Finding Hannah

by John Kess

  My aunts and uncles spent the rest of the day at my house helping cook, clean and mostly just show their support. Shawn and I spent several hours in my room swapping stories about Hannah.

  Later that night, I sat on the couch alone and looked at the bottom of the stairs. It was the last place I’d seen Hannah alive. I remembered her smile. I walked into my room and stared at the maps on my wall covered in marks and highlights of all the places I’d been. I thought about all the ground Molly and I had covered and how the river had spat me out right where Hannah was buried.

  I called Molly in her hospital room and we talked for an hour. Molly had seen video from the funeral on the news. I told her about all the people who had come. Dad and I were to pick up Molly in two days, when she was scheduled to be released. I slept soundly as I thought of seeing her again.

  The next morning, I biked to Wiz’s house to return his GPS and night-vision goggles.

  “Check this out,” he said, leading me to his room.

  We walked in the door and I saw two tables and Wiz’s desk covered in computer parts.

  “Imagine, if you will,” he said, “a man shot twenty-five times, then having the man tell you the killer’s name before his heart stops. Only then can you understand the magnitude of what I’ve done.”

  He motioned to a table he’d set up next to Becky, his computer. The table was covered in wires, Wiz’s soldering iron, and three multi-meters, which were next to a beat-up metal box which must have come from Molly’s laptop.

  “I mean, look at this mess!” Wiz picked up the twisted empty shell that had been Molly’s laptop. “Any shop dealing with memory recovery would have taken one look at this and told you to go screw yourself.” He dropped the laptop shell in the wastebasket with a bang.

  “That’s why I didn’t bring it to any ordinary shop,” I said.

  “And you were right to bring it to me. I want to show you my masterpiece!” Wiz said, leading me to his desk.

  “This is Molly’s old hard drive.” A dented metallic box was connected to a rat’s nest of wires and connectors, which disappeared into a larger metallic box, which was connected to Becky.

  “I had to re-solder each connection, because look,” Wiz held up pieces of the old connector, “it’s completely smashed. It took me twenty-four hours of surgery to reconstruct this, and I still didn’t know if I was going to get it to fire up when I flipped the switch.” He pointed to the power supply on his table. “I gave up three times and then came back to it because I refuse to be bested by a piece of crap like this.” He chucked the pieces of the connector in the garbage.

  “So were you able to get any info off it?”

  “It took me forever, but I got it all. The rest of this laptop is completely screwed. So allow me to introduce you …” Wiz reached under his bed and pulled out a brand-new white laptop with subtle pink flowing veins that reminded me of a piece of marble, “to Aphrodite.”

  “Aphrodite?”

  “That’s right. Now why Aphrodite you may ask. Because this computer is just beautiful, and so is Molly.”

  He flipped it open.

  “She is going to love this,” I said.

  “This has ten times the performance and a hundred times the storage of the relic she was using. It’s got all the bells and whistles. She’s got a DVD burner, tons of RAM, and the biggest video card I could cram into the shell. This is like upgrading from a Model T to a Ferrari.”

  “This is great, but I don’t know if she’s going to be able to pay you for this.”

  “Molly’s money is no good at this shop! This one is courtesy of the slumlords.” Wiz smiled. “What they don’t know they’ve purchased won’t hurt them.”

  I knew Wiz’s parents would probably be mad when they found out, but I wasn’t going to turn Wiz down. “Molly is going to freak out,” I said. “Your timing is good. I haven’t told you she’s in the hospital.”

  “What? What happened?”

  I told him about the car accident but didn’t say anything about what she was doing in Boston. I told him Molly’s mom and her mom’s boyfriend died and that she was in the hospital.

  “I was wondering why I didn’t see her at the funeral,” Wiz said.

  “Dad and I are bringing her back tomorrow.”

  “She’s going to stay at your house?”

  “Temporarily, until they find her a foster home in the area. They’re working on it now.”

  “Either way, a foster home would be a lot better than living with Tony,” Wiz said.

  I looked at him. He seemed to realize what he’d just said. “What did you say? How do you know about Tony?” I asked.

  “Oh, um, well—.”

  “You’ve been reading her journal!”

  “Now hold on a minute. I had to make sure the files weren’t corrupted.”

  “How much of it did you read?”

  “Well ...”

  “How much?”

  “Okay, okay, I admit I read some of it.”

  “How much?”

  “Most of it.”

  “Wiz—.”

  “Now, hold on a minute—.”

  “You shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Before you get mad at me, let me ask you this. A tree didn’t really fall on this laptop, did it?”

  Wiz waited a moment for me to respond, then dug the frame out of his garbage can. He held it up. “This thing was hit in multiple places and, last time I checked, trees usually just fall once. This looks like it was attacked by a bat. Am I wrong?”

  I opened my mouth to lie, but nothing came out. I sighed. “No. You’re not wrong.”

  “Tony did this, didn’t he? Probably pissed off from all those pictures Molly took of those addicts coming to her house. Those were on her hard drive as well, plus she talked about taking the pictures in her journal.”

  “Wiz, Molly will love you the rest of her life for saving all of the info off her computer, but don’t say anything to her about this. Please let her tell you what happened if she wants to. As far as she knows, you don’t know anything about what’s in her journal.”

  “Fine,” Wiz said, and then he smiled at me. “You know, the last few entries mention you. I think she really likes you.”

  “Wiz, please stop. Those letters weren’t meant for us to read.”

  “I know, I know,” he said, holding up his hand. “That doesn’t change the fact that you’re big-time lucky.”

  * * *

  Dad and I arrived at Molly’s hospital room the next day just as Dr. Foster was telling her goodbye. Molly greeted me with a big hug. Molly wore new shorts and a shirt I guessed Heidi had gotten for her.

  “It’s so good to see you,” I said.

  “Thank you for the flowers,” she said.

  Dad winked at me while hugging Molly as he pointed to a bouquet near the window.

  “You’re welcome,” I said.

  The doctor shook Molly’s hand and wished her well. Dad excused himself, saying he’d be back in a minute, leaving Molly and me alone in the room.

  “I’ve got something for you that I know you’re going to like,” I said. “Have a seat.”

  Molly sat down while I took off my backpack.

  “Do you remember how I went to your house to get the penguin and the picture of you and your dad?”

  Molly nodded.

  I smiled, “That wasn’t all I took. I swiped your broken laptop, too. I took it to Wiz and he, being the genius he is, was able to get all the info off your hard drive and put it on this.” I pulled out the white and pink laptop and placed it in her lap. “This is for you. Wiz wanted you to have it.”

  “Oh, my God. Are you serious?” She ran her fingers over it. “This has all my letters to my dad?”

  “And everything else from your hard drive.”

  Molly stared at me with awe. “That laptop was so smashed. How did he do that?”

  I threw up my hands. “That’s why we call him Wiz.”

  She turned it
on and we saw Wiz had set the background to say, Aphrodite awaits your command … hurry up and get well soon!

  “Aphrodite?” Molly said, rolling her eyes at me.

  “It’s Wiz’s way of telling you you’re beautiful, and I couldn’t agree more.”

  Molly got up, put the laptop down, and threw her arms around me. “Thank you! Thank you so much! You’re amazing, you know that?”

  “And I’m lucky to have amazing friends, and I’m not just talking about Wiz,” I said.

  We sat down and I showed her where Wiz put her files and tried to remember all the features Wiz mentioned.

  Molly closed the laptop. “How are Amy and your mom doing?”

  “Mom is okay. She’s got all her sisters around helping, but Amy … isn’t doing so well.”

  “Have you talked to her? Did you apologize?”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  “Dylan,” Molly said, sounding disappointed.

  “There were too many people around. I’ll do it soon.”

  Molly looked at me. “You swear?”

  “I swear. If I can, I’ll do it tonight.”

  “She’s your sister. Talk to her. Even if she won’t talk to you, just talk to her.”

  “I need to do it, I know.” Molly was right. I’d waited way too long to try and talk to Amy. I promised myself I would do it as soon as possible.

  Dad reappeared at the door. “Are you two ready?”

  Molly and I spent the next two hours talking in the car while Dad drove. A foster family had agreed to take her when school started in about a month. In the meantime, I was excited she was coming home to stay with us.

  * * *

  After supper, Aunt Jackie stopped at our house. I didn’t feel like talking, so I stayed downstairs. Molly went to bed early, sleeping on the spare bed in Amy’s room. Awhile later, I was halfway up the stairs when I heard Mom and stopped. The desperation was clear in her voice and it sounded like she’d been crying. “All I know is that I’m not helping her. She won’t eat, she won’t sleep, she cries all the time. It’s getting worse.”

  “Amy needs time to heal,” Aunt Jackie said.

  “But she’s supposed to get better with time, not worse. I feel like she’s shutting down. I found her sleeping under her bed again this morning.”

  “You need to give her more time.”

  “Hannah is gone, Dylan barely talks to me, and Amy is slipping away.” Mom choked on her words as she continued. “I’m losing my children. I feel like the worst mother ever.”

  “Stop,” Jackie said. “You’re a good mother. You hang in there. You’re doing the right thing sending Amy to a counselor. Give it time.”

  I felt bad that Mom said I barely talked to her. It was true. I hadn’t gone out of my way to talk to her before I found Hannah. I thought she was still mad about me going out searching, and I didn’t want to talk about it. Now I realized it would help her if I made an effort.

  I thought about the man who kidnapped Hannah and how much damage he had done to my family. Hearing Mom’s pain made me want to find him and beat him to a pulp with my bat.

  I waited for Aunt Jackie to leave before I went upstairs. I could hear Mom in the kitchen. Dad was outside. I found Amy sitting on the floor of my parents’ bedroom with her back to me, playing with some dolls and holding one of Hannah’s stuffed bears.

  “Can I come in?” I asked.

  Amy glanced at me and then jumped on the bed. She lay facedown, covering her head with her hands as if the ceiling were collapsing.

  I sat down on the floor facing the bed with my back against the wall. She curled into a ball with her back to me.

  “Amy, I haven’t been a good brother to you. Not only did Hannah disappear, but I’ve been gone, too. You probably feel like you’ve lost both of us. I’m sorry I was gone for so long.”

  I stared at the floor.

  “Amy, that night … the night Hannah was taken, I yelled at you. I yelled at you, and I’m really sorry. That was wrong. I never should have done that to you. You were coming to me to tell me about what happened and I … I hope someday you can forgive me for yelling at you. You were just trying to do the right thing. You did do the right thing.”

  Amy rolled over to look at me.

  “I’m sorry,” I continued, looking at her. “Any time you want to talk to me, just come and find me and I’ll listen.”

  Amy turned her back and curled into a ball again. I took it as my cue to leave. “Anything you want to say, I’ll listen. I promise.”

  I climbed into my bed feeling empty again, wondering if Amy would ever forgive me. I had hoped for something more immediate. I knew Aunt Jackie was probably right. It would take time. I just wondered how much time.

  Molly had insisted I apologize, and I was happy I could tell her I did. Almost two months had gone by since Hannah disappeared, and I wondered if the person who’d suffered the most was Amy. After all, she’d been the one who’d seen the man with the gun.

  * * *

  Dad took Molly to Boston for the day to have a follow-up with Dr. Foster and then meet with Heidi, her social worker. I was in the kitchen as Amy ran by me, crying. I heard Mom in Amy’s room and walked to the door. Amy had emptied all of her dresser drawers onto the floor. Mom looked too exhausted to be mad as she picked up the clothes and put them back. I helped her. I found Amy hiding in the furnace room downstairs, and she ran by me again and went back upstairs to hide in her room.

  At lunch, Amy looked like a zombie. Mom begged her to eat, but she hardly touched her chicken tenders, which were her favorite food. Amy spent most of lunch in a daze, staring at the center of the table with a huge frown.

  I walked by Amy’s room an hour later. In the corner were two sheets she’d strung up, making a small fort. I saw the wooden jewelry box Molly had given her upside down on the floor. Bracelets and necklaces were scattered everywhere, mixed in with some of Amy’s toys. Her favorite dollhouse was flipped over and in a heap with some of her clothes. I had never known Amy to act like this. I knew she, like the rest of us, was still trying to make sense of what had happened and figured this was her way of acting out.

  At supper, Mom scolded her, telling her to eat something. Amy ran crying to her room. When we were done eating, I walked by Amy’s door and found her lying under her bed, sobbing. Mom saw me and came to look, too.

  “Oh, Amy,” Mom said, choking on her words as she walked into the room. She crouched next to the bed. “Amy, please come out of there,” she begged.

  “No!” Amy yelled.

  “Please, Amy. Please come out.”

  “Get away from me!” Amy shouted. She started bawling.

  Mom put her hand over her mouth. I followed her into the kitchen. She couldn’t hold back her tears anymore. She convulsed as she tried, but she could no longer fight it. She leaned on the wall for support with both hands covering her eyes.

  “I’m sorry, Mom,” I said. “I’m sorry I was gone so long.”

  We hugged as she cried. I let her take her time as she struggled to calm down.

  She let go and put her hands on my shoulders. “I’m sorry I yelled at you for wanting to search for Hannah. I know you had the best intentions.”

  “And I know it was hard for you to let me do it,” I said. “Thank you for letting me search for her.”

  “It must have been awful for you to find her like that.”

  I said nothing as I looked at the kitchen floor.

  “A small part of me wishes you’d never found her,” she said, wiping her eyes, “and I could still hope she’d walk through the front door someday, but we needed to know. It’s a good thing we know. Her suffering is over and she’s in a better place.”

  We hugged again.

  Later that night, I overheard Mom say, “What do we do?” to Dad. I listened as they discussed increasing the number of Amy’s counseling sessions. I knew she had met with a child counselor shortly after Hannah disappeared. I had no idea she’d been going once a
week.

  What I said to Amy replayed in my mind as I struggled to fall asleep. Anger grew inside me as I thought about the man who had taken Hannah and how devastating it had been to my family. I wanted him to suffer. I pictured myself chasing him through the woods with my bat. I gained on him, and when I finally overtook him, I swung my bat again and again.

  I tried to think of something else, but my mind wandered back to chasing Hannah’s killer. Eventually, I drifted off to sleep.

  * * *

  I woke up feeling the presence of someone in my room. Someone was whispering my name, and it sounded like Hannah. The clock read 12:14 a.m.

  “Dylan …”

  I sat up and saw Amy standing in my doorway. I leaned over and turned on my lamp. Amy turned away from the light, shielding her eyes. Her hair was matted and she wore the biggest frown I’d ever seen. Her eyes were red and sunken, like she’d cried herself dry. There was no doubt Amy was getting worse.

  “Dylan,” Amy said, half choking. “Dylan, I—.” Amy slumped onto the middle of the floor and buried her head in her arms.

  She was a shivering mess as I picked her up. Her whole body was cold and her nose was running. She took quick short breaths. I wrapped my arms around her. “I’ve got you. No one is going to hurt you,” I said, over and over again.

  We sat on my bed and she put her arms around my neck and sniffled. She held me like she was hanging on for her life.

  “I’ve got you,” I said again and again as I held her.

  Amy sounded like she was having trouble breathing. “I miss Hannah so much.”

  “Me, too,” I said.

  “I don’t want to hurt anymore.”

  “I know.”

  Amy squeezed me and whispered. “I have to tell you something.”

  “What is it?”

  “Promise, promise you won’t be mad at me?”

  “I won’t be mad.”

  Amy looked me in the eye. “You have to promise me.”

  I nodded as I said, “I promise I won’t be mad.”

  Amy let go of me, flopped down on the bed, and buried her head into my pillow. Her little hands closed in around her face as she sobbed.

  “Hey, hey … It’s okay.” I stroked the back of her head. “I’m right here. I’ve got you.”