee.
Theo approached.
“The flight’s closed,” he said.
Amelia nodded.
“The board chair has called twice.”
“Tell him I’m delayed.”
“I did. He asked whether delayed means thirty minutes or tomorrow.”
“Tell him it means I don’t know.”
Theo glanced at the twins. His voice softened. “Airport police are checking the woman’s identification. She says she’s their aunt.”
Mason shook his head hard enough to make one curl fall across his forehead. “She said she was our mom at the desk.”
“Which desk?” Amelia asked.
“The one where they looked in our bags.”
“Security?”
He shrugged.
Avery whispered, “She said we had to call her Mom or they’d take Rabbit.”
Mason tucked the rabbit beneath his chin.
Theo’s jaw tightened. He had a face designed for discretion, long and composed, but Amelia had worked with him for nine years. She knew the tiny movements: the flattening of his mouth when he was angry, the blink that came when he had already decided someone was lying.
“Did you tell Officer Park?” he asked.
Mason looked at Amelia.
“Tell her when you’re ready,” Amelia said. “Not because we order you to.”
Theo stepped away to relay the information.
Across the gate, Olivia stood beside the silver suitcase while an officer examined her driver’s license. The airport guard remained nearby with his hands folded in front of him. Boarding had resumed through a second scanner. Passengers passed within feet of Olivia, some irritated by the inconvenience, some leaning subtly to get a better look.
Olivia did not look ashamed.
She looked trapped.
The distinction mattered to Amelia, although she could not yet have said why.
Officer Park returned with a woman carrying a soft-sided briefcase and wearing a burgundy cardigan under her winter coat. She introduced herself as Dana Ruiz, an emergency child protection caseworker.
Dana did not begin with questions.
She offered the children two small bottles of water and a packet of pretzels from a vending machine. Mason refused both. Avery took the water but could not twist off the cap.
Amelia opened it for her.
“Thank you,” Avery whispered.
Dana sat in the nearest chair rather than on the floor. “I need to talk with Mason and Avery. You can stay where they can see you, Ms. Hart, but I’m going to ask that you not answer for them.”
“Of course.”
“Are you comfortable with that?” Dana asked the children.
Mason nodded.
Avery touched the blue thread on Rabbit’s ear.
Dana asked simple questions first: their ages, their last name, where they lived, what school they attended.
They both knew they were five. Mason said their last name was Bell. Avery said it was Shaw.
“Which one do you use at school?” Dana asked.
“We don’t go now,” Avery said.
“Did you go before?”
“At Apple Tree.”
“Was that a school?”
“It had a green door,” Mason said.
Dana did not insist.
“Where is your mother?”
Avery looked toward Olivia again.
Mason answered. “She went away.”
“Do you know where?”
“Olivia said she’s sick in her head.”
Avery’s breathing quickened.
Mason reached across and took her hand without looking at her.
Dana lowered her voice. “When did you last see your mother?”
“Before the snow,” Avery said.
There was snow piled along the airport service roads outside, gray at the edges from plows and exhaust.
“Yesterday?” Dana asked.
Avery shook her head.
“Last week?”
Another shake.
Mason said, “Before the big snow.”
Denver had seen three heavy storms since Thanksgiving.
“Did your mother leave you with Olivia?”
Neither child answered.
Dana let the silence sit.
A cleaning cart rattled past. The woman pushing it glanced at Amelia’s gown, then at the children, and looked away with the practiced courtesy of someone who saw private disasters in public places every day.
“What were you supposed to do when you got on the plane?” Dana asked.
“Be good,” Mason said.
“And where were you going?”
“To Daddy.”
Avery began twisting the cap on her water bottle.
“Where does Daddy live?”
“Somewhere with boats,” Mason said.
“Seattle,” Avery whispered.
“Does he know you were coming?”
Mason looked at Olivia.
“She said he paid.”
Officer Park appeared behind Dana. The officer’s face remained neutral, but her pen stopped moving.
“Paid for the tickets?” Dana asked.
Mason shrugged. “Paid Olivia.”
Avery’s fingers slipped from the bottle cap.
Water spilled across the front of her yellow dress.
She gasped as if she had broken something valuable.
“It’s all right,” Amelia said.
Avery stared at the wet fabric.
“Olivia gets mad when we make stains.”
Amelia pulled a linen handkerchief from her handbag. Her mother had once told her that no one under sixty carried handkerchiefs unless they were trying too hard. Amelia had bought a set the following day.
She pressed the cloth gently against Avery’s dress.
“It will dry.”
“Will it be yellow again?”
“Yes.”
“You promise?”
Amelia stopped.
She disliked promises made by people with no authority over the outcome. They were one of the cheapest forms of comfort.
“It should be,” she said. “And if it isn’t, that won’t be your fault.”
Avery watched her blot the water.
Officer Park asked Dana to step aside. They spoke near the windows. Theo joined them when they called him over.
Amelia stayed with the twins.
“Are you a princess?” Avery asked.
“No.”
“Your dress is sparkly.”
“I had to attend a dinner.”
“Did you eat cake?”
“Half a bite.”
“Why only half?”
“The man beside me spent fifteen minutes explaining a tax strategy. I lost my appetite.”
Mason looked at her. “What’s taxes?”
“Something you can be grateful you don’t understand yet.”
Avery made a small sound that might have been a laugh.
May you like
It surprised her. She covered her mouth.
Mason’s eyes widened, and then he smiled too—not because the remark was funny enough to deserve it, Amelia suspected, but because his sister had briefly forgotten to be afraid.
