Disclaimer: see pt 1
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As she was packing to go to New York, she explained to me what she was expecting.
"This little boy, Luke, disappeared," she told me. "He'd been riding his bike and then vanished. They think this might be cultist work..but I don't think so, Bear. Something tells me it's something else entirely." I told her to trust her instincts. "I will," she said and put me into her carryon.
I was left in her hotel room for the duration of the trip. It saddened me, the first time she stopped carrying me around with her. I know that when a child grows up, she'll stop carrying her toys with her, but it still hurts. I'm happy I get to live on her bed still.
During this case, Monnie changed. She'd come back from searching, shoulders hunched, withdrawn and sad. Where was my smiling, happy, bouncy Monnie? Who was this person who holds me at night and cries into my fur?
"It's so horrible," she sobbed. "Why would anyone take a little boy? Oh, God, Bear..His poor parents. John is..I don't think he'll get through this if I don't find Luke."
You'll find him, I told her confidently. You'll find him and he'll be fine. He's probably somewhere, waiting to go home to his Bear.
She laughs a little and falls asleep.
Unfortunately, what I'd said to make her feel better didn't come true. Luke was dead, his parents divorced, and Monnie was devastated. I was crushed against her while she cried after she told John the news. I tried to comfort her, but she was having none of it. They buried Luke soon after.
Then she found out the truth about Brad. He was apparently buying someone off. Monnie didn't want any part of that, so we headed to New Orleans.
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As she was packing to go to New York, she explained to me what she was expecting.
"This little boy, Luke, disappeared," she told me. "He'd been riding his bike and then vanished. They think this might be cultist work..but I don't think so, Bear. Something tells me it's something else entirely." I told her to trust her instincts. "I will," she said and put me into her carryon.
I was left in her hotel room for the duration of the trip. It saddened me, the first time she stopped carrying me around with her. I know that when a child grows up, she'll stop carrying her toys with her, but it still hurts. I'm happy I get to live on her bed still.
During this case, Monnie changed. She'd come back from searching, shoulders hunched, withdrawn and sad. Where was my smiling, happy, bouncy Monnie? Who was this person who holds me at night and cries into my fur?
"It's so horrible," she sobbed. "Why would anyone take a little boy? Oh, God, Bear..His poor parents. John is..I don't think he'll get through this if I don't find Luke."
You'll find him, I told her confidently. You'll find him and he'll be fine. He's probably somewhere, waiting to go home to his Bear.
She laughs a little and falls asleep.
Unfortunately, what I'd said to make her feel better didn't come true. Luke was dead, his parents divorced, and Monnie was devastated. I was crushed against her while she cried after she told John the news. I tried to comfort her, but she was having none of it. They buried Luke soon after.
Then she found out the truth about Brad. He was apparently buying someone off. Monnie didn't want any part of that, so we headed to New Orleans.