Page 38 of Swerve
He senses her stiffen beside him.
“Does anyone know . . . ?” She breaks off there.
“No,” he says, shaking his head.
“How can someone just disappear?” she asks, her voice barely audible.
He has no answer that will do anything other than crush whatever hope she has left. “It depends on why they were taken.”
“You mean whether the abductor continues to have a purpose for them or not?”
He nods.
“I keep thinking about those three girls in Cleveland who were missing for ten years. Can you imagine being the 911 person who took that call?”
“No. Some people might not have taken her seriously.”
“After ten years, they still had enough fight left in them to take a chance to go for help.”
“They never gave up,” he says.
“But that long. How did their families survive?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you think they believed they could still be alive?”
“Honestly?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
She draws in a quick breath, as if he’s stabbed her with something sharp. The truth can be like that. He should know. “I don’t blame them,” he says quietly.
“What do you mean?”
“Human beings need resolution to go on. It’s the waiting, the not knowing what’s going to happen that does us in.”
He can feel her desire to reject what he’s said.
She studies the blurred buildings outside the window as the Jeep rolls down the Beltway. He dips in and out of the traffic lanes, eager to get where they’re going.
“What sets apart a survivor from someone who doesn’t survive?” she asks in a low voice.
He considers the question, not wanting to give her a flip answer. “It’s probably a lot of different factors.”
“Indulge me.”
“The most important thing is whether the victim is a fighter or not. Is she?”
“Yes,” she says without hesitation. “She is. But I’ve always been her protector, and I hope I haven’t—”
“Don’t,” he interrupts. “I’m sure you’ve taught her everything she would need to know.”
“Maybe I’ve been there too much. Stepped in when I should have let her work it out.”
“It’s a delicate balance, that parenting thing.”
