by Patty Blount
At the school, the principal and a security guard were waiting for him at the main entrance, the same entrance he’d watched Liv and Maddie walk through that morning.
“Did you ask Madison?”
“Yes, Mr. Ivers. Madison’s safe in her class. I spoke to her myself. She said her sister forgot something in your car and went to get it before you drove away.”
A lie. There wasn’t anything in the car besides his tools. “What about the cameras?”
“We checked. Seventy-six seconds after Olivia and Madison walk in, Olivia walks back out, alone.”
That blind helpless panic took a solid grip on him with sharp claws. He dragged both hands through his hair while Emmy whimpered in her stroller. “Dad-dee. Dad-dee.”
“Mr. Ivers, the police are here.”
Gabe looked up, found two uniformed officers approaching. The first question they asked was about his marital status.
“Widowed. Their mother died two years ago.”
They asked him a dozen questions, a dozen more, and then they sent him home. “It’s the best place for you to be right now, in case she calls or comes home.”
“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”
Somehow, he managed to get Emmy and himself back to the apartment before his hands began to shake. He needed… God! He needed his baby. But he called Mike. Then, he knocked on all the doors in the building, asking if anybody had seen Liv. Nobody had.
His cell rang. Lia. He didn’t have time for this.
“Gabriel, it’s Lia. I—”
“Not now, Lia.”
“But I just saw—”
“Please! I have a crisis here. I’ll call you later.” He ended the call and searched Jessica Vella’s face as she and her little guy returned from their search of the cellar. When she shook her head, he cursed. Where the hell was Olivia? Mrs. Morgan stepped forward while he went out of what was left of his mind.
“Mr. Ivers. Gabriel. Isn’t it time for Emmy’s lunch? I’ll mind her. Give me your key.”
Emmy. Lunch. Oh. Christ. He looked at his wrist, but there was no watch there. It had to be well past noon. Yes. Yes, of course, Emmy needed her lunch and her nap. He pulled his keys from his pocket, handed them over and managed a nod.
The old woman patted his arm. “I’ll mind her. You take care of this.” She unfastened Emmy from her stroller, lifted her up and slowly made her way up the steps that led to the courtyard and Gabe’s apartment.
Take care of this? His legs were about to buckle. He glanced toward the street where another squad car pulled up. His spit dried up, just clean dried up.
“Mr. Ivers?”
He could only nod. Oh God, Livvie.
The officer who stepped out of the passenger seat put up both hands. “We have no word, Mr. Ivers. We’re still looking. Security footage shows her walking north on Bell Boulevard.”
At that, his legs did buckle. Why? Why, damn it, would she do this to him? He fell heavily to the courtyard steps, gripping his head in both hands while that monstrous panic pounded him. The second officer stepped forward. “Mr. Ivers, has she been having any problems in school? Anybody picking on her?”
Had she? He shook his head, but that didn’t mean…
“What about social networks? Do you have the passwords to her accounts?”
“She doesn’t have any. No cell phone either.”
The two cops exchanged a glance. “Has she been acting out lately? Out of sorts?”
He started to shake his head, then stopped. “Yeah. She was in a foul mood this morning. No idea why. And she wanted to quit soccer, which is weird. She loves it. Or she used to.”
“Who coaches the team?” The officer whose name tag read Russo asked.
“Um. A teacher. From her school. His name’s Kress. Mr. Kress.”
The officer wrote it down on a pad. “We’ll need a list of her closest friends, somewhere she’d run to if she were mad at you.”
“At me?”
The second cop, Officer Munoz, spoke up. “Has she been mad at you?”
Gabe lowered his head, his hands beginning to shake. Slowly, he nodded.
“Why?”
“The neighbor.” He stabbed a finger toward Lia’s front door. “She doesn’t like the neighbor.”
“And?”
“I do,” he admitted.
“Are you involved with this neighbor?”
Involved. He swallowed hard. “Um. I like her, and well, we—um. Yeah. It’s brand new.” Holy God, he was stammering. His daughter was missing and he was stammering with embarrassment.
“Do you have a recent photo of your daughter?”
He nodded, swiped at his phone, opened his photos app and handed the phone to the officer.
“You drove her to school this morning. Did you see her go into the building?”
Had he? He shut his eyes, tried to remember. “No.”
“And what was she wearing?”
“Blue jeans. An E=MC2 T-shirt and a black hoodie. Her sneakers have purple laces and her hair was down and kind of snarly. She refused to brush it this morning. Oh, and she’s got a tiny scar, right here,” he said, pointing just under his chin. “Her sister hit her with a toy when she was four.” His voice cracked.
The phone still clutched in his hand buzzed. He glanced at the text message from Mike.
“Any word?”
He texted back a terse, “No. Cops here now.”
“On my way.”
“You said your daughter’s mother is dead. How long?”
“She passed away two years ago.”
“Would she visit her mother’s grave?”
His eyes bulged. “No. Janey’s buried upstate in Putnam Valley.”
The officer’s pencil scraped on his notepad and Gabe wanted to climb out of his skin. How was this happening? How had he lost one of his kids? Ever since Lia had moved in, he’d been distracted, unable to remember his promises, unable to focus on anything except the way she’d felt in his arms, the way she’d tasted.
“Gabriel.”
His head snapped up. Lia stood in front of him and the knife-edge sharpness in her tone almost undid him, told him she’d been ready to brawl, but as soon as he lifted his face, the fury in hers changed at once to concern.
To fear.
“Olivia is in the library. She’s just fine.”
Both cops turned to her in unison. Gabe was on his feet, had her by the shoulders. “What? What do you mean, she’s in the library? Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” He’d given her a good shake until she shoved him back a step.
“I tried! I called you not ten minutes ago,” she snapped back. “And, I texted.”
He stared at the phone in his hand. Oh God. She had. And he’d hung up on her. He was a dick. He knew it, had to apologize, but right now?
Olivia.
Gabe took off at a dead run. He ran without a thought for anything or anyone but Olivia. The library was easily half a mile away from the apartment and by the time he reached its front doors, so had the police car. The officer who’d asked him for Olivia’s photo joined him at the door, put up a hand to stop him.
“Concern, not anger. Understand?”
Gabe blinked, sucking wind, and then nodded. He got it. He strode through the front doors, turned for the children’s section. Olivia loved reading the Remarkable Women series. How had he not thought to check here? Gabe headed straight for the 509 stacks and skidded to a halt, gripping a shelf when his knees buckled for the second time that day. There she was, curled on the floor, one of the books opened in her lap, messy hair hanging in front of her face.
Silent prayers tumbled from his lips and his heart seemed to sob even as it floated out of his body. She was safe. She was here. She was safe.
Until he got his hands on her.
Maddie running off after Lia that day had scared a year off his life. Olivia may have shaved off a decade, at least.
While he stood there feeling like a total failure as a father, the officer bes
ide him cleared his throat and stepped forward. Olivia’s head snapped up, big brown eyes locked on his, an expression of such horror on her face, Gabe almost…key word being almost…decided against grounding her until she was thirty. But when that same thunderous expression from breakfast returned, his own temper spiked again.
“She told. I knew it. I knew she would.”
Gabriel snapped up a hand. He didn’t want to hear her say anything except how sorry she was. “Officer? This is my daughter, Olivia.” Smiling tightly, he turned back to his daughter and sweetly said, “Olivia. Honey. This nice police officer responded after I called 911 when your school called to ask me why you were absent. He’s spent most of that time radioing other officers your description and they’ve started searching the neighborhood for you.”
As he spoke, Olivia’s shoulders rose higher and higher and her furious expression turned to shame. She looked down at her hands, said nothing for a long moment. Gabe waited, not patiently, for that apology. Finally, she shut the book in her lap, replaced it carefully back on its shelf and climbed to her feet. She couldn’t quite meet the officer’s eyes.
“Amber Alert?” she asked.
“Yes. An Amber Alert was issued.”
She shrank a little. “I’m sorry, sir.”
“What was that?” Gabe barked, making her jump.
“I’m sorry,” she repeated, louder.
The cop cleared his throat. “Young lady, if it were up to me, I’d put you in handcuffs and haul you off to reform school, but luckily for you, it’s not up to me.”
Gabe appreciated the officer’s attempt to scare Olivia straight and said nothing as her eyes went saucer wide, snapping to the cuffs hanging from the officer’s belt, because he was still shaking.
“I’m sorry,” she said a third time.
“Liv, I’d like to know why.”
She couldn’t meet his eyes either. “Why?”
“Yes. Why.”
One shoulder came up in a half-hearted shrug. “I just didn’t…”
He leaned over, putting his face eye level with hers. “You just didn’t what?” he prodded, far too softly.
Olivia recoiled and Officer Russo cleared his throat again. “I’d like to know why, too. Did somebody at school hurt you?”
Olivia shook her head and if Gabe thought he’d been scared before, he just about needed a crash cart while he waited for her to answer that question.
“Then why?”
His daughter sighed. “I just don’t like it, okay?”
Officer Russo turned to Gabe. “Mr. Ivers, I think this is a situation you’ll have to address with the school. If you discover something…something more, you call us back.”
Gabe nodded. “Thank you. Thank you both for all you did today.”
“Our job, sir.”
“A hell of a good one.”
Gabe shook Officer Russo’s hand and watched him walk to the exit. Olivia was running a hand over the books, trying her best to seem interested in them when he knew she was shivering inside.
“Let’s go home, Newton.”
Her head snapped up, surprise all over her face. Gabe straightened up and held out his hand. When Olivia took it, he tightened his and a little voice inside him screamed, Never let her go.
He never would.
*
By the time Gabe got Olivia home, he felt like he’d run a marathon. Exhaustion seeped into every muscle, every bone. He knocked softly on his front door, hoping Emmy had gone down for her nap without issues.
Mrs. Morgan opened the door, hand patting her chest and tears filling her eyes. “Oh, thank goodness! My prayers are answered.” She wrapped Olivia in a hug, the glasses she wore on a little chain around her neck poking his poor daughter in the cheek.
She held Liv at arm’s length and scolded her. “Do you have any idea what you put your poor daddy through, young lady?”
Olivia nodded and said, “I’m really sorry.”
Mrs. Morgan patted her shoulder and nodded. “Well, good.” She looked at Gabe. “Oh, sit down, young man, before you fall down. Emmy’s asleep, God bless her. Ate all her lunch, too. But she refused a diaper.”
Gabe groaned. “Okay. Thanks for minding her, Mrs. Morgan.”
The old woman waved a hand and moved into Gabe’s kitchen, took out a plastic-wrapped plate from his refrigerator and set it on the table. “I fixed this for you. Livvie girl, you look like you could use some fueling up, too. Come sit.”
They sat at the table, father and daughter, the weight of things still to be said hanging between them. Mrs. Morgan bustled around the small room, cutting a thick sandwich into halves—one for him and one for Olivia. She poured a tall glass of milk for each of them and he grinned. Gabe suddenly remembered Mike had dropped everything and was on his way.
He drew his phone out, pressed Mike’s contact button.
“Got her.”
“Jesus God. What the hell, man?”
“Yeah. I know.”
“Lemme talk to her.”
Gabe handed Liv his phone. “Uncle Mike wants to talk to you.”
Cautiously, she took the phone, held it to her ear. “Hello?”
Gabe couldn’t hear what Mike was saying but knew it must have been blistering judging by the way Liv’s shoulders were inching up to her ears.
“I’m sorry…I will…I do…I promise…okay.” She handed the phone back to Gabe.
“I’m crossing the bridge now, sitting in traffic. Should be there in thirty,” Mike said. “We’ll take the girls to dinner?”
“No. We’ll eat here. I don’t think going out to dinner—”
“Is appropriate, given what happened. Got it. I didn’t think of that. You’re right.”
Right, huh? So how come he felt like shit? “Uh-huh.”
“You are. Don’t let this throw you. See you later.”
“Later.”
He put the phone down and stood up. “Mrs. M., you saved us today. Thank you.”
Mrs. Morgan’s lips twitched and she swatted him. “Oh, you.” She took his keys from the pocket of her warm-up suit, which was blue today, and put them on the counter. “I’ll leave you two to talk things over. Now, Miss Olivia, I expect you to mind your daddy.” She wagged a finger at his daughter.
Olivia nodded and said, “I will.”
Gabe walked her to the door, thanked her again, and as soon as she was gone and the door closed, he sagged against it. “I figure we’ve got about half an hour before your sister wakes up.”
Olivia said nothing, just swallowed hard.
“Now,” he began, scratching the back of his neck. “I could ground you. I could assign you enough chores to challenge the child labor laws in this state. I could take you to a good therapist. But let’s try something else first.”
Curious, she watched him move to the living room, kick back on the sofa.
“What?”
“We could talk. To each other.”
Liv rolled her eyes.
“Come on, Newton. You and me. Nobody else to hear.” He patted the sofa cushion next to him.
With a groan, she joined him on the sofa.
“Okay, look. I get it. When I was your age, I hated talking to my mom and dad. I could never seem to find the right words and always made things worse. But when I met your mom, she taught me that words matter and even when you can’t find the right ones, it’s important to try.” He took both her hands in his. “Will you do that for me, Liv? Will you promise to try?”
She nodded just the way Emmy did, a single solemn inclination of her head.
“Okay. I’ll start. I’ll ask you questions and you answer.”
Still holding her hands in his, Gabe braced for the question no parent ever wants to ask.
“Is anyone hurting you? Touching your private areas, or bullying you, or even threatening you?”
Liv shook her head. “No, Daddy. Nobody’s molesting me.”
That his nine-year-old daughter even knew that word sent
that ice ball inside him sliding downhill, gathering momentum. Focus. She said no, idiot. But she hadn’t said no to the rest of his question. “But your feelings are hurt?”
She looked down, shrugged. “I know it’s stupid.”
“No. Your feelings are not stupid. Who hurt your feelings?”
“Well,” she began and then bit her lip. “Mr. Kress did, first. And then, this kid named Xander.”
Gabe’s eyes narrowed but he let her tell the story at her own pace.
“I asked Mr. Kress if we could do projects about women in science. You know, like the books?” When he nodded, she rushed on. “Only he thought that was stupid and some of the kids laughed. Instead, he told us we have to write term papers and Kim helped me pick my topic that was about a woman in science but he said no to that, too. In front of the whole class, Daddy. He said it was stupid, that everything I like is stupid. So now Xander calls me Stupid every day and I’m not stupid! I’m the smartest kid in the whole class, Daddy. I know all the answers, even when Mr. Kress doesn’t call on me.”
Gabe listened carefully. Olivia was right; she was extremely bright. Beyond her grades and test scores, she had a curiosity inside her that Kimberly lacked. Kim got good grades, too, but she did what she needed to do and no more. Only Liv had ever really immersed herself in the subject matter—whatever it happened to be.
“Why doesn’t Mr. Kress call on you?”
She lifted one shoulder in her signature shrug. “Because he hates me!”
Gabe lifted a hand. “Let me understand what’s happening. Are you raising your hand?”
“Not anymore. When school first started, I raised my hand all the time. Every day. Then, he started getting mad at me, so I stopped.”
“Getting mad? How, exactly?”
“He said I was showing off, trying to make the boys mad that a girl was better than them.”
“He said that?”
She nodded and then her words came out in a rush. “Daddy, no matter what I say or ask in class, Mr. Kress makes fun of me and then the class does, too. Like this one time when he was telling us all about the Apollo and Mercury missions and the re-entry blackouts, he said astronauts couldn’t talk to NASA on earth because of the heat, but that’s not true. It’s because of ionization, so I raised my hand and told him but he just made a face and said it was disrespectful to tell a grown-up he’s wrong. Then he asked me how I knew about things like ionization.
