“Of course!” Lilah said, pivoting toward the kitchen. “I’ll go get the phonebook—”
“Not so fast, kid,” Stanley cut in.
“What?”
“It’s not that simple, Li. These women – Willow and her mother – they were never found. I followed the articles, from the first one published to the very last update. Here—” he said, fumbling around the box again. Eventually, he fished out a short stack of stapled papers. “Take a look for yourself.”
Lilah’s face fell as she took the stack of papers from him, then settled back on the couch beside Jace. Their knees brushed as she did, sending a tingle up her leg. “Sorry,” she mumbled, jerking her leg away.
“No problem,” he replied. Feeling Stanley’s eyes burning into him, he leaned away from her and into the armrest, as far as his ribcage would allow.
Lilah could feel the heat rising in her cheeks as she scanned the stack of photocopied newspaper clippings. It was strange, having so many conflicting feelings inside her all at once; though she did her best to focus on the matter at hand – finding clues about her birth mother – she couldn’t help but feel a shiver of elation. After everything that had happened that month, the one thing she still couldn’t quite believe was that Jace McKinnon was actually sitting in her living room. And what’s more, he was the only person in the world, besides her and her father, who knew her secret. She shook her head to help clear the shock.
“You see?” Stanley asked, taking the gesture as a sign that she’d finished reading. “Their case was labeled as ‘cold’ six months later. From what I remember, there were no leads, no witnesses, and no clues left at the scene.”
“So, they just disappeared into thin air?” Jace asked. “But that still doesn’t explain Lilah. It doesn’t mention anything about her in there?”
Stanley shook his head. “Not a damn thing. That’s why I gave up on their story all those years ago. There’s not even a hint of a missing baby. And let me tell you, I searched. Not just this article, but everywhere. I looked at birth announcements, hospital records, and police reports for the entire Midwest – you name it, Sheriff Reid and I tried it. There were no missing babies named Lilah listed in that entire year. And even the handful of “unmissing” babies by that name were born in all the wrong time frames. The way I see it, Lilah was never registered when she was born. Which means no one could have ever figured out that she was missing.”
“That’s seriously messed up,” Jace whispered, more to himself than anyone else.
“Oh my god,” Lilah gasped.
“What?” Stanley and Jace asked at the same time.
“Look at this,” she breathed, pointing to a picture in the middle of an article she was reading. Jace and her father each poked their heads over her shoulder to see. A girl in a black and white school photo stared back at them.
“Is that you?” Jace exclaimed.
Lilah wasn’t sure she knew how to reply.
“Let me see that,” Stanley instructed, snatching the page to get a better look. He’d made the black and white photocopy well over a decade ago, and it had since become worn and yellowed, with permanent creases snaking across the faded text. Still, Willow’s photograph drew a gasp even from him, as the resemblance between her and Lilah was uncanny. Almost eerie. They shared the same eyes, the same chin, the same splash of freckles across their noses. They even parted their wavy hair the same way: slightly off-center, to the right.
Lilah chewed on her lip. Staring at the photo was almost like staring at herself, and at that moment she knew: that missing girl was her mother. She had to be.
As if reading her mind, Jace muttered, “Well, I guess we have our answer.”
Stanley licked his lips. “Yeah, I’d say so.” He handed the paper back to Lilah, who read the rest of the article in silence. After a few minutes, she cleared her throat.
“Listen to this,” she said. “There’s a quote in here from some guy named Mike Hastings: ‘I was called to the Mayweather’s home on two separate occasions to cleanse the perimeter of their property line and also drop off supplies. Celeste was concerned about the negative energy that had been pooling in and around their rental home. I had hoped that the assistance I provided would have been enough to alter their fate; sadly, even a shaman with my formidable abilities isn’t enough for certain types of Sha Chi.’”
“‘Shaman’? Is this guy for real?” Jace raised an eyebrow.
“‘When asked to expound on his comments, the self-styled ‘Shaman’ merely added, “I do not mean to imply that I have any knowledge of what their fate came to be, I am simply expressing my despondency in what is likely to be an unhappy conclusion, given the nature of the Sha Chi those two appear to have attracted.” He then went on to add that anyone who is suffering with negative energy and disgruntled spirits should seek out his recently self-published book, Mysticism, Mediums & Malachite: Making the Most of a Metaphysical Existence.’”
“Guess he ran out of words that start with ‘M,’” Jace snickered. “Sounds like a nutter.”
“Yeah, but that’s not the point,” Lilah replied. “The point is – he knew them. He knew my mother! Which means, he might have known about me.” She didn’t say the other thing she was thinking, which is that the “bad energy” that had terrorized them was almost certainly her fault. What had she done to make them frightened enough to enlist the help of a guy like Mike Hastings? At that point, she knew she had to find out.
“Of course!” Stanley groaned, knuckling his forehead. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
“We’ve gotta find this guy,” Lilah said, bounding to her feet.
Her father started to say something, but she had already bolted away and into the kitchen. A few moments later, she reemerged, nose-deep in the white pages. “There’s at least eight Michael Hastings in here. How will we know which one is the right guy?”
“I have an idea,” Jace offered. “Can I use your phone?”
Lilah nodded. “Sure, go ahead.”
Stanley raised an eyebrow. “If you’re thinking of calling all those Mikes, the answer is no.”
“My stepbrother’s girlfriend works at the library,” Jace replied, picking up the phone. “I bet we could look him up by the title of the book he mentioned.”
“Oh,” was all Stanley said in response. For some reason, he had an image of tearing the phone out of Jace’s hands, knocking him over the head with it, and then hurling it into the fireplace. He shook his head to clear the thought. What’s the matter with me? He’s just a kid.
“Library’s closed,” Jace sighed, hanging up the phone a moment later. “But maybe I could take you there tomorrow?”
A kid who’s swooping in and causing trouble.
“I’d love that,” Lilah smiled shyly.
Stanley leapt to his feet. “Now look here, both of you. We don’t know anything about this guy. We don’t know if he’s a nutcase, a serial killer, a pedophile, or what! So just… just everybody calm down for a minute,” he said, panting. “Just calm down!”