Her grin softened to a sympathetic smile. “It’s overwhelming, I know. But your little girl seems to be fitting in.”

Together they looked to the children’s section, where one of the other librarians had just finished a story time circle for preschoolers. Abigail had sat in the back row, her attention riveted until the librarian had closed the book with a dramatic “The End.” Then Abigail had begged for “One more.”

Delighted, the woman had read another story, then tasked Abigail with reading to the children. His daughter was in her element, reading from Ramona the Pest, stopping to show the children the illustrations as the librarian had.

“She’s taking her responsibilities very seriously,” Amos said, his chest near to bursting with pride.

“That she is,” Millie said fondly. She glanced at the computer screen, still open to the e-mail account that Edie had set up. “Still no reply?”

Amos shook his head. “I’m beginning to think I won’t get one. At least not today.”

Millie sighed. “What will you do?”

“I don’t know. I need to . . .” Write that letter to the police. Tell them about DJ. Tell them to warn Mercy, to protect her. He didn’t want to write it here and he was so tired that it was becoming difficult to even think of the words that he should say. “I guess I need to find a place to stay tonight.” A safe place for them to sleep. “Can you point me to a low-cost hotel?”

“I’ll run a search and print out a list of hotels in the area,” Millie said.

“Thank you, Millie. I need to provide some lunch for Abigail. When she’s done reading this book, I’ll take her out to the truck and let her eat, then I’ll be back in to get the list.”

She hesitated. “I have some fruit in my desk drawer. I always bring extra. Would you like an orange or an apple for you and Abigail?”

The memory of oranges tickled his taste buds, but he hated to take her food. “It’s fine. Thank you for offering.”

She gave him a look that he remembered from his grandmother, the one that said I know what you’re really thinking. “Come with me, Amos.”

Obediently he followed her, inhaling the delicious scent of oranges that filled the air the moment she opened the drawer. She put two oranges and two apples in his hands. “Enjoy them.”

He brought the fruit to his nose and inhaled again, stunned when tears burned his eyes. He cleared his throat roughly. “I’m so sorry. It’s just . . . it’s been a while. Apples we could get. Sometimes we could grow them, but oranges . . . I haven’t even smelled one in thirty years.”

Millie swallowed hard. “I wish I’d brought more. If you’ll come back tomorrow, I will.”

“You are very kind. Thank you.” He put the fruit in his pockets. “I’ll go get Abigail. I hope I can entice her from the books with an orange.”