Chapter 54
MALIA LAY IN the bed on the right, Jin on the left, and Miguel in the middle. They were eating and watching a rerun of Family Guy. All three children glanced at Justine suspiciously when she entered. Small cameras had been set up, feeding the discussion out to the screens and recorders in the common room.
“I’m Justine,” she said, turned off the television, set her purse on the floor.
“You with the police?” Malia asked.
“Working for them. And for the FBI.”
“Where are Jennifer and Thom?” Jin asked.
Justine thought it odd that she referred to her parents by their first names. Then again, nearly everyone referred to the Harlows by their first names. But was that just Jin? Hadn’t Miguel called out for his mommy?
“We don’t know,” Justine admitted at last. “I’m part of a team trying to find your parents. We hoped you could help us.”
Miguel set down the last of his burger and closed his eyes, hiding his mouth behind his hand, saying nothing.
“I don’t remember anything,” Malia said.
“Me neither,” Jin said.
Miguel still said nothing.
“Smells awful good in here,” Justine said, settling into a chair. “What did you get for dinner?”
“Bacon cheeseburger,” Malia mumbled.
“Not me. Jennifer says it’s bad for you, bacon,” Jin announced.
“No, it isn’t,” Malia said. “Anita says it’s the best. Makes you strong.”
“What does Anita know?”
“Everything,” Miguel said, eyes still shut.
“She’s here, you know, Anita, in Los Angeles,” Justine said. Her goal now was just to keep them talking, build trust.
Miguel’s eyes opened and his hand dropped. “Where is she?”
“I don’t know exactly,” Justine admitted. “But she’s here. I know she’d love to see you all at some point.”
Miguel’s face fell. “Oh.”
“Would you like to see her?” Justine asked.
Miguel blinked, nodded. So did his sisters.
“I’m sure we can arrange that,” Justine said. “But in the meantime, there is someone here I think you might also be happy to see.”
She opened the door and their bulldog came rushing in, trailing a leash, wagging her butt wildly, snuffling, whining, and trying to jump up on the bed.
“Stella!” Miguel cried. The boy leaped out of his bed and held the bulldog tight while she barked and licked his face. Then, with great effort—the dog weighed more than fifty pounds—he picked her up and set her down on his bed while his sisters crowded in around their brother and beloved dog.
“Stella Bella is such a pretty girl,” Malia soothed.
“Prettiest in the world,” Jin said. “Best dog in the world.”
Miguel beamed and scratched Stella’s belly. The dog flopped on her side so all the children could get in on the scratching. Her jowls hung open, making her look like an alien. But then, to Justine’s delight and wonder, the bulldog began to purr, almost like a cat.
“Does she always do that?” Justine asked.
“Only when she’s happy,” Jin said. “Stella’s a wonder dog.”
“I can see that,” Justine said. “She was very upset when we found her up at the ranch. Any idea why Stella would be so upset?”
Malia and Jin shook their heads, but Miguel said, “Because she missed us, I bet.”
Justine knew from a brief scan of the children’s medical records that in addition to the cleft palate, Miguel had been diagnosed as “on the spectrum,” not autistic, but very awkward socially. To her surprise, however, at least in the presence of the dog, he exhibited few if any signs of Asperger’s syndrome.
“I’ll bet that’s what it was,” Justine agreed. “Stella’s a smart dog.”
Miguel grinned. The dog made him happy. The dog made them all happy, and more relaxed, open. Justine decided the dog could be her ally.
“If Stella could talk,” Justine began, “what do you think she would remember from the day you all disappeared? Anything. Anything at all.”