Chapter Twenty
Now
My gaze scanned the coffee shop twice as I walked through the doors, but I didn’t spot Miri anywhere. I was running twenty minutes late, so I hoped she was still waiting for me. As it turned out, Cara actually did ingest more than Starbucks lattes and salad; her grocery list had been quite extensive. I’d spent most of the afternoon trying to discern the difference between sushi and sashimi, attempting to track down the exceedingly rare — and apparently highly in-demand — imported white sapote fruit so Cara could make her morning smoothies, and asking three different Whole Foods employees to help me find a very specific brand of raw milk artisanal cheese. Though my own eating habits had evolved in recent years to includeMerlot and the occasional box of macaroons, for a girl who grew up on spray-cheese and Spam, I was a bit out of my comfort zone.
In a shocking turn of events, I’d “forgotten” to swing by Duane Reade to restock Cara’s condom supply.Oops. Thankfully, picking up her dry-cleaning had only taken a few minutes and, as promised, her concierge was expecting me when I arrived at her building. He’d helped me lug the grocery bags up to Cara’s apartment and even stayed to unload them with me.
Still, getting across town during the evening rush was always a nightmare, and by the time I reached the Village I was late for my meeting with Miri. Hopefully, she was still around here somewhere and we’d get a chance to talk. I approached the counter and ordered a chai tea latte. After the day I’d had, I was in desperate need of something soothing to sip on while I waited.
“Name?” the girl taking my order asked, her sharpie poised over my paper cup.
“Lux.”
She stared at me for a beat, her dark blue, heavily-lined eyes evaluative. When I blinked and averted my gaze, unsettled by her intense stare, she scribbled my name onto the cup and passed it down the line to the barista.
“Were you meeting someone here?” she asked, rather strangely.
My eyes flew back to her face and I nodded.
“Young girl, around fourteen? Brown hair? Foreign accent?”
“Miri,” I breathed, instantly uneasy. “I was supposed to meet her here at six, I’m running late.”
“She left this for you,” the girl said, reaching one tattooed arm beneath the counter and revealing a sealed white envelope. I grabbed it from her hand, staring at the three swirling cursive letters that had been scribed across the front:LUX.
“What did she say?” I asked, my eyes fixed on the envelope as I handed over afive-dollar bill.
“Not much.” The cashier shrugged and passed back my change. “Seemed kinda scared though. Flighty. Looking around in every direction, like someone was watching her or something.”
My heart picked up speed and my fingers itched to tear open the letter.
“Thanks,” I murmured.
As soon as the barista called my name, I headed for a small table in a quiet corner of the cafe with my latte in hand. My drink sat before me untouched, growing cold as I read Miri’s letter over and over. My eyes scanned the handful of short lines so many times they began to blur together into one smeary brick of black text.
Lux,
I’m sorry I couldn’t wait for you. Santos was standing outsidemy apartment when I got home yesterday. He was watching me. I’m scared, Lux. They can’t know I talked to you, or I’ll disappear like Vera. Please don’t come back to see me. It’s too dangerous. I’m sorry again. Your friend,
Miri
PS: Be careful. He’s a bad man.
I sat for so long the sun set and gave way to full darkness outside the cafe windows. Miri’s words played on a never-ending loop in my mind, stirring within me a tidal wave of guilt, despair, and fear so strong I worried I’d be pulled under, never to resurface.
They can’t know I talked to you.
I’ll disappear like Vera.
Be careful. He’s a bad man.
Had I put an innocent child’s life in danger with my foolish insistence to get involved? My intentions had been pure, of course, but did that matter when Miri, afourteen-year-old girl, was afraid for her life?
Her request was adouble-edged sword. If I went back to see her, I might endanger her further; if I followed her wishes and stayed away, I’d live in a constant state of worry that something awful had happened. Either choice would slice me open.
No matter how much I wanted to make sure she was okay, I couldn’t risk another trip to Two Bridges. If she was right, rather than just paranoid, my presence in her neighborhood might make her situation worse. But I couldn’t just walk away from this — not now that I knew girls were disappearing by the handful.
Santos.