Nic felt it again—pity, sadness for this man. She had never been in love, but people could hide anything if they wanted to. Her father included.
“I should go,” Nic said.
“I’m sorry about before.” Booth spoke softly now. “I thought you knew something about Daisy. I thought maybe you weren’t telling me. It caught me off guard, how desperate I still am to know what happened to her.”
“I understand,” Nic said. And then, “Why don’t you just ask Chief Watkins? You’re not the only one who thinks he helped her leave.”
“I did. He swore he didn’t drive her, but he did say she’d askedhim for a ride to Boston. What am I supposed to do? Put a gun to his head? I have to live in this town. Run a business here.”
He stopped her one last time as she began to leave.
“Has anyone told you?” he asked.
Nic shrugged. “Told me what?”
Now his eyes, dancing across her face, then over her breasts and hips. All the way down to her feet, then back up to meet her eyes.
“You look like her,” he said. His face was flushed with longing that had nowhere to go. “Something about you—your hair and the way you walk. I can’t put my finger on it,” he said. “But you remind me of Daisy.”
25
Day fifteen
Mick wakes soon after Alice tells me about the end that is coming. I fear that my quick, shallow breaths have shaken the bed. Some things must find their way out of the body. Some things cannot be contained. This fear that stirred from Alice’s warning was like that. Too big to hold inside.
I feel the hand that weighs heavily on my hip squeeze my flesh. It does not feel intentional, and it pulls away quickly as if consciousness has suddenly taken over. I wonder if he was dreaming about his wife. Alice’s first mommy. I wonder if they used to lie in bed like this and if he used to wake with his hands on her body and then fall into the physical pleasures of touch. Maybe more. Maybe they made love while Alice lay beside them, still asleep. Pretending to sleep. Maybe they went to another room to be alone.
Or maybe the first mommy tried as I now do, to lie perfectly still even as the air rushes in and out. Feeling nothing but the fear.
He moves out of the bed. He does not kiss Alice or give her a hug. Instead, he scoops her into his arms and carries her out of theroom. He does this quickly as though wanting to remove himself from me.
I am relieved. I am despondent.
Yes, leave.
No, come back.
Want me. Desire me. Let me be enough. Don’t leave this house and find my daughter.
I do not move. I do not turn my head. I simply feel the arms slide across me until they are gone, and then the bed gets lighter behind me, and then the floorboards creak as he walks.
There is whispering outside the room.
Then the sound of the metal grate closing. Metal on metal as the key turns the lock.
I hear little feet stomping. A high-pitched voice whining. Alice is not happy about the locked grate.
The front door opens and closes. I hear a car in the driveway. Not the truck engine like before. It has been three days since I heard the truck. Not being able to see outside has made my hearing perceptive.
The car is light on the gravel. Turns with ease. I imagine it’s small. From there, I am out of guesses. I do not know this man. Mick. I do not know if he would drive a sports car or a fuel-efficient smart car. I don’t know if he’s rich or poor or where he goes all day and now most of the night.
I shift my head away from the camera and go to the bathroom. I have searched in here for a camera and have found nothing. Not even in the vent for the shower, or inside the light fixture. I have inspected every inch of this room and have allowed myself to believe I am right. I need to believe.
Still, I close the door and turn off the light before I let myself be free.
I sit on the floor and cover my face with my hands. Alice’s words fly through my mind. Ominous words carried on that sweet little voice.
I refuse to hate her, though I feel it creeping in. She is a victim as much as I am. As much as her first mommy, I have come to believe.
