Missing Pieces by Jerry B. Jenkins, Chris Fabry Page B

only a few miles from her daughter.”
    “You don’t know that this is her daughter or that Mrs. Z is even the right person,” Mom said. “Mrs. Garcia said her babysitter was pregnant at the time. This could be Mrs. Z’s real daughter.”
    “It has to be her.”
    She raised her eyebrows. “When I write a story, I think I know where I’m going to end up. But sometimes things don’t turn out the way I plan. Characters take on lives of their own and go their own ways.”
    “This is not a book.”
    “It’s even more important in real life to let things happen.” She paused. “Like with your EEG.”
    “Mom, I’m scared.”
    She hugged me tight. We didn’t say anything for a long time.
    “I used to rock you to sleep when you were just a few months old,” she finally whispered. “Your brother would sleep like a stone, but you had a hard time.”
    “Because of my seizures?”
    “Could have been. We don’t really know when they started. You’d go to sleep in my arms, and I’d put you in your crib. Then you’d wake up, and your dad would take over.”
    “I miss him,” I said without looking at her.
    She sighed. “So do I.”
    I shot her a double take. “But you have Sam.”
    “No one ever takes another’s place. Life’s kind of like a puzzle that way. When you lose someone, it’s like removing a piece from your life’s puzzle. That hole will always be there. But as time goes on, you add more pieces around that person, so when you stand back you can still see what the puzzle is about. The big picture. The hole is still there. It just gets smaller.”
    “The hole still feels big to me.”
    “Yeah,” she said, kissing my head. “He’d be really proud of the way you care for your new family, and how you care enough about others to help try to solve their mysteries.”

Chapter 62

    My surveillance video was still recording the next morning, but rather than watch the whole thing, I looked out and saw the mailbox still in one piece.
    I wanted to get my conversation with Mrs. Garcia over with as soon as possible, but I couldn’t find her before school.
    At lunch, Jeff Alexander sat beside me. Jeff’s been battling cancer and wears hats to hide his bald head. He was wearing the Rockies cap I had given him, which made me smile.
    “I heard about your sister,” Jeff said. “Bet she’s scared.”
    “She’s thinking about it all the time.”
    “Would it help if I talked to her?”
    “She’d like that.”
    He promised to call later or just come over. I waited until Mrs. Garcia wasn’t busy and handed her the photocopied picture of Mrs. Z.
    “Recognize her?” I said.
    “It’s fuzzy,” Mrs. Garcia said, squinting. “Who’s it supposed to be?”
    “You tell me.”
    Mrs. Garcia cocked her head. “Looks familiar. Her hair is different and her face is not clear, but it could be Tonya. I can’t be sure. Where did this come from?”
    Ashley had asked me not to tell. “I-I c-can’t say,” I said. “Ashley will talk with you tomorrow.”
    She stared at me.
    I always figure an adult who stares at a kid without saying anything wants something. I just stared back.

Chapter 63

    The nurse hooked me up to the EEG machine and smiled. “Didn’t I just see you?”
    “My encore,” I said.
    It felt like only a few seconds passed before she woke me up, telling me the doctor would call us with the results.
    I wanted to get to school and talk with Mrs. Garcia, but Mom made me go to bed. My investigation would have to wait. But as I crawled into bed I got an idea. I went to the computer, looked up a phone number, and dialed it.
    “Memorial Elementary,” the receptionist said.
    “Yes, I’m calling about one of your kindergarten teachers. It’s Mrs. Zzz . . . uh . . . how do you pronounce it?”
    “Zulauf?”
    It was close. “Yes, how do you spell that?”
    “Z-u-l-a-u-f.”
    No wonder I couldn’t find it. “How long has she been teaching there?”
    “I think it’s been two years. Are you a