“Monahan,” Ellie supplied.
“Good with names?” Maggie asked.
“Something like that,” Ellie hedged.
There was something remarkably inviting about Maggie. She was older, not old like mother or grandmother age, but about a decade older than Ellie. Her hair was reddish, but darker red, not ginger. And she had fine lines at the edges of her eyes. This was someone who had smiled a lot, although she currently had an edge to her that felt wild and dangerous.
“What do you think of Dan?” Maggie asked.
“He seems nice enough.” Ellie shrugged. Honestly, she wasn’t going to see any of these people later, so the urge to be overly social hadn’t struck her. Maggie, though, seemed interesting.
Ellie weighed the danger of revealing too much.
Do I tell her about the Missing files?
If Maggie was sent back, she’d be brainwiped. Everyone who went back home would be. If she stayed, she deserved to know. Ellie grabbed one of her binders and opened it to the page with the article about the missing hiker—their new classmate. She pointed at his photo. “He’s a missing person.”
“Damn…” Maggie looked up at Ellie and then back at the news clipping. Quietly she read it, and then she started to lift the page. She didn’t flip it. Yet. Finally, she met Ellie’s eyes. “Are we all in here?”
“Some.” Ellie looked at her and decided there was no way to backtrack, not really. Again, either Maggie would be brainwiped or she’d behere—and if she was here, maybe Ellie would have someone to leave the binders with when she went home. The idea of passing on her work appealed. She’d long thought of letting go of her project, but now that her curiosity over missing people was sated, she could.
“Do you want to read yours? If not, it’s—”
“Yes.” Maggie handed the binder back. “Show me.”
Ellie flipped the pages to one of the newest entries, pages that had been unsorted before Ellie’s cow collision. She’d only read it once, but she hated Maggie’s ex already.
MISSING LAWYER
RALEIGH—The search for 44-year-old Margaret Lynch continues this week. “Ms. Lynch careened off the road. Evidence suggests the mother of one was day-drinking,” local sheriff Bill Bamberg explained. “Maybe she caught a ride with someone. Maybe she planned the whole thing.”
Lynch, an attorney, was last seen by her teen son, who was knocked unconscious in the crash. Several campers saw the two that weekend, but there were no witnesses to the accident. “Maggie was in over her head at work, but there were no cases likely to lead to foul play,” her ex-husband explained. “I think this was her cowardice. We were in a custody discussion, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she was trying to kidnap our son.” Authorities are hoping someone will reach out with information on Ms. Lynch’s situation.
Maggie slammed the binder shut. “What an absolute lying sack of shit waffles.”
“At least you know your kid is okay,” Ellie said, trying to find a silver lining to the character assassination in that clipping.
“Leon knows Bamberg, so there’s no way that fool would be honest either.” Maggie made a muffled sound that was still loud enoughto make a hob appear. “The old boys’ network is alive and well in the South.”
Ellie shooed the hob away with a smile. She looked back at the older woman and thought about the rambunctious patrons at the library on occasion. “Hey…”
Maggie looked at her.
“So maybe we could walk or something. I’m not here to make friends. I’ll likely be going home, but—”
“Same. I have a kid back there, one I would never abandon.” Maggie tensed, staring out the window. “If he’s not here, I’m not here. Simple as that. You?”
“No kids.” Ellie shuddered. The thought of being responsible for a small human in a world filled with violence, school shootings, and political idiocy was enough to turn her off from even the hint of reproducing even if she found a person with whom that was an option. She didn’t feel compelled to say any of that, though. Some people wanted kids; some didn’t. Neither path was wrong—but one was wrong for Ellie. She was certain of it.
They stood awkwardly for a few moments.
“Er, so why did you ask about Monahan?” Ellie finally asked, assuming the going-for-a-walk idea was dismissed. “Do you want a chair or something if you’re going to be here?”
Maggie flashed a grin at her. “Not much of a hostess back home?”
“Librarian. I can lead a book club, story time, guided meditation, or help you research, but I don’t really do parties for work or personally.” Ellie shrugged. “I like my privacy.”
“Fair. Well, I’m pushy… in case showing up here wasn’t enough to make that obvious.”
