Ellie standing against the window.
Her small palm pressing against the glass.
Her lips moving urgently.
I’d been convinced she was pleading for me to rescue her from Frank.
But she’d actually been trying to warn me.
“I couldn’t understand you, sweetheart.”
“I know.”
“I really wish I could have.”
She buried her face against my shoulder.
We stayed together like that for quite a while.
Eventually, Ellie leaned back.
“Mom?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Was Mr. Frank upset with me?”
“No.”
“He sounded really loud.”
“I know.”
“He doesn’t usually speak that loudly.”
I remembered what I’d watched in the recording.
How calmly Frank had spoken to the stranger on Oak Street.
How quickly he’d stood when the man appeared again.
“He was frigh.ten.ed,” I explained.
Ellie looked puzzled.
“Adults get frightened?”
“All the time.”
“Even people who drive buses?”
“Even school bus drivers.”
