“This is Kendall,” Buzz announced, as if Ruthie couldn’t read the sign herself. He went to gun shows all over the Northeast with his dad and considered himself quite the experienced world traveler. “It’ll be on the left side of the street.” He scanned house numbers. “Here’s 185. 203. Look, there’s 229, so the next one’s it.” The chirpy female voice on the GPS confirmed it.
Buzz put on his turn signal and pulled into the driveway of 231 Kendall Lane—a squat house with yellow vinyl siding that was cracked in places. There was a plastic kiddie pool in the yard, the outline just visible through the newly fallen snow. An old white Pontiac with a crushed rear bumper was parked next to the house. Whoever lived here wasn’t rich by any means. But Ruthie knew how it was to be scraping by—buying everything secondhand, living with a couch covered in ugly afghans to hide the stains and holes, and knowing there was never money for things like a trip to Disney World. Or college.
“You guys wait here,” Ruthie said, grabbing her bag with the two strangers’ wallets tucked inside.
“I’ll be watching,” Buzz promised.
“Me, too,” Fawn said, her tiny face peeking out from under the hood of her pink puffy coat.
Ruthie navigated the ice-covered walk and front steps and pushed the doorbell. She didn’t hear it ring. She waited, just in case, then pulled open the storm door and rapped firmly on the wooden one behind it. There was a Happy Easter wreath—a bunny encircled in faded pastel eggs—thumbtacked to the center of the door. Ruthie knocked again. A woman with fried blond hair and bad skin opened it.
“Yeah?” The hallway the woman stood in was tiny and dark. It smelled like cigarettes. Ruthie hoped she wouldn’t be invited in.
“Hi.” Ruthie gave her biggest smile. “I’m looking for Thomas and Bridget O’Rourke.”
“Who?”
“They used to live here. Thomas O’Rourke? And Bridget O’Rourke?”
The woman stared at her blankly.
“Never heard of them. Sorry.” She shut the door in Ruthie’s face. Undeterred, she tried the neighbors. Most people either weren’t home or didn’t answer the door. Across the street from 231 Kendall Lane, an old man in a bathrobe told Ruthie he didn’t know anybody named O’Rourke. At least he was polite about it.
“Dead end,” Ruthie announced as she climbed back up into the cab of the truck. “The lady who lives there now had no idea what I was talking about and the one old neighbor who was home never heard of the O’Rourkes. Maybe we did come all this way for nothing.”
“Nothing,” Fawn echoed, a voice from inside the hood.
Ruthie gave Buzz a sidelong glance.
He smiled at her. “Wanna try it my way?”
Ruthie shrugged and sank down in the seat.
They drove out of the maze of houses that all looked the same and back to the main road. They passed a fire station, bank, pizza place, and grocery store. Soon the road was lined with shopping plazas on both sides. Ruthie was amazed by how busy they were—cars coming and going in and out of parking lots. Shouldn’t people be at work?
Buzz pulled into a Starbucks, then reached in the back for his messenger bag.
“Why are we stopping?” Fawn asked.
“He’s gonna search for them online. Like I probably should have let him do before we left home this morning.”
“Probably should have,” Buzz said cheerfully. “But it’s never too late. Come on, let’s get some coffee and hot chocolate.”
“Can you really do that?” Fawn asked as she followed Ruthie and Buzz out of the truck. “Just look a person up?”
“Sure,” Ruthie said. “I think you can find out just about anything if you know what you’re doing.”
“Wow,” Fawn said, her eyes big. “I wish we had a computer.”
For the millionth time, Ruthie cursed her parents for not allowing a computer in the house. They claimed that technology wasn’t safe, that Big Brother was watching everything, monitoring every e-mail and Web search. Her mom also said wireless Internet and cell towers messed with your body’s electricity and could give you cancer. Ruthie had to go into school early and stay late to use the computers to work on reports and essays.
Fawn was only in first grade and hadn’t taken any classes in the computer lab yet. It was a magical, mythical realm to her.
Ruthie ordered coffees for her and Buzz and a hot chocolate for Fawn.
“Let it cool off before you take a sip, all right?” Ruthie warned.
“Mom puts milk in to cool it,” Fawn said. Ruthie nodded, and dumped in some half-and-half, testing it herself to make sure it wasn’t too hot before handing it back to Fawn.
They settled in around a table, and Buzz fired up his laptop, which was covered with stickers of aliens and UFO organizations. He typed for a minute and scowled at the screen. Fawn pulled her chair around for a closer look.
“Do you have games on there?” she asked.
“Tons,” Buzz said.
“Can you teach me to play one? Please?”
Buzz smiled. “Later. I promise.”