Chapter 2 #2
He shook his head. “That’s all I know. I got an email from the Lincoln Sheriff’s Department. All it said was that an SUV with plates matching your rental car was pulled out of the river.”
“Where?”
“Don’t know.”
My mind raced to put together a scenario that would allow me to hold on to my sanity. As much as not knowing what’d happened to Abby was driving me insane, the moment I knew she was gone forever would drag me down into the abyss, and I didn’t think I’d be able to crawl back out of that.
“We gotta go,” Oscar hinted.
I nodded. “Let me call Dave. He can take Tuttle.”
Oscar cocked his head and motioned to Eggy, groggy but awake in my arms. “And the old guy?”
“I’m not leaving him behind again, Oscar. He gets me, or me and Abby, and nobody else for the rest of his life.”
“Understood, sir. I’ll call the airlines and get a ticket for him.”
“You already booked the flight?”
“I did. We’re headed out this afternoon on the 4:50 flight to Seattle. We’ll layover there, then we’re on a plane to Missoula at 7:00 a.m. I rented us an F-150 for the final leg of the ride.”
I opened the door wider and motioned for Oscar to come inside. He entered without another word, and I hustled to call Dave, pack a suitcase, get Eggy’s meds and food together, and finally, I grabbed the folder.
I set out everything on the kitchen table while Oscar made us a meal at the stove. He’d been doing a lot of that too. Grocery shopping, cooking, making sure I had enough to eat. He even hired one of his nieces, who was putting herself through college, to come by once a week to clean.
I used to be a neat freak—Abby’s the slob—but after she’d vanished, I’d taken on some of her old habits. I think I just missed her, so seeing socks on the floor, cups half filled with coffee next to the sink, a bag of chips left open on the kitchen table…somehow, that gave me small comfort.
Setting my luggage by my chair at the kitchen table, I laid the folder down and went to the door at the sound of the bell.
“Dutch,” Dave said, with a nod, when I opened the door.
“Dave,” I replied, with a nod of my own.
We were getting mushy in our old age.
Tuttle waddled over to Dave, climbed up his shin, and whined happily. She and Eggy had both been sad at Abby’s absence too, and Tuttle would spend long hours just sleeping by the door, waiting for my wife to come home.
On more than one occasion, I’d joined her.
“Hey, bugaboo,” Dave said, crouching down for a face full of kisses. “Wanna come stay with me for a bit?”
She wriggled and jiggled around in his arms, and he laughed. And then the strangest thing happened.
I laughed too.
It surprised me, and for a minute, I didn’t know what to do about it, so I just stopped and stared out the open door.
Dave stood up with Tuttle in one arm and punched me in the shoulder. “She’ll come home, Dutch. I got a feeling.”
I grunted and allowed myself the smallest smile. “You got a feeling, eh?”
“He’s not the only one,” Oscar said from behind me. I turned to see him putting the lid on a container of three enchiladas. He handed it to Dave, who smiled wide and offered him another nod.
“Oz,” Dave said.
Oscar smiled. Dave had recently come up with the nickname, and everyone seemed to like it. Most of all, Oscar.
Eggy wandered out to us from his bed in the kitchen, and Dave put down Tuttle to carefully lift up Eggy. Eyeing me with a pained sadness that was hard to look at, he asked, “How’s he doing?”
“Eating. Sleeping. Mostly comfortable.”
Dave stroked Eggy’s head and kissed him between the eyes before the old pup tucked his muzzle under Dave’s chin. Eggy had known Dave longer than he’d known me.
For a minute, I wondered if taking Eggy with me rather than leaving him with Dave was the right choice, but then Dave gave him another kiss and handed him back to me. “Bring him home so I can say goodbye before it’s time, okay?”
I had to swallow hard and blink a bunch again. All I could do was nod.
With that, he bent down a final time, lifted up Tuttle, gave Oscar a two-finger salute before grabbing the container of food, and without another word, he headed to his truck for the ride home.
I cradled Eggy and waved goodbye, then turned and shut the door. Following Oscar back to the kitchen, I set down Eggy in front of his food bowl, hoping he’d nibble at the fresh plate of bison I’d made him. To my relief, he tucked in.
When I turned again, I saw that Oscar was plating our late lunch and setting it on the table. He eyed the folder like it was a coiled rattlesnake.
I often looked at it that way too.
Candice had put it together for me, even though it should’ve been me who did the hard stuff. In the folder were Abby’s last dental X-rays, a copy of her fingerprints, some hair from her hairbrush for DNA identification, and a copy of her photo ID.
Also in the folder was the name of a pilot who could fly her body back to Seattle, and contact names and numbers at Delta to arrange for her remains to be flown home.
I made it a point to always have the folder nearby but never open it.
We ate mostly in silence, but I could force myself to eat only half, even though it was delicious. That gnawing fear that we’d get to Montana and I’d have to identify the body of my wife, or hand over the folder so that someone else could do it for me, was taking hold again.
I’d been to the site of Abby’s disappearance at least twelve times—twice a month like clockwork—hunting, surveying the landscape, trying to feel her. To harness that knowing that she’d so deftly wielded and point it to where she might be so that I could finally hold her in my arms or bring her home.
But I couldn’t say that I’d come even close to that feeling so far.
And it was killing me. Hunting my will to live like a serial killer, it was waiting for me to give up hope.
I glanced over at Eggy, who’d gone back to his bed and was once again sound asleep. I think he was the only thing keeping me going right now. Once I lost him, I was pretty sure I’d lose her, and when that day came…
God help me.