“What center?”
“Is there more than one? Brightwood, up in the woods.”
Charlie looked up at him, frowning. Then he returned to the tape machine he was trying to fix. “Naw, why would I?”
“Dunno. Thought maybe you’d know something.”
“Nope. Wouldn’t know anything about it.”
The constable drummed his fingers on the counter. The hotel owner looked up, irritated, and he stopped. Charlie grinned.
“You let me know if you ever hear anything, all right?”
“Well, sure, but what am I looking for?”
“Dunno yet. Guess I want to make sure those boys are okay.”
“Well, why wouldn’t they be? Kids today are spoiled,” Charlie said. “Some of them need a place like that. Do them good.”
Constable Roberts didn’t agree, but he didn’t say anything. The man probably knew nothing about the center. Like most of us, he thought. Out of sight, out of mind. He watched Charlie tinker for a moment—the man seemed to have no idea what he was doing—and left.
Outside, he stopped at the rosebush. Yes, it was dying.
Driving out of town, the constable remembered a case he’d had years before. He had gotten a call about a bad smell coming from a trailer out in the woods. Arriving, he had found a disinterested father, drinking beer on the couch. The living room was filled with dirty children’s toys. The constable had stepped into the backyard, which was overrun with weeds and thigh-high brush. He had caught the smell then, with a windblown slap.
In the middle of the yard was an old well. He had leaned over and—
The constable didn’t like to think of it. He had arrested the man,who had blinked blearily. It had been a full week. That’s what bothered the constable then and now. A whole week, and the man had never even noticed his child was gone.
That’s what Dennis made him think about.
The child had tried climbing out, you see. He had been trying when he died.
17
“I’d like to take more time off,” Amanda told her boss.
He was a tall, gentle man who drove a Volvo covered with old punk rock stickers. He was currently wearing a threadbare shirt that saidAlice Donut, and when he invited her into his office, he offered her a gumball from the machine in the corner.
Like most zoo people, he was a misfit, and so Amanda felt she fit in—as much as she ever did anywhere.
“Well, you’ve certainly earned it,” he said, opening up her employee file on his computer screen.
“Can I get a few weeks? It’s not summer yet.”
Summer was their busiest time. No one left in summer.
“Sure. Right now?”
“I already talked to Sean. He said he could cover.”
“Is there a problem here? If there is, we want to work it out.” He looked positively distressed at the idea there might be a problem.
“No problem here.”
“You know Molly like no other. You are important to Molly, and to us. I hope you know that.”
His words warmed Amanda. For most of her life, praise had been scant, and criticism plenty.
