Ninety-Nine
AT A LITTLE after seven the next morning, Helene having awakened me at five, she and I are standing in front of her car near the end of the short runway at Parsons Regional Airport, watching the small Citation jet slowly taxi to a stop.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” I say.
“Believe it,” she says.
A few minutes later, the door opens and the airstairs come down, and we see the pilot at the top of the stairs reaching into the cabin, then see him reaching out to take the hand of the plane’s only passenger.
A pretty, blond teenaged girl.
Then we watch as Holly Ridenour, hand on the railing, carefully makes her way down the steps, giving a small wave to Helene and me as she does.
“You believe in miracles?” Helene asks me as we walk toward Holly, waving back at her.
I try to answer.
But I can’t speak in the moment.
And am trying my best not to cry.
Six hours or so later, after Holly has spent the morning at County Police with her new lawyer, Diozzi, and the state’s attorney, I’m in my pickup and Holly Ridenour is sitting next to me, hands folded in her lap.
She is crying again, jammed up all over again by everything that has happened to her in the last day, and all the days before it.
“I think I did a good job at the station, telling it all to Miz Mayes,” she says.
“She says you absolutely did good,” I say. “No, check that. She says you did great.”
I turn to take another look at her, still trying to process, just for myself, everything this girl had been through, and everything the bastards had done to her from the day they took her.
“I know you think I should have called my dad,” she says. “To let him know I’m here.”
“This isn’t about what I think,” I say. “It’s about what you want.”
“I didn’t want to talk to him on the phone first, as crazy as that might sound,” she says. “I wanted to wait a little longer and see him with my own eyes.”
I look over at her and see the tears still coming down, the girl not doing anything to wipe them away, and feel my own throat start to thicken again the way it had when I saw her getting off that plane.
We ride in silence for a little bit until she says, “They’re monsters.”
“I know.”
“Miz Mayes says she’ll keep me safe even if they come after me,” she says. “Do you believe her on that, Mr. Tucker?”
“Silas,” I say. “And her word is as good as mine.”
“I just want them to pay.”
“Trust me,” I tell her. “They will.”
“I still don’t know how much of this I’ll be able to tell my dad,” she says. “I mean, he’s my dad.”
“You’ll tell as much as you can and as much as you want,” I say. I pause. “Maybe never all of it. And certainly not all of it today.”
I pull the truck up in front of the house now and shut off the engine. She hesitates, trying to look everywhere at once, taking it all in, as if making sure that this isn’t some kind of dream for her, that she’s at least gotten to the other side of her nightmare.
We finally get out of the car. She’s behind me as I use the old brass knocker on the front door.
Leamon Ridenour opens it, clearly surprised to see me. But before he can say anything, I step aside so that he can see his daughter standing behind me.
He just stares at her at first, not believing what’s right in front of him, before putting a trembling hand up to rub his eyes. When he takes the hand away, he’s already begun to sob.
Leamon Ridenour opens his mouth and tries to say something, but nothing comes out right away. As he reaches out with his arms for Holly, his knees buckle, and he starts to fall.
Only, his daughter won’t let him. Her arms are around him then and his own are around her, and it’s as if they’re holding each other up.
“Holly,” he finally manages, his voice raw. “My baby girl. Is it really you?”
“It’s me,” she says. “I came home, Daddy.”