The guy standing next to the blue-eyed man rubs his elbow, saying, “Whadaya mean, no family? No one? How can there be no one at all?” He looks at Lara in a strange way, and she thinks: There is no one.
“There is no family,” Mark Perino says. “Tommy and Callie were the last Boyles. Now listen,” he tells them, “this child, this beautiful little girl, is not going to any state facility, no foster home. I couldn’t answer to my conscience if I allowed that.”
The uniformed woman smiles, a sad smile, Lara thinks. “What do you mean?” she says. “You won’t allow it? C’mon, you know better.”
“I gave Tommy Boyle my word. I told him, God forbid anything happens, I’ll take care of his wife and daughter.”
“I doubt you have that authority,” the woman says.
The blond man smiles. Lara sees that his, too, is a sad smile and guesses that it was meant to be. “I represent the government,” he says, “my word is backed up by the United States of America.”
Something in that makes the woman shake her head.
“It makes no difference to me what you think,” he says. “Tell your superiors, the child is going with me. I’ll take care of her.”
The woman tries to step around him, but Mark Perino grabs her shoulder, stopping her.
“I’m calling my superiors,” the woman says. “I don’t want any problems here.”
He doesn’t seem to hear her. He reaches down and puts his hands on Lara’s shoulders then slides them under her arms and lifts her. Walking, he is gentle, lifting her with one arm and moving the uniformed woman out of the way with the other. And all the time, the woman is talking.
“I don’t think you can do this,” she says. “There are rules and procedures, state laws.”
When he speaks his tone is all business: “I don’t care about your rules and procedures. You’re going to get out of my way. Later, when the child is settled, I’ll call your boss.”
He puts a hand on the uniformed woman’s shoulder and pushes her toward the door. Everyone in the room gives him nervous looks, as if they are not sure of what to do, whether to get involved or not.
“You pack her some things,” he says to Vanessa. “Be quick. Don’t get fancy, just essentials.”
In her mind, Lara wavers between the bittersweet joy of having someone strong hold and protect her, and the crushing certainty that she will never see her mother and father again. He is gone. Her father is gone forever, and that is a concept she finds impossible to comprehend. Lara wipes her eyes and flattens her cheek against Mark Perino’s shoulder. He breathes out heavily and then pulls her closer to his chest, hugging her so tightly she can hear his heart beat.
“I honestly don’t think you can do this,” the uniformed woman is saying.
Lara hears Mark reply: “I know what you think. I know your attitudes. I even know the movies you watch.”
Lara thinks of all the strangers in her house who will not go away. She hears one say, “If it were me, there would be blood for blood.” Lara thinks about that, blood for blood.
She leaves Mark and walks to her bedroom window, looks down onto the driveway and sees the family car. All at once she wants her mother and father, wants to touch her mother’s skirt, smell her father’s aftershave, feel her mother’s long fingers stroke her cheek. Lara senses her mother and father know this, that now they both know all there is to know, and in the quiet that consumes the house, Lara is aware that her parents are watching her. Then it comes to her like a blow, a phantom rage that brings her upright.
There are voices, her mother’s and father’s, at first roaring, then gentle whispers. Music, she can hear someone giggle, she is certain she hears someone cry.
The voices have found her. It is the first time, but they will come again, and again. In the not-so-distant future they will take up permanent residence in her brain. Lara lowers her head and puts her finger across her lips. “Be quiet,” she whispers to the voices that shout, Murder!
*
Fifteen minutes later Lara is sitting in the front seat of an unmarked government car as it rolls slowly up the street. Her gaze moves to the smoldering hulk on the driveway and then to her family’s house. Mark slows the car a moment, deciding something, and then picks up speed.
“Will I ever come back here?” Lara asks.
“Sure you will,” Mark tells her.
“Where are we going?”
Mark glances at her. “I know that your mom and dad would want you to be with me.”
They ride south on the interstate, the late afternoon turning dark. They stop at a McDonald’s for Lara to use the restroom and get something to drink. Then they drive into darkness.
“It’s okay,” Mark says.
Lara has been weeping quietly for most of the ride. “I’ll never see my parents again.” The thought oppresses her; there is no promise of relief. “Never ever,” she says.
“Close your eyes. Concentrate on your mom and dad. Concentrate. Can you see them now?”
Lara nods.
“Grab onto that. Believe they are here. I promise you,” Mark says to her, “you will never have to go through anything like this again.”