Rain from the previous night made tracking difficult but not impossible.
Search dogs found scent near the daughter’s abandoned sedan.
Then lost it near the highway.
At the gray pickup below the embankment, investigators found no sign the daughter had been inside.
That mattered.
The ex’s truck had apparently left the road after hitting loose gravel.
Airbags deployed.
He had walked away.
Footprints led uphill.
Then disappeared along rocky terrain.
The grandfather asked the sheriff:
“Could he have gone toward her?”
“Possible.”
“Could she have gone the other direction?”
“Possible.”
Everything was possible.
He hated that word.
At six, he drove to the neighbor’s house.
Alone.
No motorcycle.
He chose his pickup.
Less noise.
The girl opened the door before he knocked.
She had changed into sweatpants and an oversized sweatshirt.
Her hair was tied back.
She looked younger without the winter coat.
The grandfather stopped on the porch.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
The neighbor appeared behind her.
“Come in.”
The grandfather removed his boots at the door without being asked.
The girl noticed.
“My mom makes people do that.”
“So did your grandmother.”
The girl’s eyes changed.
“You knew my grandma?”
He almost laughed at the absurdity.
“She was my wife.”
“Oh.”
The child seemed to realize family history had multiplied overnight.
The grandfather entered.
The house smelled like soup.
Photographs covered one wall.
The girl appeared in many.
Her mother too.
The grandfather stopped in front of one.
Mother and daughter at a school science fair.
The child holding a cardboard volcano.
Her mother laughing.
The grandfather stared.
The girl approached.
“That was fourth grade.”
“What did you make?”
“Volcano.”
“Did it work?”
“Too much.”
Her mother had apparently inherited his talent for overbuilding.
He smiled.
The girl watched.
“Do I look like her?”
“Yes.”
“Everyone says I look like Dad.”
The grandfather’s face tightened slightly.
The child noticed.
“You hate him?”
He looked at her.
Children asked questions adults spent hours preparing to avoid.
“I don’t know him.”
“You know he’s bad.”
“I know there’s a court order telling him to stay away.”
“That isn’t the same as knowing everything about him.”
The girl looked surprised.
“Mom says something like that.”