Mind Games

“Sweet, smart, and brave. When you’re ready, Thea, why don’t you tell me the first thing about his face you think of?”

“His eyes.”

“What about them?”

“They’re so pale. Pale, pale blue, but there’s so much dark behind them.”

“What about their shape?” Idly, or so it seemed, Mai drew different shapes on the page.

Thea pointed to one. “But a little wider? This way wider,” she added and held up her thumb and forefinger to indicate top to bottom.

Mai drew another shape, got a nod. She turned a page, sketched the eyes. “What comes to your mind next?”

“Can I close my eyes? I think I can see him better if I close my eyes.”

“Of course.”

With her eyes closed, Thea brought the face into her head.

“His two front teeth overlap some.” She tapped her own. “So his top lip pokes out a little.”

Keeping her eyes closed, with Duck lying under the table with his head on her foot, she went detail by detail.

She heard the summer breeze stirring, the chickens humming, birds calling. But she kept the face right there, right there, behind her closed eyes.

“Could you take a look, Thea? See if this is close?”

When she opened her eyes, her breath caught. “It is, yes, it really is, but … His face is thinner, and his chin is a little more pointed.”

“All right, I’ll fix that. Thea, look at me. Relax again, relax your shoulders, breathe. You’re doing an amazing job. You’re really helping me do mine.”

“I—I can’t draw faces very well.”

“Good thing I can. Is this better?”

“His eyebrows are straighter. I forgot to say that before.”

“More like this?”

She nodded, eyes wide, breath short. “It’s him. It’s him. I swear.”

Lucy laid her hands on Thea’s shoulders, rubbed. “Take those breaths again. He can’t hurt you.”

“But he wants to. He has my picture, too. He’s looked at it a lot. He’s sleeping.” She reached back to grip Lucy’s hand. “He drove a long way, but he got too tired to go all the way to the beach. Didn’t want to get pulled over, better to stop at some crap motel.”

“Can you see him now?” Mai asked her.

“Not really, not exactly, but he’s sleeping. It’s dark in the room. He closed the cheap-ass curtains with the dumbass flowers on them. Room around the back, around the back because it’s quieter and he wants to sleep. Accident on 95 held him up some, but still nearly made it to … to Fayetteville. Can’t check into the house at the beach until after three anyway. Get some sleep, then a couple more hours on the road, and he’ll be there.”

She breathed out. “He’s sleeping now,” she said again.

“Lucy, you got a scanner on your computer?” Tate asked.

“I’ve never used it.”

“Mind if I do?” He took the sketch Mai gave him, then followed Lucy out of the room.

“Sweet, smart, and brave,” Mai said. “That’s you, too, Thea.”