Island of Lost Girls - Jennifer McMahon [24]
Itwas hard. And the hardest part has always been not knowing what happened to Lizzy. We never heard from her again. She and Daniel just snuck off and made this whole other life somewhere and none of us ever knew why.
Warren nodded. Two lost girls, he said.
What? Rhondas cup was in shreds. She scooped the torn pieces into a pile.
Lizzy and Ernie, he said.
Rhonda let out a breath of air through her teeth. The two have nothing to do with each other, Warren.
Warren began picking up the torn pieces of Rhondas cup, studying them like they were evidence. Im just saying that I think things happen for a reason, its just that we dont always know what the reason is. He gnawed his lower lip, then continued. I dont think it was a mistake or just shit luck that you were here in the parking lot at the Mini Mart when Ernie was taken. You were meant to see it, meant to get involved.
I dont buy it, Rhonda said, scooting her chair back, away from him. Lifeis all about shit luck and random chaos. Thats how the universe was created. Its why were all here.
YOU SHOULDNT BEhere, Trudy hissed at Rhonda.
It was lunchtime and Katy and her mom showed up with a cooler full of sandwiches for the crew at Pats, with Trudy Florucci in tow.
Aunt Trudy, shes here because she wants to help, Katy said.
Make her leave, Trudy said to Pat, who had stepped in to intervene.
Trudy, shes Pat started to say.
I made the sandwiches. Its the one thing Ive been able to do to help since Ernie was taken. It took every ounce of energy I had. And Ill be damned if that little twat is going to sit on her fat ass eatingmy sandwiches thinking shes some kind of fucking hero when its her fault Ernie is gone!
Pat nodded at Rhonda, who stood up on shaky legs. Pat put an arm around her, guiding her toward the back of the store. Go hide out in my office till shes gone, Pat whispered. We need you here.
Rhonda did as she was told, taking a seat behind Pats massive desk. In the corner, a small TV was tuned to CNN. On the wall beside her was a clipboard with the employee schedule on it. Pats desk was cluttered with magazines, newspapers, printouts andMISSING flyers with little Ernie peering up, smiling. In the middle of the chaos was a large granite rectangle, similar to a grave marker, the wordsPAT HEBERT, STATION OWNER AND MANAGER engraved on one side. Beside it was a framed photo of three little girls, one of whom was most definitely Pat at ten or eleven. It was odd to see that Pat had been young once, but somehow comforting to see that, from appearances anyway, not much had changed. Pat looked serious, the oldest girl of the group, the girl who was obviously in charge. The middle girl had a complacent, bucktoothed smile. The littlest one, the girl on the end, had her hair done up in ribbons and looked a little mischievous, like the minute the photo taker turned away, shed pull the ribbons out.
In front of the photo in its heavy metal frame was the issue ofPeople with Ella Starkee, the farmer, and his border collie on the cover. Rhonda flipped it open, scanned the article, which shed already read several times.
Ellas kidnapper met up with her on her way home from school. He asked if she wanted to see a magic trick. She shrugged. He pulled a coin from his ear and gave it to her. As she palmed the shiny quarter, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her into his car.
Coast is clear!
Rhonda jumped. Warren popped his head through the doorway, his smile sweet and slightly apologetic, like Trudys behavior was somehow his fault. Katys still here, but her mom and aunt are gone. Come on out and grab a sandwich.
Back at the volunteer table, Katy pushed a tuna on wheat toward Rhonda, who refused it, though she was starving.
My aunt Trudys not herself, Katy told Rhonda. She just wants