Page 3 of Bring Them Home

She pocketed her phone and radioed dispatch.

TWO

Amanda set out the bowls of cheese, pepperoni, mushrooms, peppers, bacon pieces, and pineapple on the counter just as the timer on the oven beeped. She put on mitts and removed the crust. Precooking it was something she did to avoid it coming out with a soggy bottom. She preferred it crispy by the time it was ready to eat. She set it on the counter on top of a trivet and called out, “Time for toppings.” It was Pizza Tuesday, what other people in North America coined Taco Tuesday, but Amanda wasn’t one for conformity.

Zoe, her ten-year-old, came bounding into the kitchen. “Yesssss.”

“You sound like a snake, hisssss,” Amanda teased, and Zoe rolled her eyes.

It was one thing to accept Zoe was “too old” to be read to sleep, but now she was acting like a teenager with her eye rolls and headshaking. Both of which were becoming more common by the day. Amanda remembered taking some attitude with her mother at Zoe’s age, but that was a long time ago. Longer than Amanda cared to admit, especially after turning forty this year. How the hell did that happen so fast?

Zoe climbed up on a stool at the peninsula to reach everything.

“Remember the pan is hot,” Amanda cautioned her as she brushed on some tomato sauce.

“I know. You tell me every week.” Zoe grabbed a palmful of cheese and sprinkled it over the dough. Or her version of sprinkle. Much of it landed in globs.

Amanda followed and laid out slices of pepperoni. When Zoe finished with the cheese, meaning the bowl was empty, she doled out pieces of bacon. Amanda picked up the mushrooms, and Zoe shook her head and pulled a face.

“I thought you liked mushrooms,” Amanda said.

“Not today.”

“Okay. What about pineapple?”

Zoe nodded.

“Here.” Amanda held the bowl toward the girl, and she distributed some and wiped her hands together.

“Ick. Now they’re sticky.”

Amanda set the bowl back on the counter and handed Zoe a damp cloth for her hands.

“That’s better.” Zoe got off the stool and returned to the living room to resume watching The Baby-Sitters Club.

Amanda limited Zoe’s TV viewing but didn’t think a bit before dinner hurt. As it was, they were running behind tonight, so the schedule was messed up. She’d encourage Zoe to play outside after eating. Though eating out there would be nice too. It was a pleasant evening—not too hot and humid like the start of the summer had been.

She put the pizza in the oven, set the timer, and stepped through the slider doors off the kitchen to the patio with a damp cloth. As she wiped down the table and chairs, it didn’t seem long before the oven timer beeped.

Amanda returned inside and found Zoe in the kitchen. Poor girl was starving waiting until seven to eat. It didn’t help that the pizza smelled heavenly. When she took it out, it looked heavenly too. The cheese was bubbling and golden like the crust.

“I want a huge piece,” Zoe said.

“You’ll get it in a minute. You know the drill. It needs to cool for a beat.”

Zoe’s shoulders sagged. “Oh, just once.”

“You’ll be eating in no time, and I thought we could eat outside.”

“Sure.”

“How is school going, kiddo?” It was the second day back in a new school year, and yesterday Zoe had parted with one adjective. Good… Amanda tried to get her to open up, but it was like trying to pry a lid on a can without the proper tool. Amanda could get confessions from killers as a homicide detective with the Prince William County PD more easily.

Zoe shrugged. “It’s all right.”

“What’s going on?”

“It’s just that Mr. Archer never came back.”