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“That’s a good woman you married, Earl.”
“Yes, it is.”
Ellie went back to reading. She concentrated on each word, trying to memorize her lines. She barely looked up as reporters streamed in and sat down. By six o’clock all of the chairs were filled. Photographers and videographers stood behind the rows of chairs.
“It’s time,” Peanut said, coming up to her. “And you have lipstick on your teeth.”
Perfect. Ellie wiped her teeth and leaned forward, tapping the microphone. It thumped and whined. Sound ricocheted through the room. Several people covered their ears.
“Sorry.” She eased back a little bit. “Thank you all for coming. As most of you know, we need your help. A young girl has arrived in Rain Valley. We have no idea who she is or where she is from. Our best estimates put her age at somewhere between five and seven years. On your seats, you’ll find an artist’s sketch. She has black hair and blue-green eyes. Dental records are not yet available, but she appears to have had no fillings or other work done. She has naturally lost a number of baby teeth—such a loss is consistent with our age assertions. We have consulted with all available state and local agencies, as well as the Center for Missing Children, and have—as yet—been unable to identify her. We’re hoping that you all run this as front page news to get the word out. Someone must know who she is.”
“A drawing? What the hell is that about?” someone said.
“We’re in the process of getting a photograph. For now, this is what’s available,” Ellie answered.
Mort from the Rain Valley Gazette stood up. “How come she doesn’t just tell you her name?”
“She hasn’t spoken yet,” Ellie answered.
“Can she speak?”
“We don’t have a definitive answer to that yet. Early indications, however, lead us to believe there is no physical barrier to speech.”
A man wearing a Seattle Times baseball hat stood up. “So she’s clammed up on purpose?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“Is she wounded or ill?”
“Or crazy?”
Ellie was formulating her answer when Earl stepped to the microphone and said, “We’ve got a famous psychi—”
Ellie kicked him hard. “Our very best doctors are taking care of her,” she said. “That’s all we have for now. Hopefully someone will come forward who can answer some of these thorny questions for us.”
“I heard she had a wolf pup with her.” This from a woman near the back.
“And that she jumped from a branch that was forty feet in the air,” someone else added.
Ellie sighed. “Let’s not get carried away by small-town rumors. The point is the identification of this child.”
“You’re not giving us much to go on,” someone said.
Ellie had said everything she had to say, but the questions just kept on coming. Her personal favorite (this from Mort): “Are you sure she’s human?”
From there it was all downhill.
“YOU’RE LUCKY IT WAS RAINING THIS MORNING WHEN I LEFT THE HOUSE. Otherwise I’d have my motorcycle,” Max said, opening the passenger door of his truck for her.
“Let me guess,” she said as he got into the driver’s seat and started the engine, “Harley-Davidson.”
“How’d you know?”
“The pierced ear. I’m a shrink, remember? We tend to notice the little things.”
He drove out of the parking lot. “Oh. Do you like bikes?”
“The ones that go seventy miles an hour? No.”
