Chapter 3
Mara's car smelled like coffee, paper, and the lemon cleaner people use when they don't have time to clean properly.
Daddy sat in the back with me. He put his jacket around my shoulders and kept one hand on the seat between us, not touching me unless I leaned toward him. Mara drove with both hands on the wheel.
The road from the event hall curved past dark fields and a row of closed businesses. The ballroom disappeared behind us, but I could still hear the music in my head.
"What's the name of the bus stop?" Mara asked.
Daddy looked at me. "Nora?"
I had never heard him say it like that. At the shelter, people called me sweetheart or kid. Mommy called me little bird. Daddy usually said hey.
"Nora," I whispered.
He nodded, as if the name belonged somewhere important.
"The fountain stop," I said.
Mara checked the rearview mirror. "There are two stops with fountains. One's on County Road Six."
"That one," I said.
Daddy leaned forward. "How long ago did your mother say she'd wait?"
I watched the road lights pass over the window.
"Before the lady took us inside."
Mara's eyes met Daddy's in the mirror.
"Who was the lady?" he asked.
I held the bread tighter. "She said Mommy knew her."
"What did she look like?"
"Blue scarf."
"Anything else?"
"She smelled like flowers."
Mara's fingers moved against the steering wheel. "A blue scarf isn't much."
Daddy's voice stayed level. "It's what we have."
The diner sign appeared before the bus stop. RIVER BEND CAFE, with three letters burned out in the red neon. Mara pulled into the parking lot.
"We eat first," she said.
Daddy started to object.
Mara looked at him in the mirror. "Not because the investigation can wait. Because she can’t."
He looked at me. My stomach twisted at the smell of frying onions drifting through the car.
"Five minutes," he said.
Inside, the diner was almost empty. A television above the counter showed a basketball game with the sound off. A woman behind the register brought us to a booth by the window.
Daddy sat beside me. Mara sat across from us but left the seat nearest the aisle empty.
"What do you want?" Daddy asked.
I looked at the menu. The letters blurred.
"Toast," I said.
"Soup too?"
I nodded.
When the waitress came, Daddy ordered soup, toast, eggs, and milk. Mara ordered coffee. I kept the wrapped bread in my lap.
The waitress glanced at it. "Honey, you can put that on the table."
I pulled it closer.
Daddy noticed. "It's okay."
The waitress lifted both hands. "I wasn't taking it."
She walked away.
Mara watched the room instead of watching me. "The west room was for families from the temporary housing program," she said.
Daddy's face hardened. "What program?"
"Beatrice's foundation funds motel rooms and meal vouchers. Tonight was supposed to launch a larger project."
"Supposed to?"
Mara took a sip of coffee. "There were fewer families than expected."
"How many?"
"Seventeen names on the list. I saw only four people arrive."
Daddy looked down at the table. "Was my daughter on the list?"
Mara's eyes shifted to the bread.
"I don't know," she said. "The list was changed."
"By Beatrice?"
"I didn't see her do it."
"Then who?"
Mara reached into her bag and pulled out a folded sheet. The paper had a torn edge and gray smudges along one side.
"I found this under the cart," she said. "I kept it because the numbers didn't match."
Daddy unfolded it carefully.
There were names, room numbers, and meal counts. Most of the names had been crossed out. One line remained visible near the bottom.
VALE, ELIAS — 2 MEALS — WEST ROOM.
Daddy stopped breathing for a moment.
I knew the name now. Elias. It looked strange on the paper, like it belonged to a person who stood farther away than Daddy.
"Why were we on the list?" he asked.
Mara shook her head. "I don't know."
The soup arrived. Steam rose between us. My hands began to shake.
Daddy put the napkin-wrapped bread beside my plate.
"You can keep it," he said. "No one will touch it."
I looked at the list. "Is Mommy's name there?"
Daddy folded the paper before I could see the rest.
Mara leaned toward us. "What is her name?"
Daddy's gaze stopped her.
She immediately leaned back. "You don't have to tell me."
That mattered. She didn't ask again.
I picked up my spoon. The soup was too hot, but I swallowed the first bite anyway.
Daddy watched me, then looked at the folded list.
"We're going to the fountain," he said.
Mara nodded. "After she eats."
A pickup truck slowed outside the diner. Its headlights swept across the window and stopped on our booth. A woman in the passenger seat wore a blue scarf.
My spoon fell against the bowl.
"That's her," I said.
Daddy turned.
The truck idled at the curb. The woman looked through the glass at us. She did not come inside. After a few seconds, the truck pulled away toward County Road Six.
Daddy stood so quickly the booth shook.
Mara caught his sleeve, then released it at once. "If we follow, we may lose her."
He looked at me. "Nora, do you know that woman?"
I stared at the road where the truck had vanished.
"No," I said.
It was the first lie I told him that night.
May you like
I knew her blue scarf.
I also knew she had been the last person to say my mother's name.
