up around the kitchen,
spent some time with Jonah, and finally put him to bed. Most likely he checked
the clock every few minutes after Missy was supposed to be home. At first, he
might have suspected that Missy had stopped to visit with someone she’d seen on
her job, something she sometimes did, and he probably chided himself for
imagining the worst.
The minutes
turned into an hour, then became two, and Missy still hadn’t returned. By then,
Miles was worried enough to place a call to Charlie. He asked him to check out
the usual route Missy jogged, since Jonah was already asleep and he didn’t want
to leave him alone unless he had to. Charlie said he’d be glad to do it.
An hour
later—during which Miles seemed to be getting the runaround from everyone he
called for updates—Charlie was at the door. He’d brought his wife, Brenda, so
she could watch Jonah, and she was standing behind him, her eyes red. “You’d better come,” Charlie said softly.
“There’s been an accident.” From the expression on his face, I’m sure that
Miles knew exactly what Charlie was trying to tell him. The rest of the night
was a terrible blur. What neither Miles
nor Charlie knew then, and what the investigation would later reveal, was that
there were no witnesses to the hit-and-run that had taken Missy’s life. Nor
would anyone come forward with a confession. Over the next month, the highway
patrol interviewed everyone in the area; they searched for any evidence that
might provide a lead, poking through bushes, evaluating the evidence at the
scene, visiting local bars and restaurants, asking if any customers had seemed
intoxicated and had left around that time. In the end, the case file was thick
and heavy, chronicling everything they had learned—which in the end was
essentially nothing more than what Miles knew the moment he’d pushed open the
door and seen Charlie standing on the porch.
Miles Ryan had become a widower at the age of thirty.
A Bend in the Road
Chapter 5
In the car, the
memories of the day Missy died came back to Miles in bits and pieces, just as
they had earlier when he’d driven along Madame Moore’s Lane before his lunch
with Charlie. Now, though, instead of running endlessly in the same loop, from
his day spent fishing to the argument with Missy to all that followed, they
were displaced by his thoughts of Jonah, and Sarah Andrews. With his mind occupied, he didn’t know how
long they had driven in silence, but it was long enough to finally make Jonah
nervous. As Jonah waited for his father to speak, his mind began focusing on
the possible punishments his father might inflict, each of them worse than the
last. He kept zipping and unzipping his backpack until Miles finally reached
over and rested his hand on top of his son’s to stop him. Still, his father
said nothing, and after finally gathering his courage, Jonah looked toward
Miles with wide eyes that were nearly brimming with tears.
“Am I in trouble,
Dad?”
“No.”
“You talked to
Miss Andrews for a long time.”
“We had a lot to
talk about.”
Jonah swallowed.
“Did you talk about school?”
Miles nodded and
Jonah looked toward his backpack again, feeling sick to his stomach and wishing
he could keep his hands occupied again. “I’m inbig trouble,” he mumbled.
• • •
A few minutes
later, sitting on a bench outside the Dairy Queen, Jonah was finishing an ice-cream
cone, his father’s arm around him. They’d been talking for ten minutes, and at
least as far as Jonah was concerned, it wasn’t half as bad as he’d thought it
would be. His father hadn’t yelled, he hadn’t threatened him, and best of all,
he hadn’t been grounded. Instead, Miles had simply asked Jonah about his
previous teachers and what they had—and hadn’t—made him do;
Jonah explained
honestly that once he’d fallen behind, he was too embarrassed to ask for help.
They’d talked about the things Jonah was having trouble with—as Sarah
spent some time with Jonah, and finally put him to bed. Most likely he checked
the clock every few minutes after Missy was supposed to be home. At first, he
might have suspected that Missy had stopped to visit with someone she’d seen on
her job, something she sometimes did, and he probably chided himself for
imagining the worst.
The minutes
turned into an hour, then became two, and Missy still hadn’t returned. By then,
Miles was worried enough to place a call to Charlie. He asked him to check out
the usual route Missy jogged, since Jonah was already asleep and he didn’t want
to leave him alone unless he had to. Charlie said he’d be glad to do it.
An hour
later—during which Miles seemed to be getting the runaround from everyone he
called for updates—Charlie was at the door. He’d brought his wife, Brenda, so
she could watch Jonah, and she was standing behind him, her eyes red. “You’d better come,” Charlie said softly.
“There’s been an accident.” From the expression on his face, I’m sure that
Miles knew exactly what Charlie was trying to tell him. The rest of the night
was a terrible blur. What neither Miles
nor Charlie knew then, and what the investigation would later reveal, was that
there were no witnesses to the hit-and-run that had taken Missy’s life. Nor
would anyone come forward with a confession. Over the next month, the highway
patrol interviewed everyone in the area; they searched for any evidence that
might provide a lead, poking through bushes, evaluating the evidence at the
scene, visiting local bars and restaurants, asking if any customers had seemed
intoxicated and had left around that time. In the end, the case file was thick
and heavy, chronicling everything they had learned—which in the end was
essentially nothing more than what Miles knew the moment he’d pushed open the
door and seen Charlie standing on the porch.
Miles Ryan had become a widower at the age of thirty.
A Bend in the Road
Chapter 5
In the car, the
memories of the day Missy died came back to Miles in bits and pieces, just as
they had earlier when he’d driven along Madame Moore’s Lane before his lunch
with Charlie. Now, though, instead of running endlessly in the same loop, from
his day spent fishing to the argument with Missy to all that followed, they
were displaced by his thoughts of Jonah, and Sarah Andrews. With his mind occupied, he didn’t know how
long they had driven in silence, but it was long enough to finally make Jonah
nervous. As Jonah waited for his father to speak, his mind began focusing on
the possible punishments his father might inflict, each of them worse than the
last. He kept zipping and unzipping his backpack until Miles finally reached
over and rested his hand on top of his son’s to stop him. Still, his father
said nothing, and after finally gathering his courage, Jonah looked toward
Miles with wide eyes that were nearly brimming with tears.
“Am I in trouble,
Dad?”
“No.”
“You talked to
Miss Andrews for a long time.”
“We had a lot to
talk about.”
Jonah swallowed.
“Did you talk about school?”
Miles nodded and
Jonah looked toward his backpack again, feeling sick to his stomach and wishing
he could keep his hands occupied again. “I’m inbig trouble,” he mumbled.
• • •
A few minutes
later, sitting on a bench outside the Dairy Queen, Jonah was finishing an ice-cream
cone, his father’s arm around him. They’d been talking for ten minutes, and at
least as far as Jonah was concerned, it wasn’t half as bad as he’d thought it
would be. His father hadn’t yelled, he hadn’t threatened him, and best of all,
he hadn’t been grounded. Instead, Miles had simply asked Jonah about his
previous teachers and what they had—and hadn’t—made him do;
Jonah explained
honestly that once he’d fallen behind, he was too embarrassed to ask for help.
They’d talked about the things Jonah was having trouble with—as Sarah
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