“Really?”
“That night, the night before you were taken, I was three sheets to the wind when I was putting you to bed. And I was so H-O the next day when things got crazy—”
Aicho?
Oh.
H-O?
“H-O?”
“Hungover.”
Like it should have been obvious. “
And I promised myself I’d be sober as a judge for whenever they found you. And they just never did, and I never could bring myself to take another drink. Just in case.”
“So wait. You were drunk when I said that thing about going to the leaving?”
“Yes, ma’am. But I remember that clear as a bell.” She looked at Scarlett and spoke slowly.
So slowly that Scarlett
could
see
her
mother’s
tongue . . .
on the l’s in . . .
“Clear as a bell.”
Scarlett looked at The Lamppost Hotel’s many, many windows and wondered whether anyone in there knew what was happening.
Whether guests with sunburns and big hats had the news on while they packed up their beach bags.
Whether the ticker at the bottom of the screen said: GIRL REUNITED WITH ALIEN-OBSESSED RECOVERING-ALCOHOLIC MOTHER . . .
HAS NOTHING IN COMMON WITH HER . . . FULL STORY AT 8:00 P.M.
A song came on the radio that her mother turned up.
Something about wasting away again in Margaritaville.
It seemed to make her happy.
Scarlett wondered what that felt like.
Didn’t know the song.
Any songs?
Her mother said, “Maybe after things calm down and all, we’ll have a little party. You know, you, me, Steve, my friends. Bet your uncle Tom will drive down from Tampa.”
Scarlett ran a search:
Uncle Tom. Uncle Tom. Uncle Tom. Uncle Tom.
/
/ /
/
/
/
/
“What about my . . .”
Couldn’t
Remember
Ever
Saying
The word:
Dad.
“ . . . father?”
“Was never in the picture.” Her mother pulled into the outlet parking lot. “So you wouldn’t remember him at all.”
“What about grandparents?” She’d seen a photo back at the house—a woman with curly black hair and a soft, round belly perched on top of a skinny pair of legs, and holding what must have been a toddler Scarlett—and she’d known it was her grandmother.
“With the good Lord.” She made the sign of the cross. “Your grandfather in 2009 and your grandma the year after.”
Scarlett couldn’t focus.
When she’d disappeared, she’d been a girl with grandparents, and now all she had was this woman she couldn’t bring herself to think of as Mom.
The word had felt so wrong,
so sour,
that one time.
“They took it hard. What happened to you. And then we had a fall ing-out because, well, we all had different ideas.” She sighed. “Here today, gone Tamara.”
“What does that mean?” They were out of the car and walking toward the stores.
“Oh, nothing. Just something Steve says.”
The clothes were . . . too bright.
Too boxy.
Too . . . ?
Scarlett didn’t like anything she tried on. Most of it fit, technically.
But didn’t fit her.
Made her look too . . . something.
Too other.
Too someone else.
Lines all wrong.
Colors all wrong.
Patterns that made no sense on her.
They bought most of what she tried on anyway.
Because, well . . . because.
Here today, gone . . .
Ah.
Her mother’s name was Tamara.
“Can I call you that?” Scarlett dared as they walked toward the car. She’d worn a new dress out of the store and felt like an impostor. “Tamara?”
“No.” Tamara unlocked the car. “You may not.”
Lucas
A handful of people in FORENSICS shirts were taking photos and swabs near where Lucas’s father had fallen.
Died.
Lucas watched from the kitchen window, where he’d been studying a map of Opus 6 that hung on the wall, and started counting stones, then gave up. He couldn’t even begin to estimate how many there were, or how many hours it had taken his father—and by the looks of his brother’s muscles, him, too—to cut and shape and place them all.
When Chambers turned up, Lucas stepped outside. “I wasn’t sure I’d see you again.”
“Well, they’re letting me hang around for the time being.” Chambers stood on the front steps facing out to Opus 6. “Professional courtesy because of my history with the case. I’ll be acting as the liaison between you all and the FBI, generally facilitating things.”
Lucas nodded. He was wearing a T-shirt Miranda had left in his room for him, and shorts and boxers borrowed from Ryan. The decal on the shirt had two purple fists meeting in front of a triangle and read WONDER TWIN POWERS ACTIVATE! He had no idea what it meant.
“So what can you tell me about the tattoo?” Chambers turned to him.