Forty Thousand Dollars Demanded to Bring Our Lost Daughter Home
“We did it for you, Aunt Evelyn,” I said, keeping my hands in my pockets so she would not see them shake.
“He is still my cousin, but this is the end of it.”
She nodded, looking down at her shoes, a single tear slipping down her cheek.
“He was always so desperate about those debts,” she whispered.
My dad walked past her without speaking, his heavy boots carrying him straight toward the heavy glass exit doors.
He pushed the door open, the warm evening air rushing into the air-conditioned lobby.
The drive back to the farm was quiet, the only sound being the low rattle of the truck’s tail-pipe.
The sun was dropping below the tree line, leaving long, blue shadows across the cornfields.
When we pulled into the driveway, the farmhouse looked older, its white paint graying in the twilight.
We walked into the kitchen, where the window air conditioner was humming its steady, low song.
Dad walked straight to the small pantry in the corner, where the old floor-safe was hidden behind the flour bins.
