hot pink walls. The futon Cheryl used as a bed lay open, a
worn stuffed dog with a torn ear at its foot, the only indication that the
teenager was still a child, the covers mussed as if Cheryl had just risen. A
corner wall unit held a computer, sound system and television. Books,
videotapes, computer programs and CDs were scattered across nearby shelves,
these a brilliant purple. Keelin could see shoes and clothes strewn about the
closet. The floor of the private bathroom was also a repository of discarded
clothing and a pile of used towels.
"I told
the cleaning woman to stay out of here." Expression grim, Tyler stood at
the door as if reluctant to enter, hands stuffed into his trouser pockets.
"Stupid, but I keep thinking that nothing is changed...I keep expecting to
see Cheryl curled in bed with her headsets on...or at her computer, playing a
game or flying through cyberspace."
Remembering
how easily Skelly had whipped along through sources of information using his
computer, Keelin nevertheless eyed the electronic contraption warily. She lived
several decades separated from the technology that Tyler's child took for
granted. She dropped her leather bag near the futon and circled the room,
touching the girl's things, almost as if she expected to feel her.
"Anything?"
Tyler asked.
Keelin shook
her head. "I dream through another's eyes. That's the extent of my gift as
I told you. Awake, I cannot conjure her. I agreed to come with you so I could
get to know Cheryl better. Or remember something I missed. Perhaps find some
material indication as to her intentions."
She couldn't
miss the disappointment he quickly masked as he said, "Of course."
Compassion
made Keelin cross to Tyler and place a hand on his arm. The physical link drew
her closer to this distrusting, angry man, even as she knew keeping her
distance would be a far wiser course. "Come." Hooking her fingers
into his flesh, she drew him into the room.
He moved with
her as if mesmerized. Confused. As if, for a moment, he forgot what he was
about. Their gazes meshed. He allowed her in...and she felt his pain with
agonizing clarity. Then he blinked, as if awakening from a spell, and a subtle
change came over him.
Keelin
suddenly found herself shut out.
"Where
shall we start?" he asked.
For the next
hour, they browsed through the items on the teaming shelves, hoping for some
clue as to Cheryl's state of mind. Looking for anything that would jog Keelin's
memory. Nothing. They didn't even find the address book that Keelin had hoped
for. No reference to acquaintances in the city.
"She must
know all her friends' telephone numbers by heart," Keelin murmured.
"More
likely, they're programmed into her phone."
Surrounded by
Cheryl's things, they were sitting on the floor together, Keelin's legs swept
behind her, Tyler's before him, knees up, ankles crossed. How odd that they
seemed of a mind, at last. They'd worked seamlessly together, and Tyler hadn't
uttered one biting word since they'd begun.
Moving to the
bottom shelf, Keelin chose one of several scrapbooks and began paging through
photos and souvenirs that were several years old. Her eyes were tired and
threatened to close on her at any moment, but she forced herself to examine
each page before going on to the next.
Thinking
talking would keep her awake, she said, "Tell me about your
daughter."
Tyler flipped
through a magazine and threw it onto a growing pile. "Cheryl's bright and
passionate about life," he said, sounding every bit the proud parent.
"She's trusting, big-hearted and, I fear, too-easily hurt. She's easy to
anger...and easy to..."
"Forgive?"
"I always
thought so."
But not now?
What wasn't Tyler telling her? Keelin wondered. What had he done that his
daughter was finding hard to forgive? What lies could he have told her that
were so terrible that Cheryl had felt betrayed enough to run away?
Tempted to ask
directly, Keelin bit back the question. Asking would only anger him. Better
that she wait
worn stuffed dog with a torn ear at its foot, the only indication that the
teenager was still a child, the covers mussed as if Cheryl had just risen. A
corner wall unit held a computer, sound system and television. Books,
videotapes, computer programs and CDs were scattered across nearby shelves,
these a brilliant purple. Keelin could see shoes and clothes strewn about the
closet. The floor of the private bathroom was also a repository of discarded
clothing and a pile of used towels.
"I told
the cleaning woman to stay out of here." Expression grim, Tyler stood at
the door as if reluctant to enter, hands stuffed into his trouser pockets.
"Stupid, but I keep thinking that nothing is changed...I keep expecting to
see Cheryl curled in bed with her headsets on...or at her computer, playing a
game or flying through cyberspace."
Remembering
how easily Skelly had whipped along through sources of information using his
computer, Keelin nevertheless eyed the electronic contraption warily. She lived
several decades separated from the technology that Tyler's child took for
granted. She dropped her leather bag near the futon and circled the room,
touching the girl's things, almost as if she expected to feel her.
"Anything?"
Tyler asked.
Keelin shook
her head. "I dream through another's eyes. That's the extent of my gift as
I told you. Awake, I cannot conjure her. I agreed to come with you so I could
get to know Cheryl better. Or remember something I missed. Perhaps find some
material indication as to her intentions."
She couldn't
miss the disappointment he quickly masked as he said, "Of course."
Compassion
made Keelin cross to Tyler and place a hand on his arm. The physical link drew
her closer to this distrusting, angry man, even as she knew keeping her
distance would be a far wiser course. "Come." Hooking her fingers
into his flesh, she drew him into the room.
He moved with
her as if mesmerized. Confused. As if, for a moment, he forgot what he was
about. Their gazes meshed. He allowed her in...and she felt his pain with
agonizing clarity. Then he blinked, as if awakening from a spell, and a subtle
change came over him.
Keelin
suddenly found herself shut out.
"Where
shall we start?" he asked.
For the next
hour, they browsed through the items on the teaming shelves, hoping for some
clue as to Cheryl's state of mind. Looking for anything that would jog Keelin's
memory. Nothing. They didn't even find the address book that Keelin had hoped
for. No reference to acquaintances in the city.
"She must
know all her friends' telephone numbers by heart," Keelin murmured.
"More
likely, they're programmed into her phone."
Surrounded by
Cheryl's things, they were sitting on the floor together, Keelin's legs swept
behind her, Tyler's before him, knees up, ankles crossed. How odd that they
seemed of a mind, at last. They'd worked seamlessly together, and Tyler hadn't
uttered one biting word since they'd begun.
Moving to the
bottom shelf, Keelin chose one of several scrapbooks and began paging through
photos and souvenirs that were several years old. Her eyes were tired and
threatened to close on her at any moment, but she forced herself to examine
each page before going on to the next.
Thinking
talking would keep her awake, she said, "Tell me about your
daughter."
Tyler flipped
through a magazine and threw it onto a growing pile. "Cheryl's bright and
passionate about life," he said, sounding every bit the proud parent.
"She's trusting, big-hearted and, I fear, too-easily hurt. She's easy to
anger...and easy to..."
"Forgive?"
"I always
thought so."
But not now?
What wasn't Tyler telling her? Keelin wondered. What had he done that his
daughter was finding hard to forgive? What lies could he have told her that
were so terrible that Cheryl had felt betrayed enough to run away?
Tempted to ask
directly, Keelin bit back the question. Asking would only anger him. Better
that she wait
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