Undeliverable (31 page)

B
en sat at his desk and stared at the computer screen, where his cursor blinked idly in the field for the sender’s post office, but he couldn’t remember what he was going to write. His fingers caressed the number pad on his keyboard, but he had to look at the claim tag four times to ensure the ID was correct. Sylvia was supposed to be back today, and he was too distracted to think straight. Sylvia had been gone for three weeks, overseeing the installation of her art at the friend’s gallery and then had a fancy opening and stayed a week longer than she had planned due to the amount of investors who wanted to haggle with her personally over her paintings.

He had missed her more than he thought he would, her smile and laughter. The days at the warehouse went much more slowly and he found himself tempted by the liquor store and his piles of information without her strength beside him. But he had promised her that he would take a break while she was gone, so she wouldn’t have to worry about him.

The door to his warehouse swung open unceremoniously and the cart’s clatter preceded Sylvia into the room. As she swung into sight with an overly laden cart, Ben stood hastily from his desk and strode to the middle aisle. She glanced up at him and then away, shuffling her feet as she was forced to stop the cart.

“Well?” Ben stood with his arms crossed. He wanted to gather her up in those arms, smelling the sweet rosemary shampoo she had started using, feel her unnaturally strong arms squeezing back, but he wasn’t sure how things were going to be between them now, and what exactly she wanted from him.

“Well, what?” She still didn’t look up at him and he sighed.

“Well, you’re back from New York, and all I get is a ‘well, what?’”

She grinned sideways at him from under her newsboy cap. “It’s good to be back, Ben, really. Good to see you.” She pushed the cart aside and gave him a brisk, hard hug. She let go too quickly for him to return it and turned to her cart.

“I brought you something, anyway, thought you’d like it.” She turned back around, and she had the canvas of his son in her arms. “I refused to let the gallery keep it, didn’t want to sell it anyway. I think it belongs here, don’t you?”

Ben’s chest tightened briefly at the site of his son’s grown face, but he wasn’t swamped with the guilt and anguish he had been four weeks ago. “Absolutely.” His hand brushed hers and lingered for a moment before letting her relinquish the collage. He turned back to his cubicle and pulled a stack of missing flyers off the top shelf of his industrial shelving unit and placed Benny there instead, nudging it this way and that to make sure it was centered.

“Perfect.” Sylvia wormed under Ben’s arm and stood, her arm around his waist.

Ben smiled, gratified at her touch. He rubbed Sylvia’s arm, turned her back to her cart, and let her go, for now. The painting had told him all he needed to know. “So, what little treasures did you find for me today?”

Your purchase of this novel helps to support the National Center for Missing & Exploited Children (NCMEC). The purpose of the Center is to help find missing children, end child sexual exploitation, educate children and communities about child safety and prevention, train law enforcement in dealing with these kinds of cases, and provide support to the victims and families of victims of these horrifying crimes.

The facts as of the last comprehensive survey:

• In 1999, approximately 800,000 children younger than 18 were reported missing.
  
• More than 200,000 children were abducted by family members and more than 58,000 children were abducted by nonfamily members. The rest of the missing children were either runaways or no one ever found out what happened to them.
  
• An estimated 115 children were the victims of “stereotypical” kidnapping. These “stereotypical” kidnappings involved someone the child did not know or was just an acquaintance. The child was either held overnight, transported 50 miles or more, killed, ransomed, or held with the intent to keep the child permanently.
  
• The NCMEC has assisted law enforcement in the recovery of more than 183,000 missing children since it was founded in 1984. Their recovery rate for missing children has grown from 62 percent in 1990 to 97 percent today.
  
• The AMBER Alert program was created in 1996 and is operated by the U.S. Department of Justice. As of April 17, 2013, a total of 642 children have been successfully recovered as a result of the program.
  
• As of December 2012, NCMEC’s toll free, 24 hour call center has received more than 3,716,044 calls since it was created in 1984. Information about missing or exploited children can be reported to the call center by calling 1-800-THE-LOST (1-800-843-5678).
  

If you want to learn more or donate to help the Center’s efforts, please visit
http://www.missingkids.com/

Writing is not near the solitary sport that society would lead you to believe. We rely on a lot of people to make our work the very best it can be before we hand it over to our readers, and I am no exception.

The first person I need to thank is Steve Yarbrough for guiding me through the first draft of Undeliverable as my MFA thesis at Emerson College and Pablo Medina for offering advice on where to take the second draft.

The design of the book wouldn’t be nearly as awesome without Rebecca Saraceno’s help during her Book Design course.

I owe many thanks to J.D. Panzer for tirelessly fielding rhetorical questions and reading more than a few drafts.

Michael Strelow, Scott Nadelson, Russell Rice, and Dave Hansen molded the young student I was into a woman who believed in herself as a writer.

My family is amazing and supportive, and I have to thank them for not telling me I was crazy when I told them I wanted to be a writer instead of doing something with a guaranteed salary.

I would have given up long ago on this manuscript without my readers, Sara DiBari, Karen Shaner, Amy Lewis, Kelly Kamp, Zac Bentley, Lesley Moussette, Erik Fogg, Peter Ireland, Claire Shulz Ivett, Jessica Colund, and Byron Hadley.

Then there is Tom at my local post office and his endless patience for my enormous stacks of books to mail.

And, finally, many thanks to all the rest of my friends, too numerous to mention, who never once asked me to stop talking about my writing, and the Indiegogo supporters, named and unnamed, for taking a chance on me and helping to make this book a reality.

Special thanks goes out to all my Indiegogo supporters that donated at the “Reader” level and above. You guys made this book possible.