The Gravity of What Has Gone (14)

Naomi rescued me. "Did you owe someone money?"

"No!" Mr. Hansen snarled.

"Fine. Go ahead. Help these kid-snatching extortionists so you don't have to talk about your gambling or your drugs or your hookers or whatever you threw that money away on. As long as you're not _embarrassed._"

Melanie stared at the floor, apparently practiced in making herself invisible when adults were fighting.

"Cocaine," her father said at last.

I coughed and fumbled in my coat pocket. "Melanie, if I show you a picture, can you tell me if that's the same boy or not?"

She nodded.

I pulled out the photo and my heart sank. The squinting boy in the picture, nestled against a mother forcing her smile through exhaustion and worry, looked nothing like the tall young man who'd appeared in my house. I handed it over anyway.

She shook her head. "No. This is a _little_ kid."

I nodded, defeated.

She handed it back. "Her."

"What?"

"The sad eyes. That's how his eyes were. He didn't look like that little kid. He looked like that lady."