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“Ben,” Roderick said.  “It’s bullshit.”

Ben, arms folded, paced.

They were in a hospital, and Ripley had gotten checked over.  It was something that had to happen anyway, it made getting a DNA test easier, and the hospital had a built-in child support system, which helped get past the fact that the rest of the state didn’t, anymore.  Not reliably.  It was Roderick’s suggestion.

They’d been asked to give Ripley and the staff some privacy, so he and Roderick were across the hall, in an empty room, sans bed or medical equipment.

“I don’t even know what the accusation I’m defending myself against even is,” Roderick said.  “The Cavalcantis?”

“They control this city.  I find it surprising you don’t know who they are.”

“I know who they are, and I know they have a presence here.  You think they control this city?  Me?”

A family walking down the hallway made Ben tense.  At first, he thought it might be Sterling- the kid had been at the tail end of the group after the headcount, and then had gotten scared and found a hiding place after the explosion.

“I don’t know what to think.  I’ve got a pile of info out of nowhere that implies the Cavalcantis are working with the local government and police.”

“I’m not technically local police.”

“But you’re linked into that.”

“Across multiple states.  Ben, it doesn’t make sense.”

“None of this does,” Ben replied.

“You said the information was sent to you to distract you from the Hursts.  Now they conveniently throw this at you, saying I’m connected to this information you got and haven’t had time to research.”

Ben sighed.

“Is any of it real?” Roderick asked.  “I’m not trying to play games.  Genuinely asking.  Have you looked?”

“Some.  While we waited.  You were being interviewed.  It looks real.”

“You have to admit, it looks weird they’d pull that out, throw that at you.”

“All of it looks weird, Roderick.”

“You’re never going to call me Rider, huh?  I hate ‘Roderick’.  And ‘Rod’ is worse.”

“It all looks weird.  I’m waiting to see where the Cavalcantis come in.  I’m not getting the vibe that Ripley was sold.”

“Me either,” Roderick said.

“Kept around as an organ donor?  Why would the Cavalcantis be so upset at the Hursts?  Does it tie to Ripley at all?”

“I don’t know.  Is the worry about Cavalcanti ties why you didn’t want to bring more people in?”

“Yeah,” Ben admitted.

“Okay.  I’m putting it out there, but have you written down or spoken aloud about that?”

Ben shook his head.  “Basically only my conversation with you, telling me to go to the school.  Why?  You think I’m bugged?”

“I’m wondering if that huge package of information came with a virus.  The people we’re up against are tech savvy, prepared, they took measures to protect their space.  I’m used to only seeing a bit of that.  Creeps who traffic in kids who protect their computers, because that’s where the directly incriminating stuff is.  S.O.P. is to run a virtual machine, because their countermeasures can include stuff aimed at tripping up the investigators’ systems.  Did you run a virtual machine?”

“No.  But I also didn’t open any attachments or files that were suspicious, or give any permissions.”

“No guarantee.”

“I feel like you’re intentionally leading me away from the topic of you having ties to these guys.”

“Ben, my focus right here?  It’s the kid who was kidnapped.  This is what I do, it’s what I’ve devoted my life to.  I travel too much to have a steady girlfriend, and the shit I see makes relationships hard.  So… suspect me.  Fine.  What do you want or need to do, about that?”

“What?” Ben asked.  He felt like he was a bit fried, having gone as full-tilt into things a bit ago, and now his brain was a step behind.  “What do I need?”

“You suspect me.  Okay.  So… what are you going to do about it?  Do you want to ask me to leave?  Or do you want my advice?  Because I can tell you stuff, and you can make your own judgment calls about whether it’s valid.  Like the possible virus.”

“I don’t think it was a virus.”

“Okay.  But there are other things.  This is my area of expertise.  Do you want my expertise?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then figure it out, man,” Roderick said, his voice taking on a harsher note that made the ‘man’ anything but casual.  “It’s very possible Ripley Hurst is Camellia Teale.  That’s huge.  But that’s also one tiny fraction of the problems ahead of us.  When there were traps in the house, I started talking about this like it was an organized trafficking ring.  I’m leaning even harder into that line of thinking now.”

“Okay.  Then what steps do we need to take?”

“You tell me.  Because if you trust me, that’s one thing, if you don’t, that’s another, but if we’re out there and we get into a debate over this shit, that’s something that might stick with me.”

“Others heard it too.”

“And people will hear it here.  Hospital staff, child support workers.  Are you going to put it on camera?”

“It’s already on camera.”

“Are you going to leave it out in the edits?  What does it take, Ben?”

“Give me your phone.  And stay close enough I don’t think you’ve gone to borrow someone else’s.”

“Until?”

“Until I can dig deeper into this connection between the Cavalcantis and the police.”

“I’m not police.”

“You know what I mean.”

Roderick gave Ben a long, serious look, then fished his phone out of his pocket.  He didn’t hand it to Ben, but got his bag, and fished inside it, getting an old flip phone as well.  “Three conditions.”

“Okay.”

“First off, you and I?  We’re totally even after this.  The Baby Macranie thing is forgotten, rear view mirror, written off.”

“The what now?”

“That’s the ticket,” Roderick said.

“I seriously don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You really don’t.  Fuck me.  All this time, I was prepared for you to pull that out to twist my arm.”

“Fill me in?”

“Back when we were taking the courses for the licensing?  Weekend party?  You remember Macranie.”

“Sure.”  A rather brash, loud-mouthed guy who’d also been taking the courses.

“Remember his sister?”

“Oh, right.  A year younger than us.  Macranie was so adamant about us not doing anything with her, it started to feel like a ‘thou protest too much’ thing, and he wanted us to?”

“No, he was prepared to destroy someone if they glanced in her direction.”

“Haven’t thought about that in a decade.  And you-?”

“It’d be like you, Ben, to cover for me and not even remember it.”

“It’s very possible someone else covered for you and you’re giving me credit for something I didn’t do.”

“It was you.  Okay.  Whatever.  The fact you’d do that is reason enough for me to cut you slack, here.  Second thing?  I’m giving you this flip phone.  The number there is one I give to very specific people.  There’s a few, kids and women in trouble, who got that number before disappearing.  I stay awake at night hoping for those calls.  Something comes in-”

“I waste no time.”

“Yeah.”

It seemed like it took Roderick a moment to come back to reality, after just thinking and talking for a few moments about that.

“What’s the third thing?” Ben asked, when it looked like Roderick was back in the present place and time.

“Call me Rider.”

“Rider.  Okay.”

“My feelings are real fucking hurt that you believe I’d do this shit.”

“I’ve spent years on this.  Then it all went to hell, I barely know which way is up.”

“Yeah.”

They watched hospital staff walk down the hall through the open blinds of the empty room.  A woman jumped as she realized they were there in the unlit room, a few feet from her face.

“What next?” Ben asked.

“They’re still interviewing everyone, they’ll be asking questions for the rest of the day.”

“Longer than that, I’m betting.”

“Yeah, well.  When we were in the school, they wanted to get us out, so there was an opening.  Hospital’s the same, I figure.  The hospital has private security, it’s a maze of corridors.  That’ll trip anyone up.”

“Mia Hurst works in a hospital.”

“This one?”

“A while ago.  Different one now.”

“Hmm.  Fuck.  Might be worth asking around.”

“Sure.  But about that.  Navigating the corridors…”

Ben got his camera out.

“What are you thinking?” Roderick asked.

On the little screen that folded out from the side of the camera, he dragged his thumb until he was in the right time.  Out there, at the end of the schoolyard, by the fence.  The parents walking over.

“Carson Hurst is more subtle about it, but look at this one.”

“The one who called out ‘Mary’.”

On the footage, the dad was walking sideways, closer to them, his eyes mostly on the kids lined up at the fence.

Then he stopped, putting phone to ear.

A few minutes later, in the midst of the chaos, he approached again.

“When were you reviewing this footage?” Roderick asked.

“I wasn’t.  But I remembered it.”

“Hmm.  It’s a shame you didn’t get a license.  He’s coming right at us.”

“Carson Hurst is too.  From a Different angle.  And he’s not coming at us.”

“Ripley,” Roderick said.

Ben nodded.  “So… question I have to ask is, did they have eyes on us from the moment we were out the door?  Or…”

“Or are they tracking her some other way?  I’ve got something in my car.  Since you don’t want me going off on my own, come with.  It should be a good enough excuse to re-involve ourselves in this process.”

It wasn’t quite that easy to go.  There was a contingent of police talking to the hospital security, and then the moment they were outside the doors, they had to skirt the edges of a small group of reporters, demonstrators, and a team of about eight police, the chief of which was addressing the reporters.

He was telling an anecdote as they left.  Roderick gave a single nod to an officer at the edge of the group, who flashed a smile.

They went out to the side parking lot, got a hard plastic case, and then walked back.

As they passed by the second time, the chief was saying, “…why we need you to contact our elected officials, and protect our police from selective persecution.  Tell them what they’re asking doesn’t make sense!  You cannot have so little trust in us that you’d ask us to wear cameras, force us to carry insurance, while at the same time putting-”

The door shut behind Ben as they entered the hospital.

They found hospital security where they were talking to the police, and asked for someone to come with them to Ripley’s room.  Hard no- there was apparently someone there already.  One guard at the door.

“They’ll try again,” Ben murmured.

“I think it happens when we’re out of the hospital,” Roderick said.

Ripley had changed into a paper smock, and sat on a hospital bed, looking angry and bewildered.  Natalie, Sterling, the babysitter Josie, and Josie’s mom sat in chairs that were positioned in the hallway, between four rooms, without a direct line of sight to Ripley.

“Can we come in?” Ben asked.

Natalie stood.  Ben raised a hand, getting her to hold back some.

“Are you asking me?” Ripley asked.  “Because nobody seems to care about what I think or want.”

The guard at the door let them through.  Roderick did something similar to what Ben had done to Natalie, putting a hand back to stop Ben from walking through.  Ben stood out of Ripley’s sight and watched as Roderick set the plastic case down, then opened it up.  Ben had imagined something closer to a metal detector, but it looked like a blocky remote control with an antenna.

“Her things?”

“Go ahead, you don’t need my permission,” Ripley said.

Her things were in a clear plastic bag that was designed to be folded over, with a thread tying around a button-shaped protrusion.  Roderick didn’t open it up, but instead gave the detector a try.

It made a synthetic sort of record scratch noise as it passed by.

“What is that?” Ripley asked.

He opened the bag, pulling the things out.

“Is it radioactive?” Ripley piped up, sitting up straighter in the bed.  “Was the bomb dangerous?”

“No,” Roderick said.

The signal came from the shoes.

He packed everything up, then took the bag with him out into the hallway.  The security guard stood in the doorway.

They talked around the chairs, with Natalie, Josie, and Josie’s mother sitting.  Roderick stood closer to them than necessary, still holding the device and bag.  Ben stepped closer as well.  A bit of a huddle.

“Trust is a currency here,” Roderick said, his voice pitched low.  “It’s why I didn’t let you into the room, Ben.  We can do everything right here, and still lose her trust, because the things that are best to do right now aren’t necessarily the things that feel best for her.  Our goal is to get her home to you, Natalie.”

“Please.”

“You don’t want to become the face of this investigation, or the face of what may be an unpleasant revelation for her.”

“I already talked to Natalie about that, some,” Ben said.  “I’d rather be the face of it, instead of her.”

“Sure.  Good,” Roderick said.  “But you want to make your movie, somewhere down the line.  Or chase other, related things.  Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You might need and want her trust for that.  Let me and the hospital staff be the enemy for now, breaking any bad news.  Where are we with the DNA test?”

“They said it would take hours,” Natalie said.  “Even rushed with the judge’s order.  Possibly tomorrow morning.”

Roderick nodded.  He set the bag down on the chair.  “Tomorrow morning would be fast, in the grand scheme of things.  Hours would be a miracle.  Our next big step is going to be foster care.  I’m sorry, Natalie, I know that’s not what you want.”

“I hate the idea.  She’s already spent eleven years living with people who aren’t her family.”

“It’s necessary, as part of the process.  Even if we rush this with me talking to a judge to get things pushed forward, there’s a lot that has to be validated.  I’d encourage you to look at it as a good thing, Ms. Teale.”

“A good thing?”

“Goes back to trust,” Ben said.  “Because she’s going to be angry, or upset, or scared.  Better that you and Sterling don’t get the brunt of it.  It’ll make the process afterward harder, if she’s starting off with those feelings against you.”

Sterling, dozing, looking very small in the padded chair, didn’t even react to the use of his name.

“Ben’s got it right,” Roderick said.

“I want the brunt of it,” Natalie said.  “I want her back.”

“I know,” Roderick said.  “But you can’t, so… take the silver lining.”

“Kid!”

The guard at the door.

Ripley was trying to leave.

“Will someone tell me what’s going on!?  Josie!  Call my mom, at least!”

The commotion woke Sterling, who grabbed onto his mom’s sleeve.  Natalie, for her part, looked so hurt at Ripley’s distress and the request to call her mom that Ben couldn’t believe she’d endure the brunt of things.

It took a couple minutes before Ripley could be coaxed back into the room and made to sit back on the bed, blanket over her lap.

Josie walked Sterling to the vending machine to get a treat.  They came back.  The kid had bought milk and a plastic cup of custard, of all things.

“I’m worried about the tracker,” Roderick said.  “I’m going to take apart the shoe, dig it out, see what make it is, and check some of the other possessions she’d carry with her regularly.”

“I was hoping to get more information,” Ben said.  “Josie, if your mom is okay with it, would you be okay talking to me about the Hursts?”

“Yeah.”

“On camera?  It makes it easier to go back and review footage, and if this is what we think it is, one of the best ways to deal with the Hursts would be to get everything on film and get that film out there.  They’d become instantly recognizable.”

Josie’s eyes went to the floor.

“They’d have a much harder time taking anyone else’s children.”

“If that’s what it is,” Roderick said.

“What do you need to know?”

“That’s a yes on the camera?”

“Yes,” Josie’s mom said.  “I feel sick about this.”

Camera on.

“Hi.  Josie?”

“Josie, yeah.”

“How long have you been babysitting for the Hursts?”

“I did some early stuff when I was eleven, twelve, and thirteen.  That started out being, like, Mia in the background, with Tyr, while I kept an eye on Ripley at the park.  She paid for me to take a babysitting class, and I went with a friend.  That was first aid, and how to change a diaper.  Which I barely ever had to do.  She handled that.  Tyr potty trained early, he was good as long as you reminded him about going before going out.”

“How would you describe her?”

“Intense?  That’s the wrong word, because intense makes you think of someone who’s in your face or angry.  More like… she paid me a good amount, then she really expected me to earn it.”

“How much?”

“Twenty dollars an hour.  But she’d round up to a full hour if it was like… walking them home from school and watching them for twenty or thirty minutes, while she got back from work.  And at the end of the month, if I hadn’t broken a big rule, she’d pay me a bonus, so it wound up being pretty close to thirty an hour.”

“You never told me about these bonuses,” Josie’s mother said.

Josie struck a big ‘I’m innocent’ expression.  Then she held up a hand in her mom’s face, as her mom asked about what that money had gone toward, talking over her to say, “part of the rules was I had to keep track of my hours and pay.  So I got good at that.”

“What other rules did she have?” Ben asked.

“Straight home, no big detours.  No driving them, I got my license earlier this year, unless it’s an emergency.  But I can even borrow their car in an emergency.  I’m on their insurance.”

“Social media,” her mom said.

“And no putting them on social media.  There was little stuff too.  Like one month she didn’t give me the full bonus at the end of the month because the teacher had called her to say Ripley arrived to class late twice.”

“Keeping them a secret,” Natalie said.

“It didn’t feel like it was that,” Josie said, defensive now.  “Felt like she was careful.  Like she was afraid of the rest of the world and she couldn’t turn it off.  I never felt super comfortable around her, but I figured it was her being so… nervous, so careful about everything, it made me anxious.  Intense, but not… angry intense.”

“Angry enough to rig the house with traps.  One of which almost hurt your mom,” Ben said.

“I… yeah.  That’s f-reaky to think about,” Josie said, self-editing as she glanced at Sterling.  “Do we know for sure it was them?”

“It would be very hard for someone else to do it.  It’s their house.  And they used those traps to hurt people this morning.”

“Freaky.”

“Tell us about Carson Hurst,” Ben said.

“One thing?  About Mia?”

“Sure.  Please.”

“I realize how screwed up it sounds now, but… she really was like, my model for a good mom, you know?  Besides my own mom, kinda.”

“Thank you for remembering to add that part,” Josie’s mom said.  “You can leave out the ‘kinda’.”

“But I mean, my mom’s my mom.  I dunno.  If she’s being weird or annoying, she’s being weird or annoying to me.  It’s hard to be all, that’s good, that’s bad.”

“Hard to be objective,” Ben said.  “Sure.”

“I can never get objective and the other one the right way around.  I really thought, you know, Mia Hurst was someone I’d want to be like, if I have kids.  Which I don’t, really, world’s so screwed up.  But if I did, I wanted to be like her, with that intensity turned down to like… an eight, instead of eleven.  She always made sense to me.  My mom doesn’t.”

“I know you think you’re being funny but people might end up watching this,” her mom said.

Josie laughed a bit to herself, but the laugh was short lived, and her eyes dropped, the moment of joy becoming its exact opposite.

“I hope you’re wrong,” Josie said.

“If we’re wrong, I haven’t found my missing daughter,” Natalie said, tone sharp.

“I… really hope you find your daughter.  But I also really hope Mia and Carson aren’t as bad as you’re saying, and it’s all big misunderstanding.  I loved them.”

“Easy to love someone who pays you thirty bucks an hour,” Roderick said.

“It wasn’t that.  I was a part of their family from the time Tyr was small.  Some little bits of weirdness, but no more or less than any other family, I thought.  I feel so stupid.  I don’t get this at all.  It hurts.”

Ben had other questions he wanted to ask, including that line of questioning about Carson, and figuring out who the man was and where he came from, but the look on Natalie’s face made him feel like he should stop.

Camera off.

⯁

The problem with watching Roderick and keeping an eye out for trouble was that Ben couldn’t sleep.  They’d taken away the tracking devices and had moved to another room, undisclosed to hospital staff.

Child services didn’t have foster parents prepared to take Camellia in, and so it had been easier to keep her at the hospital.

Because Ben wasn’t sleeping, though, he was awake as a member of hospital staff approached.  Natalie, also awake, stood.

The man handed over a folder.

Genetic markers along one sheet.  Another page of other information.

99.4% certainty.  Ripley Hurst was Natalie Teale’s daughter.

The lights were off in the rooms, but the hallways were partially lit.  Natalie managed to not make a sound, while making an expression that Ben would have pegged as agony, if he hadn’t known better, a hand over her mouth.

He helped her ease to the ground, sitting beside the door.

A moment so happy for her that she couldn’t help but cry.  One of the happier days of her life.  She had her daughter back.

And when he stood, looking into the room, Camellia lay on that hospital bed, wearing the papery smock.  The most miserable day of her life, and she didn’t even know yet.   She’d lost everything.

Tomorrow would be worse.

⯁

Over two hours of intense discussion, with him and Natalie and Sterling, with child services, with the guards, with Roderick, with the judge.  Natalie, at Ben’s urging, had gone out to shower, eat, and take care of Sterling, and had come back with shopping.  He’d hoped she’d find a babysitter, but she’d brought Sterling back.

The room was some conference space on the basement level of the hospital, for presentations and such, and had a faint background smell of some cleaner that smelled vaguely like the throw up it was meant to clean.  The way here had been filled with laundry machines and bins of white sheets and hospital gowns, with a skeleton crew of staff that had been briefly moved out of the area before they’d come through, so nobody would know enough to pass on rumors.

A room beside the big presentation area and stage had a conference table in it, but it had been turned onto its side and stacked chairs filled the void around the legs, leaving two thirds of the room clear.  Camellia’s bed had been wheeled into there.  In a similar room opposite, a child services worker had pulled an all-nighter, keeping an eye on things.  Ben, Roderick, Natalie, and Sterling had all stayed up here, with the adults sleeping on chairs, arranged in a row, lying across the seats, uncomfortable and cold, even with multiple blankets, because the ventilation chilled the room.

All to stay out of the way of Mia and Carson, and whoever else was working with them.

It was the kind of space where, if left partially let, felt dark, but if fully lit, felt glaring.  As it was, it had been left dark, with lights not reaching the base of the walls or the corners.  Camellia was up, and the room she was in was bright, one light above flickering faintly.

The flicker was more noticeable on the camera than with the naked eye.

“Okay?” Roderick asked.

Nods all around.

Natalie and Ben followed him to the door, others followed them.

“Can we talk?” Roderick asked.

“You stole my clothes.  I don’t have anything to wear.”

“Natalie Teale did some shopping.  If you’d like to take a look?  If you want to change into a different set of clothes, we can give you some privacy.”

Camellia shrugged.

Roderick got the bag that Natalie held out.

The kid was so skinny.  But so was Sterling.  She fished through the bag.

A nice top with a skirt to match.  A dress.  A set of color variations on those.  A jumper, with a floral pattern at the straps.

Camellia put it aside.  “I don’t wear skirts and dresses.”

Natalie spoke, “Is that because-?”

Ben touched her arm.  She stopped.

“Because what?  Holy crap,” Cemllia said, getting off the bed.  She squinted as she looked through the window, then practically stalked to the end of the room, where she could see through the door, where others were.  Ben knew from his film classes that light played a big part in how easily someone could see through glass.  The room being bright and the space outside being dark would make it hard for Camellia to have seen them.  “What is this?  I don’t know you people.  Is Josie here?”

“Josie had to go home,” Roderick said.  “Can you sit?”

“Is my mom hurt?” Camellia asked.  “Was it the bombs?”

“No, and no, okay?” please sit?”

Camellia sat, pulling covers around to cover her lap and legs.  She was already agitated.

“I’m Rider.  I work with police, and do work police can’t always do.  My specialty is missing and trafficked people,” Roderick said.

“I’m not missing, and I wasn’t trafficked, unless you’re going to traffic me?  Is it some bad joke?” Camellia asked.

“Okay.  What do you understand about what’s going on?”

“Absolutely nothing.  Except you’re all freaking me out.”

“Okay.  To introduce the people behind me, if you guys could poke your heads in.  This is Eve Thao, she works with the hospital, she’s your advocate, her focus is making sure you’re safe.  If you need something later, you can talk to her.”

Camellia had shrunken into herself, hunching forward, hands grabbing ankles past the thin blanket.

“There’s Miles Montano, he’s security.  Keeping you and us safe.  Things got scary at the school, he’s making sure that doesn’t happen again.”

“That wasn’t because of me, was it?  Would someone please tell me what’s going on?  Because I got called into the office before lunch, and then nobody’s explained!”

“This is Ben, he’s an investigator.”

Ben leaned in and waved a bit.

“He’s been helping this woman, Natalie Teale.  Natalie’s daughter was taken from her when she was a brand new baby, a month old.”

“I heard about that.  I’m sorry that happened.”

“Ripley, we did a DNA test after we drew your blood yesterday, to confirm what we suspected.  You are Natalie’s missing daughter.”

Camellia shook her head.  “Nah.  No.  My mom’s my mom.  Mia Hurst, she’s my mom.  You’re wrong.”

“It’s certain.”

“The test’s wrong.”

“These tests are very accurate.  You were taken from the car by Mia Hurst, or by someone who then gave you to Mia Hurst… probably the former.  And raised as her daughter.  But you are not.”

“No, I don’t- this isn’t fair.  I don’t know how this stuff works, I don’t know these tests, what am I supposed to say?  What- it could be the stupidest jank science and I wouldn’t know, it’s not true.”

Roderick remained silent.

“It’s not.  For all I know, you guys are, you’re the actual kidnappers, and you’re messing with me, screwing with my head before you sell me to someone.  To her.”

“I’m not someone who’d buy a child, I would never put someone through what I’ve been through,” Natalie said, from the sidelines.

Ben touched her arm, to remind her to be quiet.

“I don’t believe you.  That’s fucked up,” Camellia said.  “And I don’t use that word lightly, my mom, my actual real mom, she said if you use the word sparingly, it has more weight.  But this is fucked!”

“Ripley-”

“Fuck you!”  The words came out raw, loud from a body that wasn’t really that big.

“Okay,” Roderick said.  “Let’s take a break.  You’ve got water, there’s food on the chair, egg and bacon English muffin and veggie sandwich.”

Camellia went straight to the chair.  She hurled the bottle of water, then flipped the little serving tray with the food toward them.  Most of the food didn’t make it to the door.

“Fuck your food, fuck-”

Roderick started to shut the door between them and the kid.

She threw the bag of clothes at the door too- inadvertently jamming it open.

“Fuck your stupid clothes!  How do you not know me, if you’re supposed to be my mom?  How are you such a bad liar!?  Call my actual mom!  Mia Hurst!  Or Carson!  My dad!”

He moved the bag and closed the door firmly.

There was a clatter.  Ben could see through the window as she dragged a chair free from the stack by the wall, and awkwardly swung it at the window.

She wasn’t strong enough and didn’t have a great angle to actually break the glass, but the chair leg caught the blinds and tore them partially down.

Even with the soundproofing of the space, Camellia’s cries and shouts could still be heard.

Ben sat down in one of the chairs in the middle space between the two conference rooms, that had been one segment of his awkward little bed.  He reached over and took Sterling’s hand.

Sterling clutched his, tight.

⯁

Natalie was in the room with Camellia, after the hospital’s child services worker had come in for a session and an interview.  Natalie hadn’t wanted Camellia to take medication, so they’d done without.

“What’s my name?” Camellia asked.

“Camellia.  Camellia Teale.  Cammy, for short,” Natalie said.

“That’s awful.”

“You and Sterling both have colors for names.  I thought it was cute.”

“It’s so awful.  You thought wrong.”

“It was part of a campaign to try to draw attention to your abduction, so I’m glad for that, at least.  A lot of people worked very hard to help us find you.  We worked hard.  I never relaxed.  Never stopped looking.”

“I was happy.”

“It… that was a false happiness.  Or-”

“It was real.  Real happiness.  I read books and I was cozy, and I was building things, and learning things, and I had friends.”

“It was a stolen happiness, then.  Stolen from… from me, from Sterling, from us, all together, it- we should have had the opportunity to build memories like that together.  Me.  You.  Your little brother.”

“I have a little brother.  Tyr.  He’s hilarious.”

“He’s not-”

“He is!  He’s my brother.  I- I grew up with him.  I don’t see how you can have someone who’s so close to you that they’re basically family, or actual family, in everything except blood, but then you turn around and you say no, no, no no no-”

Camellia’s voice shook to the point it gave those ‘nos’ a wavery, wobbly quality.

“-no, that doesn’t count.  Tyr doesn’t count.”

“I would love it if you and he could have a relationship.  If they end up catching your abductors, and he was placed somewhere-”

Camellia’s face screwed up, almost in disgust, and then that expression crumpled, into something else.

She began to cry.

Natalie put out a hand, and the reaction was instant and violent.  Camellia’s arms went out, slapping the hand way, fingers curled in too much to be a claw, too loose to be a fist, swinging out.

There was a moment of something approximating terror on Camellia’s face, in the wake of that.  A readiness to do it again, more targeted.  She remained like that, on guard, eyes wide and unblinking, breathing hard, both hands raised to fend off any gesture of affection.

Or fend off what succumbing to that affection might represent.

“Sorry,” Natalie said, pulling back, drawing hands into lap.

“Tyr said Sterling’s scared of everything,” Camellia said.  “He tries to bring him into games and he can’t, and every time he sang his part for the song they were doing in class, he’d be too quiet.  And he cried out of nowhere, once.  Tyr felt bad.  Because he’s a good kid.  He was telling us about it, and my mom said it might be because things were tough at home.  They told Tyr to be understanding, because maybe he’d been through something, or maybe he didn’t have a very good mom or dad.”

Natalie’s hands clenched into fists.  Her expression changed.

Camellia was watching, and noticed.  It almost seemed like she was happy about it.

“I think your abductor might have said that because she knew who I was.”

“Natalie?” Ben called out into the room.

“Or maybe it’s because it’s true,” Camellia said.  “Maybe you’re actually horrible and that’s why they went so crazy and over the top trying to get me away from you.  Before Josie stopped me.”

Natalie, looking way, met Ben’s eyes.

“A word?”

Natalie remained sitting for a few seconds, hands clenched in her lap, Camellia glaring at her.  Ben waited.

She did rise to her feet.  She did leave the room, walking over to somewhere quieter with Ben.  Roderick joined them, putting aside a book of ciphers, crosswords, and other puzzles he’d bought to while away the time, since he didn’t have his phone.

“You can’t be adversarial,” Ben said, quiet.  “Or be baited into it.”

“The things she’s saying…”

“I know,” Ben told her.  He put a hand on her shoulder.

“I’ve handled cases where children went through things I won’t speak of, at the hands of their parents.  But kids are preconditioned to love their parents.”

“They’re not.  Her parents,” Natalie hissed, shoulders rising with the force with which she pushed those intense whispers out.

“Even so.  You lose ground every time you attack Mia and Carson Hurst, or call them abductors.”

“She needs to know what they are.”

“She’ll realize in time.  This is a process of many, many, many stages, Natalie,” Roderick told her.  “Everything she’s dealing with now is traumatic.  She’ll be adjusting for years, flashing back to this, dealing with echoes of it.  She needs care, every move needs to be as gentle as possible.  I said you could go and talk to her because I thought you understood this.”

“I do understand.”

“It’s deprogramming, in a way.”

Ben moved his head, to get Roderick’s attention.  The man did a partial turn.

Camellia had stepped into the doorway.  She’d probably overhead bits.

“Really?  Deprogramming?” she asked.

“You know what deprogramming is?” Ben asked, keeping his tone light.  “From TV?  Or a movie?”

“Book.  I don’t like television that much, unless the series is really good.  It’s funny you call it deprogramming, because what this feels like is you trying to brainwash me into being okay with this.  Keeping me prisoner, basically, and telling me stuff that feels wrong in my… my heart.”

“Sorry,” Ben said.  “It’s a crummy situation overall.”

“Yeah.  No kidding.”

“Anything we can do?” he asked.  “To make you more comfortable?”

“Call my mom.  Because you guys are feeding me one side of the story, I want to hear hers.”

“I think that wouldn’t be a great idea.”

“She could find us if we did.  And it’d be a repeat of the school, potentially,” Roderick said.

“Sure.  Whatever.  Brainswashers,” Camellia said.

She started to go into her room, then spotted Sterling.  “Hey, Sterling.”

“Hi,” he said.  He was lying on an arrangement of chairs, with a comic held over his head, in a position Ben couldn’t imagine was comfortable.  He dropped his hands, propping the book on his chest.

“Sorry if you overheard any junk.”

“Didn’t hear much.  Except yelling and crying.”

“Sorry about that.  How long have you been here?” Camellia asked, leaning into the doorframe.

“Since yesterday.”

“Are you super bored?”

“Yeah.  And confused.”

“You’re doing a very good job of being quiet.  I didn’t know you were there at all.  Want to come in?  I’ve got junk food.”

Sterling got up, looking over to his mom to check if it was okay, then walked inside.  Camellia took his hand.

By the time Ben was at the door, which wasn’t long, Camellia was sitting at one end of the bed, Sterling at the other.

“I used to think you were a monster.”

“Because I was shouting and crying?” she asked.

“No, way way way before.  When I was little.  There was a picture.  From when they were looking for you.  I thought it was scary, especially the way mummy acted about it.”

“I feel like a monster.  I’m all torn up and wretched inside.  Do you know what that means?”

Sterling shook his head.

“Feels bad.”

Sterling got up and kind of crab-walked over the bed, because standing was hard on the soft surface with its blankets piled up in awkward lumps.  He sort of thumped into her, giving her a very awkward hug.

“Thank you, buddy,” she said.  Her eyes filled with tears.  “Well done.”

“Let me know when you want me to let go,” he said.

“What if that’s not for a super long time?” she asked.

“Okay.  That’s fine.”

She nodded.

Ben’s camera was flashing with a low memory warning.  He figured it was a good moment to get a new one.

He almost missed the exchange between her and Sterling as he returned.

“…a fun memory?”

“Ummmm.”

“A place you went to with your mom?  Or an activity you did together?  Or something you built?  Do you play with blocks?”

“Sometimes.  I follow the guide.”

“Do you?  That’s a good way to get some really neat things put together.  It’s good if you can follow those instructions.”

“Sometimes it’s hard.  Then I find mummy and ask for help.”

“Yeah?  But what about you and your mom?  Any trips?  Vacations?”

“No.”

“What do you do when you’re not in school and you’re not at work, and you hang out together?”

“Ummmm.  Hm!”

“Hm!” Camellia echoed the sound.

“We go to Gran’s.  Or Dad’s.”

“Yeah, and what do you do there?”

“Ummm, at Gran’s, there’s a big box of toys that used to be my mummy’s toys, that’s neat.  And old halloween costumes.”

“And do they play with you?”

“Mostly they talk and Gran smokes.”

“Yeah?  What about you and your dad?”

“Sometimes he and mummy fight.  Sometimes she leaves and I go to a movie with him, or we play video games.”

“Yeah?  Your dad sounds pretty cool.”

“But I don’t get to see him much.”

“That’s too bad.  And you and mummy, then?  What’s a fun memory?”

“I really don’t know.  Sometimes we go to the park.”

“Yeah?  Any fun games you play?”

“I make up games.”

“And does she play with you?”

“I’m good at playing by myself.”

“Yeah.  I got that feeling,” Camellia said, quiet.  She slumped over, into a lying-down position.  “You won’t ever be lonely if you enjoy your own company.  I think I read that in a book once.”

“I won’t be lonely if I’ve got a big sister now.”

Ben couldn’t see much more than Camellia’s back and the back of her head.  She ran fingers through Sterling’s hair.  “I’m feeling pretty tired.  Thanks for the hug, and telling me about stuff.  But I need a nap.”

“Okay.  Want a cuddle?”

“Not right now, buddy.”

She eased him to the ground.

He circled the bed, then walked over toward Ben.

He wasn’t quite out of the room when Camellia’s body hitched, a one-note sob.

She tried to keep the sound quiet, but didn’t do a great job of it.

Sterling, leaving the room, seemed to think he’d done something wrong, because he began to cry too.  A quiet, silent meltdown.

Ben was bending down to help him when Natalie came to his rescue, swooping him up.  She took him to the stage at the end of the big conference area, far away from where Camellia was sobbing into a pillow, lying on her side, with her back to the door.

“We might be pushing it too hard,” Roderick said, to Ben.  “Maybe it’ll be better when we get her to Natalie’s.”

“Maybe.  But I’m worried this is the most peace and space to process we’re going to get.  The moment we leave…”

“Yeah.”

“Is there any rush?  Is the hospital kicking us out?”

“I know as much as you do.  You don’t want me talking to anyone alone, using a phone…”

“Right,” Ben replied.

“Are we doing more harm than good, now?”

As if in answer, Camellia made a strangled sound, and then threw up, leaning past the edge of the bed to deposit it on the floor.

The child services worker went in again.  She called a doctor.

The doctor confirmed what Ben suspected.  The throwing up was a physical reaction to what she was going through emotionally.  Ben was glad that Natalie was still focused on Sterling- something more fixable.

“Let me call someone,” Ben said.

⯁

Josie was a familiar face, but she was entangled in this.  Ben’s first thought had been to wonder if there was a trusted teacher, librarian, coach, or anything in that vein.

He’d asked Camellia’s homeroom teacher, who had told him that there wasn’t anyone like that, unless there was an after school activity Camellia was involved in, that they didn’t know about.

The second thought was probably better, it turned out.

Blair Lagunas was an energetic, charismatic kid that reminded Ben of when he’d been young, but a girl with a mane of thick black hair.  Fearless even in this strange situation, in this badly lit basement space.  She brought clothing she knew Camellia liked- overalls and a shirt.

The boy, Devon, stood by, his back to the door, guarding it while Camellia changed.

Then the three of them had settled in, squeezed in on a bed for one, with Camellia in the middle, Blair on the side with head on hand, elbow beside Camellia’s pillow, Devon with his head on Camellia’s arm.

Just… talking.  Crying.  Processing.

Wearing proper clothes instead of a hospital gown seemed to make a world of difference.  But having her best friends with her was a whole series of steps beyond that.  For someone that age, Ben remembered, a best friend was like family.  She was lucky enough to have two.

Blair and Devon’s parents were talking to the child services worker, getting caught up, figuring out how to contribute and help the situation.

It would all get hairier after they left the hospital.

“I don’t like a boy being in bed with her,” Natalie said.

“Devon?  He’s had sleepovers with the girls,” Blair’s mom said.  “I wouldn’t worry about it.”

Devon’s dad added, “He’s harmless.  Really truly.  He’s overly protective of the girls in his friend group and he has an excellent sense of boundaries.”

“It doesn’t look like he has a sense of boundaries,” Natalie said.  She started to walk over to the closed door.

Ben intercepted her, getting in the way.

He felt a bit lost for words.

“Move, Ben,” she said, quiet.  “I’m her mom.  I get a say.”

“Make it a smart say, then,” he said, quiet.  “Listen to the other parents.  Give her space.  Don’t… push for this because you want to exercise your rights as a mom.  Or whatever you’re doing.  I don’t think you realize the cost.It’s not worth it, not for this.”

“I disagree.”

She put a hand on his shoulder, and used that to circle around him, walking to the door.

“Devon?” she asked.  “I don’t think it’s appropriate for you to be lying in a girl’s bed.”

“Oh.  sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Camellia said.  “It’s really fine.”

But Devon was already moving off the bed, getting a chair, instead.

“Thank you, Devon,” Natalie said.

She shut the door, giving Ben a look and a faint shrug, as if to say ‘see?  no big deal’.

She didn’t see Camellia’s face, the emotions behind that stare, as Camellia watched her walk by, through the window.

But the camera saw.

Camellia turned the look toward him, and unlike Natalie, he could read the room.

Camera off.

---

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