Forty Thousand Dollars Demanded to Bring Our Lost Daughter Home
He kicked the base of the plant, his sneakers digging into the loose Ohio soil. The stalk snapped near the root with a sharp, wet crack, and Patrick tumbled forward into the dirt.
He did not try to get up. He lay there among the torn yellow petals, his fingers clawing at the earth until his fingernails were black with the damp soil.
I reached down and grabbed his shoulders, pulling him up into my lap. He fought me at first, his small fists striking my chest, but he had no real strength left in him.
“She is not coming back, is she?” Patrick asked.
I held him tightly, my chin resting on his hair, which smelled of dust and the river. I did not answer him because there was no answer that would not break his spirit completely.
“We need to go inside, Patrick,” I said.
He did not move. He lay limp against my chest, his fingers still clutching a handful of the torn green leaves from the broken stalk.
