The Target Read Free Page B

“The bathroom is on the other side of the kitchen. The kitchen’s just behind you. Do you need any help?”
    Slowly, she shook her head. He waited. She didn’t move. Then he realized she didn’t want to get up with him watching her.
    He smiled and said, “I’m going to make some coffee. I’ll see what I have that a little kid would like to eat, all right?”
    Since he knew she wasn’t going to answer, he just nodded and left her.
    He didn’t hear anything until the bathroom door shut. He heard the lock click into place.
    He shook some Cheerios into one of the bright blue painted bowls and set the skimmed milk beside it. At least it wouldn’t clog her arteries. He went to his store of fresh fruit. There were only two peaches left. He’d bought a half dozen, but eaten all the rest. He sliced one on the cereal.
    He waited. He’d heard the toilet flush, then nothing more. Had something happened?
    He waited some more. He didn’t want to terrify her by knocking on the door. But finally too much time had passed. He lightly tapped his knuckles against the pine bathroom door. “Sweetheart? You all right?”
    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 werescuffed 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.
    â€œWell, 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.
    â€œListen, 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’vegot three nieces and two nephews I see at least once a year and I like them. They’re my brothers’ kids. I 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