Impossible.
They couldn’t control what I said. This was just some weird mental block I needed to work through.
Right?
Though I tried to view the problem from all sides and possibilities, none made sense.
I was pacing the kitchen—all four steps across the yellowed vinyl floor and back—when Dad burst through the front door about twenty minutes later.
“Brynn?” he called, appearing in the kitchen doorway, still wearing his heavy winter coat. He pulled the crochet hat I’d made him off his head, revealing a large balding spot surrounded by graying hair. His glasses had fogged up from the shift in temperature, and he paused to wipe the condensation off before putting them back on.
With his vision cleared, he found me standing there and frowned. “Explain yourself. Is this some sort of joke? Did your mother put you up to this?”
Though he stillsoundeddoubtful, I caught a worried twitch of his brows, like he might actually believe me.
Something in my own expression made him soften. “I don’t know what happened to worry you, kiddo, but I promise Mom isn’t gone.”
“You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep,” I managed to say through gritted teeth, because they’d started to chatter. I wrapped my arms around myself to stop the shivering that was turning into shaking.
Dad grabbed me and pulled me into a hug, pressing my face against his rough woolen jacket. “Shh,” he murmured, though I wasn’t actually crying. I was too numb for that. “I’m sure there’s some explanation and this is just a misunderstanding—”
A crinkling sound came from the door as someone shoved an envelope beneath it.
Dad snatched it up.
A real mailman would’ve used the front door mail slot. I whipped the back door open.
“Hey!” I yelled at the figure in a dark blue coat moving away from our house.
The guy who turned around had a mustache, a mailbag, and normal rounded ears. He gave me a confused look as he pulled one of his headphones out. It was Raines.
“What is this?” Dad asked behind me, and his shift in tone caught my attention.
“Never mind,” I snapped at Raines. Apparently, he needed some training. I shut the door in his face.
Dad had grown quiet. A typed letter printed on a weird cream parchment paper trembled in his hands.
I stepped around to read over his shoulder.
Dear Harold, Brynn, Rissa, and Olive,
I’ve met a pilot and am moving to Fiji.
Please don’t come looking for me.
I love you,
Maeve Donovan
That didn’t sound like Mom at all.
She always signed her notes just “Mom,” not her full name, for one thing. And that was probably the least unusual thing about the entire note.
Those creeps who took Mom must’ve sent it. Was Raines in on it? It didn’t matter. Dad would know it was fake.
Pulling out his cell phone, Dad dialed Mom’s number. I fully expected him to get her voicemail, but it didn’t even get that far before we both heard a ringing coming from the kitchen counter.
Her phone lay there, buzzing in its bright red case, next to the novelty salt and pepper shakers shaped like Santa and Mrs. Claus.
