Part Two
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Molly’s mother stared at Atlas.
Atlas stared at the little girl.
The paramedic looked between them.
Then Molly’s mother said:
“What did she just say?”
Atlas swallowed.
“The blue box.”
“No. The part about her real father.”
“I heard it.”
The woman pulled Molly tighter against her chest.
“Stay away from us.”
Atlas immediately backed up.
Both hands visible.
“I’m not touching her.”
“You’re asking questions about my daughter.”
“I know.”
“You said your daughter had the same birthmark.”
“She did.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“No.”
Atlas’s voice was rough now.
“You’re right.”
The paramedic finished checking Molly’s leg.
“Possible fracture. We need imaging.”
Festival police arrived at the circle.
One officer recognized Atlas.
“Duncan.”
Atlas nodded.
“Tom.”
“What happened?”
“Crowd surge. She got pinned.”
“And this?”
The officer looked at Molly’s mother.
She answered:
“He started asking about my daughter’s birthmark.”
Atlas said nothing.
The officer’s expression changed.
“Why?”
Atlas slowly reached inside his vest.
Everyone tensed.
He stopped.
“Wallet.”
The officer nodded.
Atlas took it out.
Inside was an old photograph.
He handed it to the officer, not the mother.
The picture showed a girl about nineteen.
Dark blond hair.
Gray eyes.
She wore a denim jacket and held a small stuffed rabbit.
Her left knee was visible beneath ripped jeans.
Above it were three pale circles.
The same shape.
The officer stared.
Molly’s mother went silent.
Atlas said:
“That’s my daughter, Claire.”
“When was this taken?”
“Twenty years ago.”
“Where is she now?”
Atlas looked away.
“Dead.”
Molly’s mother hugged the child closer.
“I’m sorry.”
Atlas barely nodded.
The officer asked:
“How did she die?”
Atlas’s face hardened.
“Car fire.”
“Body identified?”
“Yes.”
“By who?”
“My ex-wife.”
The old rider beside Atlas—the one who had mentioned the blue box—looked down.
The officer noticed.
“What?”
The rider shook his head.
“Nothing.”
Atlas turned.
“Ray.”
Ray looked at him.
“Not here.”
Atlas’s jaw tightened.
“Say it.”
Ray exhaled.
“The body was never visually identified.”
Atlas froze.
“What?”
“You know what shape it was in.”
“I was told there was dental confirmation.”
“There was.”
“Then what are you saying?”
Ray looked miserable.
“Your ex-wife handled everything.”
Atlas stared at him.
Molly’s mother spoke quietly.
“What was your ex-wife’s name?”
Atlas looked at her.
“Denise.”
The woman went pale.
“Denise what?”
“Mercer.”
Her hands began trembling.
“No.”
Atlas saw it immediately.
“You know that name.”
She shook her head.
“No.”
“You do.”
The paramedic stood.
“We need to move Molly.”
The moment broke.
A stretcher came through.
Molly cried when they lifted her.
Atlas stayed back.
Her mother climbed into the ambulance.
Before the doors closed, Molly looked at Atlas again.
“The bunny’s mine.”
Her mother said:
“Molly, stop.”
But Atlas heard it.
He touched the pink rabbit inside his vest.
“Who gave you yours?”
Molly answered:
“Grandma Dee.”
The ambulance doors slammed shut.
Atlas stopped breathing.
Ray whispered:
“Denise.”
The officer looked at him.
“You think Grandma Dee is Denise Mercer?”
Atlas’s face had gone completely white.
“Maybe.”
“How old is Molly?”
“Five,” the mother had said.
Atlas did the math.
Then did it again.
His daughter Claire would have been thirty-two.
Old enough to have a five-year-old child.
Ray said:
“You need to sit down.”
Atlas did not.
He turned toward his bike.
The officer stepped in front of him.
“Where are you going?”
“Hospital.”
“No.”
Atlas looked at him.
“Tom.”
“You are not following a frightened mother and injured child to the hospital without explaining what the hell is happening.”
Atlas stopped.
He hated it.
But the officer was right.
So we ended up in the festival command tent.
I was there because I had witnessed the crowd surge.
At least that was the official reason.
The truth was I couldn’t leave.
Atlas sat at a folding table.
Ray beside him.
Officer Tom across from them.
I sat near the entrance with Noah.
Atlas removed the pink rabbit from inside his vest.
I hadn’t realized it was detachable.
A tiny hand-stitched patch.
Faded.
One ear bent.
He placed it on the table.
“Claire made this when she was nine.”
Ray nodded.
“I remember.”
Atlas continued.
“She had another one sewn inside her backpack.”
“The same rabbit?”
“Same pattern.”
“Blue box?”
Atlas closed his eyes.
“After the funeral, Denise gave me Claire’s things.”
His voice weakened.
“There was a blue metal keepsake box.”
“What was inside?”
“Letters. Concert tickets. school stuff.”
“And?”
“A rabbit patch.”
Ray stared at him.
Atlas looked at the one on the table.
“I thought it was the one from her backpack.”
“What happened to the box?”
Atlas’s expression changed.
“Denise kept it.”
Officer Tom asked:
“Where is Denise now?”
“I don’t know.”
“You haven’t spoken?”
“Not in eighteen years.”
“Why?”
Atlas laughed without humor.
“Because our daughter died and we destroyed each other afterward.”
That was the first moment Atlas looked smaller than everyone said he was.
Not physically.
But grief has a way of shrinking even very large men.
Officer Tom asked:
“When was the last time you saw Claire alive?”
Atlas stared at the table.
“Four days before the crash.”
“What happened?”
“We fought.”
“About?”
“Her mother.”
Ray looked away again.
Atlas noticed.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
Ray rubbed both hands over his face.
“I should’ve told you years ago.”
Atlas’s eyes hardened.
“Told me what?”
“Claire called me the night she supposedly died.”
The tent went silent.
Atlas stood so suddenly the table moved.
“What?”
Ray didn’t look at him.
“What did you just say?”
“She called.”
“When?”
“11:18 p.m.”
“The crash was at 10:40.”
“I know.”
Atlas stared at him.
“Then Claire was alive after the crash.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Ray looked like he had been waiting twenty years for that question.
“Because Denise begged me not to.”
Atlas stepped closer.
Officer Tom stood too.
Ray kept talking.
“She said Claire was in trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“She wouldn’t say.”
“What did Claire say?”
Ray’s voice dropped.
“Three words.”
Atlas stopped.
“What words?”
“Don’t tell Dad.”
Nothing moved.
Atlas’s face emptied.
Ray continued.
“She was crying.”
“Where was she?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you ask?”
“Yes.”
“She hung up.”
“And then?”
“Denise called me.”
“How long after?”
“Maybe ten minutes.”
“What did she say?”
“That Claire had made a mistake.”
Atlas’s voice became dangerous.
“What mistake?”
“She said Claire had left Arizona.”
Atlas stared.
“With who?”
“Someone Denise didn’t want you to know about.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“You believed her?”
“No.”
Ray swallowed.
“But she showed me the police report. The burned car. The dental match. I thought maybe Claire had called before the crash and the time stamp was wrong.”
Atlas leaned both hands on the table.
“Twenty years.”
Ray nodded.
“You let me bury her.”
“I know.”
“Twenty years.”
“I know.”
Atlas’s fists closed.
No one touched him.
Then he opened them again.
Slowly.
He sat down.
That frightened me more than shouting would have.
Officer Tom said:
“We need records.”
Atlas looked at him.
“What kind?”
“Claire’s death certificate. Dental identification. crash report.”
“I have copies.”
“Bring them.”
Atlas shook his head.
“No.”
Everyone looked at him.
“They’re at my house.”
“That’s what I mean.”
“No.”
His eyes moved toward the road.
“I’m going to the hospital.”
Officer Tom sighed.
“Duncan.”
“I’m not going near Molly.”
“Then why?”
“To ask her mother one question.”
“What?”
Atlas looked at the pink rabbit.
“Her name.”
Noah tugged my sleeve.
“Mom.”
“What?”
“The little girl’s mom.”
“Yes?”
“She said someone called her.”
I frowned.
“When?”
“Before the ambulance came.”
I hadn’t heard it.
“What did she say?”
Noah thought.
“She said, ‘You promised nobody would find us.’”
Atlas heard him.
Every muscle in his body went still.
“Are you sure?”
Noah nodded.
“Who was she talking to?”
“I don’t know.”
Atlas looked at Officer Tom.
“That’s enough.”
The officer hesitated.
Then nodded.
“I’ll go with you.”
We reached Flagstaff Medical Center forty minutes later.
Molly was in radiology.
Her mother sat alone in the family waiting area.
She stood when Atlas entered.
“Why are you here?”
Atlas stopped ten feet away.
Officer Tom remained between them.
“I need your name.”
“You already heard it.”
“No.”
Atlas shook his head.
“I heard ‘Mom.’ I never heard your name.”
The woman looked at Tom.
He said:
“You don’t have to answer.”
She stared at Atlas.
Then:
“Jennifer Hale.”
Atlas closed his eyes.
Not Claire.
Something in him broke and repaired in the same second.
“Okay.”
Jennifer’s face changed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
He stepped back.
“I’m sorry.”
Then she said:
“My birth name was Claire Mercer.”
Atlas stopped.
Ray whispered:
“Oh my God.”
Jennifer—Claire—started crying.
Atlas didn’t move.
He couldn’t.
She continued:
“My mother changed it when I was twelve.”
Atlas’s voice disappeared.
“Claire?”
She nodded.
He took one step.
Then stopped himself.
“You’re alive.”
Claire covered her face.
Atlas looked like he wanted to cross the room.
Instead, he asked:
“Can I come closer?”
She shook her head.
“No.”
He stopped immediately.
That answer seemed to hurt more than anything else.
“Okay.”
Claire wiped her eyes.
“You were supposed to stay away.”
“Who told you that?”
“Mom.”
“Denise?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Claire looked at Officer Tom.
Then Ray.
Then me.
Too many people.
Officer Tom cleared the room except Ray.
I stayed outside.
Noah sat beside me.
Through the glass, I could see Atlas and Claire facing each other across fifteen feet of waiting room.
Twenty years apart.
Fifteen feet now.
It still looked enormous.
After almost half an hour, Officer Tom came out.
His face was different.
“What happened?” I asked.
He looked toward Atlas.
“Claire says her mother staged her death.”
My stomach dropped.
“Why?”
“Because Claire was pregnant.”
I looked at Molly’s room.
“No.”
Tom shook his head.
“Not Molly.”
“Then?”
“She lost the baby.”
I frowned.
“Why fake a death over that?”
Tom’s expression tightened.
“Because the father was married.”
That still didn’t explain twenty years.
“Who was he?”
Tom hesitated.
Then said:
“A police officer.”
I looked at him.
“The one who investigated the crash.”
Everything went cold.
Officer Tom continued.
“Claire says Denise discovered the relationship and decided Atlas would kill the man if he found out.”
“Would he?”
Tom looked through the glass.
“Twenty years ago?”
He did not answer.
Claire came out next.
Her face was pale.
Atlas remained inside.
She walked toward me, though we had never met.
“Molly asked for you.”
I blinked.
“Me?”
“She remembers your son.”
Noah stood.
Claire looked at him.
“Can he come too?”
We entered Molly’s room.
Her leg was fractured but stable.
She smiled weakly at Noah.
Then saw Atlas through the open door.
Her expression brightened.
“Rabbit man.”
Claire stiffened.
Atlas stopped in the doorway.
Molly pointed toward him.
“Grandma said he’d be scary.”
Atlas’s face changed.
Claire closed her eyes.
“Molly.”
But the child continued.
“She said scary doesn’t mean bad.”
Nobody spoke.
Then Molly looked at her mother.
“Can I show him?”
Claire went pale.
“No.”
Molly frowned.
“You said if he came.”
“Not now.”
“What?” Atlas asked.
Claire shook her head.
“Nothing.”
Molly reached toward the small backpack hanging from the bed rail.
Noah handed it to her.
Claire stood.
“Molly, stop.”
The little girl opened the front pocket.
Inside was a small brass key.
Atlas stared at it.
Molly held it toward him.
“Grandma Dee said this opens your blue box.”
Atlas’s face drained.
“What blue box?”
Molly answered:
“The one she hid before she disappeared.”
Claire turned toward her daughter.
“What do you mean disappeared?”
Molly looked confused.
“Grandma left yesterday.”
Claire stopped breathing.
“She told me she was going somewhere safe.”
Atlas looked at Officer Tom.
“When did you last see Denise?”
Claire’s hands began shaking.
“Yesterday morning.”
“Did she say where she was going?”
“No.”
Molly tugged her mother’s sleeve.
“She left a note.”
Claire froze.
“What note?”
“In my backpack.”
Molly reached into the main compartment.
Pulled out a folded piece of paper.
Claire opened it.
Read the first line.
Then looked at Atlas.
“What?”
he asked.
She handed it to him.
The handwriting was shaky.
Only one sentence.
If Atlas found you, then the man who helped me bury your life has found us too.
Atlas read it twice.
Officer Tom said:
“Who is she talking about?”
Claire’s face went white.
“I think I know.”
Everyone turned.
She looked at Atlas.
Then said:
“The officer who investigated my crash never retired.”
Atlas’s jaw tightened.
“Where is he?”
Claire whispered:
“He’s the chief of police in Seligman.”