Chapter 6
The light came through the front window in a long white blade. It swept the floor, the counter, the wall of rods. Then it stopped. The engine cut. For a second there was only the wind and the minnow tank filters.
“He’s here,” Verne whispered.
“Lock the back.”
“Emmie-”
“Lock the back.”
She moved. I grabbed Poppy and the blanket and put her behind the counter, between the minnow tanks. I put the SIM card in a plastic sandwich bag from the deli case and tucked it inside my bra strap. I put the roll of quarters in my pocket. I picked up the pay phone receiver and dialed 911 again.
The same dispatcher. I gave my name again. I gave Poppy’s name. “Poppy Lynn Toussaint. Five years old. Daughter of Danielle Toussaint-Roy. She was taken by Derek Toussaint on December twenty-seventh.”
“Ma’am, I have a deputy en route.”
“He’s here. Derek is here. He’s at the shop.”
“Do not engage. Lock the doors.”
“I did.”
“Can you get to a safe place?”
“No.”
I read her the numbers off the SIM card. BO. D. KYLE. I read them slowly. She repeated them back. I heard a keyboard. I heard her voice change when she understood.
“The deputy is being rerouted. The causeway is flooded, so he’s coming the long way. ETA twenty minutes.”
“Twenty minutes.”
“Do you have a weapon?”
I looked at the wall rack. Gaff hooks. Fillet knives. A baseball bat behind the register.
“No,” I said.
“Keep the line open.”
I hung up. I couldn’t keep the line open and watch the door.
Derek knocked. Three slow knocks. Polite. Like he was coming in for coffee.
“Emmie.”
I didn’t answer.
“I know you’re in there. Verne’s truck is here. I saw you cross the road.”
Poppy pressed her face into my leg. I put my hand on her head.
“Open the door,” he said. “We’ll talk.”
“Go away.”
“It’s cold, Emmie. I’m wet. You got my kid in there.”
“She’s not your kid.”
A pause. Then a laugh. “She’s my sister’s kid. That’s the same thing in this family.”
“Your sister is alive.”
The silence was different. I had surprised him.
“Who told you that?”
“Dani.”
“You called her?”
“I called the number on your phone.”
“The phone’s in the lake.”
“The phone is. The card isn’t.”
I heard him breathing. The wind pushed snow against the glass. I imagined his face going flat, the way it did when something wasn’t in the script.
“You took the SIM,” he said.
“Yes.”
“You little bitch.”
“I’m your wife.”
“You’re a problem.”
Poppy started counting again. One, two, three. I put my hand over her mouth, gentle. She stopped.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Derek said. He was close to the door now. I could hear his boots on the porch. “You open the door. You give me the girl and the card. I leave. You tell them I was never here. You go home and have your baby.”
“And then what?”
“And then nothing.”
“You were going to give me to Dani.”
He was quiet.
“You were going to give our baby to your sister so nobody would look for Poppy.”
“That’s not-”
“You promised her. You told her I wanted it.”
“I was trying to fix it,” he said. “You don’t understand. Bo doesn’t ask. He takes. He was going to take Poppy. I had to give him something.”
“You had a daughter?”
“I had a debt.”
“Six thousand five hundred.”
“Four thousand five hundred,” he said. “The rest was interest.”
“Same thing.”
“No,” he said. “It’s not the same thing.”
I looked at Poppy. She was listening. Her eyes were wide and dry. She had stopped counting.
“Uncle D,” she said.
Derek went still.
“Poppy, go in the back,” I said.
“Uncle D said Mama gave me away.”
“I know.”
“He said I was going to live with a man.”
“You’re not.”
“Emmie,” Derek said. His voice was soft now. Tender. That was worse. “Open the door.”
“No.”
The truck engine started. The headlights swung away from the window, then came back. He was backing up.
“Verne,” I said.
She was standing by the tank room, holding a broom like a rifle. “What?”
“Get behind the counter.”
The truck hit the porch.