“It’s fine. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he answers.
He doesn’t sound fine. He sounds scared. I can’t see anything wrong with him, but my view only shows about ten percent of his face at a time.
“Do you have food?” Teeny asks.
“Yeah, some water and bread. A little turkey.”
I’m guessing he doesn’t have the same little buffet we’ve got. I turn to Teeny and say, “Find some food small enough to fit through the hole.”
She scurries over to the card table and grabs a banana and a honey bun. It takes us a few minutes but we finally get the food through to the other side.
It really makes me nervous there’s another kid here. There is obviously way more going on than Thomas is saying.
While he eats, I ask, “What are you doing here?”
His eye fills the hole again and his eyebrow scrunches up. “I don’t know. That guy won’t tell me anything no matter how many times I ask.”
“What’s the guy look like?”
“I don’t know. He’s always wearing a ski mask.”
I take a deep breath and try to force down the rising anxiety. “You haven’t seen the tall, dark-haired guy? He may have been dressed like a priest.”
“You two are the only other people I’ve seen since I’ve been here.” Noah backs away from the hole. He’s gone for a while and I have a crazy fear he won’t come back. Finally, his brown eye fills the space again.
What the hell is going on? Who is this boy and what does he have to do with any of this?
“Have you ever heard of a guy named Daniel Sanders?” I ask.
He’s quiet a moment while he thinks. “No. That name’s not familiar.”
“Where are you from?” There has to be some sort of connection.
“El Paso, Texas.”
Okay. We never had a placement in Texas, but Ethan and I did drive through there on our way to Scottsdale.
“How old are you?” I ask.
“Twelve.”
Teeny’s head pops up. He’s only a year older than she is.
“Have you ever been to Natchitoches, Louisiana?”
“No. Is that close to New Orleans? The only place I’ve been to in Louisiana is New Orleans,” he answers.
“No, it’s like four or five hours away.”
I tick through all of my identities from when we were in the program: Hillsboro, Springfield, Naples, Conway, Bardstown. Noah has never been to any of those places.
“Does your mom or dad work for the government? Maybe the U.S. Marshals Service?” I’m reaching now. Trying to find some sort of connection.
“No. But my granddad does.”
Oh. Shit.
