The thermostat on the wall says it’s sixty-eight degrees in the apartment, yet I’m shivering. Moses hands me a hot cup of tea, so I free my arm from the sherpa blanket I’m bundled in and take it from him.

“Thank you.”

“Are you ok?” He squats and presses his fingers to my wrist.

“What are you doing?”

“Just checking your pulse. I’m worried you’ll faint or vomit again.”

“I don’t think there’s anything left to puke.”

“Do you feel dizzy at all?” He presses his hand to my forehead.

“I’m fine. You don’t have to fuss over me.”

“Valerie, of course, I do. What kind of nurse would I be if I didn’t?”

“Oh, God,” Julian huffs from the kitchen. “You guys aren’t going to start some sexy medical role-play. Because I’ll see myself out.”

“Julian!” I snap.

“Tough crowd.” He shrugs. “But on a more serious note, I’m sorry the Youtube made you barf, but you needed to see it.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.”

“No, I didn’t.” I skyrocket from the couch, and the blanket falls. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with this information!”

“Holy fuck…” Julian’s eyes widen. “Did you really just say fuck? You never say fuck.”

“Julian! Focus, please.”

“Seriously,” he directs at Moses. “She never says that word.”

“See. This is why we argued last night. Because you don’t know when to stop.” 

“Listen, you needed to see the YouTube so we can start finding out the truth.”

“No.” 

“No?”

“This isn’t a game. This is my life.” I swing around and point at the laptop. “And that is a can of worms.”

“Yeah, and don’t you want to know if your dad is really your dad?”

“Stop.” I wave my hands, and my bottom lip starts quivering. “He is my dad.”

“Val…” Julian approaches with baby steps, his hand up in prayer. “I know you know, deep down, this is no longer just coincidence. I know I’m being super calm right now, but I’m worried. If your dad did kidnap you—”

“Stop.” I cover my ears, but he ignores it.

“If he kidnapped you, you’re not safe anywhere near him.”

“How dare you!” I jab my finger at him. “He’s my dad. He would never hurt me.”

“Val—”

“No! You need to stop.”

“Listen,” Moses clears his throat, and I almost forgot he was standing next to me. “This is heavy. Valerie is upset, and you’re upset, so why don’t we all take a step back and drink some tea?”

“I know we just met last night, but even you gotta admit I’m right,” Julian says.

“No, I’m more concerned with Valerie’s mental state.”

“Val,” Julian pivots to address me and only me. “You are the one who said it’s been bothering you how there are zero pictures from childhood. Doesn’t it seem a little convenient it all burned in the fire? Hell, even the fire feels convenient now that I think about it.”

“Julian.” I flex my fists at my sides. “It was an accident. Why would my dad want to destroy our memories? What would be the point?”

“To cover his tracks. You guys moved around a lot before I met you.”

“For his work!” I throw my hands in the air. “You know how construction is. You gotta follow the work.”

“Unless he did it to cover his tracks. But you know what’s really bugging me? How your overprotective father suddenly encourages you to live on your own while he moves to a town four hours away. Doesn’t that seem odd?”

“No. I’m twenty-four years old, and he just wants me to be independent!”

“But didn’t you say how when you visited him, his place had new decorations?”

“Yeah, so?”

“You said it had a woman’s touch.” 

“So what? My dad would tell me if he had a girlfriend.”

“Would he? Because I can’t recall the man ever going on a date. He was always too far up your ass to let you breathe, with all his damn rules.”

“You need to stop,” I warn him and begin walking my cold mug of tea to the sink. But he follows me.

“And let’s not forget how he always acted anytime a guy glanced in your direction. Like some jealous boyfriend!”

“I told you to stop!” I throw the mug into the sink, and ceramic shards go everywhere. 

He falls silent as I grip the counter with my back to him. Closing my eyes, I take a few deep breaths. I don’t particularly appreciate where he’s going with this. Julian is lucky to have two living parents in a healthy marriage, so he doesn’t understand my relationship with my dad. He never will.

There’s a hand gently pressing against my back, and I don’t have to look to know it’s Moses. My body eases into him.

“I think you need a break,” he says and wipes the tear trickling down my cheek. “You’re shivering.”

“You should leave,” I say over my shoulder to Julian.

“Val, come on. I’m just looking out for you.”

“By insinuating my dad is some sort of pedophile!?” I spin to face him and angrily swipe away the tears on my chin. “How dare you. He would never touch me or hurt me or whatever disgusting thing you’re thinking in your sick head. Now please, leave.”

“Ok, maybe I’m out of line for that, but all of this is still beyond coincidence at this point. You gotta admit that.”

“No, I don’t.”

“I think it’s time to leave, buddy,” Moses says to Julian, and he shields me with his body. “Valerie needs a break.”

“Fine,” he says through clenched teeth. “I’ll give her space, but she’s my best friend, my family, and this is freaking me out just as much as it is her.”

“Noted.”

“And for the record, you’re new here. Don’t ever step between Val and me again.”

The door kuh-thunks with Julian’s exits, and I flinch, but Moses is there with his arms engulfing me. 

“He’s being such an asshole,” I say through a cry. “My dad would never put his hands on me.”

“I think Julian is just worried, but he’s going about it the wrong way.” Moses takes my hand and steers me towards the bedroom. “You should lie down.”

Only twenty-four hours have passed since we first spoke in the basement, yet here we are with my heart completely trusting his through interlaced fingers. He guides me to the bed and fluffs the pillows before I ease down.

“Would you like more tea?”

“No, but spooning would be nice.”

He runs his hand through his ash blonde hair with a crooked smile accentuating the dimple.

“Scooch over.”

So I do, and he slides in behind me with his arms wrapping me right. I close my eyes when he kisses the back of my head, and it feels safe like this. Only one other person has ever made me feel safe from the world—my dad.

We fall asleep, but despite being swathed in Moses’s arms, he can’t protect me from dreams. 

∆∆∆

When I wake up kicking and screaming, the shadow vanishes from the room, and the light flicks on as Moses rushes up to me.

“Hey, you’re ok,” he says as I bolt upright. 

“How long was I asleep?” 

“We dozed off for a good while. It’s almost six.”

“Six!”

“Yep. I blame my epic cuddling.” He crouches in front of the bed and smooths the sweaty curls away from my forehead. “Having a bad dream, huh?”

My eyes search his as I debate whether or not to tell him about it, so I inhale deeply, and upon release, I allow the words to flow off my tongue. Once I start, I don’t stop, and Moses listens while stroking my knee with his thumb. When I’m done, he sits back on the carpet and runs his fingers through his hair while blowing a long breath. Meanwhile, my heart is a thunderstorm. 

“So this shadow,” Moses pauses and begins nodding with a faraway stare as if he’s still processing. “It comes in on a breeze, always smells like pine, and it kidnaps you in the middle of the night?”

“Yes.”

“And it says, I’m taking you home, little one.”

“Yes.”

“What if…” he pauses again, then leans forward and takes my hands in his. “What if this isn’t a dream but a memory?”

“It’s not.” My spine tenses.

“But what if? Please don’t get upset, but I did a little Googling while you were asleep.”

“Why?” I retract from him.

“Because I want to help you in whatever form that entails.”

Folding my arms, I raise my chin and look down my nose at him. “And what did you find?”

 “I’ll show you.”

We walk through the hallway where TV light from the living room flashes against the photos hanging on the wall. It’s like a tunnel of memories staring back at me, but they’re all from recent years. Then, I halt.

“What’s wrong?” Moses looks back at me.

“Nothing.” I shake my head and keep walking, but my heart thrashes again. 

In one of the photos, my father has a goatee and some scruff. He usually wears a clean shave, and when I snapped the image, I thought he looked handsome and proud in his tool belt while leaning over a table saw.  This time, however, it’s not admiration I’m feeling as my abdomen clenches.

The shadow has an itchy face full of scruff. 

As we head into the living room, I can’t help but brush my cheek where the phantom feel of the shadow remains. 

The laptop is open on the coffee table as we sit on the couch, and Moses dives right into showing me what he’s found.

For weeks, rangers and volunteers searched for Valentina, but while the Moreno family languished over her disappearance, the media began digging their fangs. A nasty narrative spread on news outlets and talk shows about foul play from Javier and Amelia. They were accused of not looking sad enough during interviews and ridiculed when Javier had to fly back to Mexico to take care of matters at work.

“People were coming up with murder and cover-up scenarios,” Moses explained. “But others started theorizing connections to another child abduction near the area.”

“Which one?”

“Well, in 1991, a little girl named Jaycee Lee Dugard was kidnapped in Lake Tahoe at a bus stop. So there was speculation of a serial kidnapper and theories that whoever took her also took you.”

I tense at his last words, and Moses’s eyes widen, followed by a slew of apologies. But it’s too late. The comment is out there, floating in the atmosphere like dandelion seeds. 

“I need water.” I touch my throat as bile crawls up.

“I’ll get it for you.” 

As Moses hurries over to the kitchen, I stare at my cell phone on the coffee table. I need my dad. I need for this Valentina stuff to be a bad dream. It only takes two rings before I hear the deep, scratchy voice on the other end.

“Hey, baby girl.”

“Hey, dad.” 

“Are you ok? You sound like you’ve been crying.”

“I’m fine. Just miss you.”

“Aw, I miss you too, baby girl.”

“I want to drive up again. Would that be ok?”

“I’d love that, but things have been hectic, so I have to work overtime this weekend.”

“Oh…”

“Are you sure everything is ok?”

“Yeah. Just homesick, I guess, and you’re my home.”

“You’re mine too,” he replies, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “I hate to cut this short, but I’m about to burn dinner. Love you!”

The line goes dead, yet I continue sitting there with the phone pressed to my ear. I was hoping his voice would smother the doubts blazing in my mind.

Except, I feel hollow.