Bent Road - Lori Roy [14]
“We saw that girl, Mama,” Evie says, leaning forward and draping her arms over the front seat. “We saw her on the way to Ian’s house.” She turns toward Daniel. “In the truck. You remember?”
Daniel shrugs.
“Is that right, Daniel?” Celia asks, keeping her eyes on the road. “Did you see her?”
“Don’t know. I wasn’t looking.”
“I saw her. I know I did,” Evie says. “Will I go missing, too?”
“No, Evie,” Celia says, not turning around because she’s afraid of losing her grip on the steering wheel. “Julianne will be home by dinner. The sheriff said so. No one is going missing. No one.”
Ruth smiles at Celia’s children sitting shoulder to shoulder across the backseat and rests her smile the longest on Evie so she’ll believe what her mama told her—that bad things don’t happen to nice girls. Except Ruth knows that’s not true. Sheriff Bigler must know it, too. He was full of hope up on those steps, shielding his eyes and looking at the Robisons’ house three doors down from the church as if Julianne might walk right up the sidewalk at any moment. But early this morning when he knocked on Ruth’s back door, he wasn’t so hopeful. Standing on her porch, his hat in hand, he must have known that if a hungry stomach was all it took to bring Julianne Robison home, she would have already eaten Mary Robison’s Saturday night roast and potatoes and been tucked in good and tight. Instead, at 7:00 on Sunday morning when the sheriff came knocking, Julianne Robison had been missing for well over twelve hours and a hungry stomach hadn’t done a thing to help her.
“It’s Floyd,” he had said when Ruth pulled open the curtain on the back door. “Floyd Bigler. Sorry for the early hour.”
Ruth tugged at her terrycloth belt and smoothed back her hair. “Ray’s sleeping,” she said, steaming the windowpane as she talked through the glass. Dark clouds in the east dampened the rising sun so Ruth flipped on the porch light. Floyd stepped back, the glare making him squint and bow his head.
“Yes, ma’am, I know it’s early. A quick word is all. Just a few questions.”
Over the backdrop of a percolating coffeepot, with Floyd sitting at her kitchen table, Ruth learned that Julianne Robison hadn’t come home to supper the day before. Mary Robison had walked the neighborhood searching for her, calling out the way mothers do when the kids wander too far. She was mad as a grizzly when she first called Floyd, but after he drove the town for two hours and darkness settled in, she wasn’t so mad. Just plain scared. A group of fellows from town were already looking for her, had been all night, and Floyd had been to see most folks living in the outlying areas, asking them to search their barns, abandoned wells, cellars, any place a young girl might get herself stuck. He’d been checking in with all the folks. Good old-fashioned questions. Maybe someone had seen the girl out walking one of the back roads or catching a ride. Ruth told him that she and Ray had spent Saturday helping her brother and his family settle in. Arthur was gone a good many years but he’s back now. Thank goodness. They all met at Mother’s, ate a heavy lunch and unloaded the truck at the new house. Ruth baked a strawberry pie—not so nice with brown sugar on top—and they unpacked boxes until late afternoon. Didn’t see a thing out of the ordinary. Not a thing.
“I’m real sorry to hear this,” Ruth said, hoping that Floyd would forget about his cup of coffee. “Real sorry indeed.”
When Floyd took another sip, Ruth pressed both hands into the pockets of her robe. In her right one were the two stones she had pulled from Ray’s pants pocket that morning. Both stones were smooth and together fit in the palm of her hand. Waiting for what Floyd would say next, Ruth rolled the stones between her fingers and rubbed her thumb over their smooth edges. Outside, the breeze that kicked up with the early-morning clouds had died out and the air was still. Maybe it wouldn’t rain after all.
“I’ll keep a good eye out. Any more questions? Is that all?”
“I suspect it is. For now, I’d say yes. Please