Steven Spirit, age thirteen, read the first.
Joey Madrone, age nine.
Angel Lopez, age eleven.
The waitress returned with a pot of coffee and filled their cups.
“How did you find these?” Larry asked Patty.
“A social worker I know. She had kids at the center. These are the internal reports.”
“What does this mean?” Amanda asked, pointing to an abbreviation.
Patty leaned over. Amanda could smell the leather of her jacket.
“UTL. Unable to locate,” she said. “That means—”
“I know. They couldn’t find him.”
“About this number at the bottom—” Larry began.
Their food arrived. Amanda regretted ordering the ham sandwich. It looked plain next to the plates of salmon swimming in some sort of herb sauce, with banks of rice alongside.
Amanda lifted the top piece of bread, checking what was inside. She did this quickly, feeling it was impolite. She took a cautious bite.
“I was just going to mention that,” Patty said. “I didn’t recognizethe area code, so I looked up the number. It’s for the sheriff in Sleeping Giant, Arizona.”
“They calledArizona?” Larry asked.
“That’s the town where Martha King worked before,” Amanda said.
“That’s right,” Patty said approvingly. “The caseworker said the director told her she had notified law enforcement. That’s the number the caseworker was given.”
“Let me guess, the caseworker never heard from this sheriff,” Larry said.
“Actually, she did. He told her not to worry, he was taking care of it. She filed her reports and moved on. It’s all she could do.”
Amanda was looking at the dates the boys had run away. She counted on her fingers against her leg, under the table where Larry and Patty wouldn’t see.
“Any of these boys ever turn up?” Larry asked, eating his salmon.
“Not that I could find,” Patty said.
“I’ll look too.”
Amanda stopped eating her sandwich. She was still hungry, but if she tried to finish it, she would feel compelled to leave a corner of it behind, and this might draw Larry’s attention, which she didn’t feel she could handle at the moment. She decided to take the rest back to the hotel and finish it there.
“Where did you go to school, Amanda?” Patty asked.
“Cleveland in Portland.”
“Go Warriors.” Patty smiled. “No college?”
Amanda turned away. She was not going to say she had graduated with a modified diploma. You can’t attend a university with one of those.
“Larry told me you work at the zoo. You’re the lead keeper for the polar bear. That’s a pretty big achievement for your age.”
“Thank you.” She had a feeling the woman was testing her. She resented it. She was slow, not stupid.
