Forty Thousand Dollars Demanded to Bring Our Lost Daughter Home
Patrick was down in the dirt, pulling at a thick, fibrous stalk that had been snapped near the base.
His hands were black with soil, and the silver pocket watch was tucked into his front pocket, the chain hanging loose over his belt.
“Let me get the heavy end of that, kiddo,” Vince said, stepping onto the damp earth of the patch.
Patrick wiped his forehead with his dirty sleeve, his eyes bright with that rapid, breathless eagerness.
“We can replant them, Vince,” Patrick said, pointing to a smaller stem that was bent but not broken. “Some of the roots are still deep.”
“We need to clear the broken ones first,” Vince said, grabbing the rough green stalk.
“If Lily comes home tomorrow, she will want to see them growing,” Patrick said, his voice rising.
Vince hauled the heavy stalk toward the brush pile at the edge of the woods.
“We will make it look brand new before she gets here,” Vince said, his boots sinking into the soft earth.
