More kids showed up at the car, most looking cold, tired and anxious. Isabel knew how to talk to them, treated each one differently. She spoke to them as though they were her friends, like she’d been waiting for them to show up because she’d missed them. She had a terrific way with them and it was clear to me why they trusted her.
Because she cared.
“We need to talk to the father,” I said. The last group had moved on and we were alone.
“I figured you were going to say that.”
“You were only getting a part of the picture. The part Marc wanted you to see. We need to see the other parts. Even if they aren’t pleasant.”
She leaned her forehead against the steering wheel. “I know. That’s the stuff I’m not good at, though. Asking questions, digging. I hate being invasive. It’s why the kids trust me. I’m not good at it.”
I stared at the window. The snow was coming down in sheets, clinging to everything it touched, the night more white than black now. I thought of all of the people I’d interviewed over the years, asking them tough questions, embarrassing questions, painful questions. How I’d become almost immune to any discomfort they felt in being asked things they didn’t want a stranger to know the answers to. But it was the only way to help them find what they’d lost, even if they didn’t know it in the moment. They’d yell at me, scream at me, threaten me. I would sit there, dead-faced, wishing the tables were turned and someone was asking me tough questions about Elizabeth because they were so close to finding her.
“That’s okay,” I finally said. “Because I’ve gotten pretty good at it.”
NINETEEN
I spent most of the night a few feet behind Isabel.
Around midnight, we got out of the car and started walking. Wind bit into my neck like icy razors and I pulled the collar of the jacket higher, trying to cover all of my exposed skin. I couldn’t imagine trying to spend the night sleeping in the low temperatures.
She’d brought along two large duffel bags and we loaded them with food, water, clothing and blankets, and trudged out into the snow with them. After ten minutes, we encountered a trio of girls huddled under the awning of a jewelry store. We approached them and when Isabel greeted, they said nothing, eyeing me with fear.
“Gimme a minute, okay?” she said to me.
I nodded and stepped back toward the curb.
Isabel came back to me. “Sorry. They don’t know you. Scares them. And there’s usually a fourth. Abby. But she took off and they haven’t seen her, so they’re edgy right now.”
“I understand.”
“So maybe when we run into people, it would be better if you hang back?”
“Sure.”
“I don’t mean to be rude.”
“You aren’t being rude,” I said. “You’re doing what you need to do for them. They’re already uncomfortable being out here. Anything you can do to make them more comfortable, you should.” I smiled. “I’m okay standing awkwardly by myself.”
She smiled and nodded. “Okay. Good.”
“They’re worried about their friend? The other girl?”
“They don’t know whether they should be worried or not, you know?” Isabel said. “She could’ve taken off on her own for who knows what reason. Or something worse could’ve happened. But for them, it’s about normalcy. They’re used to being a foursome. Now they’re three, so it just doesn’t feel right to them. You know?”
I did.
I lost count of how many blocks we walked and how many people she stopped to talk to. As I grew tired, Isabel seemed to gain energy. She crisscrossed streets, knew where many of them would be waiting. Most seemed happy to see her. Not eager or enthusiastic, but most at least greeted her with a smile and asked for what they needed, if anything.
My fingers and toes were numb by the time we got back to her car. We sat there for a few minutes, the engine idling, the heater charging up, attempting to warm us and the car’s interior.
She rubbed her gloved hands together. “Takes a while to thaw out.”
I held my hands over the vents. “You don’t say.”
“I’m sorry if that was difficult,” she said.
“It was fine. I’ll warm up eventually.”
“I didn’t mean the temperature.”
I looked at her, not understanding.
“I watched your face,” she said, still rubbing her hands together. “You were looking for your daughter.”
I pulled my hands away from the vents.
“You were studying their faces,” she said, her voice dropping slightly. “Looking for her face in theirs. I should’ve realized you would do that. I’m sorry.”
The heat began to kick in, the first few blasts of warm air filtering into the car.
“I didn’t even realize I was doing it,” I said.
“Wasn’t overt. I could just see it in your face. Like you were disappointed.”
The windshield wipers moved back and forth in an easy rhythm. I probably did it all the time, no matter where I was or what I was doing. It had become as involuntary as breathing, scrutinizing every thing and every face.
And I’d always come away empty.
“I’m alright,” I told her.
She stared at me for a long moment, then shifted the car into drive and eased away from the curb. “I don’t think you’ve been alright for a long time, Joe.”
TWENTY
“When we get to the apartment, don’t get out of the car,” I said to Isabel.
She glanced at me. “What?”
It was almost two in the morning and we were close to Linden Hills. The drive back was slow, the streets now covered with several inches of snow. The trucks were out, salting and sanding, but the snowfall was consistent and faster than the trucks.
And someone was following us.
“Car behind us,” I said. “Been with us for about twenty minutes.”
“You’re paranoid.”
“Most of the time, yeah. But it followed us out of downtown and made every turn we made.” I glanced in the mirror. I hadn’t been able to make out anything about the car, other than its headlights were bright. “So when we get there, just stay put for a minute.”
She looked up toward her rearview mirror, but the skepticism didn’t leave her expression. “I think you’re tired.”
“Maybe.”
We turned on to the main street that ran adjacent to the apartments, then slid our way into the slushy lot. She pulled right up to the office and cut the engine.
The headlights followed us into the lot.
“Just stay right here,” I said, opening my door. “Until I tell you to get out.”
“Whatever.”
The icy air smacked me in the face as I shut the car door. The cold of the snow on the ground seeped into my shoes and my breath showed up like chimney smoke in front of my face.
The car stopped in the middle of the lot.
I walked toward it, shielding my eyes from the bright lights.
The engine cut and I waited.
Boyd and Stevie emerged from what I could now see was a newer-model Subaru wagon. Stevie’s face didn’t give away much, but the smirk I’d seen on Boyd’s face before I’d shoved him was still in place.
“You lost?” I asked.
Boyd laughed like that was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.
“Just wondering if Isabel heard from Marc,” Stevie said, his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his thick field coat.
“You could call.”
“I did. She didn’t answer.”
“Probably means she hasn’t heard from him then. Or just doesn’t wanna talk to you.”
Boyd stepped toward the front of the car and I could see something in his hand, held close against his right leg. Not a gun, but something, probably a club or something he thought he might hit me with.
“I’d just like to talk to her for a minute,” Stevie said.
“She’s tired,” I said, my eyes still on Boyd. “She worked all night. Not a good time. And it makes me nervous when people follow me.”