“You know, my mom was raised in Chinook.”
This time Emma was shocked.
“In the poorhouse there,” Ruby added.
“When was that?”
“A long time ago. But she went missing, too, from Portland. She and your mom and Mitchell’s mom all disappeared within a few years of each other.”
“That’s a lot of missing women,” Emma said.
“There’s probably more.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Experience.”
Ruby pulled the police printout from her bag. When the case ended—they always did, one way or another—she would return any evidence like the tape that had to go back, then empty everything else into a case file, seal the envelope, and start anew. Each case was like this.
“I was hoping you could tell me more,” she said.
Emma began talking. She moved the croissant around the plate, like it was her in the woods that day. Her running into her dad.
Ruby had a very peaceful feeling. It came over her, sometimes, in this work. It was like being in the eye of a hurricane. Everything was very still.
When Emma finished, her eyes were filled with pain. Patricia gave her fingers a squeeze. Ruby looked at the television. Mitchell’s face flashed across the screen: They were mentioning his upcoming execution. The district attorney had announced a press conference following it.
She turned away, met Emma’s eyes.
“How old were you when Mitchell was convicted?”
“Eighteen,” Emma said.
“You must have been about ready to leave home.”
“I went to college. University of Alaska. It’s where I met my husband.”
Patricia took her hand away. She finished her cold waffles.
“That fall?”
“I left at the end of summer.”
“Your dad must have had more free time then. Maybe even to travel. He travel much?”
“When I was young, sometimes he’d leave me in the care of the woman who ran the market,” Emma said, making a face. “He went on hunting trips. I hated it. She smelled like milk and circus peanuts.”
“After you left home?”
“I wouldn’t know. I never went back. It’s been ten years, and I never went home.”
The tears were back, the grief.
“Hello there.”
The bartender was putting a fresh till into the register. A wet towel lay on the clean bar, and the smoker outside was still cold. A pot of coffee perked.
“We’re not quite open yet, but you’re welcome,” he said when he looked up and saw Ruby.
