Page 37 of Ten Years Later
“Don’t,” Keaton pleaded. “You know that room is off limits.”
Zane opened the door. Keaton surged forward as Zane went into the room, still decorated for a four-year-old girl. Surreptitiously, Keaton’s eyes went to the closet. Zane turned a slow circle before stepping back out and shutting the door.
Back in the kitchen, Zane noted the partially eaten second sandwich. “Why are you eating this late at night?”
“Because I got hungry. She’s not here.”
Zane marched over to the couch and sat down. “Well, guess what? I’m not leaving. Because if she shows up, I sure as hell am taking her back to her mother.”
Keaton went to bed. With his door open, he stared down the hall to Vivian’s room. He willed her to stay put. The light in the living room remained on. On the couch, Zane kept wide awake for hours.
Keaton didn’t sleep.
Instead he thought of all the other “Vivians” over the years. The first had been twelve months after his daughter went missing. He saw a little five-year-old girl in Wal Mart and followed her all over the store, trying to get a good look at her face, until the mom called security and reported him.
Two years after that, he sat on the beach all day watching a seven-year-old laugh and play with her family. He took pictures of her, texting them to Cora, convinced he had found Vivian. Eventually, the father stormed up to Keaton demanding he leave. Keaton almost challenged him until the little girl ran up next to her father and Keaton got a good look at her face, realizing in defeat that he was wrong.
Three years went by. He was doing a job with Zane an hour south. Keaton was loading up his truck when a ten-year-old zipped past on her bike, sending the scent of coconut into the air. Keaton dropped his things and ran after her.Wait, stop!he yelled. She glanced back, then picked up pace. He kept running, nearly a mile, not realizing she had found a cop and asked for help.
Then came last year when he was picked up for stalking. Keaton had been driving by a motel when he caught sight of the thirteen-year-old walking into her room. Keaton wasn’t stealth at all. He parked in the lot and stared at her door. She emerged with her family and got into a car. He followed them to a restaurant and sat in the lot, watching them eat. He followed them to miniature golf, watching them play. He tailed them back to the motel. The week continued like that, Keaton living out of his truck as he watched her motel room every night and followed the family every day. It was Detective Sparks who pulled up beside him and took him into custody. Even though Sparks explained to the family what was going on they still pressed charges and filed a restraining order. Thanks to Sparks, though, Keaton didn’t serve time.
Now looking back, Keaton readily admitted how wrong he’d been. And how right he was now.
But he had been so certain he was right before…
No, this was different. He felt it in his bones.
At five in the morning, he tiptoed down the hall. Beneath his feet, a floorboard creaked. Zane immediately woke.
“Sorry,” Keaton mumbled, cutting off to the kitchen.
Zane stood and stretched. “Your couch sucks.”
“Then don’t sleep over.” He went about preparing coffee.
Zane walked over to the windows, and moving the curtains aside glanced out. “If the girl didn’t come here, where did she go?”
Keaton shrugged. He took a breakfast sandwich from the freezer and slid it into the microwave. He willed Zane to leave.
Thankfully, his brother grabbed his keys. “If she shows up, do yourself a favor and call the cops. If you wind up in jail again, you’ll serve time. You won’t get off like last. You know that as well as I do.”
With that, Zane left.
Keaton hightailed it into Vivian’s room. In the closet he found her resting on clothes she’d piled and fashioned into a makeshift bed.
“Hi,” she said, already awake.
“Did you sleep?”
“A little.” She stirred. “Is he gone?”
“Yes.”
“I heard what he said. Will you really go to jail?”
“Don’t worry about that. I’ve got it all figured out.”
Emily sat up. “I can’t believe Mia sent the cops to your brother’s house. Guess it’s a good thing she thought you were Zane. Otherwise, the cops might’ve come here.”
