Whats going on here? he asked, as it was rare that we were all congregated in one place that was not the supper table.
My mother began to sing Happy Birthday to my father and we all joined in. At the end of the song we parted to reveal the tiny television set that rested upon an old bookshelf.
Whats this? my father asked in disbelief. What did you go and do?
We were all grinning up at him and my little sister, Lottie, who was seven, squealed, Turn it on, Daddy, turn it on!
My father stepped forward and turned the knob to On and after a moment the black-and-white image of a variety show filled the screen. We all laughed in delight and crowded around the television to listen. My father fiddled with the volume button until we were satisfied with the noise level and we all watched in rapt attention. Later, my father pulled me aside and thanked me. He rested his hand on the back of my neck and looked into my eyes; we were nearly the same height now. My boy, he whispered. Those were just about the sweetest words I have ever hearduntil, that is, Petra uttered Da Da for the first time.
Holding Petra for the first time after Fieldas long labor was a miracle to me. I had worked for years, trying to shed my farm boy roots, to rid myself of any twang of an accent, to present myself as a cultured, intelligent man, not the son of an uneducated hog farmer. I was dumbfounded at the perfection that I held in my arms, the long, dark eyelashes, the wild mass of dark hair on top of her cone-shaped head, the soft fold of skin beneath her neck, the earnest sucking motion she made with her tiny lips. To me, all amazing.
On top of the engine, I place my face in my dirty hands. I cannot find her and I cannot bear the disgrace of returning home to Fielda without our daughter. I am shamed again. I have once again shirked my duties, this time as a father, and I imagine, again, the disappointment on my own fathers face.
DEPUTY SHERIFF LOUIS
On my way over to the Gregory house, I contact our sheriff, Harold Motts. I need to update Harold as to what is going on. Let him know I have a bad feeling about this, that I dont think this is merely a case of two girls wandering off to play.
What evidence do you have? Motts questions me.
I have to admit that I have none. Nothing physical, anyway. There are no signs of a break-in, no sign of a struggle in either of the girls rooms. Just a bad feeling. But Motts trusts me, weve known each other a long time.
You thinking FPF, Louis? he asks me.
FPF means Foul Play Feared in the police world. Just by uttering these three letters, a whole chain of events can unfurl. State police and the Division of Criminal Investigation will show up, the press and complications. I measure my words before I speak them.
Somethings not right here. Id feel a lot better if you called in one of the state guys, just to check things out. Besides, once we call them in they foot the bill, right? Our department cant handle or afford a full-scale search and investigation on our own.
Ill call DCI right now, Motts says to my relief. Do we need a crime scene unit?
Not yet. Hopefully not at all, but we just might. Im heading back over to the houses. Better call the reservists, I say. I am glad that Motts will have to be the one who wakes up our off-duty officers and the reservists, take them away from their families and their jobs. Willow Creek has a population of about eight thousand people, though it grows by about twelve hundred each fall due to the college. Our department is small; we have ten officers in all, three to a shift. Not near enough help when looking for two missing seven-year-olds. Wed need the reservists to help canvas the neighborhoods and question people.
Louis, Motts says, do you think this is anything like the McIntire case?
It crossed my mind, I admit. We had no leads in last years abduction and subsequent murder of ten-year-old Jenna McIntire. That little girl haunted my sleep every single night. As much as I want to push aside the idea that something similar may have happened to Petra and Calli, I cant. Its my job to think this way.
PETRA
I cant keep up with them, they are too fast. I know he has seen me, because he turned his head toward me and smiled. Why dont they wait for me? I am calling to them, but they dont stop. I know they are somewhere ahead of me, but I am not sure where. I hear a voice in the distance. I am getting closer.
CALLI
The temperature of the day was steadily rising and the low vibration of cicadas filled their ears. Griff had become uncharacteristically hushed and Calli knew that he was thinking hard about something. Anxiety rose in Callis chest, and she tried to push it down. She focused her attention on trying to locate all the cicada casings she could find. The brittle shells clung to tree trunks and from limbs, and she had counted twelve already. Ben used to collect the shells in an old jewelry box that once belonged to their grandmother. He would spend hours scanning the gray, hairy bark of shagbark hickory trees for the hollow skins, pluck them carefully from the wood and drop them into the red velvet-lined box. He would call out to Calli to come watch as a fierce-looking, demon-eyed cicada began its escape from its skin. They would intently watch the slow journey, the gradual cracking of the casing, the wet-winged emerging of the white insect, its patient wait for the hardening of its new exoskeleton. Ben would place its discarded shell on her outstretched palm and the tiny legs, pinpricks of its former life, would tickle her hand.
Even his wife knows something is going on, Griff muttered.
Callis heart fluttered. Thirteen, fourteenshe counted.
Even his wife knows hes too interested in her. Toni runs to him when shes in trouble, Griffs voice shook. Does she come to me? Off she runs to Louis! And me playing daddy to you all these years! Griff s fingers were now digging into her shoulder, his face purple with heat and dripping sweat. Minuscule gnats were orbiting his head. Several stuck to his slick face like bits of dust. Do you know how it makes me look that everyone, everyone knows about your mother? He unexpectedly pushed Calli roughly to the ground and a loud whoosh of air escaped her as her breath was slammed from her.
Even his wife knows something is going on, Griff muttered.
Callis heart fluttered. Thirteen, fourteenshe counted.
Even his wife knows hes too interested in her. Toni runs to him when shes in trouble, Griffs voice shook. Does she come to me? Off she runs to Louis! And me playing daddy to you all these years! Griff s fingers were now digging into her shoulder, his face purple with heat and dripping sweat. Minuscule gnats were orbiting his head. Several stuck to his slick face like bits of dust. Do you know how it makes me look that everyone, everyone knows about your mother? He unexpectedly pushed Calli roughly to the ground and a loud whoosh of air escaped her as her breath was slammed from her.
So, that gets a little noise outta ya? Is that what it takes to get you talking?
Calli scrambled backward, crablike, as Griff loomed over her. Her head reeled, silent tears streaked down her face. He was her daddy; she had his small ears, the same sprinkle of freckles across her nose. At Christmas, they would pull out the large, green leather picture album that chronicled Callis and Bens milestones. The photo of Calli at six months, sitting on her fathers lap, was nearly identical to the photo of Griff sitting on his mothers lap years earlier, the same toothless smile, the same dimpled cheeks looking out at them from the pictures.
Calli opened her mouth, willing the word to come forth. Daddy, she wanted to cry. She wanted to stand and go to him, throw her arms as far around him as they could reach, and lean against the soft cotton of his T-shirt. Of course he was her daddy, the way they both stood with their hands on their hips and the way they both had to eat all their vegetables first, then the entire main dish, saving their milk for last. Her lips twisted to form the word again. Daddy, she wished with her entire being to say. But nothing, just a soft gush of air.
Griff stepped closer to her, rage etched in his face. You listen here. You may be livin in my house, but I dont gotta like it! He kicked out at her, the toe of his shoe striking her in the shin. Calli rolled herself into a tight little ball like a woolly bear caterpillar, protecting her head. When we get home Im gonna tell your mom that you went out to play and got lost and I came out to find you. Understand? He struck out at her again, but this time Calli rolled away before he connected. The force of the kick caused him to falter and trip off the trail and into a pile of broken, sharp-tipped branches.
Dammit! he cursed, his hands scratched and bloodied. Calli was on her feet before Griff, her legs taut, ready for flight. He reached for her and Calli turned on the ball of her foot, a clumsy pirouette. Griffs ruddy hand grabbed at her arm, briefly catching hold of the smooth, tender skin on the back of her arm. Then she pulled away and was gone.
ANTONIA
I sit at the kitchen table, waiting. Louis told me not to go into Callis room, that they may need to go through Callis things to look for ideas of where she may have gone. I stared disbelievingly at him.
What? Like a crime scene? I asked him. Louis didnt look at me as he answered that it probably wouldnt come to that.
Im not as worried about where she is as Martin is about Petra, and I wonder if I am a horrible mother. Calli has always been a wanderer. At grocery stores I would turn my head for a moment to inspect the label on a jar of peanut butter and she would be gone. I would dash through the aisles, searching. Calli would always be in the meat section, next to the lobster tank, one pudgy finger tapping the aquarium glass. She would turn to look at me, my shoulders limp with relief, a forlorn look on her face and ask, Mom, does it hurt the crabs to have their hands tied like that?
Id rumple her soft, flyaway brown hair, and tell her, No, it doesnt hurt them.
Dont they miss the ocean? shed persist. We should buy them all and let them go into the river.
I think theyd die without ocean water, Id explain. Then shed gently tap the glass again and let me lead her away.
Of course this was before, when I didnt have to wonder if the next word would ever come. Before I woke up from dreams where Calli was speaking to me and I would be grasping at the sound of her voice, trying to remember its pitch, its cadence.
I have tried Griffs cell phone dozens of times. Nothing. I consider calling Griffs parents, who live downtown, but decide against it. Griff has never gotten along with his mom and dad. They drink more than he does and Griff hasnt been in the same room with his father for over eight years. I think this is one of the things that drew me to Griff in the beginning. The fact that we were both very much alone. My mother had died, my father far away in his own grief from her death. And Louis, well, that had ended. Not with great production, but softly, sadly. Griff had only his critical, indifferent parents. His only sister had moved far away, trying to remove herself from the stress and drama of living with two alcoholic parents. When Griff and I found each other, it was such a relief. We could breathe easily, at least for a while. Then things changed, like they always do. Like now, when once again, I cant find him when I need him.