Her voice sounded distant and small from the backseat. I looked in the rearview mirror, but she was still staring out the window. Abby turned back toward her.
“People bring food at happy times, too,” she said. “Like when a baby is born.”
I watched in the rearview mirror when I could. Caitlin didn’t move her head or make any effort to look at Abby.
“You know,” Abby said, “this is kind of like you were born again, though. Isn’t it?”
“Kind of like the Prodigal Son, right?” Caitlin said. “You used to tell me about that.”
“Right,” Abby said, brightening. “You remember that story from when you were little, don’t you?”
Caitlin didn’t answer. Abby didn’t get discouraged.
“Honey?” she asked. “Have you been going to school? Or church?”
I alternated my eyes from the road to the rearview mirror and back again.
“No,” Caitlin said. “And I didn’t miss it either.”
“Well,” Abby said, trying to remain cheerful and not succeeding very well. “We can certainly take care of that one of these days.” She turned back around, and I kept my eyes on the road as well.
When we reached the house, I asked Abby to give me a moment alone in the car with Caitlin.
“Sure,” Abby said, but she didn’t leave right away. She moved her eyes between the two of us, considering us. Then she went to the trunk, gathered the bags, and headed inside, leaving me alone with Caitlin.
“Caitlin?” I said. She didn’t move. “I know you can hear me, right?” Nothing. “Okay. I’ll assume you can.” I took a breath. “I’m sorry if I upset you last night when I showed you that sketch and asked you those questions. I just want to make sure you’re okay, and if someone hurt you or did something to you, I want to know—I want you to know—that, whoever he is, that person is going to be punished and held accountable. We taught you that when you were little, and it hasn’t changed. People are accountable for what they do, and they suffer the consequences for their actions.” My awkward position brought a crick to my neck. “Are you hearing me? Do you understand what I’m saying?” My voice started to rise, but I brought it under control. “Well?”
“You’re not going to ask me anymore?” she said, her voice low and steady. “Those bullshit questions?”
I took a deep breath.
“I won’t,” I said. “I promise.”
She pushed open the car door and stepped out, slamming it shut behind her.
Chapter Twenty-nine
As I came through the back door, I heard Abby gasp. I rushed in and found Abby and Caitlin standing at the entrance to the dining room—and Buster sitting at the head of the table, a mug of coffee steaming in front of him.
“How did you get in?” I asked.
“You need to find a new place for the Hide-A-Key,” he said. “I would think a family that—you know—you might be more careful. Besides,” he said, standing up, “I wanted to come by when she’s awake. Right?”
Caitlin stood close to Abby, uncertain. Abby rested her arm on Caitlin’s shoulder, a protective gesture. But Buster didn’t relent. He opened his arms wide.
“You remember me, don’t you?” he said.
And Caitlin nodded, almost spasmodically. “Buster!” She went to him quickly, allowing herself to be folded up in his arms. He squeezed her tight. I watched them, saw the real emotion on Buster’s face as he held on to my daughter. He eased his grip and held her back at arm’s length, looking her over.
“Goddamn,” he said. “Look at you. You’re all grown up.”
Abby cringed at his language, but Buster didn’t notice.
“I never thought I’d see you again, girl. I really didn’t. This is like some sort of dream come true. You’re back from the dead.”
A blush rose on Caitlin’s cheeks, but she didn’t say anything.
“You’re going to have to tell me all about it,” he said. “Where you were, what you were doing. All about your adventures.”
“Maybe Caitlin needs to come upstairs and change her clothes,” Abby said. “We got her a bunch of new clothes just now.”
“Yeah?” Buster looked Caitlin over again. “You’re right. It looks like you’re wearing your mom’s clothes. No sixteen-year-old should have to do that.” He let her go. “Okay, but we’ll talk after that.”
Before Abby and Caitlin left the room to go upstairs, Abby looked back at me. “Maybe you can fill William in on all that’s been happening,” she said.
When they were gone, Buster sipped his coffee.
“What is your deal?” I asked.
“What do you mean?”
“You were talking to her like she’d been on a cruise or something. After you came by last night, she ran off. Or did you know that already?”
“What are you talking about?” he asked. “What happened?”
“Do you know?”
“Jesus, Tom.” He shook his head. “Can you for once—for five fucking minutes—just forget about your own bullshit? And Abby’s? Will you?”