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The Stolen - Jason Pinter [37]

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that doesn't sit well with me. For

one thing, there haven't been any suspects arrested in his

kidnapping or disappearance, and from my talks with the

detectives in Hobbs County they're looking as hard for him

as O.J. is for the real killer."

"I'm waiting to hear what this has to do with me."

"I'm getting to that. So I interviewed Danny for that

story..."

"Danny?"

"Yeah, that's what he likes to be called now. Anyway,

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during the interview, he said something kind of strange.

He used the word brothers. As in more than one. And he

used it several times, even when I corrected him, like his

brain was hardwired to do it. But Danny's only got one

brother. It might have been a slip of the tongue, but there's

also a chance he retained something from his disappearance, something about his kidnappers or where he was.

Maybe he remembers somebody else, somebody his own

age, being wherever he's been the past five years."

Amanda sat, listened intently. She felt the familiar rush

Henry got when he was excited about a story, the same

sense of pride she felt (used to feel) when she was proud

of her man.

"I did some digging," he continued, "and it turns out a

girl named Michelle Oliveira went missing several years

before Danny. Similar circumstances, both children disappearing without a trace, then suddenly reappearing out

of nowhere, remembering nothing about their disappearance. No suspects ever arrested. Nobody ever found out

how or why she went missing."

"I think I get where this is going."

Henry nodded. "Michelle Oliveira's records are sealed,"

he said. Henry waited, knowing she would respond.

"But you know I have access to them at the legal aid

society."

"That's right."

"That's why you called me."

Henry stayed silent, looked at Amanda, his eyes full

of remorse. It was genuine. "I've been an asshole. I'm

not apologizing again, we both know that's over and

done with. But this is important. It's a boy's life,

Amanda, and I didn't know who else I could turn to or

trust. I still trust you."

The Stolen

107

"I don't know if I trust you."

"I'm not asking you to trust me. I'm asking you to help

me for the sake of someone else."

Amanda was struck by the tone of his voice, the sense

of coldness. But she knew it wasn't meant to hurt her. In

a way it was meant to protect her.

"I'm not asking you to take me back, or anything like

that. I know you don't want to. I'm asking you to help

because you're the only person I know who can do this, who

has access to those records. The only person who would do

this. Something is wrong with this story, and I need to know

what." He added, "For Danny Linwood's sake."

Amanda sat for a moment. A cool breeze whipped

through the park. She watched a smiling couple holding

hands, eating sandwiches just a few feet from them, as

though their whole lives existed in this small world where

problems were as light as the leaves. She thought about

her life, what it was like before and after Henry. How

there didn't seem to be enough of it lived.

"I can get you those records," she said. "But that's all

I'll do. I'll help you with whatever information you need

in regard to this Oliveira girl, but I'm not going to ask for

anything in return. And I don't even want you to offer."

"I won't," he said, though the words seemed hard for

him to say.

Amanda stood up. Smoothed out her skirt. Henry

stood as well.

"Michelle Oliveira?" Henry nodded. Amanda clutched

her purse, felt the sharp edges of her keys. "I'll call you

later when I get the files. One thing, I'll only give them to

you in person. I could get in deep doo-doo if my supervisor knows I'm doing this, so I'll contact you discreetly.

Don't send me any e-mails, don't call or text message. I

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don't even want to see a carrier pigeon. You might trust

me, but I sure as hell don't trust Verizon."

"That's a deal."

"Then I'll call you," she said. Amanda turned around

to leave.

"Hey, Amanda," Henry said.

"Yeah?"

"It was good to see you."

"I'll call you," she said, glad the

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