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What happened to them?
Gene looked away, knowing the likely sinister scenarios thatcaused these girls’ disappearances. The depravities of humanity never failed to boggle him.
“Did you see any of the girl in these pictures?” Patrick asked Amanda.
Lines appeared on her forehead as she studied each picture carefully. But after a few seconds, she pushed the paper back to Patrick.
“No, she’s not here,” she said, disappointed. “Her hair is slightly similar in shade to this one, but the hairline is wrong. The eyes are more similar to this one, but they’re not quite right, either.”
“This was a long shot,” Patrick said, understanding. “That’s why I asked you to meet with Julia. I’ll go get her now. Would you like a cup of coffee?”
Both declined the offer and waited for Patrick to return with the sketch artist.
“You okay?” Gene asked, wanting to reach out and comfort her, but he wasn’t sure if that would cross the boundary Amanda had drawn between them.
“Yeah. Looking at those girls’ pictures just made me wonder if they’ll ever be found.” Amanda turned troubled eyes to him. “Will their families ever get to hug them again?”
Gene didn’t have an answer for her. He couldn’t even come up with something comforting to say.
“I don’t know,” he said instead.
Silence fell upon them again.
“I assume you didn’t find anything at the shelters last night?” Gene asked, filling in the void.
“No.” She sighed. “There were many displaced families, a few with teenagers, but none of them are her. The director I talked to said runaways come and go, and sometimes they prefer to flock together. You may be on to something with the campground.” Amanda pulled back her shoulders and sat up straight. Though her face was still grim, there was a new determination in the way she looked at him. “Thanks for doing this with me, Gene.”
She put a hand on his arm, and the touch sent warmth throughout his system, just like the sun did to the morning air outside.
Was it weird he missed their earlier connection before he’d ruined it? How she’d trusted him to take care of her. How easy it’d been for her to relax in his arms. He was used to interrupted relationships—if he could call his previous dalliances relationships—and he would just move on. But this time, Gene couldn’t seem to walk away.
What is it about you, Amanda?
The door opened and Patrick walked in with a woman in her forties holding a large sketch pad in her arms. Patrick did a quick intro and let Julia take over.
“Hi Amanda.” Julia offered a hand and a smile. “I heard you need to put a face onto paper.”
Amanda shook it, returning the smile. “I heard you’re the person to help me do that.”
“That I am.” Julia sat at the seat Gene vacated. “Let’s get to work, shall we?”
“The bottom lip was slightly fuller than the top,” Amanda told Julia as she watched the artist erase part of the bottom lip of the face she’d been sketching and redid it as per Amanda’s instruction.
It was fascinating how Julia had turned the face only Amanda had seen into something tangible. After some trial and error, Amanda learned to describe what she remembered about the girl in detail. The drawing samples of eyes, noses, jawlines, and lips Julia had brought also helped. That way Julia could at least use them as a base before she tweaked them according to Amanda’s memory.
“Is there any other feature on the face that made it more distinguishable?” Julia asked.
Amanda closed her eyes and thought back. It was a miracle she remembered this much detail about the girl.
“There’s a slight scar on the right side of her right eyebrow. Like a slash at the end.”
Julia made an adjustment. “Like this?”
“Yes! That’s her.”
Air felt trapped in her chest as she stared at the finished face. The eyes, though Julia managed to add a light in them using her shadowing skills, looked too neutral to Amanda. This girl didn’t have the terror in the eyes, but that was her.
Patrick and Gene, who had left them to work privately, returned to the room after Julia called them in. They both looked at the sketch of the girl.
