Bitter Waters by Wen Spencer

Author:Wen Spencer [Spencer, Wen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Science Fiction, General
ISBN: 9780451459220
Google: LPur9AH6CHAC
Amazon: B000OIZUBW
Barnesnoble: B000OIZUBW
Publisher: Roc
Published: 2003-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

Max wanted to stay by the phone, in case the kidnappers called early. He urged Sam to go with Ukiah to see Vic. “If you’re going to stay, you should get to know your way around.”

“Wolf Boy!” Vic clasped Ukiah’s hand in a surprisingly warm greeting. “I heard about your kid. I’m really sorry. If there’s anything I can do?”

“Thanks, Vic.” Ukiah indicated Sam beside him. “This is Sam Killington. She helped us out in finding Alicia in Oregon. She might be working with us.” Sam and Vic shook hands. Ukiah took out the artist sketch of the girl and explained about Goodman and his young female partner. “Sam’s . . . source . . . in California suggested we check local runaways.”

Vic studied the paper. “She looks familiar. Maybe.” He handed back the sketch and walked to a filing cabinet. “You’re talking the proverbial needle in a haystack, you know. We get a couple thousand runaways reported every year, and that’s just us, not counting Butler or Westmoreland County. We don’t have fingerprints for these kids. Heck, we often don’t have recent photographs, and you know how much kids can change in appearance in a year. And the hell of it, most of them aren’t runaways.”

“What are they? Kidnappings?”

“They’re walkaways. Driftaways.” Vic shuffled through the files. “We call them couch kids; they sleep on the couches of friends and relatives—anywhere but home. These kids hit twelve or thirteen, and they think they’ve got the whole world figured out.”

“I thought that was a definition of a teenager,” Sam said.

“Some of them have good cause; they’ve been abused. A lot of them, though, just don’t want to go to school, clean their rooms, or eat their peas. They’re selfish little brats.”

“Are they so bad for just wanting control of their own lives?” Sam asked.

“If we lived in a perfect world, no. But the problem is that they willfully jump into the cracks and never come back out. Sooner or later, they move out of my files and into someone else’s. Burglary. Vice. Homicide.” He pulled out a thick file and held it out. “This year’s missing children. If she’s one of ours, she’s in here. You’re welcome to look through it.”

Vic gave them use of a desk. They split the file between them and started to flip through them. Ukiah studied the pictures, growing dismayed at the number and ages of the missing children. He thought of Pittsburgh as a safe place; he and Max were part of a system that kept kids from disappearing. Apparently for every child that triggered a massive manhunt, dozens quietly vanished. Couch kids. Runaways. Children snatched by noncustodial parents. Just plain missing.

And Kittanning was now one of them.

While in Oregon, Max had chanted, “You’re nearly indestructible.” Ukiah understood now how much comfort it provided.

Keeping in mind that the pictures might not be recent ones, and that children sometimes changed dramatically, he moved carefully through his pile. Sam occasionally handed him sheets on blond, teenage girls, saying, “What about her?” The last one, he stared at several minutes, before nodding.

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