He heard nothing at all. He frowned at the locked door. Well, he’d been stupid. She probably believed she was safe from him now. She’d probably never come out willingly.
He poured himself a large mug of black coffee and sat down beside the bathroom door, his long legs stretched out nearly reaching the opposite wall. His black boots were scuffed and comfortable as old slippers. He crossed his ankles.
He began to talk. “I’d sure like to know your name. ‘Sweetheart’ is all right, but it’s not the same as a real name. I know you can’t talk. That’s no problem now that I understand. I could give you a pencil and a piece of paper and you could write your name down for me. That sounds good, doesn’t it?”
Not a whisper of sound.
He drank his coffee, rolled his shoulders, then relaxed against the wall, and said, “I’ll bet you’ve got a mom who’s really worried about you. I can’t help you until you come out and write down your name and where you’re from. Then I can call your mother.”
He heard that soft mewling again. He took another drink of coffee. “Yeah, I bet your mom is really worried about you. Wait a minute. You’re too young to know how to write, aren’t you? Maybe you’re not. I don’t know. I don’t have any kids.”
Not a sound.
“Well, so much for that. Okay. Come on out now and have some breakfast. I have Cheerios and a sliced peach. All I bought was skimmed milk, but you can’t tell any difference by the taste. You just don’t want to look at it. It’s all runny and thin. The peach is really good, sweet as anything. I ate four of them since I bought them two days ago. You’re getting the second to the last one. I’ll make you some toast too, if you’d like. I’ve got some strawberry jam. Come on out. I’ll bet you’re getting hungry.
“Listen, I’m not going to hurt you. I didn’t hurt you yesterday, did I? Or last night? No, and I didn’t hurt you this morning. You can trust me. I was a Boy Scout when I was young, a real good one. That person who hurt you, he won’t come anywhere near here. If he does, I’ll shoot him. Then I’ll beat the crap out of him. Well, I didn’t mean to say that exactly, but you know, I’m not around kids very often. I’ve
got three nieces and two nephews I see at least once a year and I like them. They’re my brothers’ kids. 1 taught the girls how to play football last Christmas. Do you like football?” No sound.
He remembered his sister-in-law Elaine cheering when Ellen had caught a ten-yard pass in the makeshift end zone. “I’ll try to be careful with my language. But you can count on this. If that monster comes anywhere close, I’ll make him real sorry for hurting you. I promise.
“Please come out. The sunrise is beautiful. Would you like to see it? There are lots of pinks and soft grays and even some oranges. It’s going to happen pretty quick now.”
The lock clicked open. The door slowly opened. She stood there wearing his undershirt that came to her small feet and was nearly falling off her shoulders.
“Hi,” he said easily, not moving a muscle. “You want some cereal now?” She nodded.
“Can you help me up?” He held out his hand to her. He saw the fear, the wild panic in her eyes. She looked at his hand as if it were a snake about to bite her. She scooted around him and ran into the kitchen. Okay, it was too soon for her to begin to trust him. “The milk’s on the counter,” he called out. “Can you reach it?”
He walked very slowly back into the kitchen. She was sitting in the corner, pressed against the wall, the bowl of cereal hugged to her chest. Her face was very nearly into that bowl, her dark brown hair in thick tangles, hiding her face.
He said nothing, just poured himself some more coffee, slid two slices of wheat bread into the long-handled metal toaster, and held it over the woodstove. It only took about two minutes to brown the toast on each side. He sat down in one of the two kitchen chairs, straddling the back. The other one was still shoved beneath the back doorknob.