But I do. I do it because it has to be done.

Just as the interview concludes, I look up to see my in-laws’ maroon Buick making its way down the driveway.

I told them what happened on the phone, a conversation that would have been best in person.

“What do you mean someone took her?” Frank said to me. “Who took her?”

“Someone,” I said. “I couldn’t really see.”

“What the hell are you . . . what kind of man would let something like that happen?”

Dumb shit. Mr. Big. Blowhard. Those are the words that come to mind when I think of Frank Flynn. I don’t say them to his face. I don’t say them to Sophie’s, either. I just grin and bear his complete obnoxiousness. At night, when I grind my teeth, I’m almost certain that Frank is the cause of it all. I’ll be damned if I’ll put a night guard in my mouth every goddamn night just to find a way to live with him in my life.

Frank spills out of his car and puffs his way over, with Helen trundling along behind him like one of those suitcases on wheels. He’s wearing his weekend gardening getup. She’s dressed like she was yanked out of a tea party. She probably was. She never misses an opportunity to plan something away from Frank. I don’t blame her. She’s mousey, yes. She’s also clever enough to get away from her husband. Even with the tiniest opening.

Aubrey bolts to her grandma, bouncing past her grandfather like a ball in a pinball machine. She doesn’t like him, either. That makes me smile most of the time. Though not right now. This is not a day for any smiles.

“Goddamn!” Frank bellows at the detectives. “What happened to my daughter? Where is she? She’s my only daughter, for crying out loud!”

Lee identifies herself and her partner as detectives from the Mason County Sheriff’s Office.

“Jesus!” Frank says, letting out an exasperated sigh. “Can’t we get some cops in here that know how to work a case? Some from Seattle?”

Helen tugs at her husband. She’s weak, but Sophie is her daughter too. “Frank, that’s not how it works.”

I flash to what I imagine their long drive from Seattle was like. I’m all but sure that she sat there in stony silence while he railed about how stupid Sophie was to pick me.

I hear Frank’s voice in my head.

“A SkyAero manager! Goddamn, she could have picked anyone!”

I know Helen wouldn’t defend me. It isn’t that she doesn’t care for me. She just doesn’t have a spine.

Frank shoots his wife a bone-chilling look just then. His wife. His possession. His pet. His thing. I’ve often wondered if he hits her when no one is around. I imagine he beats her in places that those long sleeves cover no matter the season.

Then he faces me.

“They are going to find her, Frank,” I say, though the words come out more like a hopeful whisper than an emphatic statement. The blowhard does that to me. Sucks all the air out of the room. Leaves no one with an opportunity to come back at him. For a little tyrant, he’s a goddamn master.