Chương 9
The bed was empty.
For several seconds his brain refused to understand what he was seeing.
Then he stood.
“Sophie?”
No answer.
The compartment door was unlocked.
Daniel’s heart slammed hard enough to hurt.
He opened it.
The corridor was empty.
“Sophie.”
Nothing.
He checked the restroom.
Empty.
He knocked on Mia’s compartment, waking her immediately.
“Sophie’s gone.”
Mia was on her feet before fully awake.
“What?”
“I fell asleep. The door—”
“Call Nora.”
Daniel ran.
The train remained stopped in the mountains. Emergency lights glowed low along the corridors. Most passengers in the forward cars slept unaware.
He checked the lounge.
Empty.
Dining car.
Empty except for the stain.
Observation room.
Empty.
Nora met him near the service vestibule with a radio.
“We’re locking exterior access.”
“Can she open the doors?”
“Not the exterior doors while we’re secured, but we’re checking all of them.”
Daniel felt his stomach twist.
“What about between cars?”
“Accessible, but enclosed.”
Mia appeared behind them.
“I’ll check the rear compartments.”
Daniel turned toward Victoria’s car.
He knocked once, then opened the unlocked door.
She sat up.
“What happened?”
“Sophie’s missing.”
Victoria’s face emptied of sleep.
“What?”
“She left the compartment.”
“When?”
“I don’t know.”
Victoria was already pulling on shoes.
“Daniel, where would she go?”
“I don’t know.”
“What upset her?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s not true.”
He almost shouted.
Instead he stopped.
Victoria knew Sophie.
Whatever else had happened, that remained true.
“She asked if we were breaking up.”
Victoria stood.
“What did you say?”
“I didn’t know.”
“And?”
“She asked whether you’d hate her.”
Victoria closed her eyes.
“Oh, God.”
“What?”
“She thinks this is her fault.”
“I told her it wasn’t.”
“She’s five, Daniel.”
The words struck him with such force that under any other circumstances he might have laughed at the reversal.
Victoria grabbed a sweater.
“Where does she hide at home?”
“Closet. Under my desk.”
“Small spaces.”
“Yes.”
“Dark?”
“Sometimes.”
“When she wants you to find her or when she doesn’t?”
He stared.
“What?”
“There’s a difference.”
Daniel thought.
“When she wants me to find her, she leaves the closet door open.”
“And when she doesn’t?”
“The laundry room.”
Victoria moved past him.
“Service areas.”
They searched together.
Daniel hated that they were good at it.
Victoria checked beneath tables, inside an empty steward pantry, behind curtains, anywhere a child could compress herself into adult blind spots.
They reached the rear vestibule.
A narrow linen cabinet stood beside the locked exterior door.
Victoria stopped.
One folded towel lay on the floor.
She opened the cabinet.
Sophie was curled behind a stack of blankets, knees tucked beneath her pale blue nightgown.
Her eyes were open.
Victoria froze.
Daniel came behind her.
“Oh, thank God.”
Sophie immediately looked frightened.
“I’m sorry.”
Daniel dropped to his knees.
“No. No, sweetheart.”
“I was coming back.”
“Okay.”
“I didn’t go outside.”
“I know.”
“I just wanted you to stop fighting.”
Daniel reached for her, then stopped.
“Can I pick you up?”
Sophie nodded.
He lifted her from the cabinet.
She clung to him.
Victoria remained beside the open door.
Sophie saw her.
Her body stiffened.
Victoria stepped back.
“I’m not coming closer.”
Daniel looked at her.
Victoria’s face was pale.
No makeup. Hair loose from its usual tight bun. For the first time since Daniel had known her, she looked untidy enough to be ordinary.
“Sophie,” she said.
Sophie turned her face into Daniel’s chest.
Victoria swallowed.
“I won’t talk to you right now.”
Sophie stayed still.
“I just want you to know I’m glad you’re safe.”
No answer.
Victoria nodded to herself.
Then she walked away.
Daniel carried Sophie back to the sleeping compartment.
He did not scold her until the door was closed.
Then he sat her on the bed and said, “You cannot leave without telling me.”
“I know.”
“No, I need you to hear me.”
Her eyes filled.
Daniel lowered his voice.
“If you’re mad, if you want us to stop talking, if you want to hide, you tell me first. I woke up and you were gone.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I was scared.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t know. And that’s okay. You’re not supposed to know what that feels like for me.”
Sophie wiped her nose.
“I thought if you couldn’t find me, you would stop talking about Victoria.”
Daniel sat down.
“Why did you want us to stop?”
“Because she’ll go away.”
“Maybe.”
“Then you’ll be sad.”
“Maybe.”
“And it’ll be because I told.”
There it was.
Daniel took both of her hands.
“Listen to me.”
She looked at him reluctantly.
“If Victoria and I don’t stay together, it will not be because you told the truth.”
“But if I didn’t tell—”
“No.”
“You wouldn’t know.”
“That is different.”
Sophie frowned.
Daniel searched for language she could carry without turning it into another burden.
“If someone breaks a window and you tell me the window is broken, you didn’t break it.”
“But Victoria isn’t a window.”
“No.”
“That was not a good example.”
Despite everything, he laughed.
Sophie gave him a small smile.
“Okay,” he said. “Bad example.”
She leaned against him.
“Are you going to be sad?”
“Yes.”
She started to speak.
He interrupted gently.
“And you do not have to fix it.”
She looked unconvinced.
“You really don’t.”
“Who fixes it?”
“I do.”
“How?”
“I don’t know yet.”
Sophie sighed.
“You don’t know a lot tonight.”
“That is extremely true.”
She climbed beneath the blanket.
Daniel lay beside her this time instead of on the floor.
Before she fell asleep, she said, “Victoria found me.”
“Yes.”
“I thought she would tell me I was bad.”
“She didn’t.”
“No.”
Sophie was quiet.
“Does that mean she’s nice?”
Daniel looked at the ceiling.
People wanted categories because categories promised safety.
Nice.
Mean.
Good.
Bad.
Adults did it too. They simply used longer words.
“No,” he said. “It means she did one good thing.”
“Can mean people do good things?”
“Yes.”
“Can nice people do bad things?”
May you like
“Yes.”
Sophie thought for a long time.
