Page 44 of I Am Salvation

The confession hangs in the air between us, heavy and suffocating. I take a deep breath, trying to push down the surge of emotions threatening to break free.

“So what happened that night?” I ask again, determined to get some answers.

She draws in a ragged breath before speaking. “It was just like any other night. We had dinner and watched some TV. She asked about you. She was always asking about you, Dragon.”

“And what did you tell her? That you sent me away because you thought I was the one who crept into her room that night and cut her? Because that’s what you thought I did.”

“I… I never told her that,” she says. “I told her you were… You were away at a special school. A school for gifted children.”

“Gifted?” I can’t help but scoff at the lie. “And she believed you?”

“She was a child,” she says with a shrug. “She had no reason not to believe me.”

“And then what? What happened after dinner?”

“We went to bed. Just like any other night.” She takes another drag from her cigarette, seemingly lost in thought.

“And then?” I ask impatiently, my grip tightening on the back of the stained sofa.

“Then I woke up to an empty house,” she says.

“Just like that?” I ask, shaking my head. “You just woke up, and she was gone? No signs of forced entry? No sounds in the middle of the night? Nothing at all?”

She shakes her head, tears streaming down her cheeks freely now.

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” Her voice sounds small, lost. “I went to her room, and she wasn’t there. It was like she had vanished into thin air.”

“Did you go to the police?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

She gives a weak nod. “Yes, of course we did. But they found nothing either. No signs of abduction or foul play. Nothing.” She takes a shaky drag from her cigarette before stubbing it in an overflowing ashtray. “They told me she must have run away.”

“Run away? She was only five years old!”

“I know.” Her voice is a hollow echo. “But what else was there to believe? Griffin was simply gone.”

“And you never looked for her?” I demand, my anger threatening to spill over.

“Of course we did. But when months turned into a year and then years, we lost hope.”

“You just gave up,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “You just gave up on her. And on me.”

Her silence is deafening, her guilt palpable. It’s the full-on admission I didn’t want to hear but needed to. And it hits me like a freight train.

“Yes,” she says finally, her voice strangled and frail. “We gave up.”

Her words hang in the air like smog, choking the already thin atmosphere.

“But I haven’t,” I say after a long pause, “and I won’t.”

Chapter Twelve

Diana

“Goodness, you need a bath.” I wrinkle my nose as I pet Teddy’s soft head. “You know, I have a friend named Teddy. We should probably change your name.”

Sheesh. What are we going to do with a dog? Will our hotel even allow dogs? I quickly pull up the website on my phone to verify that yes, they do allow dogs. But we’ll have to pay an extra fee.

No problem. But is this hound even housebroken?

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