The Missing

. .

    Like an insidious whisper, Leon’s voice echoed inside her head: “You got the devil inside you, girl. You going to hell, and there’s nothing you can do to change it.”

    How many times had she heard him tell her that? Hundreds. Thousands. Almost every day, sometimes more, for the past eight years. Ever since the social worker had brought her to the church were Leon had been preparing his sermon for the coming Sunday. She’d left Taige alone with the man, and Taige had stared at him, into the gray eyes that looked so much like her own, like her mother’s. He had pale blond hair like Taige’s mama, and he had a beautiful voice. She had thought he sounded like an angel when he sang.

    But he was no angel. And though he often walked around the house singing hymns in a rich baritone, his voice sounded more and more like a Hollywood monster than a minister from Gulf Shores, Alabama. He was as close to the devil as anything walking on the world, and Taige had the scars to prove it. Most of them were faint, and almost all of them were a couple of years old or more. The last time he had hit her had been nearly a year ago, and she had hit back. Then he’d slapped her with an open hand, knocking her to the floor, and when Taige had climbed to her feet, she had grabbed a dirty knife from the sink and brandished it at him.

    “You’re evil, just like your mama was evil. Just like your daddy was evil—lying with that whore and making another demon child,” Leon had said.

    “Touch me ever again, and this demon child will send you straight to hell where you belong.” And she had meant every last word. Apparently Leon figured it out, because he didn’t ever touch her again. Days passed when they never even saw each other, although Taige wasn’t stupid enough to think he had actually realized the error of his ways.

    He’d go inside her room when she wasn’t there. She could sense his presence and knew that he spent hours going through her things, as though he hoped to find some sort of proof that she was the demon he accused her of being. There wasn’t much for him to find. Anything important, like the few pictures she had of her parents and her books, she’d long since started hiding outside of the small house. Those things she kept tucked away in the storeroom at Ernie’s.

    The little oyster house just outside of town was the closest thing to a home that Taige knew. She spent hours and hours there in the small office helping the owner with paperwork, reading, or listening to music. The cool air of the office was like a glimpse into paradise. Leon didn’t believe in a lot of modern conveniences like air-conditioning.

    It was little wonder she was more comfortable there than at her home. Ernie, whoever he was, had long since gone on to bigger and better things, and the little restaurant was owned by Rose Henderson and her son, Dante.

    Rose had known Taige’s mother and her father; Taige could spend hours just listening to the stories about her parents. Dante had taught her how to swim and how to fish. Taige worked for the two of them, either helping out in the kitchen, or with the paperwork, or on rare occasions in the dining room. Sometimes she went out with Dante on the boat, and they’d stay out on the water until they had caught enough fish to feed thousands. Or at least it seemed that way, but food didn’t last long at Ernie’s. It was one of the best places to eat in the area, but it was set back from the road and was unpretentious, at best. An honest person would probably call it a dive, and Taige had to admit the place wasn’t much to look at.

    But the food was good and fresh, the people were friendly, and Taige felt safe there. Safe and accepted, or about as accepted as she’d ever be.

    By the time she got to Ernie’s, the lunch crowd was thinning out. It was the middle of the week, and for the next couple of hours, there would be only a few stragglers here and there. Mostly quiet this time of day, unlike what happened around five o’clock, when the place would be hopping until midnight or later. She entered the kitchen, the familiar scents of seafood cooking filling the air. Rose stood by the stove, and if Taige was right, then Rose was making jambalaya.

    She glanced back at Taige and smiled. “There you are, baby. Where you been?”

    Taige shrugged. “What are you making over there, Rose?”

    Rose grinned, her smile gleaming white against the darkness of her skin. “You