Fortune (Mia & Rafe): Fortune

This story is told from 2 different points of view. Each story is complete in and of itself, but you won’t have the entire picture until you read both sides. You can start with either RAFE’s story or MIA’s story.

If you're having trouble deciding, go to www.ReadAJS.com/Fortune and let our randomizer pick for you.

My Fortune is missing.

I waited so long

Worked so hard

Over hill and dale

Beyond the valley

Not so far that it can never be found

But well out of my own grasp

My fortune is gone

And I shall never be the same

For she was my everything

PART I

RAFE

1

RAFE

He’d finally found her.

Rafe had watched her playing in the big front yard. The brightly dressed child was a spot of life against the perfectly manicured lawn and dull brick house. The shutters were gray, the same shade as the house three doors down. The brick was the same shade as the brick used in the whole neighborhood—the faded, dark red that was meant to look old when the houses were clearly new.

A decade ago, this neighborhood hadn’t been here. He could tell because the treetops didn’t yet clear any of the rooftops. Aside from a few, big old oaks strategically left in place when the area was razed—indicating the area had likely been woods before—there was no shade. There had been nowhere for him to hide.

He hid in plain sight.

He’d been here before, many times. He’d sat on this street. It had taken so long, learning the codes to get in the gates. Relearning them when they’d changed. Of course, today the wrought iron gates stood open, broken. The small metal code box looked damaged as though someone had run into it with a too-big car.

His heart pounded. Today was the day.

But it wasn’t quite time yet.

In the front yard, a small boy played with her. The pair wielded sticks and plastic lightsabers in a mock battle. The lightsabers looked expensive. The sticks were more reminiscent of Rafe’s own childhood. For a moment he laughed, sitting there in the stillness of the car. Where had these children found sticks? What trees might they have fallen from? Leave it to an eight-year-old to find one, though.

Today he was in a silver Mercedes sedan. He looked so normal here, no one would even question his presence. No one would think twice, but he already had. He’d thought three times, five times, ten. He’d swapped out the plates with another car, one he’d scoped out before. Not far away, out beyond town, the farmland had horses, a barn, a car parked under an old tarp and rarely used. The barn where it lived was on the other end of the property from the main house.

A quick walk through the trees along the drive, a few turns of the screwdriver and his Mercedes had traded tags with an old Sentra. Up to date. He would not get pulled over.

He’d come by the house before driving beige or white sedans. He’d come once in the palest blue . . . he wasn’t sure. The color was so dull, even he didn’t remember it, but he remembered the little girl.

Like today, she’d been dressed as a bright spot in the repetitive neighborhood. His heart ached when he saw her. He had a picture book started for her, for when she was ready. The first time he’d come, he hadn’t thought she was ready yet.

More than once, he’d come by and not seen her. And one time, he’d seen her mother, Mia Long Flores, and her father, Eddie Flores. Only after watching them, wondering where they were going without their child, did he realize that she was actually with them. Dressed in a staid blue dress, the girl was almost invisible. She didn’t look like herself.

She didn’t look like Sarah.

That was what had killed him. That’s what made his heart ache. Wherever they were taking her, she wasn’t allowed to be herself. Fortune was neon colors. She was canary yellow or magenta. She was a pop of bright blue, often with splashes of color not found anywhere other than the small plastic ponies she loved.

He had a new one for her.

It had taken him three years to come to this moment.

Five years ago, he’d sobered up. Started going to AA meetings. He told them most everything, but not quite all of it. How could he tell all of it? They might think he was still drinking. Or worse. He altered his stories slightly to mirror their own. He leaned heavily on his sponsor. And he eventually passed a year completely clean.

They’d wanted him to become a sponsor to someone else. A year was early into the game, but they suggested that he think about it. He’d thought about it, but he wouldn’t do it. He had other things to accomplish.

While he’d been shitfaced at the bottom of the bottle, he’d told himself over and over and over that he was crazy. Then, he’d hit one year sober and it occurred to him that it wasn’t the bottle that made him believe. There he stood, bone dry, clear-headed, and ready to take on the world, but the world was still taunting him. He knew the truth. Or at least part of it.

He’d told his sponsor thank you and promptly disappeared on the man. He threw himself into his job. He’d earned a promotion. A big change for a man who’d spent three years hammered off his ass. He earned another. And he dug.

He’d dug up a lot.

But it was what he’d literally dug up that smacked him in the face.

It was three years ago that he’d started on the track that finally led him here. To this neighborhood. To this child.

In his job, he’d been promoted into sales. Over time, his region expanded to cover all of Texas, Oklahoma, Kansas, Arkansas, Mississippi, and Louisiana. He’d just had Colorado, Utah, and Arizona added. He had plenty of places to go. He had plenty of cover.

No one missed him when he visited here. In fact, his work was paying him for this. The silver Mercedes was the first car he’d rented on his own, though he’d done the license plate switch many times before. Nothing bad happened in a silver Mercedes.

He looked into the yard again.

Fortune still looked like a splash of happiness against the grass that her little friend almost blended into. They were growing weary of sticks and lightsabers. The boy said something and wandered off.

Now, it was time now.

Did she know? Had she seen him?

He did not want to get out of the car.

His heart pounded.

Turning on the engine, he pushed the gear into drive and pulled out. He was on the wrong side of the street, far back. It was easy to watch from here. Easy to see her without being seen, but that was exactly the problem.

Out of sight, he felt the rush of fear that his plan would not come together. Three years he’d spent looking. Last year he’d found her. He’d been so patient, almost not believing this day would come. He reminded himself that if today was not the day, another one would be. Safety was paramount.

Pulling onto a short side street, he followed the arc of the cul-de-sac and let it spit him back out onto the street the Flores family lived on. He knew this neighborhood even better than he knew his own. Hitching a right-hand turn, he headed back past the house, only this time headed in the correct direction.

He hugged the edge where grass met pavement and he began to have second thoughts. He couldn’t give her this life.

Despite the promotions, despite being alone and saving his money, he couldn’t afford anything like this. He probably never would. But he could give her something more. Knowledge was power, and though she was only eight, she needed it. The beautiful life awaiting her had holes in it. Holes even he was only just beginning to find.

Did Mia and Eddie know about them? Did they gloss them over? Cover them with smiles and seemingly sincere handshakes?

He didn’t know. He only knew he’d once met Eddie and Mia Flores in person. He’d shaken their hands and said his name and saw no spark of recognition from either. It was still possible that they were as innocent as Fortune. It was just as possible they weren’t.

This was the only way to keep her safe. Or at least to let her know the truth, at least as much as he knew of it.

He pulled up, rolling slowly as he hit the edge of their property line. The little boy, Derek, had gone across the street and inside his own home. Rafe had been waiting for that moment. Now was the time. If any of the neighbors were nosy, they might see something. He wore sunglasses to obscure at least some of his face.

It was a sunny day, and he told himself nothing bad could happen. This car fit into the neighborhood and several of the people here falsely recognized him as one of their neighbors anyway. He’d been at this for a year. He’d been careful. Today the last piece would fall into place. He hoped.

Looking up into the yard, he didn’t see her. No splash of pink from her hoodie. No Fortune.

His heart plummeted as he reminded himself to be patient. If today was not the day, then next week could be. He had an appointment in Arizona in three days. He would have to make it. He couldn’t try again tomorrow. Though he would come back and park at the house under construction at the end of one of the outer streets. He would say it was his if anyone asked. No one asked. Here, the neighbors waved, they smiled, they walked on. And later, no one would have a clue. Even though they’d all seen his face and most had looked him in the eye. His clothes and his car fooled them all. He was nice. Open. He was driving a silver Mercedes. Who would suspect him?

Slowly, he rolled forward. He couldn’t look like he was waiting, couldn’t afford to be suspicious.

Had she ducked back inside? Opening the grand front door by its center-placed knob? Chances were it wasn’t as heavy as it was designed to look. Fortune’s whole life was designed for appearances. But Rafe had no clue if the foundations were solid and steady or not, if anything was as it appeared.

He caught a glimpse of movement at the side of the yard. The dollhouse. He hadn’t considered it. His heart skipped another beat, but then there she was, coming out of it, her bright splash of pink beckoning him.

Rolling the car to a stop, he held his breath. Quickly, he looked around the neighborhood. Who was out? No one.

Who might be home and looking out the window? It could be any of them. His only hope was that they didn’t pay enough attention to each other to even begin to notice, but he had to play it as though someone would.

The shocking colors of Fortune’s outfit would catch someone’s eye, but he couldn’t bear to squash her spirit. It was a risk he would have to take. She was only eight.

He blinked then, noticing her hands were full. One had held a clutch of tiny plastic ponies. Their bright colors were no match for the girl who grasped them by their hair. They mesmerized him, swinging as they did from her small fist.

Her other hand held a suitcase. Small and blue, it had a character on it that he couldn’t make out. But her hands were full and she was heading down the slope of the lawn toward him.

Reaching over, he popped open the door and pushed at it. It didn’t open enough. He glanced around again, paranoia hitting him full blast like never before. Suddenly, he doubted every decision, every step, but it was too late to pull back.

Though the door was only barely ajar, she pushed it open with her elbow and wedged herself into the passenger side. Her eyes lit up as she saw him, her face blooming into a smile that captured his heart. He knew that smile.

For a moment, he was frozen, transported back in time. Then he slammed harshly into the present. There was no going back.

Fortune pulled the door closed, settling into the seat. Her legs didn’t reach the floor and she shouldn’t be in the front, but he didn’t correct her on safety, not first thing. His depended on getting out of there.

Hi, Rafe! She beamed the words out at him.

Hello, to you, too. His heart soared, his smile matched her own, didn’t it? It’s time for our adventure.

2

Rafe handed the little girl a movie-sized candy box of Sour Patch Kids and watched her light up. She liked them. She snuck them from friends at school. Her mother and father said they were bad for her teeth and didn’t let her have them. She was stuck with boring old popcorn at the movies, she’d said.

Rafe’s own childhood had barely afforded movie tickets, let alone popcorn or candy. Those were treats reserved for birthdays or graduations. But he didn’t begrudge her perspective. Fortune attended a private school with uniforms and sweet-and-sour teachers. She had her own bedroom and her parents all to herself.

Where are we going? she asked excitedly between bites. To her, this was all an adventure.

Arizona, he said now with confidence. He’d not been able to tell her before. He’d not known his work schedule, nor when he’d be able to start. Rain would have thwarted him. Derek the neighbor kid might have. Yet here she was, sitting next to him happily munching on Sour Patch Kids. We have a few things to do first.

Like what? Her words were unclear. She had her mouth full and he didn’t correct her. Unless it was unsafe, he wouldn’t. She deserved to have some fun.

He didn’t like this part, but he had to do it. I need you to climb into the back where it’s safer.

She frowned at him, but when he didn’t budge, she crawled between the front bucket seats and into the back. He didn’t ask for more, not yet. Besides, Fortune was the one doing the asking. Between bites of Sour Patch Kids, she managed the question, How far away is Arizona?

Pretty far. So, first we need to make a stop at a farm, and you can see the cows and horses go by. Then I’ll tell you what the next stop is.

Okay.

Pulling out from the open gates, he hooked a right and headed back to the farm and the old Sentra. As they headed farther out of town and into farmland, Fortune watched out the window at the cows that milled behind the fences. Here and there, horses intervened, acting superior despite the fact they wore no cowboys and gave no herding instructions.

That old barn is cool. She was looking up into the hayloft, probably never having seen one.

It is. Give me a minute. Rafe swung his gaze around in a wide arc, looking for the people who owned the farm, checking for tire tracks that might indicate someone had been out here since he last had. Someone might have seen his work on their old car, but he found nothing to indicate anyone had.

While he was away from his rental car, with Fortune tucked safely into the back seat, he pulled out his phone and checked in. His heart raced as his information loaded slowly out here in the back of beyond. But then the beat slowed to a steady thump again when he saw he had no alerts. No one had yet identified the silver Mercedes as the vehicle that had taken her.

Did they even know yet that she was gone? They had to have noticed it by now. If he had pulled it off, they were looking at the neighbors. Checking with their kids. None of them would know his car was the one that had taken her. And he hadn’t really taken her, had he? She’d climbed right in. But in another day, he’d be across state lines and that was another level of criminal activity. He’d known what he was getting himself into.

He pulled the Sentra’s plate off his car, and then took his own back from the Sentra. He’d never driven up to the other car, only walked. Even then, he’d walked to the side of the path. They would have to sift through a lot of information before they even thought to look for anything here. Rafe was confident of this part at least. The rest was a bit of a crapshoot.

As he closed up his car with its regular license plate back in place, Fortune stuck her nose to the window, making faces at him. He could see Sarah in her. It was in the shape of her eyes, the shade of the gold flecks in her iris, the slight bow to her lips. It almost brought him to his knees. But he couldn’t let her see him waver, so he made a face back and tried to laugh at all of it.

He pulled open her door, letting her tumble out because she’d put her weight onto the window. Okay, kiddo. Gotta get into the car seat.

She tipped her head back, somehow managing an angst beyond her small years. I wanted to ride in the front!

You can’t. I’m sorry but it’s not safe.

It’s fine. She looked put out, as though suddenly she’d become the director of the J.D. Powers award for automotive safety.

Ah, no. It’s not. Besides, it’s illegal. I don’t want to get arrested. He squinted at her to see if the imminent threat of his demise was enough. It wasn’t. Do you?

She shook her head slowly as though the decision was not an easy one.

Rafe tried again. If we get arrested and thrown in jail, we’ll be in separate cells. And then where will our adventure be? So, go ahead and get in the back.

You said I can have pictures. Can I have a picture with the cows?

He laughed. Of course she remembered that. This child had grown up digital. Pictures or it didn’t happen. He wanted them, too. Well, you can’t get too close, but you can stand on the fence and point to them.

Fortune obliged, her bright pink hoodie standing out amid the greens and browns of the field. Had anyone come by this deserted road, he would have be seen. His only hope was that she wasn’t counted as missing just yet.

She climbed the old wooden fence before he could get there to help, and he prayed she didn’t get splinters. For a moment, he stood there in stunned silence while she yelled for the cows. This was a contingency he had not accounted for. What if she became injured? Splinters, Band-Aids, things like that, he could handle. But a broken bone? A serious fall? A car accident? That would be the end of the adventure certainly. He didn’t have a plan for that. In all his heart-pounding, sweat-inducing moments of mapping every detail, that particular option had never crossed his mind. He had no plan and he would just have to pray for the best.

Take my picture now! She looked over her shoulder at him, and he pulled out his second phone. Not attached to any phone service or internet, he was using it to catalog their trip. If she saw the switch, she said nothing, only beamed for her photo.

Once she saw that he had taken the photo, she ran back to him, once again setting his heart to tripping at the thought of injury, but she was fine. Show me?

He held the small screen down and she grinned at how he’d captured all the cows in the background, the strange angle making them look closer. Rafe grinned. We’ll print it out and put it in our photo book.

We have a photo book?

It’s an adventure! How can we not have a photo book for it? He took her hand, reassuring himself he wouldn’t let her twist an ankle on the uneven ground hidden by the tall grass. In fact, I already got it started.

Can I see it?

When we stop tonight. It’s getting dark. Let’s get in the car and get back on the road.

Aye-aye, captain! She gave him a jaunty salute and he watched as she expertly climbed into the booster seat he’d put in the back of his car. It was exactly like the one she had at home. He’d checked. She buckled herself, not letting him help and gave him a thumbs-up.

His heart soared. He finally had his little girl. He’d waited so long, and here she was. It didn’t seem real.

Pulling the car out from the hidden spot along the road, he executed what he thought was a perfect seven-point turn, avoiding the ruts, and headed back down the long road. The sun was setting behind the trees and he was anxious to get onto pavement before it got too dark. If the cameras at the Flores’ neighborhood were working—and he didn’t think they were—they would trace back to this car. The Mercedes once again bore the out of state plate the rental company had slapped on it.

Still, he turned the heat up in the car, dealing with it, aiming the vents into the back until she became uncomfortable enough to take off that flag of a jacket. Without saying anything, she slid her arms out of it, and set it to the side in the middle of the backseat. Rafe breathed easier.

Next stop, dinner! he announced as he saw her start to nod off. She perked up when he started reading off fast food restaurants. When prompted, she chose one he wasn’t fond of.

Why that one? Do you like it? He asked and she replied only that she wanted to try it, she’d never been.

He let her have it. For her, anything. They drove through, getting burgers and fries. She was awed that he let her eat in the car. She even got a soda.

That was good, he would need her awake for a while tonight. There were two things he needed to do soon, but he was already behind. Though he’d plotted out all the times, somehow, he was running behind schedule. It didn’t matter what had messed up, but he could only get to one thing tonight. If that. He had to choose.

Rafe considered putting both off, but that would be too dangerous.

An hour later, they pulled into the back lot of a cheap motel less than two minutes off the interstate.

Are we here?

Well, we are at stop number one, he answered as he pulled open the back door for her. She was unbuckling and climbing out. So much to do. So much to see. Work to check in with. His brain churned with the unreality of what he’d done, including renting this hotel room earlier today.

She scrunched her face at the place, clearly used to better digs.

Oh, come on, Rafe remembered sleeping in the car with his mother and little brother on road trips. Even motels had often been out of reach. They camped in national parks with a tent from Goodwill and blew their budget on marshmallows. He could show Fortune how to camp maybe, but not tonight. Instead, he was looking at her disdain of his choice and trying not to laugh. It’s an adventure, right? Be adventurous.

She nodded and let him open the door with the old-school metal key, its diamond shaped plastic tag announcing that it opened a door to the Rocky Road Motel. He had no idea if the name was intended to be humorous or sad.

She jumped on the bed for a few minutes. He let her. Wanting to put on the TV, but knowing it was a bad idea, he waited, let her wear herself out. Then he announced step one. Or whichever step it was. She’d been his for three hours, and he’d already lost track of his steps.

He pulled out two boxes of hair dye that he’d stashed in the drawer earlier. Bought with cash, at a place in another state, three weeks earlier. They might find him, but he wasn’t going to make it easy. Disguises!

Both of us? She asked, her bouncing coming to a quick halt as she scrambled over to take one of the dye box from him.

Nope. This is you. He swapped boxes.

This is you? She looked incredulous at the idea of him wearing blond frosted hair. He agreed, but it was necessary both as help making them hard to find and so that she wasn’t the only one.

This is a cool color. She shook the box and the plastic pieces inside rattled. He’d dyed his hair once several months ago, the same color that it was. He’d had to know how to do it. Did it burn, how did it work? He was no pro, but at least he knew he could do this.

Her box of color was a beautiful chestnut brown. More like his natural almost black color. You ready? It’s like chemistry.

He set them up, spreading the little bottles out along the counter. Two boxes, two pairs of gloves. He gave her one pair. Squeeze this tube in here. No! That one.

He watched her face scrunch at the effort of the easy task.

Put this tube in the tub for later. He gave her small task after small task, until her blond was covered in brown, tucked up under the plastic cap. Her shirt was a mess, not to be recovered. Part of the plan; he only hoped she handled the loss well.

She watched as he added blond to his hair. He should still be recognizable in work meetings, but those who might be searching for the dark-haired man who’d driven the silver Mercedes would look right past him.

3

She’d slept in the pajamas he’d bought her. By the time he’d gotten them, he already knew about how big she was—not her clothing size—but he’d seen her, talked to her. Rafe knew she liked bright colors and fun things, that she stood out in a crowd, even among eight-year-olds.

Was that because of her parents? He didn’t know. Or was it because of who she inherently was? He wanted some credit for that, liked to believe he deserved some. Either way, he was going to feed that. Still, he worried that it made her easier to find. A bright splash drew more attention. Then again, anyone looking for a little girl probably wouldn’t look at the obvious. Their round little faces often looked alike. She needed to be happy. He’d risk it.

She woke up, yawning. The brown hair had left faint traces of color on the towels at the motel. His blond would likely show up as streaks of bleach after the linens were washed. Nothing he could do about it except hope no one put these things together.

The night before while they were still at the motel, he’d stood in the shower with her, fully clothed, as they rinsed their hair. She’d laughed as the colors swirled down the drain, then started spitting. That tastes gross!

He’d laughed then, too, immediately also swallowing bitter water in the process. Ugh. You’re right. Here, rinse your mouth.

You can’t drink the shower water! she’d almost yelled it as he turned his face up to gulp and spit. You can’t spit in the shower!

Do you drink water from the sink?

Sometimes, she conceded.

It’s the same water.

Her mind had been blown. Another moment had come when she realized that spitting in the shower was no crime. He’d never seen a kid spit so much. He almost started to worry she’d get dehydrated. Then he’d laughed at her and thought he’d remember this until the day he died. When he was ninety and couldn’t remember his grandchildren, he’d remember this. Or it might be his last thought if he died in prison, locked up for life for kidnapping. Right now, even if they barged in the door and took her back, it would have all been worth it.

He just couldn’t let that happen. He had work to do.

The hair dye had ruined their clothes. His, too. He’d given her the pajamas, a one piece with footies and a hood. She looked like a tiny, fuzzy, purple dragon. The jammies had horns and scales and small teeth that poked around her face from the hood and she was ecstatic with it.

He’d put on a second set of clothing, bagged their wet stuff and dried their hair. Wet hair was odd. Wet hair could get them remembered.

When he was finished, he threw the bag into the trunk of the car taking all their trash with them. Next he left the key on the tiny table that held the TV and told her they were getting back into the car.

What? She’d looked at him funny. I thought I got pictures.

Well, you can wear your dragon jammies every night. At least he thought she could. He’d never had a kid before. Despite his preparations, it had not materialized.

Her simple nod told him that was normal and he’d scored no points. At least not until she said, I need a picture. You said we got pictures!

She stood on the bed, holding the soft, stuffed tail of the dragon, pulled up the hood and growled at him. Her dark hair peeked from the edges of the hood, and her small, square teeth were bared as though she were dangerous.

Pulling out the second phone, Rafe snapped several shots and had her choose. He considered deleting the spares but couldn’t bring himself to do it. He would remember which one she wanted. Besides, they’d hardly be apart. She could remind him if he got it wrong.

Photo taken, they headed back to the silver Mercedes and backtracked up the road a bit, in a maneuver he hoped would throw off anyone who was looking for their tracks. If anyone found the motel, it would be assumed they would keep going the same way—away from Grapevine and Fort Worth. Instead, he went thirty miles back, to Eastland, to a nicer hotel. He checked in a room for two, one with two queen beds, and for the moment left his sleeping child in the car. He could see her there in the lights under the portico. She was out cold. Big day.

They were on their grand adventure.

This morning she’d woken up, yawned like an adorable dragon, and asked what they were up to.

More adventure. First, breakfast!

Where?

Downstairs. The hotel will give us breakfast. I understand they have a pancake machine and we can make waffles. There are apples and cereals. He’d talked it up, wondering if the Flores family traveled, if they ate continental breakfast when they did. For all he knew, there was still so much that was missing. Her eyes lit up at the thought and he didn’t press her further. We have to get dressed.

I don’t have any clothes. Her face fell. Can I go in my dragon jammies?

He wanted to say yes, but a kid in dragon jammies would get remembered. Maybe some other time. I already have some clothes for you, and I’ll let you pick out some more later today.

She nodded, though it was without enthusiasm. She agreed to wear the cranberry colored pants and the t-shirt with some weird animal on the front. He couldn’t even tell what it was, but she liked it fine. Should we do your hair?

She’d looked at him oddly. You can do that?

I know how. I can do hair! Well, he’d watched videos. No one let you practice on their young daughters. Still, he’d known this day was coming and he’d gotten ready.

She’d sat patiently while he braided it and wound it into a crown for her. He looked at his success proudly. Fortune often wore it down, the blond curls brushed into a puff of gold that framed her face. The dark color changed the very shape of her. Putting it up, even more so. As far as he could tell, she had no idea she was playing into her own disguise. He added sparkly hair clips then turned her shoulders to go look in the mirror.

It’s like a crown!

They headed down stairs, her small hand holding his big one. It gripped even more strongly around his heart. It wouldn’t do to have him crying at the ridiculous continental breakfast the hotel was offering. That would get him remembered. Besides, he’d had eight years to fight this. Or five, since he’d spent the first three in a constant haze of cheap hard liquor. Still, no crying at breakfast. No crying in front of Fortune.

She’d watched the pancake machine with an awe that suggested she’d not seen one before. Then she’d pushed the button for one pancake repeatedly, until he had to tell her to stop. They’d been too gummy looking for his taste and he showed her how to make a waffle on the little flip grill, pulling her attention back and forth. The place was crowded enough that it was an excellent first test.

He’d still not gotten an alert on his phone that she was missing. No word about a silver Mercedes with Texas plates being involved. At least his plates now said Ohio.

When he wanted her to check out a banana or an apple, he realized a massive hole in his plan. What should he call her?

She called him Rafe. Which was fine, though not like he was her father. If he called her Fortune, that would draw attention, an unusual name like that. How had he not thought of this before? He’d thought of everything! He’d parked the hair dye at the pre-rented motel. He’d reserved this room in Eastland a week ago. But he’d missed the name.

To him, she was always Fortune. At least for the past several years. He’d known that name before he saw her and hadn’t been able to think of her as anything else. He could call her something different, but he didn’t know which name to use.

Honey, come over here. A temporary solution? Or would it work for the duration?

She picked a banana and they grabbed their cooked foods and sat down. A morning show played and it was all he could do to pray they didn’t announce a missing little girl in Grapevine, Texas. Eventually, they would. Eventually, they would know she was not at a neighbor’s house nor lost and hurt in the nearby woods. But he’d be far away by then. By tomorrow night, they’d be in Arizona. Still, she’d be national news soon enough.

She smeared peanut butter on the pancakes. Then cut the bananas with a wobbly hand that concerned him. He rested easier knowing the knife was cheap plastic, but . . . It took her so long, the pancakes had to be cold by the time she pushed her uneven banana slices into the awkwardly mashed peanut butter. She proceeded to pour syrup all over it, looking at him as though wondering if he was going to stop her.

That’s quite a creation you have there. An older woman stopped by, inadvertently stopping Fortune’s river of syrup.

Rafe nodded at her and Fortune beamed, Thank you!

Please don’t ask her name, nosy lady. Please don’t ask her name. He prayed the thought like a mantra.

She didn’t. Just a smile and a return to her seat with a man who must be her husband. She wasn’t nosy. Just kind to a kid. Rafe realized he couldn’t tense up when people talked to them. He was hiding her in open air. It would work only if he could play it cool.

He just wasn’t sure he could. Not with what he knew.

When they finished eating, which took much longer than he’d anticipated, they packed up and checked out. The silver Mercedes went back to the rental company. They pulled their things out of the trunk and called a cab to take them to another hotel where he’d parked the rental car his company had purchased for him four days earlier. It had been sitting there. Waiting.

A dull blue sedan—a Toyota—this one looked nothing like the Mercedes in line or stature. This car had a Kansas plate. The girl had dark hair. He had blond in his. For a moment, he savored his plan and told himself they would be okay. He would get away with all of it. It only had to last a short while anyway.

He buckled her into her booster seat in the back passenger side, threw their things in the trunk once more and took her to Target to pick out several new outfits. She couldn’t wear anything of Fortune’s. He couldn’t risk anything that would identify her. Luckily, all she’d packed in that suitcase were plastic ponies, a small teddy, and her hair brush. That had been a win he’d not expected.

She chose clothes in bright colors; he toned her down just a bit. They bought outfits that were splashy but coordinated—not like Fortune Flores. He called her Honey or Bug or Sweetheart and it seemed to work.

People smiled at them. Just a father and daughter out shopping. Then they climbed back in the car and headed off for more of their big adventure.

We are on the way to Arizona, but we have to stop in Abilene first.

What’s there? she asked, as though that would make any difference on her adventure.

He explained that they had to drop something off. Then he parked them in the back corner of the lot and hopped out to get three cardboard boxes out of his suitcase from the trunk. He’d parked back here to be out of the way and hopefully unobserved as they sat in the front seat of the car.

Handing her a vial, he told her, Guess what? You get to spit! You have to spit up to the line.

Once they’d done that, he swabbed her cheek after demonstrating on his own. He slowly and carefully stuck the swabs into their protective plastic covers. He checked the caps on the spit vials and stuck them back into the foam packing they’d come in. For the third, small box, he opened his suitcase again and put an old hairbrush in the bag they’d included. The company could use it to find what they needed.

What he needed was a rush order. Which meant he couldn’t take advantage of the mailing labels. He was going to drop the samples off in person and cut two days off the time.

4

Rafe stood at the front desk doing his best to be forgettable.

The man behind the counter handed him paperwork and he leaned over to fill it out, managing to partially hide his face.

He’d left Fortune in the car. There was no consensus in his thoughts on whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. Not being in here meant she didn’t get recognized. He didn’t get recognized as solo male with elementary aged girl. But leaving her in the car could draw attention, too.

Keeping his fingers crossed on that one, he was counting on the parking lot being mostly employees. He was the only one at the desk, as generally just the locals dropped their samples off. Everyone else mailed them in. Still, two days minimum off the turnaround time was something he had to take the risk for.

It hurt to write the names on the form. Box One was labeled Rafael Vega. The small box, the one with just the hairbrush, Sarah Betts Vega. He’d had to check the box deceased. That hurt. He filled in the year. They didn’t ask for a cause or anything more about her, only for the age of the sample. Every year it got a little older.

The last one was the hardest to fill out. He couldn’t put Fortune Flores on the tag for any number of reasons, the least of which was that it might get him caught and there was so much more to do. They were at day two of their journey. He had to make it through to Denver with her. He thought he’d planned everything, but he’d missed this. What name?

In the end he strung together a handful in hopes that if things went south someone might see the clue he was leaving and put some pieces together. He put in Julia Ashley for first name, then Belle Claire for middle, then—of course—Vega for the last name. It had to be Vega, the only thing that wouldn’t maybe set off alarms. Rafe could only hope that there were zero flags raised. He did know that people got testing for any variety of odd, crazy, things. Including checking if their spouse had cheated on them and their child was not their own. Surely, people came through here with a wide variety of names on the documents. He only hoped his tests didn’t stand out.

The man behind the desk took the boxes and papers from him and spent a few minutes perusing the info for errors. He opened the flip lids, checked that each item was there, and taped it down, signing his name across the tape as Rafe watched. Then he scanned the paperwork, only looking up once. You want this sent to the P.O. Box in Denver?

Yes. Short answers. Confidence. Don’t stand out.

He must have succeeded because the man, a kid really, didn’t even smile back, just looked down at the papers and signed something, then piled them all in a stack. He was starting to walk away when he turned back to Rafe.

Do you need anything else?

Oh, am I good?

The kid nodded and was gone before Rafe could speak. He headed back out the sliding doors, impatient at the wait for the sensor to pick him up and open the front for him. As he looked up, he spotted the camera and inadvertently gave it a good shot of his face. Though he kept his expression impassive, he thought, crap.

At least no one was yet looking for him. His phone still hadn’t pinged with an alert. He’d heard no news of Fortune Flores going missing and no comments on a silver Mercedes. Hopefully, no one even knew his name. Though that was sad. They should. They should have already known who he was.

He headed out to the car, checking his watch and finding he’d only been inside for eight minutes. The day wasn’t too hot, nor too cold, so he was only worried about the little girl attracting attention. She was old enough to be in the car for a few minutes wasn’t she? He’d ask if she talked to anyone . . .

But as he got close, he saw the back seat was empty. His heart sped up. His blood pounded in his ears. Had she run off? Just opened the door and bolted?

She could. He’d told her they were having an adventure and they were. Fortune seemed happy when he left her here. She seemed like she trusted him to come back. Maybe it was something else? Maybe it had been relatively easy to get her to run off with him because she just ran off sometimes.

That would explain the lack of notifications of a missing child on the news.

But they were in Abilene. She didn’t know anyone. Now she could be in real danger. He couldn’t even run for the car; it might arouse suspicion. Aside from showing up for work, he needed to be invisible. So Rafe kept his pace steady even if he couldn’t do the same for his pulse.

Scanning the parking lot, he tried to see if he could spot a pink hoodie or that shock of light hair. Then he reminded himself that she was in blue—a rather unobtrusive blue—and her hair was brown and wound up in a braid. His automatic thought was now for a child Fortune no longer resembled. Even so, when he looked for the right child, he still didn’t see her.

As he came up alongside the car, his heart pounded three last times. His first thought was that she was dead. No longer in the booster seat and seat belt, as he’d left her, she was sprawled out along the backseat, sound asleep.

As he watched her tiny chest rise and fall, the panic in his heart faded. The letdown of adrenaline he was feeling dissipate out of him was something he wouldn’t wish on anyone. Ten a.m. Day two. And he was failing.

Or he wasn’t—she was actually just fine. He was the one having trouble. Then he consoled himself. She was out of sight of anyone walking through the parking lot. Probably for the whole time he’d left her. That was good at least.

Gently shaking her awake, he got her back into the booster seat and off on their adventure once again. He took her first to Putnam, another small backtrack from Abilene. There they visited a cemetery, to see Sarah’s gravesite.

Fortune held his hand and walked through the stone arches with him. It was still as easy to get in as it always had been, but it had been three full years since he’d been back. Maybe they’d tightened security after his last visit, but then become more lax as over time it became clear the place was the same quiet church cemetery it had always been. Even the church was gone, but Sarah’s family had been buried here for several generations.

He and Sarah had lived in Fort Worth, in Southside when she died. Her funeral in Putnam had been better attended than he would have thought given the distance her friends would have had to come. The time off work would have cost people a whole day. Still, a decent handful had taken the time.

Sarah Vega. Fortune read the headstone, holding his hand while he tried not to cry.

Yes, he said. It was all he could muster.

Rafe didn’t even look to the graves on either side of Sarah’s. He’d visited regularly once upon a time. First monthly, then every several months, then not at all when he’d been drinking, but when he had come, he’d cried equally over the three graves. Now that he knew the truth, he cried only for Sarah. Now he tried to hide it from Fortune. I just wanted you to be here, to see it. One day, when you’re older, you’ll understand why.

He looked again, noting that the earth had healed well. Even he couldn’t see the damage done on his previous visit. He hadn’t been prepared for how he would feel now. When he’d been drunk and oblivious, he’d come and cried and when he’d missed visiting? He hadn’t noticed. Now, he’d been away for long enough that it hit him anew.

We need a picture, he told Fortune and spent a moment deciding what would be best. In the end, he had her sit beside the headstone so she could read the name in the picture. Zooming in on just the girl and the stone, he snapped the shot, knowing he wouldn’t need a copy. He’d remember it.

Pocketing the phone then tugging on Fortune’s hand, he decided to get them out of there. "We have other stops today. Shall we go see the biggest paper airplane in