Page 5 of Little Last Words

“I ... I don't know. Mommy says never to let anyone in the house if I don't know them, and I don't know you.”

“I understand, and your mommy is right. You should never let strangers into the house. But if she’s hurt, maybe I can help. Is she hurt or is she okay?”

She thought about it a moment and then said, “Do you know the secret word?”

“I’m not sure.”

“It’s five letters.”

Her mother must have given her a safe word, something to let her know she could trust anyone who knew it. Smart woman.

“I don’t know the secret word because I’ve never met your mommy,” I said. “But if she’s hurt, I’d like to try and help her.”

She began shaking her head, wailing, “I want my mommy! I want my mommy! I want my mommy!”

As bad as I felt for her and as much as I didn’t want to break her trust—a trust I had yet to earn—if something was amiss, time may be of the utmost importance.

No more talking.

I needed to get inside the house—now.

I twisted the knob on the front door, breathing a sigh of relief when I discovered it was unlocked.

The child looked up at me but didn’t say anything.

“I’m going to open the door and call out to your mother,” I said. “Okay?”

She thought about it and then said, “Okay.”

I cracked the door just enough to poke my head inside. “Hello, is anyone home? My name is Georgiana Germaine. I live on this street. I was out for a morning walk, and I saw your daughter sitting outside. I’m just checking to make sure an adult is home and everything is all right.”

I was met with silence, and I started to wonder if the child’s mother was even here—or ifanyadult was here for that matter. There was a one-car garage attached to the house, but there were no windows or any way for me to see whether a vehicle was parked inside.

And my patience was running out.

“I’m going to take a quick peek inside the house and try to find your mother,” I said. “Would you like to come with me?”

I held out my hand. She looked at it for a minute and then slipped hers inside mine. I helped her to a standing position, and as we entered the house, I thought about how quiet and still it was—eerily quiet. If something awful had happened to the child’s mother, and if the little girl had seen it, I didn’t want her to relive it for the second time.

“Why don't you stay right here while I check on your mother?” I asked.

She looked down the hallway. I followed her gaze, my eyes coming to rest on what appeared to be the master bedroom.

She took a couple of steps in the opposite direction. “Can I watch TV with Kiki?”

“Who’s Kiki?”

She held up her koala.

“You sure can,” I said.

She reached for the television remote, set Kiki on the couch, and then climbed onto it, burying both beneath a fluffy black blanket.

As she began sniffling again, I bent down, offering my reassurance. “I'll be right back, honey. I promise.”

I walked toward the bedroom, the worry I felt increasing with each step. I had no idea what I would find on the opposite side of that door. I hoped it was nothing major. But I knew better. Something was wrong. I could always feel it, and I’d felt “off” since the moment I’d woken up this morning.

As I prepared myself for whatever was in store, I stepped into the master bedroom and glanced around. Everything looked normal. The bed was made, which meant the girl’s mother had either already made it for the day or hadn’t slept in it the night before. On the bedside table, a grocery list had been penned in black ink with a few flower doodles drawn on the side. Just inside the closet, a floral dress was puddled on the floor. A pair of brown booties rested next to it.

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