Part V
Jim's POV

I hang up the phone with Nancy and rustle Kyle out of bed. He is obedient, with only the mildest of protests. He hates it when I am called away from him to perform my duties as Sheriff, but sometimes he understands the urgency and does not put up a fuss.

I rarely tell him more than he needs to know. Worry over me and what the future was for a lawman's wife drove Michelle away. She hated me for being unable to give up this job. I would get furious with her for not understanding that I needed to help people, needed to protect this town.

She would throw my father in my face, taunting. She told me I was doomed to his fate unless I left town, left with her and Kyle and built a new life far away from here. She wanted to live near the ocean.

She wanted a cottage by the sea with a little garden and white picket fence. The desert and our trailer were a far cry from Michelle's little girl dreams. SO one day, when Kyle was six she walked away from him and me. She hasn't come back yet, and it's been four years.

I carry my son out to our truck, and check that his seat belt is fastened. He fiddles with the restraint minutely and asks why I have to go.

I sigh. "There's a little girl out there, and she's only your age. She's lost and probably hungry and she needs a family."

"Doesn't she have one?"

"No." I tell him.

He settles moodily into staring out the window. "I still don't see why I have to go to Depuca's." He grumbles.

I frown at his molestation of Amy and Maria's name. "Amy's a nice lady." I say.

"Yeah, Mrs. Deluca's nice." He agrees. "But that stupid dorkbrain girl…"

I try not to laugh. Dorkbrain? That's original. "What's wrong with Maria?" I ask.

"Do you remember kindergarten?" He asks mournfully.

It's another battle not to laugh. On the first day of kindergarten Maria Deluca, who is as much of a spitfire as her mother, painted my son Kyle purple. He retaliated by drowning her Carebear in the sink. I remember the parent teacher conference vividly. Amy was furious—how could I allow such a ruffian to pick on her sweet, totally innocent and angelic Maria?

All I had to say in Kyle's defense was that he hadn't tried to drown Maria, and at least he'd put the poor toy in the sink—he could've used the toilet.

The teacher, poor woman, was in her first year. She was fresh out of college and full of idealistic and naïve illusions. Illusions my son and Amy's daughter cured her of as rapidly as possible. By Christmas in that first year, the teachers had started a betting pool—which one of them would set the school on fire before graduating it in fifth grade?

But four years later Michael Guerin entered the school and he pulled my son straight out of the running for troublemaker. He and Maria began competing, until the Evans girl stepped in. I remember that just about everyone had thrown up their hands and was ready to send him to a school for problem children. We were in that final conference, with me there as Sheriff to give a professional opinion on juvenile delinquents.

Maria was sitting like a little lady, and Amy looked like she just wanted to die. I could tell she was questioning her skills as a single parent—she was still, IS still so young. Michael had to be called out of class, and when he came, the Evans girl, Isabel, was holding his hand. She dropped it when he came in, but somehow or another she weaseled her way in to staying.

Michael apologized for any trouble he had caused in a charming little speech. I could see one of the teachers(The one who had him that first year) trembling. Rumor had it that the Guerin boy had pushed him to the edge of a nervous breakdown, but I never believed that. Well, that Michael caused it at least.

Michael seemed so genuine, so in need. I couldn't see him sent to one of those 'special' schools. Necessary as they are, I knew what would become of him there. And I couldn't see it happen to that special little boy. Evidently the principal had come to the same decision. Michael stayed at Roswell Elementary to pull Maria's curls another day. But I've never forgotten the way that little Evans girl held his hand with such complete trust, such faith. They fit together, and I couldn't understand how. The rebel, the trouble maker, the foster kid and the princess, the well-behaved, the lawyer's daughter…

By the time I had mused all of this I had left Kyle in Amy's capable hands, praying that Roswell survived an entire day of Kyle and Maria together. Though neither will admit it, they love being around each other, making messes and laughing at the results.

I got to the station to get a full report on the man who'd been traveling with the girl, Tess, who had run away. The man had refused to answer any questions, and somehow during the night he'd gotten out of his cell. I was furious, and needless to say worried. How did he get out? Could anyone else do the same? What steps were being taken to prevent it from happening again? Had anyone else gotten out?

The deputies were pretty stunned about the whole thing, so after berating the lot of them I got a search for the little girl organized. We were all ready to hit the major spots a scared runaway ten-year-old kid would head for. I set one up with a phone and the number for Human Services foster care division. I figure it was punishment enough to sit behind a desk trading 'pleasantries' with a pencil pushing bureaucrat while everyone else on the force is out there doing something, well, useful.

I drove by the Crashdown to let Nancy know. She hadn't come down yet, but Jeff gave me a cup of coffee on the house. He was somewhat gruffer than usual, but then from what Nan said earlier they'd had a little squabble. I hoped it wasn't anything serious, after all though I dated Nan and loved her dearly that was way back when. I only want the best for her and Jeff and their precocious little Liz. Liz is the same age as Kyle, Maria, Michael, Isabel, and even the little one we're searching for now, Tess.

The manhunt was going about the way I'd expected—there's a lot of places for a kid that small to hide, particularly one that doesn't trust adults, men particularly, and one who doesn't want to be found.

We checked the school thoroughly, we went over the playground with a fine tooth comb. McDonalds was searched, as was Burger King. We gave the Crashdown a cursory examination, and the UFO museum. We glanced in shops. We examined the parks, and we searched the restaurants. I just had a hunch that the girl would be hungry, and what child can resist the siren song of food?

We worked all through the day and half the night before the child let us find her. I'll never know exactly why she let us find her. Her hiding place was secure and she'd probably never seen or felt an ounce of human kindness or love. I know she couldn't have trusted us, but when we got to the library and started searching through the stacks of books she nearly threw herself at us.

We brought her back to the station. It was late at night, and she was only wearing jeans and a T-shirt. I imagine she was freezing, but she didn't show it at all. When I asked her if she wanted to wear my jacket she said she'd been colder and she wasn't some weak little girl. She undermined her own argument by shivering almost uncontrollably, but I let her have her pride. The only thing I did was turn up the heat another couple notches until I was broiling and she looked comfortable.

At the station, some kind citizen had heard about the search for the missing girl and set us up with hot chocolate and coffee. I snagged two donuts, one for me, one for her and brought back two hot chocolates. I sat down, and started, very informally, asking her a few questions.

She didn't have parents that she remembered. She said, "There was a crash. I fell asleep, and when I woke up everyone was gone. It was just me. So I went to sleep again. And later I woke up and he was waiting for me. He said, "Child, get up. It's late already and it is time to go."

I ask her, "What did you do?"

"I got up and I followed him." She says, as if I am a dullard. "What else could I do? I was all alone—they left me all alone."

I ache for this child, who has lost. "How long were you with him?"

"I don't know." She says dully. "A long time. He taught me how to hide. We are always running and hiding. He calls it 'escape and evade' and we will do it until we find the others who survived the crash." She says it indifferently, sipping her chocolate. "He said that when we find the others we'll be able to go to his home planet. He said that there I am a queen."

I feel a throb of hot anger. This psycho could've done God knew what to this child and no one would know. I ask if she is all right.

She nods gravely. "Yes thank you."

I feel ridiculous. How can this child be okay? At the very least she's suffered a lot of damage. I wonder what the Human Services people will say when they start to talk to her. I ask, gently, why she ran away from the Crashdown.

She blinks large eyes at me. "They didn't want me for real. Not for long, not as a family. I don't have a family, and the girl said I couldn't have hers." She explains slowly, as if I am a slightly backward child.

I call out for Hansen. He comes right over. Powdered sugar is all over his shirt front, and he clowns around some, trying to win a smile from the child. She watches the spectacle the way Michelle watched the rodeo—with grim fascination and some level of horror tempered by slight amusement and tainted by consternation.

I order him to call Human Services in the morning and tell them we found Tess, and that I'm bringing her home with me for tonight. She's had enough to upset her. I also tell him to tell them to contact me about adoption—I want this girl to be a part of my family.

Hansen shrugs, but the little girl flushes.

"I have a family somewhere. And someday they'll find me, ore I'll find them." She protests. "I don't need you to feel sorry for me."

"All right." I soothe. "Just stay with me for a little while. Till they come."

She is unconvinced.

"It'll be better than an orphanage or foster care." I tell her. 'I promise three meals a day and a bed to sleep in at night."

"As long as when my family finds me you'll let me go."

"If I'm sure they're really your family." I bargain. I know that I am walking a dangerous wire. The psycho who she got away from last night was probably a member of some fanatic religious cult. I can only hope that a member of the cult doesn't come to lure her away. I'm already thinking of her as part of the family that I've tried to build with Kyle in the years since Michelle left.

She holds out her hand. "Deal."

We shake on it, and she turns to Hansen. "You saw. We made a deal. If he tries to break it, you remind him that we made a deal."

Hansen nods. "Surely little lady." He winks at me, and I can see that she is getting angry. "Oh, so I have it for the forms, what's your full name?" He turns to her.

She looks at him in surprise. "Full name? I'm just Tess."

Hansen sighs. "All right, Just Tess, we'll find a last name for you in the morning. I think it's time that you were in bed."

I scoop her up, amazed at how light she is. She doesn't look like she could weigh much, but holding her is the same weight as holding a kitten or a puppy. I carry her to my truck and strap her in. I pick up Kyle on the way and drive home with two sleeping ten-year-olds. Are they in for a surprise tomorrow morning.