That was part of what made it hurt.
He remembered Rachel dancing while making pancakes.
He remembered her singing badly to old rock songs in the car.
He remembered Saturday mornings at the library.
He remembered her laughing.
Then his father disappeared.
Not died.
Not divorced.
Disappeared.
A suitcase gone.
Clothes gone.
Phone disconnected.
Three weeks later, a letter arrived from Nevada.
Rachel read it once.
Then again.
Then locked herself in the bedroom.
Something in her never completely came back out.
For a while she still went to work.
Then she started missing shifts.
Then jobs.
Then rent payments.
Then entire days.
By the time Daisy was two, Eli had become the person who knew where the cereal was.
He knew how to change diapers.
He knew which cartoon stopped Daisy from crying.
He knew how to sign Rachel's name on school permission slips well enough that nobody asked questions.
He knew that if he saved half his school lunch, Daisy could eat it later.
He knew exactly how long a three-year-old could survive on crackers, peanut butter, and applesauce before she began asking why there wasn't real dinner.
And he knew how to lie.
Mom's sleeping.
Mom's working.
Mom will be back soon.
Everything's fine.
Everything was not fine.
That morning, the landlord finally called the county.
At 1:17 p.m., someone knocked.
Eli knew immediately.
Adults with good news did not knock like that.
He opened the door only halfway.
A woman stood outside holding a folder.
“Hi. Are you Elijah Mercer?”
“Eli.”
“I'm Dana Whitmore. I'm with Briar County Family Services.”
His stomach dropped.
“Is your mother home?”
“She works.”
It was automatic.
Dana looked at him.
“Eli.”
He hated the kindness in her voice.
Kindness meant she already knew.
The landlord appeared behind her.
“Kid, I used my key earlier.”
Eli stared at him.
“You went inside?”
“I had to.”
“That's our apartment.”
“I know.”
Dana stepped forward.
“When did you last see your mother?”
Eli said nothing.
“Eli?”
Yesterday?
Two days?
He wasn't certain anymore.
“Last night.”
It was a lie.
Dana knew.
She entered.
The refrigerator told the truth for him.
Half a bottle of ketchup.
Three slices of bread.
A carton of milk four days past its date.
Two cheese sticks Eli had been saving for Daisy.
Dana opened a cupboard.
Nothing.
Then she found Daisy asleep beneath a blanket in the bedroom.
When Daisy woke and saw the stranger, she screamed for Eli.
He ran to her.
Dana stood in the doorway.
Something changed in her expression when Daisy immediately climbed into Eli's arms.
“How long have you been taking care of her?”
Eli glared at her.
“My mom takes care of us.”
“Eli.”
“She does.”
“Where is she?”
“I don't know.”
There.
The truth.
Once spoken, it could not be put back.
Dana stepped into the hallway and made a call.
Eli listened from the bedroom.
“Yes, two minors.”
Pause.
“No guardian currently present.”
Pause.
“Yes, emergency placement.”
Those words froze him.
Placement.
He had heard that word before.
A boy named Tyler in his class had gone into “placement” the previous year.
Tyler came back three months later quieter than before.
His little brother hadn't come back with him.
Eli held Daisy tighter.
Dana continued speaking.
“No, I don't know if we have a sibling placement available tonight.”
Sibling placement.
His heart began pounding.
When Dana stepped outside the apartment to speak privately with someone, Eli moved.
He did not plan.
Planning was a luxury.
He grabbed Daisy's coat.
The cleanest blanket.
His backpack.
Three diapers left from an emergency pack.
A bottle of water.
And fourteen dollars from the coffee tin above the refrigerator.
Then he took his sister and walked down the fire stairs.
By the time Dana realized they were gone, Eli was six blocks away.
By the time the sheriff's office received the missing-child notification, the storm had begun.
And now, hours later, Eli stood beneath a broken streetlight staring across a flooded intersection at an old brick building near the railroad yard.
Above the entrance hung a wooden sign.
A black iron mountain.
A motorcycle wheel.
And three words:
IRON VALE RIDERS.
Eli stopped.
Daisy looked up.
“Is that home?”
“No.”