We Find What Is Lost: A Novel of the Terribly Acronymed Detective Club (Book 1)

Chapter Forty-Two: Rachel, Summer, 1979

It amazed Rachel that after everything that had happened to them over the past few weeks, she was back to picking beans for money like she was last year.

Money was money, though, and she always needed it, and the Case of the Runaway Kid had never paid, not that she'd ever expected it to. No other work had come in for the Lawrence Street Detective Club; she was beginning to suspect that no one was was taking their ads seriously. Maybe their best bet was to just respond as quickly as they could whenever a lost dog or cat poster was put up, and collect the reward before anyone else did.

She'd hoped that after getting that commendation they'd get some more business their way, maybe after everyone had seen what a good job they'd done stopping the child abusing dad, but no such luck. Then again, neither the name of their enterprise nor her phone number had been announced during the commendation, so maybe no one knew how to reach them. What a lost opportunity.

She was happy to receive the award, even if it was only symbolic. Being on stage, shaking hands with the mayor and the chief of police, was rather thrilling, as was having a whole lot of grown-ups clap for her.

She was happiest that Dad had been able to switch shifts and come to the ceremony. She'd seen him from the stage, clapping and whistling with his fingers in that way she could never do. She'd worn the dress she'd worn at the DiTomaso dinner party, her hair had been carefully combed out, and her look had been approved by Mrs. Anderson before they'd all strolled together, her friends and their families, to the community centre for the ceremony.

She'd only found out it was happening the day before it happened. Her days leading up to it had been a blur of activity. 

An ambulance had taken her from the Trybek house to Saint Mary's Hospital, where doctors had examined her bruises, the broken skin on the backs of her legs and, worst of all, her bottom parts, which had made her feel ashamed, even though she'd had no reason to be, because Dad had had to wait behind the curtain while they'd done it. Also, everyone had kept making sure she didn't feel sleepy, for some reason.

Then, after they'd pulled the curtain back, she'd been shocked to see Mom standing next to Dad. Mom had hurried over and placed a cool hand on Rachel's forehead, and Rachel had been surprised to see tears in Mom's eyes. Yet the first words she'd said to her were, "So, you decided to interfere after all. Didn't I tell you not to?"

That had been the bellwether for their relationship in all the years to come.

Dad had made a half-hearted defence, but even Rachel could see on Dad's face that a part of him had disapproved of the risk she and her friends had taken in helping Danny, even if he'd been relieved she was okay and told her he was proud of her for caring so much.

The police must have suspected something had happened when they'd found Mr. Trybek with his pants down, because they'd asked her about it at her hospital bed. When she'd told them what had happened, she'd seen Dad's face fall, and her heart had broken a little. His hesitant touch on her shoulder after, as if she were something damaged and fragile, had hurt more than if he'd struck her as hard as Mr. Trybek had.

The nightmares had started after her release from hospital, and the grown-ups had decided it would be a good idea for all of them to "talk to someone" about their experience. To her surprise, Al's dad had offered his services. 

She felt very awkward opening up to a man who'd seemed, as long as she'd known Al, reticent at best and indifferent at worst. He was kind, though, and made every effort to put her at ease, not directly asking questions but engaging her in activities that used her hands, like drawing, shaping clay and painting. It was all right, but she didn't really know how it was helping, sneaking up on the events of that day from different angles, especially with someone she didn't know that well. Much better it would have been, in her opinion, to sit down with her friends and talk about it among themselves, but they hadn't been in the same room together since the day of the commendation.