Thomas’s father and aunt didn’t go to work the week Helen disappeared. Aunt Sadie slept over in the spare bedroom and every morning Thomas found her teacups and his father’s coffee mugs clustered on the kitchen table like captured checkers.
Officer Grant stopped by on Saturday—no butterfly pin, Thomas checked—and told his father and Aunt Sadie that they’d eliminated all family members from their inquiries. She apologized again, and his father said he was the one who should apologize; he realized she was only doing her job.
Officer Grant told them that the police had finished with their evidence gathering, and they were welcome to go to the airport. She also returned Helen’s cooking DVD.
As she handed it to him, Thomas thanked her, and he felt the now-familiar sweep of wings down the sides of his stomach. What would happen when Dave decided to take flight, he wondered.
Mr. Moran and Aunt Sadie organized a volunteer search for the following day, when other freshman composition teachers from the community college where his father taught, people from the bank where Aunt Sadie worked, members of their church, and Helen’s friends from the day-care center would most likely be available.
The morning of the search it snowed.
“She’ll leave footprints,” Thomas said, looking out the kitchen window at the birdbath, its rim sprinkled with snow.
“Yes.” Aunt Sadie pulled him close to her.
“It’s quite possible,” his father murmured. “Anything is possible.” His father hadn’t shaved. He hadn’t slept.
“I need to collect a few things from home and water my plants,” Aunt Sadie said as Thomas clung to her. “And then I’ll meet you at the airport, Brian, and—” Aunt Sadie broke off, staring at Thomas’s father. “You need to take a shower. Remember, Theresa is bringing Martin over. She’s going to watch the boys while we’re with the search team.”
Thomas sat in his chair at the kitchen table, waiting for Martin. His father was in the shower when his phone rang. Thomas watched it glow on the table. Then he picked it up and pressed the green button.
“Hello?” he said.
“Is this the Moran residence?”
“Yes.”
“Helen’s home?”
“Yes.” Thomas pressed the phone to his ear.
“I believe I can help you find your wife, Mr. Moran.”
Thomas remained silent. It wasn’t right to pretend to be someone you weren’t.
“I’m not talking about a physical search. My name is Marina Rush. I’m a clairvoyant. It is possible she’s trying to contact you even now. Give you clues. With your permission, I’ll consult the astral plane.”
“Is she…cold?” Thomas asked. “She took her dress coat, not the down one, and she wasn’t wearing her winter boots.”
“Is this a child? I need to speak to Mr. Moran.”
Thomas heard his father’s steps in the hallway and felt what he presumed were the little hairs on the bottom of Dave’s feet crawling up the side of his stomach. He pressed the red button and placed the phone upside down on the table.
“I finished book four of the Galaxies Dawn,” Martin said, handing the book to Thomas. “Is book five still checked out, do you know?” Thomas took the book from Martin. They’d been trading the series back and forth since there was only one copy of each book in the school library and it didn’t take them three weeks to finish. Now he had trouble remembering what the story was about.
“I don’t know,” he said.
Mrs. Templeton made them lunch, and afterward Martin asked, “Do you want to play Chinese checkers?” Chinese checkers was his favorite board game.
Thomas nodded. He knew that the game would keep Martin busy reviewing all his available moves while trying to build a strategic bridge. With Mrs. Templeton clearing out the fridge and washing dishes, this left Thomas free to think his own thoughts.
He’d stopped asking Martin how many seconds his mother had been missing. This morning, he’d been wondering if Helen might have amnesia.
“Maybe she hit her head,” he said to Martin as his friend hopped across the game board.
“Maybe,” Martin said.
In the middle of their third game, Aunt Sadie arrived. She walked through the side door with her briefcase and her overnight bag; she didn’t need to tell Thomas and Martin and Mrs. Templeton they hadn’t found Helen.
“I was thinking that maybe she hit her head,” Thomas whispered to Aunt Sadie after they’d said their good-byes to the Templetons. “That she has amnesia.”
“That’s why we’re looking so hard for her, Duck.” She squeezed his shoulders before sitting down next to him and taking his hand. They sat together in silence until Aunt Sadie decided to go outside and put salt on the front walk.
It was almost evening when Thomas’s father came home carrying a bundle of something. He came in the front door, sat on a stair, and laid his head on the bundle.
Thomas closed the door. In only six days he’d grown used to his father breaking all the rules they’d kept so strictly since Thomas could remember.
Mr. Moran looked up, noticed Thomas, and asked him to get his aunt.
When they both stood in front of him on the stair, Thomas’s father unrolled the bundle: “It’s Helen’s coat. We found it after you left.”
Aunt Sadie reached out for it. “But how—”
“It was hanging in a tree, which is probably why no one saw it before. It’s the same brown color as the bark.” Mr. Moran wouldn’t let go of the coat, but he held it up. “It must have been too cold for the dogs to find it.”
Thomas moved closer. He sniffed. It didn’t smell like his mother—it smelled cold.
“I’ll hang it in the closet,” Aunt Sadie said, once again holding out her hands.
“No! There’s more, but—” Mr. Moran glanced at Thomas and Thomas knew not to look away. He was good at staring contests with his mother. He could always go longer than she could without blinking. It was harder to stare at his father, but Thomas knew somehow if he didn’t do it, that his father wouldn’t reveal the more that Thomas felt he had to know.
“Thomas, go to your room, please.”
Aunt Sadie moved to block Thomas’s path. “We agreed, Brian. I don’t want him to hear whatever you have to say from anyone else.”
Thomas’s father rubbed at his eyes beneath his glasses. “The truth of the matter is, we haven’t the faintest idea what has happened to your mother, Thomas.”
“I don’t think she’s at that airport anymore,” Thomas said. “She’s…gone somewhere else.”
Mr. Moran stood up. Thomas sat in the place his father had vacated. Thomas’s mouth was suddenly dry and Dave seemed to be trying a downward takeoff. For some reason, Thomas thought of Chef Philippe: Here we go.
“Son,” Mr. Moran began.
Thomas stood up. Aunt Sadie slipped her hand into his and squeezed it tight as they waited for his father to speak.
“I don’t want to say this out loud.” Thomas’s father was looking at Thomas, not his aunt.
Thomas took a step back, pressing his head into Aunt Sadie’s ribs. Her arms closed around him.
“After so many days…in temperatures that have fallen below freezing. And without this.” Mr. Moran held up Helen’s coat in his clenched fists. “Officer Grant said the police are changing the classification of the search from missing person to, well…”
He couldn’t look at his son and finish his sentence. “One of recovery. Your mother couldn’t survive outside this long in these temperatures. What we’re trying to do now is find her body.”
Thomas broke Aunt Sadie’s hold to free his arms. He pointed at his father. “Why don’t you ever listen to me? I told you, you haven’t found her yet because she’s somewhere else.”
“I agree with Thomas,” Aunt Sadie said. “She’s not there. If she were…I’d…I think I would have felt something. But, Thomas—” Aunt Sadie spun Thomas around. “I’m not saying that to give you false hope.” She pulled him to her and Thomas felt…crushed. Then, leaning back so that she could look him in the eyes, she said, “I don’t think she’s anywhere.”