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“You tell me. She’ll reveal herself when you name her. I'm gonna ask you some questions, and you tell me the answers and we'll draw her together, okay?”
In the end, we bought colored pencils and a fuzzy horse diary to sketch in.
Over warm cookies at the cafeteria, I practiced my interrogation skills and Mila instructed me on Snowmane's appearance. Doodling relaxed me as much as it did her. I had to admit, I did a fair job at capturing the essence of the mighty Waldorpus. The result was a blue horse with a rhino horn, a white mane of glitter and the stripes and rear end of a tiger. And maybe the front paws, too. Mila needed to squint harder but her eyes were too tired.
We popped into the grocery store to buy ingredients for dinner: SpongeBob mac & cheese and frozen corn (rookie mistake, letting a kid pick the entrée and ‘vegetable’). She was in such good spirits, telling me about all the times, now that she thought about it, Snowmane had helped her, I felt alright adding a stop to Jo-Ann’s Fabrics before we picked up Igor and Samson.
Lisa and Wyatt seemed befuddled by our cancellation of plans and even more by the girl’s quiet presence. When I brought the cat carriers to the car and buckled Mila in, the look they exchanged was a worried one. Short of promising to explain later, there was nothing I could do to ease their minds.
But when the cats were free and eluding Mila's grabby hands, I set a pot of water on the stove and took my chance to relax. The contractor had installed a new door and fixed my wall. I'd be swatting flies and crawling insects for days, but the situation was a vast improvement. Home felt like home again, apart from the werewolf officers stationed outside.
As the sun sank into the greedy claws of rotting swamp maples, I reached for my cell to ask Cal about Mila's earring dilemma and obtaining an extra un-imaginary guardian for this evening.
One missed call. Unknown number. New voicemail.
Shit, had I forgotten to pay the water bill? I pressed play.
“Of all the names out there, Gen chose Marcy for you? My God, it’s a wonder you haven’t changed it now she’s gone. The name’s Ronan Delevant. Your grandmother and I hunted big game together. Gen left me your number in case of emergencies. Shit, am I glad you’ve still got it considering I never bothered confirming the line. Already two years since she passed? Time flies on a falcon, don’t it?”
He gave a jumbled number I had to listen to three times before understanding.
“Please, this is a matter of grave importance. Thank you.”
I listened a fourth and fifth rewind. Rusted, Downeast Maine accent, rough as the Atlantic and tart. Older gentlemen, voice possibly aged by smoking, drinking, and other Saturday night indulgences. Preparing myself, I dumped two boxes of pasta into the now-boiling pot and dialed Ronan’s number.
The same gruff voice greeted me.
“You called this number earlier today asking after Marcy.”
“Should’ve called back while I was sober.” He paused. “You her?”
“I am.”
“Got proof?”
“You called me.”
“So?”
Phone pressed to my ear, I gave the macaroni a thoughtful stir. Mila thumped downstairs chasing two shadows. Until she was out of my care, a white lie wouldn't hurt. “Look, I’ve got a kid. If her life is in danger, I need to know.”
A door creaked on his end of the line. Wind rose in ghoulish howls. “If you’re still alive Sunday, give me a ring.”
???
The sheriff buzzed the doorbell as I spooned macaroni onto plates. Balancing a thin manila file folder on the staircase rail, he held up Mila's blanket.
“Forgot this in the backseat,” he explained.
No other vehicle in the driveway. I wondered who’d brought him and what he’d told them and the officers he’d dismissed at my new door, then the sheriff walked through and had my full attention. He had changed his shirt to a grey button-down paired with a vest and dark jeans. He’d also showered, unlike the animal I was, I thought, hoping 24-hour deodorant lasted as advertised.
Eying the leather overnight bag slung over his shoulder, I asked, “Wolf kit?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Well, I washed your clothes that I borrowed so you’ll be comfy for bed. If you plan on freeballing like your four-legged brethren, you won’t be next to me.”
“Wouldn’t be next to you, no,” he agreed with a teasing smile. “Rest assured, Miss Davins. I’m well-behaved.”
