“Do you call Guidry ‘Dad’?” I keep the conversation as light as I can, but I’m genuinely curious. Mostly because in foster care, every kid does it different—same with foster parents. Ryan told me the first time I met him that I could call him whatever I wanted. I settled for Ryan, plain and simple. I was also twelve and had long since given up on calling anyone Mom and Dad. Maximus and Lee, however, had called Ryan “Dad” during their stays with him before and after mine.
It came down to what everyone was comfortable with.
Considering I’ve only heard Micah call Guidry by his last name, something Kissy does too, I assume warmness isn’t something Micah shares with the man. In fact, I haven’t felt any warmness from Micah for his guardian at all. Just what the rest of the town seems to feel for Guidry.
Closed-mouth respect and attention.
“He said it makes him feel old.” Micah doesn’t offer anything more than that, and I don’t want to push him.
I start to pat my leg, making a show so I can get an excuse to leave the room, when my phone starts buzzing and gives me a real reason to move.
It’s a text from Lee that says Ethan Watson is about to call my cell.
The phone is already buzzing again before I can respond. This time an unknown number pops up, the location says Virginia.
“Okay, I need to take this call. Why don’t you go ahead and unpack your bag while I take it? I’m one of those people who need to roam when I talk.”
Micah says okay and tells me he’ll give me privacy. He’s a good kid, one who’s off in his own little world before I ever leave his room. I feel guilty, considering my line of questioning probably got him there. But there’s no time to fix that. Not when I have the perfect opportunity to check the second floor.
I answer the call.
“Montgomery here.”
The deep voice on the other end is curt, quick.
“Hey, this is Ethan. Ethan Watson. Lee reached out to me.”
The stairs don’t squeak once as I make my way up them, a small blessing given that they’re worn wood. The same for the landing, also quiet. I keep my voice down but don’t whisper. I doubt Micah is listening to what I’m saying but he might start if my volume drops immediately.
“Yeah. He said he thought you could help with my…situation.”
I’m still not sure how and Ethan seems to pick up on that.
“I don’t know all the details, but I do know you need to find a man who’s either dead or in hiding. If he’s dead, I can’t help from this far away, but if he’s dropped off the face of the earth with purpose, I can at least give you some pointers based on my experience and your surroundings. Can you talk?”
I stop between two doors opposite each other. One is open to show a three-piece bathroom. The other is closed but not locked.
I give it a quick tap. Not loud enough that Micah will hear but good enough that if I surprise someone inside, I can call back to the fact that I tried to warn them.
No one responds to it, downstairs or upstairs.
“Actually…” The doorknob turns with ease. “Can I call you back? I’m in the middle of something I want to be quick about.”
I don’t know Ethan, just my brother’s respect for him. He gains some of mine though when he responds without me having to go into detail.
“When you’re hunting for someone every detail counts,” he says. “Sometimes, though, depending on where you’re at, don’t just look for the thing that stands out. Look for the thing that’s missing too. Good luck. I’ll have my phone on me all day.”
Ethan ends the call. I stare at the phone for a beat and wonder how much Lee has told him. Then again, not even Lee knows I’m here. Maybe Ethan’s just that good. Either way I turn my attention back to the task at hand.
I’m big on first impressions. From being in foster care to being in law enforcement, first impressions are all gut instinct. Even though I don’t always trust my gut now, I still value its input.
Two steps into Guidry’s bedroom, and my gut has one opinion and one opinion only.
It feels like a hotel room.
Against the back wall sits a king-sized bed covered in beige linens and made up as orderly as if a cleaning person had come in and straightened it. A simple dresser and mirror are to one side with a flat-screen facing the bed perched on top. A blue-and-white patterned rug cuts up the space between the side of the bed and an open archway that leads into what must be the office. Though it looks like a generous walk-in closet that’s been converted.
There’s no one in either space, so I venture into the office.
