Page 42 of All the way home

Startling so badly her neck twinges, she asks, “What?”

Lucas gestures.

Standing in front of them, a woman with bright-orange curly hair and red-rimmed eyes holds out a phone, one arm curled protectively around a blond baby strapped to her chest. “Have you seen this girl?”

Rena leans forward.

The dark-skinned girl in the picture, about seven or eight years old, smiles toothily at the camera, black hair pulled into neat twists. She is familiar—both her smile and the little purple beads at the end of her twists—and Rena’s stomach jolts in anticipation until she realizes where she’s seen her before: a ways behind them in the security line.

“She’s my daughter, she’s run off, and I just—” Frantically, the woman scans the terminal around them. “Her name is Angie.”

“Okay.” Lucas is already standing. “Do you need help searching?”

“If you”—she swipes at a tear—“would be able to stay here and keep an eye out for her while I’m looking, I’d appreciate it. I don’t know if she remembers the gate, but if she does—”

“Of course,” Lucas says smoothly, touching a hand to her shoulder. Then he crooks a finger up and down at the baby, who goggles up at him.

“Thank you. Thank you.” The woman hastily scribbles her number on the corner edge of an old concert program and tears it off. “My name is Sara. Please call me if you find her.”

“Yes ma’am.” Lucas takes the piece of paper, waves one more time to the baby, then sits back down as Sara rushes off.

Carefully, he plugs the number into his phone, and then takes Rena’s and inputs it there too.

Maybe it’s all in her head, but it feels like the volume in the terminal has ticked up several notches. Rubbing at her eyes, Rena sinks lower in her seat.

A headache chafes at her temples.

Not even half a second later, Lucas asks, “Are you mad at me?”

“No.” Rena doesn’t uncover her eyes.

It’s the instinctual, obvious answer. It’s the truth.

Isn’t it?

Either way, Lucas seems content to take her at her word. “Okay, you know what I think?”

“What do you think?”

“The guy Kieran’s with. We should look him up. He’s gotta be online.”

“We are not going to look him up,” Rena objects, though she has to admit, she’s tempted. “That is invasive. And we couldn’t anyway. What would we search? ‘Guy who looks a bit like Josiah Hill?’ I don’t think so.”

“All right, fine.”

A moment later, her phone buzzes. A message from Lucas to their group chat with the three of them reads:

Lucas:

What’s this kid’s name

I’m tryna see if he has a record

“Lucas!”

“What?” He turns his enormous gray eyes on her, the perfect picture of innocence.

“Now he’s never going to tell you.”