“Anyway, the girl was a photographer,” the sheriff says. “Good at it, apparently. Worked for the school newspaper but her parents say she wanted to work for National Geographic or one of those places someday, so she would go out in the woods sometimes. Sort of an Into the Wild type, apparently.”
“But all the snow,” Marie says. “Surely you don’t think she’s out in the woods now?”
“Hard to tell. You know kids. We found two SD cards from her camera in her room, so hopefully we’ll get some answers from those.”
I knew it, that day. I knew that girl was trouble but it was nice, living in this dreamscape with Marie and Finch and the snow. Chocolates and tea and companionship. Christmas lights strung on a white pine. Got swept right into it, let my guard down. I see it now, plain as day. Let myself believe maybe it was nothing, our crossing paths with her in the woods. Just a flicker of bad luck that had passed us by. I thought we were safe. But no.
Marie clears her throat. “Do you have any suspects?”
“Not really. But we just started looking through pictures this morning. Thousands of them, but something might turn up that could be of use to us.”
It dawns on me that this is bad bad bad because we were there, and she was there, and even if she didn’t see us when she paused, looked in our direction, if she clicked when we were in her viewfinder, if there are pictures of us—
Through the cracks in the floor, I can see the sheriff unbuttoning his pocket and pulling out a business card. “We’ll get to the bottom of it, hopefully. But meanwhile, keep an eye out. You see something or hear something that seems a little fishy, get in your car and drive out to 86. I doubt you have cell coverage here, but you’ll get reception once you’re there. Here’s my card.” He turns to go but then stops. “Ma’am,” he says, resting his hand on Marie’s shoulder. “You sure everything’s all right?”
All she would have to do, I realize, is point downward. Communicate with her eyes, gesture. Her back is to me; I wouldn’t even see it.
“Yes,” Marie says, but her voice is shaking. “Everything’s fine. Just a little nervous now, that’s all. It’s so quiet here, and usually I don’t see a soul, and then you two show up and tell me there’s a girl missing and to keep an eye out. I’m just a bit ruffled, that’s all. You understand.”
“Well. No need to be nervous. We’ve got all hands on deck, I promise you that. You want us to come back out in a day or two? It’d be no problem.”
“No. No, that won’t be necessary. I’ll be heading home soon. Later today, probably.”
Finch fidgets, tries to turn and look at me. Upset about Marie leaving, I’m sure. I hold her still.
“All right. Give a ring if you need something.”
“Of course.”
The two men shuffle out, and we can hear them through the thin panes of the glass.
“What’s the matter with you, stomping mud through the house like that?”
“You’re just mad because you think she’s cute.”
Laughter, engine firing up.
They drive away, the motor fading until it is a low purr and then nothing at all. Finch is sitting on my lap, leaning against my chest, my chin resting on top of her head. My right leg has fallen asleep, and it stings and tingles when I try to stand, wants to give beneath the weight. “It’s okay now, Finch. They’re gone.”
Her shoulders are shaking. From the cold, from nerves. “Coop,” she whispers, her jaw chattering. “That thing you did to keep us together, a long time ago…”
“Yeah?”
“What was it?”
I press my cheek to her forehead. “I hurt someone.”
“I’m scared.”
“You don’t have to be scared of those men. They’re just doing their job.”
“I’m not scared because of them. I’m scared because you’re scared. Don’t lie and say you’re not because I know it: you are.”
What is there to say to this? How do I explain to her that I have watched people step on mines and huddle as a building begins to crumble, that I have watched the only woman I’ve ever loved die of internal bleeding because a deer ran out on a dark road—how do I explain that I’ve seen just how frail the human body is, how everything can break, and will, and does, and that the one thing I have left, I cannot bear to see it break, cannot bear to lose it and so yes, I’m scared? “I just want to keep you with me. I want to keep you safe. That’s all.”