“She’s still sleeping.” At ten they were “eating breakfast.” And at ten thirty there was no answer. Shopping perhaps. But what if they were shopping all day? What if when they came home they were “eating dinner”? I was never going to get to talk with Trish, to ask her all the things I wanted to know. I called Beth at home to ask for her help. If she came to Portland she could say she was Trish’s social worker, and Art would have to let us see her. “I don’t have any real authority,” Beth demurred. “But he doesn’t know that. We could even take her with us back to Seattle.” “Let’s not get carried away… Remember, she may be safer there with him watching her every move than back in Seattle. Maybe she should just stay there until everything’s cleared up.” I realized Beth didn’t know about the incest. “She’s not going to stay there. She’ll run.” Beth thought about it a minute. “Maybe you’re right. Okay, I’ll come. I should get there about three or so.”
