My head was getting woozy. There was lots of static inside me. I imagined them throwing a net over Carl, or Howard, who might not be Carl. Then Carl-Howard trying to escape, and a policeman shooting him through his back. I could see the black hole right in his middle. And it’d be my fault. I wanted to tell the fox-tie man please not to hurt him when they found him. He made us laugh even though we couldn’t hear his jokes. He gave most of his burnt wiener to Girl instead of eating it himself.

Then Susan said, “You’ve been tremendously helpful, Maisy. You’re a very intelligent and brave young lady.”

You are not brave…but you will be brave. Carl said that when he saw my cards. But Carl was wrong, and I wanted to tell Susan and the fox-tie man. Anyone could point at a picture.

MAISY

After Susan put all the photos back in the envelope, the fox-tie man said, “One quick thing. Channel 6 would like to talk with you. Come out here and do a short piece.”

“What do you mean?” Telly said.

“We want the public’s help. Have them out there with their eyes open, Mr. Janes. Searching for Rowan. Any kind of information, any tip, we want to hear it.” He lifted up his tie and dropped it again. “Her name’s Anita, and she’ll ask you some questions about your boy. We want the public to know who your son is. To care about him.”

Susan smiled. “Tell them what’s in your heart. That you love him and miss him.”

“We can do that. Right, Telly?” Gloria took Telly’s hand.

“Of course we can,” he said.

She squeezed his hand. I could see the white parts.

“All right, then. Sometime this afternoon.”

Then we heard a shout from the backyard and we all went through the sliding doors. Chicken, too. Gloria stood right in the spot where Rowan was in the storm. If he was outside, but he wasn’t. He was having root beer, and that was nicer. A big crowd of people stomped out of the bushes at different spots. They were shaking their heads, and a lot of them were scritching hard at their necks and their arms. They were dressed in shorts and sneakers and T-shirts and hats. Most of them were men. Some of them were ladies, and a couple of teenagers, and Darrell was there again. He was wearing black jeans and a black T-shirt and a spiky belt around his middle. He waved at me, but I sat down and picked at Chicken’s fur. Chicken didn’t have no burrs. I just pretended.