Page 44 of Bring Them Home

Amanda swore that someone was near the open door, beckoning Paul to get in, but it wasn’t in focus to make out any details.

“Digital Forensics might be able to clear it up,” Trent suggested.

She wasn’t so sure about that and said, “Resume playing it, please.”

The video got underway again, and the three of them watched as Paul Archer got into the van and soon later sped away.

“The time stamp reads three twenty-two,” Trent began. “Well, we have video proof now that Paul Archer was taken.”

“Uh-huh, after his wife and daughter. They would have already been in the back of that van when he was ushered inside. It’s why he cooperated.” Amanda could only imagine how fear-stricken he must have been.

TWENTY-ONE

Amanda came home late last night to find her mother on the couch watching TV. Zoe was already in bed. Within a few seconds of seeing her, her mother muted her program and asked her what was wrong. It wasn’t surprising Jules knew something was up. How could Amanda hide the stress of the day from showing on her face? Not to mention that she still needed to break it to Zoe that her teacher was murdered.

She’d sunk onto the cushions next to her mother and laid out the basics. Spoken robotically, devoid of emotion. It was a way of protecting her mind and emotions, but the effort was failing her. Finding his killer was personal for her because of Zoe. “How am I supposed to break it to her?”

It was her mother’s response that played on a loop in her head while she tossed and turned all night. Just be honest with her. That’s all you can do.

Simple advice, but Amanda kept imagining Zoe’s face when she told her the news. If only there was some way to protect her from learning he was murdered. But there was no way around that. It would either come from her or from the school’s assembly that morning. And Amanda wasn’t relegating her responsibility toward Zoe. She owed it to her daughter to be transparent. After all, if she wanted Zoe to be open with her, Amanda had to set the example.

There was only one thing she could think of that might soften the blow. It was that idea that had her setting her alarm for 6 AM and creeping down the hall before her mother or Zoe woke up. She started a pot of coffee and got to work making pancakes. If she had no choice but to dispense heartbreaking news, she’d send it down with sugar and carbs.

She had just started cooking the first set of pancakes when her mother’s slippers padded down the hallway toward the kitchen. A moment later, she rounded the corner and took in the mess on the countertop. She raised her eyebrows at Amanda without saying a word.

She ignored the look, disliking the implication she took from her mother’s expression. Sometimes life serves up shit… Feeding your daughter sugar two days in a row isn’t going to do her any favors. Or that was all in Amanda’s head. She felt bad for making pancakes, but what was the difference between this and eating a pint of ice cream after a nasty breakup? Though was comfort food the coping mechanism she wanted to encourage?

“Coffee’s ready if you want one,” she told her mother, shutting down her internal banter.

“I smell that.” It was a near incomprehensible mumble as her mother walked past to pour herself a cup.

“I just thought I’d treat her to pancakes.” And now I’m trying to justify myself…

Her mother waved her hand. “I know what you’re doing, sweetie, and it’s kind of you.”

Amanda paused midway to the griddle, surprised by her mother’s comment. “You think so?”

“I do. You’re just trying to lessen the blow. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Amanda loved how her mother summed it up. There was another thing that Amanda had to bridge with her mother though. She flipped the pancakes, stalling a moment longer. “When I go to tell her, will you⁠—”

Jules put her finger to her lips. Zoe’s bedroom door opened. Next, the bathroom door closed.

“Yes, Mandy, I’ll make myself scarce.”

Her mother’s psychic abilities were uncanny. “You don’t need to leave the house. Maybe just go back into the guest room?”

“Sure, I can do whatever you’d like. Right now, if you want.”

“No, of course not. Sit, drink your coffee, eat pancakes with us. I was going to tell her afterward. Maybe if you just stayed silent when I do.”

Jules pantomimed zipping her lips shut.

“Why is everyone up so early? Oh, pancakes again? What’s going on?” Zoe narrowed her eyes.

“They’re your favorite.”

“Yeah, and…?”